Tag Archives: Suicide
I knew him for four years, a quiet chap with some crazy stories and love for cars especially the Rolls Royce Phantom, I was sure that at some time he would get one and maybe I get a ride and do those gangster stunts I saw on the Godfather saga with them suicide doors… The times we talked he had a story to tell, happy stories, crazy stories never sad ones!!! I guess we had our faces masked, covered with damned happy faced masks, while inside we had a need to reach out, someone to tell what lay in our damned cocoons of hearts. But then again who wants to listen to your problems right? Kila mtu na shida zake, ama?
I remember saying hi on the corridors on a Wednesday, him asking if I saw somebody, and I replying to the negative and like that we continued with our shelled appearances. Come Thursday friends say they saw him, he was his usual self nothing out of the ordinary. After meeting with his group for an assignment he left for home. He usually played football with the boys; this lifted his spirits most of the time it was better than talking since he dropped his mask in those times even with the teasing, I guess that was the time he was his real self, naked before fellow men 🙂. His father was a nice man, he said they got along well, actually he said they were “boys” with his son. They joked, shared and understood each other. He said he had a problem, they were aware of it, but they supported him all through and he always managed to emerge stronger. The future for him was paved, it was all bare for him to take on… then the son called him early morning, they share a joke and wish each other a great day ahead. The Mom said she was close with him way to close that they shared on a level that is not usual between mothers and sons.
On Friday his father got calls from relatives, I heard it from friends, was shocked the whole day, a noose is how life got separated from his body, but God is the judge, he decides… I remember the pain on his father’s voice though he appeared strong, and the sorrow on his mother’s face; this got me thinking, yes we have these masks we are always wearing, plastic smiles we have learned so well to dish out while our hearts bleed out. Like a confession box I will let you keep your mask on, but on condition you fungua roho yako ONGEA, but this “Kuongea” is literal not the condom ad version. You can start talking in 3, 2, 1… now!! Wherever Paul is, I pray that God rests his soul in peace.