I remembered that day Uncle Zagwa bought me a school uniform. He still maintained the same form of godliness then, until I got involved in a road accident on my way to Tsogolo Secondary school. I stayed in a coma for a week.

On the day I regained consciousness, I remember Uncle Zagwa and mother talking to the doctor beside my hospital bed.

“There was nothing else that could have been done Mma Mupacho. Selling the land and the house was the only thing we could do to raise the money to settle this hospital bill,” Uncle Zagwa exclaimed. “You can come with me to my house in the meantime,” he added.

My body burned with pain from the wounds I had sustained from the car accident, as well as the shock from the news uncle was telling my mother. Selling our property without her consent made me feel like we had been robbed in broad day light. My mother just stood in a corner in the room as tears ran down her cheeks.

“I used the money from the sold property to buy him the wheel chair,” he spoke to my mother’s disapproving face. “And you must understand, your son can no longer do anything successful in his paralyzed state. At least hear me out when I say I will no longer take responsibility of his education. If I do, what is he going to pay me back with? He can’t be of any use to society, he is as useless as a dog that only barks and wags its tail as it waits for food in its plate.”

The doctor said this didn’t mean the end of my journey, that I could still have a great life. He also cited a number of examples of successful people despite living with disabilities.

I wish I had died when the car over turned before landing into Rinthipe River, than to live and witness such insults.

I fell back into the hospital bed and hid my face under the bed covers. Ever since that day, Uncle Zagwa was a dead man to me.


Tell us: What do you think about Uncle Zagwa’s words?