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Author Topic: How I became Nick  (Read 1196 times)

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Offline newnick61

  • Member
  • Posts: 8
How I became Nick
« on: February 12, 2008, 02:21:51 PM »
In my village right down the street from the AIDS clinic is the duka that makes coffins. Sometimes when I am in there working part-time, the waiting room full of people sitting on wood benches is so quiet, so still that I can hear the tap of the coffin maker’s hammer. The waiting room is dark.  The curtains are drawn; no one must see who has the ukimwi.

The people in the clinic are waiting for their Septrin; you take it until your CD4 goes below 200. Then you need to apply for your ARV’s card or go shopping for your coffin. It’s really your choice.

Shopping for coffins in Africa is like shopping for end tables in the States. The samples are displayed in front of the duka. You can choose a colour such as royal purple or somber black or you can buy one with a shiny coat of varnish.  Most have small windows in the side or top, so you can look at the deceased. Maybe the deceased can look back at you.

In my darker moments, such as now I wonder how I got here – sitting in an East African village listening to the neighbor’s radio blare some dumbass Kiswahili song.

This is not where I want to be. This is where ukimwi put me.

 About five years ago I was a happy suburbanite, going to my beige world job during the week, cutting the grass on Saturday and maybe ordering a carry out pizza while watching “The Simpsons” on Sunday night. It was a nice routine. It was comforting. Life was easy.

After I got the news – habari ukimwi  – my world changed.

The-powers-that-be hustled me into a little room with bright florescence lights where a councilor assured me that everything would be okay. I knew from the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that he didn’t believe it. He and I both knew that I had the ukimwi. I just wanted to hide in a nice dark place - with the curtains drawn – and pretend that I didn’t have ukimwi.

I guess that the councilor felt that I didn’t take the habari ukimwi  very well. The next week the-powers-that-be sent me to a shrink, a kindly overweight middle age woman, who for several sessions a week recounted with me all the ukimwi horror stories. During one session with her, I got to recall the tales of Rock Ukimwi Hudson, Freddy Ukimwi  Mercury and Arthur Ukimwi Ashe.  The virus had usurped their identity. I swore that I would never allow the ukimwi to own me.

During my last session she gravely warned me, “You’re a suicide waiting to happen. It’s just a matter of when.”  At its conclusion she gave me her business card and told me to call her any time I needed. I left her office, went to her receptionist and cancelled all my appointments.

She had told me the end of my story. At that point, I resolved to change what happened in between that day and my self-inflicted kufa.

My old life was over. I became Nick.

Offline Lis

  • Member
  • Posts: 603
Re: How I became Nick
« Reply #1 on: February 12, 2008, 02:39:43 PM »
oh how I have missed you nickster!!!!
Im glad that you find your self where you are

much love

lisbeth   :-*
« Last Edit: February 12, 2008, 06:11:38 PM by Lis »
poz 1986....

Offline Lis

  • Member
  • Posts: 603
Re: How I became Nick
« Reply #2 on: February 12, 2008, 06:15:15 PM »
I only can wish for more stories of your new life... I must say that the melting and warmth from Alaska and the lack of a glock does cheer a girl up!!
poz 1986....

Offline Matty the Damned

  • Member
  • Posts: 12,264
  • Ninja Please
Re: How I became Nick
« Reply #3 on: February 13, 2008, 08:10:14 AM »
Ah Nick. This will have to hold Matty the Damned for another 3 months. :)



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