Skip to main content

Marcus & Pau

 

I went to give a small talk about storytelling at Baraza Media Lab on Riverside Drive. Small group of three incubatees. The intrepid @Paushinski (Too Early For Benga) crashed the party and sat at the back, munching on a hotdog. (Who eats hot dogs in 2022?) So I made him earn his chair by having one of the incubates, Marcus Olang, role play an interview with him about losing his father just as he was turning 18. Turned out Marcus also only buried his father three months ago. It was pretty revealing listening to these very big men bleed on the floor. 


Later, after the do, as we sat in the common area having beers (I wasn't, but sounds grown up to say that) waiting to see where the winds of Friday evening would blow. Marcus came out dragging his wrecking ball of grief behind him. He looked defeated and spent. Pau instinctively stood up and like he knew just what Marcus needed, hugged him. Like a proper arms-around-each-other hug. And they stood like that, holding each other, and it went on and on and on. They were both wearing heavy jackets and the cold emotions of their grief curled between them and just stayed there like a stray dog looking for warmth.

***

You might also like The Requiem mass

***

I thought they'd disengage but they didn't and I realized why; Marcus was weeping and Pau was whispering comfortingly and occasionally patting him on the back and his puffy jacket was making these puffy comforting sounds. A silence descended. I was seated with one James Rogoi shooting the breeze but we just fell into the silence as a respect to what was going on before us; two men, fatherless, bereaved, vulnerable and leaning into their feelings. They stood there for so long I raised my phone and took a photo and it felt both intrusive and insensitive, like taking a photo of someone's wound.


When they finally let go, Marcus wiped his eyes, sniffed and tried to stay strong, looking bewildered like he just got up from a nap. He mumbled, thanks, man, thanks and Hot-Dog-Guy,   lowering himself in a chair, said, you got this, stay solid. And it was so familiar, so sad and yet so beautiful.


Suddenly I also wanted a hug, but Pau had moved on.

As told By #bikozulu


See also; 

Suffer the children

Story of a picture

Comments

  1. Men, it's okay to cry.
    It's well gentlemen hugs πŸ₯ΊπŸ«‚

    ReplyDelete
  2. Take heart gentlemen

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Half a head

There were thin and bleak sounds, noises that were either real or imaginary. A sound of a wild bird in distress from a far, an owl maybe or a cardinal, accompanied by what sounded like uneasy movement and groaning noises from within. Those unnerving noises that make you believe hell is real and the damned has flung the gates open. He was in the police cell, the cell had huge shelves and guys were sleeping on the floor like they always do. You might have met this somewhere; you might have heard of it from the walls of your sitting room or the streets. It is a tale of this guy Boniface Kimanyano Ayoti, an epic face of crime, larger than life. A guy whose weakness was crime. Anything criminal triggered something in him. Something that not only made him content but also put him in a zone where nothing else could. Even though it can’t tell it all, Bonnie’s face is a tale of crime. Before you hear a word from him you know he’s not been an average human being. He has a swelling just above

The Holy Studio

  I met Philip Mutemi in the streets of wanderlust diaries. He wrote a piece that caused stir and led to a lot of fuss. If you know the wanderlust diaries you're safe. You may actually go to heaven if Christ comes today. His display picture is of a man seated with arms crossed in what looks like a pub. A man probably past middle age. Looking at him another time, I feel like he has four children. Again looking at him, he doesn’t look like in 2014 he was 20 years old, I mean he almost looks older than my father. He honestly couldn’t be 30 right now. All these observations I made because of how some people in the comment section threw stones at him. So, Philip claims that back in 2014 his 3 cousins, 4 neighbours and himself were to join campus. They were given money to go and buy laptops. What is campus life without a laptop? The next Monday early in the morning they were in Nairobi. There was one cousin who was street smart and managed to convince them the he was well acquainted wi

Major Ariel

Ariel studies Chemistry, but is also a footballer who retired prematurely because of a bad knee. A knee that chose chemistry over football. He is a farmer during long holidays. He keeps chicken and milk his father’s cow on a good day. On a bad day he goes to a nearby dusty arena to play football, to see if his knee could have possibly changed its idea about chemistry. Ten minutes into the  game he becomes a living testimony that his knees were actually meant to stand long hours in the chemistry lab doing tests and mixing chemicals to see colour changes, precipitates and what have you that don’t excite me. He is a vocabulary expert and a story teller. He is a fitness aficionado. He is a brother and a son. I can’t prove that he is a boyfriend but I can prove beyond any limits that in the past 7 days he has eaten chapatti at least thrice.  He's authored   THE FAMILY MAN ,   WHAT I WANT , GRIP REAPER ,  J'S COCUNUTS just to mention a handful. He is a huge Chelsea fan, a bruised te