RIP Matindi
A post I read keeps circling in my mind 'A child who has lost a parent is called an orphan A wife who has lost a husband is a widow A husband who has lost a wife is widower There's no word for a parent who has lost a child because it's indescribable' My son, George Matindi Ng'ang'a was electrocuted to death on 25th May 2019. The darkest day of my life so far. He didn't come from my womb and was thrust in my care when he was 1.5years old. Since then, he has been my child in all the ways that count. As the Swahili saying goes 'Kazi si kuzaa, kazi ni kulea (the work isn't in giving birth, it's in rearing up the child) And now I'll never hear him calling me Mum again. This pain, this pain hits different. It paralyses and leaks from every pore. The slightest touch, whiff sets it off It clings to my body, firmly wrapped on my neck making it hard to breathe sometimes And I've learnt the well of tears never runs dry Some days...
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