“Mmm hmmm” and “anugo’m”

were the only words Pa Jerry ever responded with to any greeting.

While watching everyone come and go from his veranda overlooking his front yard, he would always sit on the wooden chair that seemed to have aged with him over the years.

Cut out of good quality wood and polished to a golden brown that could only be seen in his old pictures and remembered by those present when the carpenter brought it home for the first time, this wooden chair might be the only thing unchanged in Pa Jerry’s life.

As he settled in and took a moment to get comfortable, the wooden joints on the seat creaked as usual.

Every day he sat there and ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner on that wooden chair. He stood up for short bathroom breaks with the aid of the little boy who took care of him, then he would come back to the wooden chair and sit down once again.

He always stares right at the gate, watching every one that passes by, answering every greeting but entertaining no conversation, the expectant look in his eyes always gives the impression that he was waiting for something, or someone maybe. But he never said anything else other than “Mmm hmmm” and “Anugo’m”.

Pa Jerry always had a cool demeanor. In the eyes of others, he was a quiet man who did not speak too much, did not raise his voice, and never showed any anger.

He was always calm and seemed to never be bothered by the silence that had enveloped him. He sat on his wooden chair and took a deep sigh as he stared at the gate with intensity.

Every day was the same.

There was once a time in his life when he was a vibrant young man with friends trooping in daily through that gate, screaming his name as they walked the length of the yard to the veranda where he sat. There were always plates of dried meat to chew on and kegs of palm wine to wash it down as they spoke in loud tones and laughed so heartily till they felt pain in their tummy.

His mother always made large meals because even if he was her only child, there was never a day he was alone.

He went to dances with his friends where they danced with every woman that would let them get close. They went to weddings where they danced with the couple and drank till they got drunk and never could quite explain how they got home. They went to burials where they sat in groups, ate and drank wine while discussing memorable events they shared with the deceased.

He had a large group of friends but had three close friends he called his brothers. They were there with him that day in the market when he told the carpenter to construct the wooden chair for his mother.

“Not too high so her feet could touch the ground, not too low so it won’t cause her back pains, add a cushion to it so it can be soft when she sits, and a back and armrest so she could be comfortable”.

The carpenter promised to bring the chair in a week.

The chair arrived exactly in a week, quite on time but sadly too late. People trooped in and out of the compound, his brothers sat around him in the sitting room, and you could hear distant wails from the backyard, as they mourned the death of his mother. He looked at what was meant to be a thoughtful gift to his mother, the only parent he knew, and his heart broke. Something in him died that day but he couldn’t shed a tear. He just looked on in silence as everyone mourned.

When he got married, his friends were with him, cheering him on as he married the love of his life. He was the last to get married in his friend group and the joy and celebration lasted till the morning after. She bore him three children. A girl and two boys who grew up to be just as vibrant as their mother throughout her lifetime, and as cheerful as their father before the silence crept in. Healthy children who were now married and all living far away with their families. They called him sometimes, and on those times he would crack a smile and say a few more words than he would normally say. Those were the only times his world didn’t seem so quiet.

On the day his wife died, he held her tightly in his arms, rocking her back and forth, begging her to wake up. The kids cried and threw themselves to the dusty floor, calling on Jesus to bring their mother back while neighbors ran in with confused faces wondering the cause of such loud wails. His world had fallen apart but he couldn’t find the tears.

When his first friend was killed by a hit-and-run driver, everyone gathered on the side of the road, looking down at the lifeless body, shaking their heads and hissing in dismay, speaking of how life was so fickle and could end in a flash, while Pa Jerry stood across the road in silence as his heart shattered within. He didn’t shed a tear, he couldn’t shed any. The pain even left his mouth dry and his throat sore. The widowed wife was inconsolable and while Pa Jerry and his two other friends contributed a large sum of money to help with the burial fees and help take care of her since she bore no children, two months later, she died of heartbreak.

His two other friends lived a long life just like he did, and had children and grandchildren just like he did. They attended each child’s wedding, sitting at the high table, drinking wine like the good old days. But these weren’t the good old days as life had already started dealing them hard cards.

Two years ago, his two friends died five months apart. It was a celebration of life for both their families as they were already old men. But there is never anything to celebrate about death. Pa Jerry had lost all his brothers yet, he couldn’t shed a tear. He just grew more silent.

What used to be a home buzzing with people was now enveloped in deafening silence. The only people that walked through the gate were neighbors and passers-by. He had no one he could talk to about the memorable times he has had, at least no one he shared them with. No one made him laugh as he did in his youth. He had nowhere to go, no one to visit, and no one to visit him. Everyone he grew up with was gone, and he never shed a tear for them even as his heart broke into pieces.

He stared at the gate but saw nothing. His whole life playing out in his mind for the first time in years. It made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want to remember the wonderful times he has had in his lifetime because with it came sad memories. Memories of all he had lost. But right now he couldn’t control it as every memory came flooding in, invoking a feeling he didn’t quite recognize.

Life has given, and it has equally taken.

Every day was the same, but today was different.

He called out to the young boy that took care of him but he got no response. No response came even after he called out two more times. He made to stand up on his own, holding on to the chair’s armrests, pushing his weight off the chair with all his energy. He wanted to be able to get up by himself for once. He wanted to. But while his spirit was willing, his body was weak. His hands gave way and he fell back down to the chair, his entire frame falling back to the old weak wood and two of the four wooden feet of the chair broke. Pa Jerry was on the ground in a split second, the young boy had run to his side with his mouth open and shock in his eyes. Pa Jerry didn’t move for a moment and neither did the young lad. The young boy stood at a spot, a few meters away from the broken chair and Pa Jerry on the floor.

His soft sobs were incoherent at first, sitting on the pile of broken wood, his eyes welled up with tears and he let them flow. What was at first a silent sob turned into a loud cry of pain. He cried like a child. A child who had lost his mother. Crying from the bottom of his heart, he clenched his right palm into a fist and beat his hurting chest. The tears flowed with no control, dropping down his wrinkled face, and soaking the neckline of his faded t-shirt. He cried for his friend that lay lifeless in a pool of his blood at the side of the road, his promising life cut short. He cried for the wife that couldn’t bear the loss of her husband and couldn’t continue living without him.

Despite the pain and shock of his fall coursing through his veins and shaking his frail old bones, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling. It was nothing compared to the pain that was bursting from within. The pain that was struggling to be let out. The pain that has been buried deep within for years and has nursed this silence that has become so familiar. He had been pierced by a nail from the broken chair and blood trickled onto the floor, but even this was nothing as he felt no pain externally.

His heart was broken, and his silent world had shattered. He thought of his beautiful wife who died in his arms, and more tears rolled down as the pain of his loss surged through him. He was sweating as his loud sobs slowly turned to sniffles and hiccups.

His lifetime had been filled with so much joy but he counted only the pain but never let himself feel it. He knew the sense of loss but not the feeling of grief. He knew the feeling of pain but not the incoherency that came when you cried your heart out and your throat couldn’t form any words. He never let himself feel the pain and loss he felt he never deserved. He took all that sadness and bottled it all up. However, the broken wood today tipped the bottle, causing a flood of pain to overflow.

A small crowd had gathered in the front yard, looking at the old man weeping with no restraints. An old man whose voice they had never truly heard until now. The sight of the weeping old man took everyone off guard.

His sobs grew silent but he didn’t wipe his face, he didn’t wipe off the pool of tears that now blurred his vision. His knees buckled as he struggled to get up, and the boy rushed to his side to help him, but he signaled the boy not to. “ I want to do this on my own,” he said with his sorrow-filled voice. He held on to a part of the broken wooden chair as he pushed his weight off the ground. It wasn’t an easy task but he wanted to do it and he did. He stood tall, in all 6 ft 2 inches of his body. Old age had done nothing to reduce the length of the man. He looked down at the broken wooden chair for a second and slowly he made his way into his room alone.

The only thing that was a constant in his life had broken.

He lay on his bed and took a deep breath, closed his eyes and slept. The weight he had been carrying in his heart for years was finally gone. He felt lighter.

His lips relaxed into a smile and he breathed his last.