Sleep

Today, during my bleary-eyed morning commute, I found myself seated next to a fellow commuter who had fully surrendered to the Sandman’s embrace or sleep or tsindolo or nindo depending on where you are reading from. His mouth was agape, producing a symphony of snores that could rival the sound of a kisiagi. I couldn’t help but speculate that his nocturnal activities must have been more demanding than mine, as my thoughts drifted back to my friend Wechuli Tsibiri Tsibiri aka Itaywa ikholiokha nilia tsindolo who we later named Omunyambi.

Why does sleep conveniently manifest in inconvenient circumstances? As jothurwa aptly put it, ‘Nindo ongo chieth’. You see, Sleep is the elusive trickster that defies all attempts at control. It sneaks up on us, uninvited, whether we’re prepared or not, toppling the mighty and the meek alike. No fortress is secure enough, no wealth substantial enough, no youth vigorous enough to resist its inevitable embrace. Sleep is the ultimate egalitarian, disregarding all boundaries and distractions, reminding us that, in the end, we’re all just dreamers at its mercy.

Like most of us, Wechuli attended the church of his parents. If you are from Ingo or your home neighbours Dini ya Musambua or Jehovah Wanyonyi’s heavenly abode, you must have heard of African B Spiritual Church which happened to be Wechuli’s church.  Bwana let me tell you. In this church, the pews have been replaced by a dance floor, and the alter doubles as Otwori the lone drummer’s station. During their service, you should have seen Otwori, the maestro pounding away with such unrestrained zeal that one might mistake the service for an avant-garde aerobics class. With each beat, he orchestrates a symphony of exuberant movement, leading the faithful in a dance that transcends the need for any other instrument. His drumming is the heartbeat of the assembly, propelling every soul into a state of joyous motion. The congregation doesn’t disappoint; they leap, twirl, and shimmy with a fervor that would make a Zumba instructor proud. Otwori, with the stamina of a marathoner, sets a rhythm so infectious that even the most rhythmically challenged find their feet tapping involuntarily. Limbs flail in all directions-north, south, east, and west-as if each person is engaged in a joyous battle with an invisible dance partner. Yaani abandu balia masia, or dhano chamo ngolo depending on the tongue of your mother. To the untrained eye, this might seem less like a worship service and more like the latest fitness craze, but in this sacred space, burning calories and spiritual enlightenment go hand in hand.

One day, Wechuli visited me in the city, and on Sunday, I invited him to attend my church – a place where orderliness is as sacred as the hymns, a contrast to the free-spirited style he is accustomed to. During the sermon, in the hushed sanctuary, as the pastor’s words resonated deeply, a serene stillness enveloped the congregation. All hearts and minds were attuned to the spiritual message-except for Wechuli, who had drifted into a peaceful slumber. The silence was so profound that one could hear a pin drop. That is, until an unexpected sound shattered the tranquility: Wechuli, in his unconscious state, had unwittingly released a thunderous emission from his posterior orifice. The reverberation was so startling that it jolted him awake. As he glanced around, hoping it had all been a dream, he was met with the wide-eyed stares of his fellow congregants. Despite their best efforts to maintain composure, the congregation erupted in laughter, their collective mirth echoing through the sanctuary like a volcanic eruption. “Eish, Omwami onyasia bucheni?” I found myself whispering to Wechuli.

Wechuli squeezed his eyes shut, fervently wishing for the ground to swallow him like it did Korah when he rebelled against Moses, but alas, no such luck. Upon reopening his eyes, he was still very much present, basking in the aftermath of his unintended solo. Suffice it to say, that was the last time Wechuli attended my church.

 “Arriving at Union Station.” I was jolted back to reality by the announcer……It was time to gather my belongings and step-off the train….