A tribute to my dear brother, Manasseh Chamahiya Ngwira (Born 22nd July, 1985- Died 04 October, 2018)
Manasseh.
Today you would have been 33 years and 3 months old.
They say the meaning of your name is ‘causing to forget’.
Yet, your name will not leave my mouth.
Your name stubbornly remains everywhere: in conversations, in messages, in stories, in updates.
Your name refuses to be obliterated.
It is as if mentioning your name will bring you back.
If I cling to these letters ‘M-a-n-a-s-s-e-h’, maybe he will come back. Maybe I will wake up from this awful nightmare and the news of his death will be a thing of the past. It was just a dream! A horrific dream from which I will soon wake up!
Yet, it is not.
Manasseh, it is not.
You are gone.
You are truly gone and if I send you an e-mail or a text message, or even call you, no one will answer me because there will be no one at the end.
You are really gone.
I will never see you again in this world.
How can this be so?
My dear brother, dead?
On our way back from the funeral, in Rumphi, I bought an extra bottle of Coke and a samosa because I miscounted the people that were around.
I can feel your presence everywhere I go and that silence is defeaning.
I can see your face in the most unexpected places: newspapers, streets, television news, everywhere.
The journey to forgetfulness will be long, tortuous and almost impossible.
For, how can I forget you?
How can I forget our childhood bickerings because tinali opondana? How can I forget our trips to Mzokoto and Lwasyo?
How can I forget your disarming smile, laughter, jokes, dancing and thoughtfulness?
How can I forget this face that seemed to be chiselled out of gold, we joked that you were the prettiest person among the whole Chamahiya clan! Our own Mzungu!
How can that flawless face be pushed into oblivion, never to be seen again? How can this be?
When I came back to Malawi in 2014, I didn’t know that this would be the last time I would be seeing you. I wish I had known. I would have taken advantage of all those precious moments to be with you, hug you, tell you how much you meant to me.
I wish I had really looked at you Manasseh.
I wish I had really talked to you.
This is wishful thinking though.
This is wishful thinking.
Yet the signs of your-soon-to-be-passing were right in front of my eyes. The path I was walking on every day was littered with these signs, yet I failed to pay attention to them.
The movie ‘The Road to Yesterday’ which I watched 2 weeks before your death. This made the whole trip to Mzuzu like something déjà vu: the policemen at the roadblocks, the lodge, everything. I didn’t even know that Brymo‘s song ‘Down’ would be my medicine. I listen to it each time I feel that my sole strength will not suffice. I reach for this song and let it soothe my soul. I just don’t know what I would do without it.
The blackout in our home which has never happened before. It was as if we were being prepared for the electricity woes back home.
The black business taxi that I did not book, which came nevertheless, and I wondered why it had come in its elegant splendour.
The short story I wrote here, which turned out to be real, much to my wonder and utter disbelief!
The long talk my family had about air tickets, departure times and travelling in general, the very same time you were battling for your life at Kamuzu Central Hospital. It was as if we were already preparing for our trip from Warsaw to Lilongwe on Saturday.
The thorough cleaning I did on Thursday , which made no sense but I did it anyway.
The terrible dream I had on the night of your death.
I now understand that God gives us premonitions to prepare us for such events because the shock would just be devastating. I understand that it is God’s will and whatever happened was meant to happen, but how can I accept this?
Was there anything I could have done?
I don’t know.
I will never know.
I wish we had spoken more prior to your demise.
I wish I could have done something to alleviate your pain.
I wish you had been able to access better medical care so that your life could be saved.
I wish you had been born in a different country with excellent health care, where young people of your age do not die prematurely and in large numbers!
I wish your son would still have a father for we all know how hard it is to grow up without one.
I wish, I wish, I wish.
All I can do is wish but what will this amount to?
Our hearts are bleeding and we cannot be consoled or comforted. Sometimes the pain is so strong I have to hum, on and on, on and on, to make it go away. It won’t. A dull ache settles right into the centre of my soul and I cry. I cry for missed opportunities. I cry for your presence Manasseh. I cry and I won’t be consoled. From time to time, I want to scream my pain out but no sound will come. The pain is slowly settling into my heart and I fear it is here to stay.
The news of your sudden death took my breath away. The news of your unexpected death took away my joy and nonchalance. The news of your senseless death pierced my soul and I never thought I would feel so much pain since our parents left us on the same day in that car accident. I thought I was immune to pain until they told me what I did not want to hear. Now the pain won’t go away. It won’t go away. It wants to stay right at the centre of my soul and never be erased.
Everything seems so trivial now. Nothing seems to matter anymore. Nothing!
Yet, there are many lessons I learnt when I came back to say goobye to you on your final journey.
Manasseh.
You were a loving person and many people loved you too. Your sudden departure was a blow to each and everyone of us. We are failing to come to terms with your demise. Only God has the right answer. Only God knows why he had to take you in your youthful splendour.
You had the rare gift of forgiveness Manasseh, you never held a grudge against anyone.
You spread joy amongst us without asking for anything in return.
You loved with all your heart and showed us the importance of passion. Passion for your family, passion for football, passion for work, passion for your friends and teammates.
You were guided by the spirit of love. This is the same spirit that brought us all together to pay our final respects to you.
Thanks to you, we experienced a lot of kindness from people who provided us with emotional and financial support.
Thanks to you, we reunited with long-lost friends and relatives and the world is a better and less scarier place to be in because of that.
Thanks to you, I understand how precious time is. I know that I have to take advantage of each and every second of my life because time is valuable and life is irreplaceable.
Thanks to you, I know that I have to pay attention to the people that surround me because they are a gift from God.
Thanks to you, I know that joy can be intermingled with pain. You left this world on a day when you were full of life. You were preparing for a wedding-how can life be so unpredictable? I was so happy to be back home, yet it was a moment when I was coming to say my final goodbyes to you.
Thanks to you, I take more time to reflect on what is really important in life and I am no longer shaken by trivialities. In life, it is important to strive for material things but nothing will replace friends and family. When we die, we leave everything behind: beauty, money, cars, houses, whatever. Only the people who were the closest to us remain and remember us.
Thanks to you, I am learning the true meaning of courage.
Courage is the absence of choice.
Acts of bravery and heroism are performed when we have reached a point of no return.
Thanks to you, I understand that it is not through a lack of will that a lot of things are failing in our country. It is the sheer lack of opportunities that is detrimental to us. During my recent trip, I saw a lot of brave, resilient, ambitious, talented, creative and mostly kind, polite and selfless people.
Thanks to you, I am now less afraid of this world because I know that you are up there, guiding us every day with your inextinguishable light and boundless love.
O death, where is thy sting? Where is thy sting death?
O grave, where is thy victory? Where is thy victory grave?
On October 4th, 2018, the sky truly gained one of its brightest stars.
Time will heal our wounds, they say. Like footsteps on a sandy beach, this pain will fade, washed away by our unyielding tears. How long will it take Manasseh? How long will it take for us to remember you without pain?
Words are not enough to soothe my soul. I do not know whom to turn to but I think that you would want me to be happy. You would want us to be happy.
I will try my best. I will try my best to move on and honour your memory.
Manasseh, your death has robbed us of a precious father, brother, uncle, grandson, cousin, nephew, friend, employee, teemamate and dutiful citizen.
Manasseh, we remember you with such fondness in our hearts, I wish you had experienced all this love while you were alive.
Manasseh, we loved you but God loved you more, this is all I can say.
It is his will and so it must be done.
Our family is resilient and replete with courageous people.
Our family is loving and full of caring people.
Our family will rise above this and work together towards a common and lofty goal that honours your name and the legacy you left.
I will end this with your favourite quote
“PALA SATANA WA KWIZA NA VYAKE WA ZA MUWERERA YEKHA NANGA BULI NDI NGA WAVYA IVYO WA KU THEMBA WA NYANI, CHIUTA MULI NANE KHUMANYA MULI NANE.”
Manasseh, my dear brother, fare thee well. You are now safe and at peace with Mum, Dad, Uncle Ted, Suzgo, Gift and all those departed souls, too numerous to count, that left us utterly bereft and heartbroken.
Lord, we have reached a point where we know more people who are dead than those that are alive.
Our souls are consumed with sorrow and we cannot take it anymore.
We are weary.
Our father, if it is possible, may this cup of suffering be taken away from us. Yet not as we will, but as You will.
Until we meet again my brother.
Rest well.
Your loving sister,
Thandi
