All things, all ends

The wake up call from the domestic chickens in groups headed by the roster's crow pierced into the morning sky, the sun had come up and the routine of going about heeding to the day's call to duty was visible throughout the perimeters of this remote village, as men took hold of their farm implements and some of the women loaded their baskets with food items gathered from their farms and their husband's farms to be sold at the closet market 10miles away on foot, yes a long walk with the baskets on heads and shoulders, for right here in this archaic place there were no motor-able roads and the word civilization was only a word to be spelt out on the blackboard in the school built decades ago by the government which now laid abandoned... Void of teachers, and students as well... the classroom blocks had become makeshift houses for the destitute and a crime scene for the village gangs, the dreams of these walls ever bringing brightness and learning to the minds of the children of this village had become nothing but a dream never to come to pass, although the perspective was different when it came to the view of Mr Tanchu popularly called teacher by the locals, as he had always held on to the belief that one day something would stir up a change, yes 'change' the word he, Mr Tanchu had taught Little Hamza to spell, little Hamza a seven year old boy with a reasoning faculty that somehow widens beyond his age whenever he spoke, his belief that there should be something more to this life had pushed him to be wrapped up in the desire of wanting to know and Mr Tanchu who had gotten a little knowledge about the reading and the writing of the English language and the solving of some mathematical problems was quick and pleased to take him as a close disciple to teach as he most of the time would literally steal the little boy away from his father's wish to see him working in the farm, because their's was a dream, a dream that looked like nothing to the understanding of the ones around them, but the power of doubt by the multitude didn't stop this pair. Little Hamza had a knack for airplanes, he was overly fascinated by them and when ever an airplane high up in the sky flew past the village he would run with it screaming so excitedly with a wide smile on his face, like he had been given the best gift ever by the outstretched hand of God from the heavens... Well to him the sight of a plane was the best gift ever, it made the little boy believe that there was something out there beyond where his two bare feet stood, He would always say to Mr Tanchu in his not so perfect English “ teacher I will like to be driving that up there”, with his little finger pointing at the now disappearing plane in the sky, and Mr Tanchu with a smile would reply "it is flying, not driving... And it is called an airplane" ... The little boy with a wide grin would gladly correct him self " I will like to be flying that airplane up there" .... The little boy had dreams and was eager to see them come to pass even though his father and mother were considered to be people of lack even in this village that looked like it lacked everything, from basic amenities to a functioning health center, the very health care center that was proposed by government to be a state of the art, well equipped never before seen, ended up being never at all seen, as it all turned out as another dream that never saw the light of day simply because the funds released by government for the facilitation of the project were somehow cornered into the greedy pockets of the potbellied, idle chives and leaders of the community by the manipulative vile hands of the local government chairman along with that of the political leaders who could do nothing meaningful but to lead themselves into ill gotten wealth. "See only very wealthy men can buy an airplane..." Mr Tanchu would say to an inquisitive Hamza who always pestered him for the price of one just so he could one day buy it if he could save up every scrap he had, "…and neither you nor your parents are that wealthy" he would say, "as a matter of fact, if you and your parents are sold.... the money would not even be enough to buy one" he would add just for the sake of humour... one Hamza got very well with a good laugh, and it wasn't because Mr Tanchu was a good comedian, it was simply because there was this joy within him that came with the knowing that getting to fly an airplane was a feat that was of no small measure and for no small mind and so to Hamza, it made him feel like something special just to think of one day flying this great achievements, but the little dream filled man would not stop with a joyful laugh as he would press on Mr Tanchu with his questions " teacher, what must I do to become rich, so I could one day fly one?" The little boy would keenly ask "you must go to school and become blessed with the power of knowledge… you must know a lot of things and solve a lot of problems, the world would pay money to only those who can solve problems " mr Tanchu would reply... This reply made Hamza pester his poor parents so hard to send him to school, just so he could one day be blessed with knowledge just as Mr Tanchu had said, this pestering produced its useful result, in the middle of that year Hamza's parents gathered all that they had and sent him to school, a school that was situated in a neighboring village, a little far it was for a little boy to get to by foot, but this didn't dieter Hamza a flinch, his zeal to fly an airplane one day pushed his legs to walk over lengthy sandy roads, over muddy ones and rocky ones all the way through the bushy ones till he got to the scrappy building for a school, this school had rusty old shattered roofs, its walls were littered with see through holes making them look like they were going to fall apart any moment, there were no sits, every child sat on the bare floor to learn from a teacher who stood to teach in front of a wall painted black to take the place of the missing black board, there were swings to play with, no clear fields to run or play football on just thick grasses that stood taller than the average child that sat on the floor to learn, but all of these descriptions meant nothing to Hamza, as for him this was school for he had nothing else to compare what he presently had with, as for Hamza this was all he needed to fly that airplane and so with so much zeal he learnt the English alphabets that day, learnt it quicker than any other child in that school... He even picked up interest so quickly in the numbers and the multiplication tables... He could just in that very first day learn how to add the units together and tried to work his hands through the tens... He pestered his teacher to show him more, and much more he was like deep well so dry in need of water and knowledge was the water in this scene... He went home that day filled with so much joy in his heart, with a fulfilled smile that ran across his face, he told his parents whom although could not understand for their lack of education but smiled anyway about his achievements, Mr Tanchu that day couldn't get enough of the stories of success, they both went through all that he had learnt and the sweet victory that came with knowledge spurred Mr Tanchu's zeal to teach and unravel all that he knew to Hamza, oh they went on and on even into the night learning and unlearning. This became the new routine for days and weeks... Hamza's zeal for knowledge and purpose became so interesting to be observed by both the young and the old, not too long he started gathering children together the ones younger and even older to teach. His new found love for education became rather infectious as it pushed virtually all the children of the village to pester their own parents to send them to school just like Hamza... And sending them to school they did, and in groups led by the little man Hamza as the dream provider, they would march to school to learn how to read and to write all the five working days of the week, and yes they did learn and learn some more till their faces became brightened with the joy of knowing new things, even more it glowed as they exchanged ideas and excitedly stooped to spell their names on the sands with their fingers as they joyfully walked home. This was the beautiful routine, the day to day promise of hope for a sweet and blissful future full of endless possibilities for Hamza and his "followers" until this very fateful day; the wake up call from the domestic chickens in groups headed by the roster's crow pierced into the morning sky, the sun had come up and the routine of going about heeding to the day's call to duty was visible throughout the perimeters of the village, as men took hold of their farm implements and some of the women loaded their baskets with food items gathered from their farms and their husband's farms to be sold at the closet market. This was a weekend and for the children, school was not to be today but play... The fields were littered with children performing one activity of fun or the other, some of the girls in pairs played the hand clapping games as they made it even the more fun by adding the dynamic movement of their dusty feet as well... Some of the boys played football so zealously like they had a full stadium watching with the grand prize being the World Cup, other children rolled wheels with sticks while others ran competitive races, the whole field was filled with activities, but Hamza's was different for he loved the trees and so climbing today it was as it had been for other days before, along with few other boys he did climb, the goal for them today was simple " how high and fast can you go?" And so like monkeys they flew through the branches of the trees as swiftly and gracefully as could be, Hamza was so quick on his hands and feet they pushed him up to the lead, he had done this serval times and yes he had won this several times but today it was going to be different he was going to get to the top and sit on the highest branch with his head out in the open... and after meandering through branches and leaves like water and wind yes he finally got his desire, with the cheers from his opponents and fans and everyone who did see him from wherever they stood, as he sat there with a vivid smile on his face that showed every inch of fulfillment in his heart, he spread out his hands in the air spanning like wings and with his eyes closed and his smile still bright on his face he envision just one thing "his dream of one day flying the airplane" the vision was still trapped in his head when the snapping sound of a branch breaking under his weight called him back to reality, the branch gave way quicker than he could grab unto any other support, Hamza’s fall was far, crashing through braches both vertical and horizontal breaking his body with every hit, finally he lands hard face flat on the ground, there were loud screams from the children around the scene some of the men who witnessed the fall rushed to the now motionless body on the floor, what they saw was of pure gore... His legs where fractured in the most hideous if ways, they could see his broken bones piercing out of his flesh, blood gushing out red he laid motionless but still breathing, with eyes open wide in a daze, and in a feeling of numbness, it only took moments for him to be covered in the pool of his own blood, tears rolled down his eyes but he didn't cry out for these tears didn't roll down because of the pain, they rolled down because of the regrets, because the hope that once was before him, now slowly faded away. And as the men picked his blooded body off the ground his welled up eyes in blur vision caught the image of Mr Tanchu running towards them with a gesture that spoke of panic and fear, Hamza even with the tears rolling down his eyes tried his best to smile in the usual way he had always done before, just to see the comfort come alive on the face of Mr Tanchu, but all that came on it were tears and a loud cry, because the sight he did see was nothing but for anguish and torment. Saving Hamza's live became the most paramount... The children watched as their hero was hurriedly carried away on foot to the nearby herbalist the bone doctor whose profession had spoken well of him with the number of bone problems he had solved, but this was different the blood was everywhere, it only took a minute for his makeshift hospital to be covered in red. "I am getting weak" Hamza said under his breath to the ears of Mr Tanchu who still in tears had since been holding unto one of Hamza's hands reassuring him that everything was going to be fine, he tried so hard to comfort the little boy and even in the midst of the panic, he cooked up a story to pull Hamza's attention from the pain "Don't worry, that's how it feels... I had the same problem when I broke my leg just like this" he said... "That means I will be alright?" Hamza asked ... "Oh yes you will be... Yes you will certainly be" replied Mr Tanchu, a sharp pain so intense brought Hamza to the full reality of the state he right now was in, as he screamed so loud in agony tightening his grip on the hand of Mr Tanchu who tightened back... Hamza gets so overwhelmed by the pain that he tossed and turned frivolously, they held him down and tied a stick inbetween his jaws for him to clamp on with the pain... The little boy screamed as the traditional bone doctor tries his best to salvage what he could... They fought for minutes, ten, fifteen, twenty... but the blood kept coming, now Hamza had become so weak he could barely speak "I will not be able to solve his one" said the bone doctor regretfully... "He would need to go to a proper hospital" he added... But the situation of things stood as this; there was no hospital, the only thing that right now stood as a hospital in this village was a land commissioned by the state government for the establishment of a well equipped standard health care facility, one that in the end never saw the light of day due to the greed of the chives and political leaders of the community, who felt the best use for the disbursed funds would be to the benefits of their pockets and their bellies. The only option now was to travel a distance with the blood drained little boy to the nearest hospital far off in the neighboring community, Mr Tanchu with tears still rolling down his eyes carried the little boy gently in his arms, ready to walk the distance by foot just to save his little disciples life, some of the villagers soaked in compassion trailed behind him, they had barely left the compound of the traditional bone doctor the sight a glimpse of hope emerged, Mr Rashid the only man with a motor cycle was returning home from the farm and he was quick to volunteer his help at the sight of the terrible sight of the little boy, Mr Tanchu who wouldn’t let his little friend out of his sight hurriedly sat on the motor cycle with the now fainting little Hamza on his laps and their hands still locked in a grip and immediately they could get their balance, Mr Rashid hurriedly zoomed off.. They had only gone few killometers when they saw Hamza's father returning from his farm... There was no time for him to take in the shock, no time to listen or answer the what(s)?, why(s)?, who(s)? Or where(s)?. They could only hear his scream in pain and confusion fade into the air as they zoomed passed him after a brief stop, Hamza's mother still in the market selling all that she could sell was oblivious of the ordeal her little boy was at this moment caged in, the ordeal of the bumpy earth road made him even the more lifeless with every inch of the ride... "Teacher... Teacher" Hamza called softly under his breath to Mr Tanchu "yes Hamza" replied Mr Tanchu emphatically... "Will I die?" He asked "no you won't ... Stop asking rubbish questions, you certainly won't" Mr Tanchu replied with the wind still beating against their faces as the motorcycle rode through the undulating road, then in the most honest way Hamza said to Mr Tanchu "thank you so much teacher".... "For what?" Asked Mr Tanchu.... "For showing me how to truly dream" replied Hamza, those words forced tears pouring out of Mr Tanchu's eyes like never before... they tore deep into his heart piercing the deepest part of his soul, "Thank you for giving me hope" replied Mr Tanchu in tears.... Then finally Hamza said "teacher I feel like sleeping".... Mr Tanchu on hearing those last words cried out his heart but said nothing in reply... As light coldly faded from Hamza's eyes and his grip on Mr Tanch's hand slowly loosened till his hand fell off the grip. Finally after 35mins ride on the unmotorable road they arrived at the hospital... But it was too late... The little boy had died minutes before their arrival. It was all tears and pain that day for the whole village, the children had lost what stood for them as their hope, Hamza's parents felt it deep but not as much as the one who had now lately become his friend and companion Mr Tanchu, who would not change his blood stained clothe for days all for the sake of anguish and anger because He could understand very well that only if there was a functioning health care facility in the village then maybe Hamza, his friend and the one with a smile that always shone hope would have stood a chance at life. The end. (The average African child and his dreams is like an eagle with clipped wings it may never fly- Philip Asaya)