This was the third time I was visiting this place. I do not want to speak of days because they all seem like eternity. Maya forced me to be here. Well, she didn’t directly force me but the way she put it was more of a threat than a request. I had to obey. She holds the knife and the coco yam so I had no other choice.
You wonder who Maya is? Let me tell you. Maya is the air that I breathe and never want to exhale for fear of loosing it. I really cannot compare her to the sun because she is the sun. The stars? Well, that’s what I see every time I look at her–I see stars. For the sake of my sanity let me stop describing her. She’s indescribable. No superlative could ever describe her beauty and I mean beauty in its totality. Her Character; her speech; her thoughts…Jeez! The only thing I could compare to her speech is probably the flowing milk and honey the the Israelites were promised. I don’t know if she’s got a scale in her tongue because her words are always carefully measured. If sold she could easily topple Bill Gates as the richest person on the earth. Let me summarize that by saying that her words are the food to my soul. The words themselves don’t come easily to her. Patient in speech but quick in thought; polite but assertive. Her eyes are the bow and arrow that shot Achilles’ heel. They can kill you. At times I wonder why nations are busy campaigning for nuclear disarmament. Just put a veil over her eyes and the world is a safe place.
Her lips! My oh my! You wonder whether they are a painting by DaVinci or a sculpture by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. She is perfection personified. Sometimes I think God must have rested again after forming her in her mother’s womb. God bless wherever she came from.
You may also wonder where ‘this place‘ is. I will also tell you about it.
This is a dungeon! A hell hole! The creepiest place on Earth. If Archaeologists and Anthropologists were to conduct a research then they would most definitely discover that this place used to be the headquarters of Sodom and Gomorrah.
The doors leading to the reception squeak in silence as though it’s a haunted home. The wind blows the curtain as if an evil ghost is confirming its attendance. The faded pictures on the walls look like mourning souls sacrificed to the devil. The receptionist smile. Her lips red as though she’s just come from a blood sucking orgy. My heart stops. My thoughts freeze.
“This place is so peaceful”. Maya whispers into my ears.
“Damn it! That receptionist mus have enchanted you!” I think as I bitterly look at the receptionist who now points us to the room where I will be taken care of. Her finger nails! Jeez! They look as if she’s just dug herself out of her grave. Her hands are pale as though she had been frozen.
“Alright. Go in honey”, Maya instructs me as she usher me in. “I’ll come pick you in the afternoon”.
I realise I can’t move. “Go in honey. I’m sure you’ll do just fine’ It’s for us you know”. She comforts me.
For the first time I think I am scared. “Scared of what?” I ask myself. “Of the fact that they’ll take away what I love?” I don’t know.
“C’mon you stupid twins!” I thoughtfully admonish my feet as I forcefully drag them in.
I suddenly realise I am shedding tears. Maya thinks I am crying. Truth is, I am not. I cannot even feel her kiss my cheeks as she whispers her gentle “I love you” ad “goodbye”. At this point I remember my first day in school when I tightly held onto my Mum’s feet and yelled begging her not to leave me. I think of doing the same to Maya.
“Go in! You are a grown up!” My super-ego commands me.
“Yes! Grab her feet and weep like a baby! Wet her trousers with your tears and mucus!” My Id tries to offer some advise.
“Come on, Just go in, sit and tag along. It’s that easy.” That’s my ego. At least I can compare it to Maya–the voice of reason.
I grudgingly drag my feet along as I go in. I take a seat at the corner of the room and silently look down. I am not shy, just afraid. Slowly, I lift my head and my eyes meet with what I can describe as the most shocking scene ever! They meet with the eyes of those who were in the room. All I see around me are ghosts. The humans are smiling but all I see are blood thirsty vampire.
“Oh My God! Maya has just sacrificed me! No! It’s not true! This can’t be! It must be a nightmare! I quickly wipe my eyes and stare back at the ‘ghosts’. I am about to scream Maya! and run to wherever she might be crying when I hear something closer to a human voice.
“His withdrawal symptoms must have started early!” That’s the counselor. I know him from our first meeting when Maya brought me here.
“Okay guys, let’s start today’s session. Mercy start us off.” Timothy, the counselor, speaks as if to confirm that this is a gathering of human beings and not a congregation of ghosts.
“Hi, my name is Mercy and I am a Cocaine addict…”
“You must be, your voice betrayed that even before you could mention it. Your smell too! Jeez! Is that how a crack skin smells!” I thoughtfully wonder as she goes ahead crying, telling us how her five (differently fathered) children disappeared because of her addiction. “You must have been quite irresponsible! That serves you right!” I cannot control my thoughts. I wonder if that is a symptom of withdrawal. I am surprised that the fellow humans clap after she is done. I only wish I had a whip!
The trend goes on. Alcoholics, smoker, sex addicts…! I can’t remember all of them.
“It’s your turn Sam.” Timothy politely instructs me, rudely bringing my lost mind back into the haunted room. All eyes are on me. At least this time they look human and also teary. “So emotions make us human.” I ponder.
“Hi, my name is Sam”
“Hi Sam.” They gladly respond in unison.
“I am a…”
“No way! You can’t confess your addiction you fool!” My Id
“Confess or get out of here! stop wasting you time!” My super ego
“Just confess if you feel comfortable but if not then don’t” My Ego
“I…am…NOT…an addict!” I gladly confess. At least my Id is right this time round.
I could notice the disappointment in their eyes when I made my confession. This made me happy. At least I afforded a smile for once while in this place. “I cannot be equated to junkies!”
It was about noon and Timothy was concluding the session by giving each person a ‘promise coin’ as they called it attached to a pendant so one could always have it around his or her neck. I occasionally joined the clapping band when they called out names I felt worthy of being clapped for (names not people). I still wished I had a whip!
Timothy did not call out my name. I was present-minded all along.
All the recipients of the ‘promise coin’ gathered around the tea urn a the door happily discussing their life before and after their addiction. I meanwhile sought out Timothy, who was busy talking to Geoffry the sex addict, to know why he never gave me the coin. In fact I should have been the first or the last to receive it then be allowed to give a lecture on how to stay free from addictions.
“Hey Tim? Why didn’t you give me the coin?” I confidently asked him.
“You see Sam,” he politely began, “this coin is a symbol of accountability and promise. As we both know, you cannot promise to give what you don’t have and can never get. Your colleagues in this meeting publicly exposed themselves therefore confirming their freedom from their addictions and that is why I awarded them the promise coin, to remind them each time of the promise they made and the steps they took.”
“Oh!” I interjected. “Why can’t I just confess to you then you give me the coin. Mine’s not that bad.”
I never paid attention to whatever he said after my proposal because either way I was not going to be given the promise coin. I clasped my hands together and smiling, nodded at everything he said. Maya was in sight. I believe she was looking at us as we walked along the corridor towards the exit. The counselor bid me goodbye as he amorously waved at Maya. “You can”t get her you fool!” I thoughtfully admonished him as I hugged and kissed her cheeks making sure he saw it.
“Where’s your coin?” Maya proudly asked me as she unlocked the car. She never let me drive ever since she concluded that I have an addiction of some sort. She always believed she made sense when justifying her claims that I have an addiction. I don’t and I will never have one!
“Oh so you know about this things?” I stupidly asked laughing as I tried to conceal my shock. The disappointment in her eyes could not be concealed. Now this is what scares me most. Disappointing her.
We drove half the distance home silent in the car. In fact he turned off the music immediately she realised I did not have the coin. The silence haunted me more than ‘that place.’ I don’t want to confess that I was in a rehab so please understand. My hope was that she would not crash and kill both of us. She can be such a drama queen at times.
She finally decided to break the silence by breaking my heart. She began crying. For a moment I could not decipher whether these were the tactics she always employs whenever she wants to persuade me or if she was genuinely crying. My instincts confirmed the latter.
“How many times Sam? Tell me, how many times”. She said as she wiped her tears to have a clear view of the road.
“Oh dear! I am doomed! She only addresses me by name when she is deeply disappointed or hurt.”
A lump of saliva chocked me and my eyes which are normally brown turned completely white. I was suffocating. She entered a roadside mall and navigated around looking for a parking slot. “This was it! The tigress had been awoken”. I quickly rolled down my window to gasp for air but after a few seconds she rolled it up as if to say “You have had enough of you ways, time to have it my way”. Thank God I maximized the chance when I got it.
“I am babe.” I humbly began apologizing. Not because I had hurt her but as a child apologizes to the parent for fear of punishment.
“Don’t babe me! You get it!” She angrily interjected patiently uttering each word as she moved her arms up and down finally resting them on the steering wheel as if she would have banged it given the chance.
I tried holding her hands to calm her down but the look she gave me! If you have ever seen an agitated cat then you can picture that.
“I am going into the supermarket and we’ll talk about this extensively when I get back.” In fact I was about to call 911 before she said this. “What has she gone to buy? A nail gun? A panga?” I worriedly thought as her figure disappeared into the supermarket. I was scared out of my skin. Thank God my car, sorry, our car had tinted windows so no one would see what would see what would happen when she came back.
I rolled down my window leaving a peeping just to be prepared in advance to spring outside immediately she opened the door in case I saw her coming armed. “Maya would never hurt me…” I tried to console myself. In deed she ever would hurt at times seemed relative to her.
She came back holding a Nakumatt paper bag. The contents only God know. I repositioned myself and assumed the posture of a frog that is ready to leap. I painstakingly tried to examine the contents of that paper bag as she approached. I realised it had no protruding contents or sharp edges. Inside I could see cans of Soda and some muffin shaped elements. I relaxed a bit resuming my sitting posture but not letting down my guard.
“So I bought you a Can of sprite Soda” She said as she opened the boot throwing the paper bag on the back seat. I had to confirm. I was not prepared for surprises or back attacks.
I took the Can and hesitatingly opened it. I was suspicious of it’s content. “Let me help you”. She said as she opened as took a sip from it. I was embarrassed by this.
“You know Sam, I am tired of all these. It is as though you never understand me! Or am I pushing you too hard?”
“NO, no,” I quickly answered.
“Then what is it. All I am doing is trying to save what we have here. I am afraid of losing you Sam…” She added as she broke down in tears again. “Oh Crap! Here comes the tears again!” I hurtfully thought as I picked the tissues in the dashboard cabinet and tried to wipe away her tears. She let me do it without causing a commotion. That was a good sign.
“I said I am sorry babe”
“Sorry for what? For making a fool of me or for what? I try to do my best but you never appreciate me. All you do is call me obscene character names every time we ****. You even called me Okwonkwo after previously calling me Toundi. This is what made me conclude that you need rehabilitative care but you don’t want to admit you have an addiction.”
Maya was claiming that I have an addiction to books. She could not stand the attention I gave them;the way I looked at them. She also loved them but said that I was her’s and her’s alone. She could not afford sharing me with books. She felt threatened by the books. Hahaha! Threatened by books.
“Fine then, relieved, I finally spoke confidently, “tomorrow I’ll admit my addiction”.
“Promise me babe”
“I promise”. I answered as I tried to imagine the next day at that place.
“Hi I am Sam”
“Hi Sam”, they all respond in unison.
I am a book addict…blah blah blah”
(I cry a bit and they clap thunderously)
PS: Sam is just an imaginary character not me
TO BE CONTINUED…
Sam Dennis 
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