Ezra Wasswa
"Stop! Don't throw it, please!" shouted the pupils while they ran in every direction. My friend Kenneth had become something unrecognizable, and the whole school was in shock and terror. Everyone was shouting as they ran away from the point of commotion.
"Kenny!" I yelled to my friend to see if I could get his attention. He had disrupted our usually joyful Easter Sunday service.
"Move out of the way, you kids!" shouted the teacher, who was in a wide stance, bracing himself to go head-on with Kenneth. Mr. Odeke was the chaplain and one of the bravest teachers at the school. These situations did not surprise him often, but this was a rare incident.
Kenneth threw the wooden desk towards the rest of the pupils and fell to the ground unconscious. On the ground, he convulsed as his eyes, white as snow, rolled in and out, and saliva dropped like a stream of water. Stunned, everyone stopped praying and scattered around like falling leaves in a storm. As everyone asked each other what was happening to him, some were laughing, whereas others were in a panic. Only a few of us knew what was happening to Kenneth because we had seen it before.
"You guys think this is a laughing matter, eh? I will slap all of you!" Mr. Odeke said angrily. Everyone stared at Kenneth as he writhed on the ground, his uniform filled with dust and sandals flung far from him. As he rolled on the dusty ground, as if he were being controlled by strings, he began mocking us in a demonic voice,
"You stupid people think you can trap me in school? You're joking!".
"Do we have any strong boys around?" Mr. Odeke asked. Normally, every boy would come forward when asked such a question, but fear had struck everyone to the core, to the point some had started shedding tears. I remember thinking to myself, this can't be real; it isn't happening. It's my buddy, he wouldn't... try to harm us.
Kenneth was no regular elementary school child. If you crossed paths with him, you would think he was a teenager; he was gigantic compared to the kids in school. He had scars on his head, arms, and legs from falling to the ground multiple times. He had one deep, diamond-shaped scar in between his eyes. It looked as if he had a third eye if observed from afar. Most kids feared Kenneth, but to me, he was just my friend. Kenneth and I were classmates in the same Ugandan boarding school. Whereas I was destitute, Kenneth came from a wealthy family, and I liked to listen to his stories about extravagant vacations. He'd generously use his own cash to buy us food from the canteen when we were hungry. Although I was not afraid of Kenneth, I knew something was unusual when he told stories about the family's witch doctor. Kenneth told me that before he was even born, his parents had dedicated him to an evil spirit in exchange for wealth.
"What happened here? Can I get an answer?" Mr. Odeke demanded. Everyone kept quiet for a moment, and then someone shouted from the back.
"Kenneth has fainted out of nowhere after eating a large bowl of cornmeal." Everyone in the back laughed at the idea that eating excess food could make someone act extremely abnormally.
"Stop making jokes, guys," I said. "My friend is not feeling well", I added, trying to make the situation seem lighter than it was.
"You seem to know what happened, young man. Aren't you friends with him?" Mr. Odeke said, singling me out. I looked behind me, not sure if he was talking to me. He then pointed directly at me. As I stood there with more than a thousand eyes staring at me, I just wanted to disappear into the hot Ugandan soil.
"Hey, you! Do not waste our time here; tell me what caused this commotion", he demanded of me.
"I... I just saw him move towards the desk," I stammered, not knowing what to say.
"Are you going to speak, or shall we settle this in my office?" Mr. Odeke said impatiently. Knowing I had no choice at this point, I started explaining the whole story. Under their watchful eyes, I began to unravel the events that had led to this moment.
“It started with a strange feeling, a sense of unease...as everyone was praying” I lamented. "Kenneth started talking to me about Holy Week and how he did not know why there had to be multiple days to be celebrated.” He was upright, his eyes wide and unfocused, standing in a rigid posture. His head was also tilted slightly while staring directly into my eyes with an unsettling intensity.
"Well, it's indeed awkward for you to start talking about that now in the middle of Easter service," I told Kenneth.
"I don't know, I just don't feel the vibe, man," he said jokingly. "I hate attending Christian services like this," he added. Then suddenly, he said, "I think I don't feel well at all, man".
"What do you mean? Let us pray about it," I hurriedly responded. At my offer to pray, he instantly scowled at me and laughed. "Look at you! What can you possibly do?"
Kenneth then moved slowly towards the front of the congregation as he squeezed through and pushed anyone in his way. I called him, "Kenny, yo!!" but to no avail. When he reached the front, he grabbed the desk, braced to throw it, before he collapsed to the ground.
As I told my story, I was shocked to realize that Kenneth was up and standing right behind Mr. Odeke. "Look behind you, teacher! He is standing up again!" I shouted. Mr. Odeke turned around to find Kenneth, mouth wide open with saliva flowing like water. He stared at Mr. Odeke curiously as if he had never seen him before.
"You won't take away this body; his parents sacrificed it for me for wealth," he shouted in a distorted, guttered voice before pushing the teacher to the ground with the utmost force. Kenneth dropped to the ground once again. This time, it was like someone had flipped a switch to shut down his whole body. Mr. Odeke was terrified and could not move a muscle. I knew we had to go and give a hand to both. I called four friends to help me carry Kenneth. Even though we were extremely feeble, we had to carry our heavy friend. We picked him up and headed towards the sick bay to get treatment.
Mr. Odeke was also taken to the sick bay, as he could not say a word and his muscles were paralyzed. The school nurse called an ambulance, and Kenneth was taken to the hospital for further examination. Little did I know that I would never see my friend Kenneth again. I heard he was treated over and over, but his condition worsened, and he was later disowned and dumped on the streets. Last I heard, he was rummaging for food on the streets, acting like a madman. His father, a wealthy businessman, was robbed and killed in a shooting.
I often think about Kenneth and wonder if I could have done something more to help him that day. Even at a young age, I realized that Kenneth was an exceptionally peaceful person, and he was not to blame for his condition. I'd never seen him raise his voice, not even when he was frustrated. He'd just sigh or walk away, choosing quiet over conflict. Seeing him like that was like watching the shadow of someone I knew. The Kenneth I knew wouldn't hurt a fly. I do not know if he ever made it off the streets or if he died there. These unanswered questions have haunted me, and though I am far from home now, I yearn to go back to Uganda someday to minister to street kids. I could not help my friend Kenneth, but maybe I can help the next one.
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