You See Me

I can't fall asleep and look over at my friend seated across from me. I've taken a Xanax already and drunk some vodka which usually knocks me out quickly but right now I still can't fall asleep even though my eyes are heavy. I look over at Patrick and think about how just a few weeks ago I would have laughed at the thought of me considering him a friend. Our families have always done business together so we've known each other since we were young but I never thought that when I really needed someone to be on my side, he'd be the one that was there.

We had always run in our own circles and never felt that close, but he's here right now. I guess it's true that when in the darkness your true friends really shine through. Patrick stirs and jolts awake. He wipes the drool off his mouth and stretches. He stares at me. "Please tell me that you at least snuck in a nap, I haven't seen you close your eyes for more than five minutes," he tells me. There are probably unseemly bags underneath my eyes. I smile. "I don't think that I'll be sleeping for a while," I tell him. I'm exhausted actually. I throw my head back into my seat. "You wouldn't mind knocking me out would you?" I joke. Patrick throws his neck pillow at me. I catch it and sigh. He looks at me sympathetically. "I know that things are tough for you right now bro but chin up," this must be the thousandth time he's said that, but then again I'm going to Zimbabwe. One of the poorest countries in the world. I remember being in high school in England and learning in Economics that Zimbabwe had the highest hyperinflation that any country had ever experienced. In the textbook there had been a boy holding a sign written "Starving Billionaire!" because their currency had devalued to the point that they had billion dollar notes that they couldn't even buy a loaf of bread with. The perks of this country though is that they are a paper-based country and have no extradition agreements with most countries. That makes it perfect for me at the moment when I need to lie as low as possible. I sigh again. "Zimbabwe is not that bad," Patrick tries to tell me. He's just trying to make me feel better. Even he was reluctant to go to Zimbabwe and he's Nigerian, a country that is known for extreme levels of corruption where politicians often embezzle funds and blame the funds disappearing on a witchcraft snake eating it. His friends tried to discourage him from coming telling him in Pidgin that "he will suffer o!", but here he is with me. I'm grateful, He promised to escort me all the way to the mission camp in the middle of Chiredzi where I'll be camped with volunteer doctors and other weirdos. That's part of my punishment. I could have been set up in a nice hotel or rental property here but instead here I am being sent to live in huts and tents, sleeping not the floor with insects biting me. They might have as well sent me to jail. I'm just praying that my case doesn't blow up like the Red Bull heir in Thailand but my parents if nothing else are masters at public relations. My issue hasn't blown up in the papers yet and I keep praying that it doesn't. The worst thing about the entire situation is that I don't remember anything about it at all. I can only remember lying down to rest on a couch then waking up and everything around is burning. I never thought of myself as one of those drunks. The scariest thing is that I don't even have flashbacks about what happened no matter how hard I try to think back. Patrick tells me that sometimes those flashbacks come to you after months. But it's already been one month and nothing at all has been coming to my mind. I sigh back into my seat and try to sleep again. It's been hard. The times that I would go out I would feel like everyone was staring at me and judging me. That my once pristine, principled image was lost forever was something that was hard for me to swallow at first. It doesn't bother me so much anymore as much as the fact that all the people that I thought were my friends have pretty much abandoned me and made me a social pariah. "Please note that we are about to land at Robert Mugabe International Airport in thirty minutes, please fasten your seatbelts and make sure that your phone is on airplane mode," I sigh. Here goes nothing and comes something that I don't really want to handle at the moment. # **** Someone is shaking me awake, I slowly open one eye. Patrick's face comes into focus. "You chose a bad time to finally fall asleep," he tells me. He helps me get up. I yawn and stretch. It was probably just about fifteen minutes of sleep but it refreshed me just a little bit. We walk out of the plane with the airplane hostess following with our bags. The last perk that I will have for the next few weeks and hopefully not months. Months would be much too cruel. We go through immigration quickly and I'm surprised that they don't hassle us more. African airports are notorious for trying to solicit bribes. There's a Range Rover Velar waiting to pick us up in the parking lot. The driver is a man that is not exactly fat but has quite the big paunch for a belly. His dark skin is clean shaven and he greets us heartily. "Welcome to Zimbabwe, I hope you will enjoy your stay," he tells us. I smile at him and murmur my own greeting knowing perfectly well that there is nothing that I will be enjoying here except anonymity. Now is the worst part of the trip. The six hour drive to Chiredzi because the bloody place has no airport and my parents didn't want to search for a private plane for me. I am no longer the son that can get privileges anymore. I sigh as I sit back into the car. "You know this place isn't as bad as they advertise it to be," Patrick comments as we're driven through Harare. I look around. He's right. Even though it is clear that there hasn't been much infrastructural development since it gained independence in 1985 which is a fact that I know because my cousin drilled facts about Zimbabwe into me before I left. Many of the buildings actually look colonial but there are no motorcycles providing public transport like in Nigeria and Kenya and the roads though horrendous aren't as bad as I was expecting them to be. We leave Harare thirty minutes later and I decide that I'll try to act like this is a fun road trip to a new area. As we drive along I notice that the country is quite underpopulated out of the capital city. There are large stretches of land that are completely uninhabited. I also see the stray monkey...or is that a baboon? I sigh. Maybe I can try to fall asleep again. **** I dream that I am back home and enter through the large oak doors. They creak as I open them. I am back to being a child again. I am five and I have not disappointed my parents yet, I haven't disappointed anyone yet. Everything that I do even the mistakes and fall is treated with kindness because I am just a kid right? It's good for me to be running and falling and trying stupid things so that I can grow and learn about the world. My parents appear in front of the staircase. My mother walks towards me then stops, goes on one knee and opens her arms wide to me. I run into her arms, her warm welcoming arms and hug her. She hugs me closely to her body and I can smell the mix of vanilla essential oil that she mixes with Chanel No.5 in order to have her own unique scent that no one else can quite put their finger on. I know the secret of her scent though. I watch her get ready and I've seen her make her little mixture. I take in her smell. "You're such a disappointment," she whispers in my ear... # **** # This time I slept and when I wake up the car is driving into a dust road. At this point I would normally think that I'm being kidnapped. I jolt but Patrick puts his hand on my knee. "Sleep well princess?" He teases. "Chill we're headed to the village now, there are rarely paved roads that lead to rural areas unless they are close to highways," I sigh again and rub my eyes. The dream I had was nice until the very end where my mom told me that I'm a disappointment. For a few moments I remember what life was like for our family before my uncle died and my father inherited the family company instead. Before both my parents had been very easy going people and would spend copious amounts of time with me. At the time my parents had been my best friends. Then they became businesspeople and they began to miss my sports matches and teacher consultations then they stopped picking me after school and had a driver do it for them. By the time I was fifteen, I saw more memories of them in my mind than in actual reality. I see huts nearing and a vehicle that looks like it belongs to a non-profit organisation. We drive right into the middle and park. We get out of the car and look around. There is no one there. The driver hoots twice then a woman comes out from the nearby bushes. They talk to each other in a language that I don't understand. It must be Shona, we're in the region of Zimbabwe that speaks Shona, a bantu language. Gosh, I'm turning into a walking encyclopaedia. The driver eventually turns to us. "The other people here are away on a trip with the villagers here. Welcome to Kufunda Village. This village is an educational village for women and girls. They house a number of them especially single mothers. They teach them skills and also provide medical services to the surrounding areas," The driver says. " I will help you unpack your bags and settle down," He takes our bags from the boots and leads us to one of the huts. The wooden door that he kicks open seems a bit flimsy to me. Zimbabwe has lions and those doors don't seem strong enough to keep one out if shit ever happens. I sigh and looks around. There's no sign of a bed anywhere. There's just a reed mat folding in a corner and a bunch of old and musty folded blankets. I look in shock at Patrick. He shrugs. "Welcome to rural Africa," he tells me. He takes the reed mat and unfolds it placing it on the floor, He puts one blanket on top of the other. He lies down on them. "This is how we make the bed back in the village," he explains. I sigh and lie down next to him. "I hope that there are no mosquitoes and bugs bothering me at night," I murmur. "You did bring Peaceful Sleep right?" "Is this the Congo or something?" I sneer. He laughs. "No, but it's a high risk malaria zone here and this is one of the hottest regions in the country. But the good news is if you get cerebral malaria your parents might send you to a private hospital where you won't have to deal with the inconveniences of poor African life. I kiss my teeth at him, I habit I recently adopted from him and throw a blanket over him. At leats I might have some fun with my friend before he has to go in two days.