Kedo Peseyie
It was on a rainy, windswept May evening, the jeep sped toward home. The man in the jeep was eager to get home after a hard day’s work. And then, tragedy struck. In a deadly curve the jeep swerved uncontrollably toward the side and went off the road.
It all happened so fast he hardly remembered what exactly went wrong. When he opened his eyes, the jeep was overturned and he was lying beside it feeling a fierce pain in the leg. Then he saw that his left leg was cut off with only a thin nerve connecting it to the rest of his body.
Then a fierce pain pierced his heart. His whole life, and the faces of his wife and daughter waiting at home flashed before him. He saw them with his eyes closed and he saw them too with his eyes open. The pain in the heart seemed to overshadow the pain below. His life and the life of his family were about to change forever. But he was not sure whether it would be for the better or for the worse. This unexpected turn of events, this tragedy which could have been avoided is now casting the shadow of uncertainty over his future and the future of the family. That was what pained him the most.
Everything changed for the family after that fateful evening. By this cruel twist of events they were involuntarily ushered into the community of those whose family members had suffered physical injuries crippling them for the rest of their natural lives.
For most of the time the little daughter Liya sat by the hospital bed of her father who was now lying there with only the right leg. There is a kind of anguish known only to little girls who have sat beside the bedside of a suffering father. And the more she loves her father, the more the anguish. She knew the anguish, the fears and asked the questions. But deep inside, she was dreaming and praying hard that her father’s left leg would grow again, and grow very fast.
And there is a kind of anguish and pain known only to fathers who have seen a beloved daughter so devastated by his sufferings. Would he now deprive the little girl and her mother of having a man who could walk and run with them around the house? Could he give her everything a father ought to give? Angst! Pain! Sorrow!
The mother had this anguish too. But like a true mother she was too busy doing what only needed to be done. Later she will have the time to sit down and reflect on the events. But when that time comes she will have understood the anguish, the meaning and purpose. She will have understood and acknowledged the connection of joy and suffering, the connection of every single moment in life with eternity. She will have understood the way life works and how it points so clearly to a life after where a new perfect body awaits her husband. And indeed, she understood that “…even pain and suffering have meaning and value when they are experienced in close connection with love received and given.” And that’s what mothers are. They seem to understand perfectly well the confusing mixture of joy and pain, anguish and peace, the paradoxes, the mysteries, the evidences of things not seen, and the puzzle of things seen so clearly in daily happenings of life.
The family is not the same as it was before that fateful evening. They are all better people now.
Years passed and little Liya is not so little anymore. She is brilliant, beautiful and attending school. Some classmates love her and some don’t. She is comparatively smart and often won most casual debates among her friends and received more attention from the boys. Whenever this happened she often became the victim of the cruellest malign she had ever heard and will ever hear again, “Hey, remember your father has only one leg!”
Her tears were not always easy to hide. She wanted to stand up for her father and make her friends understand that he is the best, the most wonderful and complete father, for her. Her voice half cracking she would always reply, “He is my father, and I will always call him my father!”
Back home it was easier. She cherished the hide and seek game with her father one day. She counted one to ten and it was Dad’s turn to hide. He removed his artificial leg and placed it behind the curtain. She walked into the room, and seeing something bulging out from behind the curtain, she rushed to find only the artificial limb standing there. Later she found her Dad inside the cupboard. He gave her driving lessons, and mirthful moments together reading jokes in the Reader’s Digest. Today she knows that those times spent in doing small things together and developing useful hobbies were truly worth it.
Then as she grew older he taught her everything normal fathers teach their daughters, and more. He even accompanied her till the foot of the mountain on a relatives and family hiking. There was nothing he refused to do for the family and no excuse was ever given because he had this “artificial” limb. There were times she forgot that her “father has only one leg”, for he made it very easy for her to forget. But whenever she sees her father in discomfort having to put on and put off an artificial limb few times a day, and having to walk slower with more effort, she always felt that anguish again. But it was not as strong, and the questions were not as pressing anymore. It was like having an emotion in a faraway dream, like a blank emotion. She could never describe how it was really like but it always made her head heavy. It was not that now she cared less, but now she believed more, because in that blank emotion—like a blank sheet of paper—she often saw thin outlines of beautiful words in marvellous handwriting, like seeing through a dark glass dimly.
And so she would pray. Her prayers were always sincere and simple. But she hardly felt any better even after praying. It didn’t really bother her because she learned it early in life that having nice emotions are not the guarantee that her prayers will be answered.
Of course she did have nice emotions occasionally while praying. But not all the time. That’s why she could not understand her friends who say they have nice emotions every time they close their eyes. Anyway, that doesn’t matter now because she turned out to be more consistent, genuine and reliable than the other girls who claim to have nice emotions all the time.
Nice emotions are what little girls feel when they laugh and smile. But when they cry, grope in the dark and ask the hard questions, they get a firm grasp of something unshakable and eternal. They get to experience a little of the pain of Christ on the cross. And they also get a much better and fuller idea of what it must be like to be free from such a terrible pain. Liya knew a little of what it must be like to be free from such a pain.
Years past and Liya is older now. She is at that stage of life where practicality governs all other areas of life. And she knows that legs don’t grow again. And she wishes her father all the very best.
And today is Father’s Day. Liya is now married and with children. She has read many books, the fairy tales, the Bible, the miracles, and has been through many stages of life. She is now at that stage of life where one begins to emerge from the self imposed prison of pragmatism and practicality. She is now old enough to believe that legs can grow again, and grow very fast.
Today is Father’s Day. Liya is taking a walk with her Mum and Dad. She would have loved to reach out and hug them for the wonderful life they’ve given her. But in their culture that doesn’t happen so easily. And it wasn’t even necessary. So they walk on. She knows that someday, beyond time, a pair of perfect, strong legs will walk the galaxies with God. They will run on errands for God. They will be as swift as the wings of the eagles. What was lost for a while here on earth will be worth more than the others when it is restored. Everyone will talk about that extraordinary pair of legs and Liya will proudly say, as always, “He is my father, and I will always call him my father!”
