The Grave Decade

by

Elisha  Otieno

2nd Edition

 

Copyright © 2014
All rights reserved by Elisha Otieno

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,graphic,electronic,or mechanical including photocopying,recording,taping or by any information retrieval system, without permission in writing of the publisher.

Ariba Technologies & Book Publishers
P.o Box 503-40600
Siaya –Kenya
Website: www.aribatecbp.com

ISBN:  978-1-49356-975-5

First published 2012

2nd Edition edited by:
Nobert Oduor K’onyango

Principal –Nyasanda Community High School
TABLE OF CONTENTS
  PREFACE 5
  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT 7
  CHAPTER ONE 8
  First aid 10
  Facing the Reality 11
  CHAPTER TWO 13
  The Grace year 13
  First encounter with the exorcist 14
  CHAPTER THREE 19
  Two blends of poison 19
  CHAPTER FOUR 24
  Back to school 29
  CHAPTER FIVE 32
  Dog soup 33
  CHAPTER SIX 37
  Cuts on the neck 39
  CHAPTER SEVEN 43
  The Bible pillow 44
  CHAPTER EIGHT 47
  Anti hospital gospel 50
  CHAPTER NINE 54
  Job seeking 55
  CHAPTER TEN 59
  The Kenya Association for the Welfare of Epileptics-KAWE 59
PREFACE

The Grave Decade is a self testimonial nonfiction story book written to share, my personal experience of ten years in infirmity. This was after keen analysis and conclusion that it was, indeed, necessary for the benefit of other victims of similar calamities. The book covers a wide range of challenges involved, including: social, religious and developmental intricacies one faces when in a situation that creates a wedge between him and the surrounding community. My earlier decision to burry my head in the sand and keep the whole experience a secret was disapproved by several victims of other health complications, including the former Kenyan Minister for Medical Services, Professor Peter Anyang Nyongo, who publicly shared his experience in prostate cancer. The pain is soothed by ridiculous encounters that are enjoyable to any reader who loves interesting stories. One of the most important lessons from the book is the anti- hospital religious doctrines, as viewed from my personal experience.
My endeavor to write was honed by the Writers Bureau-Manchester-England where I registered as a student in 2010.
As a new breed of fish in the lake of writers, I felt rejuvenated when my first  article, Dialogue Saves Kenya was published by a Canadian magazine~Pages of Stories-A special war edition in 2011 and I decided to take it a notch higher by writing this book. I am flexing my muscles to write fictions that reflect our day to day life experiences aimed at offering lessons in one way or another. I wish you enjoyable reading.
Elisha Otieno
Siaya-Kenya

“The wealth of our graves swells high from the harvest of unripe fruits. The gawky angel of death gawks at the medicine man with pain. He whines and writhes in bitterness at the crisis. Health solution is a crisis...! To him, it’s a crisis. The grave digger growls in his spirits. Cure is a crisis…!. To him, it’s a crisis. It’s a scarcity…!, a scarcity of job, a scarcity of bread and butter. His business blossoms, with the caravan of souls leaving the surface of the seventh planet”. 

CHAPTER ONE

A strange electronic sensation in my nervous system worsened by a rhythm of pounding beats on my almost exploding head like a slam of hammer from an assailant, a trail of saliva dribbling from my mouth down to the mattress like spilled milk, pain from my lower lips damaged by teeth marks, evidently from several vigorous bites and bruises from my fists, feet, shoulder and other external parts of my body unveils some grisly scenario of a battle between me and some powerful forces, but when and how is the question that lingers in my mind.

The night this happened, my siblings and I had retired to bed. As was our lifestyle during the 1980s,all the male grandchildren from the different families that composed the home of our grandparents would dine together and sleep in a house reserved for the purpose. The females shared the house with” the old mother of our fathers” to keep her happy .There was no sign of health complications when I joined the rest on the extended family bed to sleep.
I tried to lift my head but my neck muscles contracted involuntarily, rendering my efforts useless. I collapsed back to the bed in exhaustion and my groggy body relaxed hopelessly.
A tune of a worship song, mostly used in funerals and sorrowful occasions, found its way into my ears, blowing my memories more closer to the grave than just the health condition. The singers, a group of pious relatives arched around my bed conclusively caressed my numb body, wiped the saliva spills and placed me in a good sleeping position. A comment from one of them gnawed a big portion of my heart “may be it’s a demon of epilepsy?”  The last word floored my hopes, on imaginations of the vicissitudes of the deadly nervous disease as I knew it from other victims.

Buy at only Kshs.300 and enjoy your reading......!