Introduction
By Elizabeth Ombati, CIC-K
Robert is a performing artist, creative, thinker. He composed this poem wanting to narrate the experiences that a dearly loved friend of Robert’s faced. This poem was a winning entry in a poetry competition organized by the Kenyan National Commission on Human Rights. In my mind, I think of the human rights violations faced within communities, and of course within institutions as well; the existence of it, and what can we do about it? This poem speaks to those violations.
Setting the context
By Robert Omondi
This poem is about how communities as a collective can be enablers of violation of fundamental rights and freedoms of persons with psychosocial disabilities.
It was written after a first-hand observation and witnessing the experiences a friend (who was later diagnosed with psychosis) went through and the heartbreaking response the surrounding community gave instead during his episodes.
It was significant to see the human in him (far from the tags given) when he broke down in tears after the ordeals they took him through, those tears as heavy as they fell, with each falling drop, a much more heavier message rose; We, persons with psychosocial disabilities, are not any less of humans and our rights and freedom are not a privilege or an ask but totally inherent and inalienable, so is the call for inclusive communities.
‘Stares, Whispers, Wounds and Prayers’ mirrors two sides doing the same thing but on different context, one side totally mislead, the other side totally needs to be heard.
Stares, Whispers, Wounds and Prayers
By Robert Omondi
Cold Stares
Silent Whispers
Warm wounds
Loud Prayers
Cold Stares
From the Men Next Door
From the Women in the Neighbourhood
From the Kids Playing
From My Classmates in School
Silent Whispers
From the men who said “He is out of his Mind”
From the Women who murmured ” He has been Bewitched”
From the Children who mimicked my speech
From the classmates who tagged me as being possessed
Warm Wounds
From the Men who finally decided to Grab Me
From the Women, Who Brought the Chains, the Ropes and Made Sure I was tightly Placed on the Bed
From the Children Who Threw Things At Me
From the Classmates who gave me tags that cut through my Heart
Loud Prayers
From the Men Who Wanted To Exorcise Me
From the Women Who Brought in the Preachers
From the Children who were Sent to Bring In Salt and Oil for Cleansing
From my Classmates Who were asked to Join in Loud in Chants to scare away the demons
It’s a whole society
A whole neighbourhood
An Entire Community
Highly Convinced
That I must be possessed, It can’t be any other way.
And so I also find myself…
…Giving Cold Stares;
Probably this will Push them Away, As I hope someone will come to my Rescue
…Having Silent Whispers:
I just need help, I am not possessed , somebody please come to my rescue
…Nursing Warm Wounds;
From the Heckling, To Beatings, To Traumas; All because they gave me a tag and were too determined to “rescue me”
…Saying Loud Prayers;
Yes I too Can Pray, and Lord, Rescue me From all this , Coercion, Stigma and degrading Treatment
And May You Hold Me in My Journey to Recovery as I prove to them, that this can be managed
But before then , both them and I are caught up in this exchange of
Cold Stares
Silent Whispers
Warm Wounds
Loud Prayers.
May Intervention Come to Our Rescue
May we never again have to face such, in this Unequal World.