Nnebuifé Kwubéi: How Vulnerability Becomes Transferred

The human condition, at its most vulnerable, is one of the most mind-altering aspects of life. As I am writing this, my first attempt at writing anything of note since the turn of the year, I am thinking about my friend who is suffering from a really uncomfortable pile – the seemingly easy process of defecating becomes painful and heartbreaking. I listen to him give me a breakdown of how much work he puts in to ensure that his next excrement is soft to make the process less painful. It’s discomforting to hear him being vulnerable to me this way because, as I have to admit, the pain, the sight of it, or the thought of suffering makes me uncomfortable to the point of abhorrence. Watching, seeing, and listening to pain introduces a sort of restlessness to my brain. But this is not about me.

I tell my friend to think about applying for scholarships abroad, and maybe the opportunity of living in a saner clime could afford him the opportunity to be free of this embarrassing and painful reality. It’s the only word I could afford to offer him. I do not have a cure for his ailment. I have to say something, to show that I care, that I understand his pain.

But that’s not the biggest problem for him. He has a widowed mother, and in her eyes, he is her husband. My friend fears that moving away from home will break his mother’s heart and that the loneliness that could come from his absence might make her ill and even kill her.

It’s a line of thought that I am very familiar with. I do not have a widowed mother, but she practically raised us (my brother and I) by herself. But in her case, she’s always had kids and family members from the village in our house at different stages of our upbringing. Even now, my 26-year-old cousin is staying with her. That has somehow helped make up for my brother travelling abroad. I think about my mother being lonely most of the time, but I try not to do that a lot. That sort of sadness and vulnerability of the human condition makes me cry, and I do not like crying when I am alone. I am alone a lot of times.

My friend’s mother does not have the option of having family members around. They are all so far from home. I tell him to make a decision soon and that the bigger picture would mean him being able to take care of his mom with the proceeds from his sojourn in greener pastures. I am not sure if I believe what I am saying, but I know that he can harbour resentment toward his mom if he doesn’t leave home to find his way. He has tried several medical options but none has cured him. They keep prescribing drugs; he gets better today, but tomorrow, he is not. It’s such an uncomfortable sickness and I feel for him.

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Feature Image by Teddy Tavan for Pexels

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