Rewind?

"DRIP"

Water droplets hit his face like icy pinpricks, yanking him abruptly from the depths of sleep. A low groan escaped from his mouth as he lay amid a damp room, daily reminder that the fundi's promise to fix the roof had once again turned into shoddy workmanship. With a muttered curse and a frustrated sigh, he shifted to the left, only to discover that the so-called mattress he was sleeping on was nothing more than a thin, uneven pile of hay. Each bump and lump sent a jolt of discomfort through his body, the rough fabric of the bedding scraping his skin until it itched unbearably. "Have I been robbed again?" he thought bitterly, his mind already scheming about catching those mischievous kids responsible for his plight.

As he squinted his eyes in the dark, the only light came through a small hole in the roof, he attempted to rise and walk toward the washroom. His limbs, however, felt stiff and oddly unresponsive, without the usual aches or the familiar pain of his old injuries. His ACL, once a source of constant torment, felt unexpectedly fine - as if he'd been freed from its long-held grip. For a fleeting moment, he imagined he'd slept on a bed of clouds, though the reality was far from the truth.

Everything felt different, he couldn't quite put a finger on it including his surroundings.

Yet, amid the discomfort, a strange sense of nostalgia crept in. The roughness of the hay mattress made him recall all the long ago days of his childhood when the hot, post-rain air and the scent of fresh grass heralded endless summer adventures on sprawling fields. But as these memories washed over him, he was starkly reminded that he was no longer a child; responsibilities and harsh realities awaited him outside the cramped shack.

He stumbled forward trying to look for the washroom, only he collided with a curtain; a rather curious out-of-place relic of a curtain in his otherwise rustic surroundings. Brushing it aside, he was greeted by the sight of a window, which the morning sun was just beginning to illuminate.

As he takes in the sights and sounds of his surroundings, disorientation washes over him. He feels like he has been transported to a different time and place, one that is far, as he is removed from his previous life. He wonders if he has somehow been reincarnated, if his soul has been reborn into a new body, or if he has just been kidnapped again.

'Reincarnation?' he thought. That only happened in those cliché soap operas that he pirated and light novels he read online. Did his mind break from all those traumas? The idea of regression filled him with both wonder and fear. Was he really living in the past? Was he destined to relive the same life over and over again, making the same mistakes and experiencing the same joys and sorrows?

His thoughts swirled around him like a tempestuous storm.

Then, a voice pierced through the tranquility of the morning, shattering his thoughts. It was familiar yet soothing, a voice he hadn't heard for decades, a voice that sounded like home, a voice he swore to protect but he ended up losing it. It was his mother's voice, "Amani, Wake up! Go to school and collect your K.C.P.E result slip." The tears streamed down his cheeks as memories flooded his mind, memories that were filled with remnants of a dream, or was it a nightmare? Either way, they were the echoes of a past that had both scarred and strengthened him — a bittersweet reminder that even shattered dreams could sow the seeds of a new beginning.

Amani felt like leaning on the wall and crying it all out, the tears he always held in were a mixture of joy and sorrow, for he realized that he had lost so much through time, so many precious moments with the woman who gave him life. He wept for all the missed opportunities, for all the words left unsaid, for all the hugs and kisses he could never give her.

Despite the sadness, he felt gratitude and hope. He was grateful to hear her voice again, to know that she was still there. He felt hopeful that he could somehow make amends for all the bad choices he had made. He wanted forgiveness for not protecting her and for not being there when she needed him the most.

The tears were a release, a way for him to purge the emotions that had been bottled up for so long. And as he wiped them away, he knew that he had to be strong, that he had to face whatever lay ahead with courage and determination. But for now, in this moment, he allowed himself to feel, to grieve, and to hope.

Looking out the window, Amani sees a beautiful landscape, with green fields stretching out as far as the eye can see. He sees hills in the distance and a river flowing nearby. The air is fresh, and he can smell the scent of grass and flowers. He feels a sense of peace and tranquility he has never felt before. This was his ancestral home.

With the creak of an old door, he stepped out into the morning. Despite being only 13, his tall, lean frame caught the early sunlight, his melanin-rich skin glowing with a warm, golden hue. Birds chirped cheerfully and cows mooed in the distance, orchestrating a symphony of nature that filled him with an unexpected joy. At that moment, he felt the caress of the wind on his skin — a sensation that stirred long-forgotten memories of freedom and innocence. Ah, Fresh air! It was nothing like the polluted air he had been accustomed to in the slums of Kibera, Nairobi.

At that moment, Amani runs as he feels the wind caress his skin. He hasn't felt like this in decades. Then, as if summoned by fate, he saw her: his mother, tending their small farm with quiet determination, and his grandmother, busy with the maize. His eyes fill with tears. He falls to his knees and embraces his mother tightly. The feel of her arms around him is like a lifeline, grounding him in the reality of the moment.

He can feel the warmth of her body, the familiar scent of her modest perfume, and the sound of her heartbeat as she holds him close. It's as if all the years of separation and pain disappear in that one moment of pure, a reminder of unconditional love.

The tears stream down his face as he holds her, unable to contain the flood of emotions within him. He can feel the weight of his regret and the pain of his loss, but in this moment, he also feels a sense of hope. Thank You GOD!

"Nakupenda Mama," he says as takes in the details of her face - he could see that a few wrinkles were forming around her eyes, and he could also see a strand of gray hair in her beautiful black; the same smile he remembers from his childhood.

"I love you too. Why are you crying, Amani? Are you afraid you failed the National examination?"

"Mom that's not it, I just had a bad dream and besides the K.C.P.E I know I passed it." He indeed got a 372 out of 500 which makes it a B and that would have helped him to enter a good county school if it weren't for his greedy uncle. He had a life and a future ahead of him after primary school, he was the future of this village until it all came crashing down on him. He sighed inwardly at least he didn't reincarnate before or during the examination cause he would have botched it badly.

"If say you so, remember Mama is always by your side, I'm your biggest supporter." He then goes and hugs his grandma. He realizes then at that moment that he has been given a second chance, a chance to make things right and to cherish and also protect the people he loves.

As he stands up, he looks out at the village and the greenery surrounding it, it feels alive with activity as people go about their daily routine. The world feels different now as if it's a canvas waiting to be painted with the colors of his new life. He takes a deep breath, ready to embrace whatever the future holds for him, knowing that he will face it with the strength and love he has gained from this moment.

Goals? Dreams? For as long as he can remember, Amani has been obsessed with football. From playing in the streets with his friends as a child to studying the sport in his free time and also investing in the game Football Manager, he has always had a deep passion for the game. What he enjoyed was studying the strategies and tactics used by the best coaches in the world and what he loved more was playing. 

Amani turned back and headed into their shack. He needed a few minutes away from his grandmother and mother to clear his head. But then, he noticed the mind-numbing pain that tortured his ankle bones and muscles whenever he moved.

And then he remembered.

He'd gotten involved in a bike accident around the time he was thirteen during his previous life. The accident had not been so bad that it'd basically crippled his left foot, but it had left a nagging, persistent pain that haunted his every step.

That moment marked the beginning of the end of his once-promising soccer career. The spark that had once ignited his passion on the field was slowly being smothered by a growing anger and a bitter sense of injustice. As he entered high school, that anger festered into rebellion. He became known for his volatile outbursts and frequent brawls — an unruly hooligan whose actions spoke louder than the dreams he once nurtured.

Amid his turmoil, his uncle saw an opportunity to exploit the chaos. With calculated cruelty, he sent goons to their home, and it was during one of these violent confrontations that Amani's left knee suffered a devastating blow — a torn ACL that would forever alter the course of his life. The injury wasn't merely physical; it shattered the foundation of his soccer aspirations, leaving him with an irreparable void.

Unable to continuing to participate for the school team, he was forced to confront the harsh reality that his athletic future was slipping away. The sting of failure plunged him into a deep, unending despair. With his identity as a promising athlete stripped from him, he began to drown his sorrow in reckless abandon. Desperate for escape, he turned to drugs and alcohol, seeking solace in the temporary numbness they offered.

But the downward spiral only accelerated. The more he tried to silence the pain, the further he sank into a cycle of self-destruction, until the inevitable consequence came crashing down — his expulsion from high school. In that final crushing moment, it seemed as if every dream, every hope he had once clung to, was crumbling into dust, leaving behind only the bitter residue of regret and lost potential.

'Why would I return to a point when I was already injured?' He was distressed. He felt his mood sink as he limped back to his room to examine his left ankle.

At that moment a 'DING' sound interrupted his thoughts and a blue screen formed in front of him:

***

"DING"

"SYSTEM INTIALIZING..."

"WELCOME TO THE G.O.A.T SYSTEM..."

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AUTHOR NOTE:

K.C.P.E - Kenya Certificate of Primary Education is an academic qualification taken after primary education (A combination of elementary and middle school) in Kenya, and it goes on for a whole week. Passing it means entering a Good High school - which are grouped into several schools ranging from sub-county schools to National schools.

Fundi - Repairman

Nakupenda Mama - I love you, Mom.