My Story

As human beings we grapple in life with experiences that confront us from time to time. And our connections with one another together with our limitations create endless, varying, circumstances in the loss of loved ones. No one can choose or transfer a tragic loss. It is unexpected, and it is an experience that can happen to anyone. Furthermore, loss and grief cannot be separated and remain a personal process of painful experience. There are assumptions we make and beliefs we hold on to. These build in us certain expectations and securities that help us function in our world. For example, the day I drove my son to the rugby match I expected to drive back home with him in good health and do what we had planned to do after the match.

On 21st June 2010, my sixteen-year-old son passed away tragically after sustaining an injury from a heavy tackle when he was playing rugby for his school. After he was injured, he was taken to hospital where he was wrongly diagnosed and was told, “It was just muscle bruising” and was sent home with a prescription for painkillers to manage the pain. A day later at home he passed away.

I was in shock, I felt numb and could not believe what I was seeing and hearing. I was wrenched with pain and crying uncontrollably. I felt as though I was at the verge of losing my mind. I was overcome with such heaviness of heart and sorrow, which I could not explain and cannot explain up to now. My world suddenly was shattered into a thousand pieces, right in front of me. I wished the earth could open up and swallow me. I wished I had died instead of my son. I did not know who I was anymore. My identity changed. I was my son’s mother then in a few minutes, suddenly I was the mother of the boy who was tragically killed. My life became meaningless; I lost the purpose for living.

Family, friends, colleagues and strangers came to pass their condolences. Most expressed the expectations of the human order of life that a parent does not have to bury their child. My son’s death was so public, made public by the mass and social media. Condolences came from people around the world, people I did not know and may never know. I kept asking myself “why me?” “Why did it have to be so public?” I have been a Christian since I was a teenager almost the
same age as my son (16yrs). This has not deterred me from questioning God about my loss. I felt that God had let down and abandoned me. I felt so alone, walking in the valley of the shadow of death. A valley so dark I could not see Him, so deep I could not reach out to Him, so low I could not hear Him and so lonely I could not feel Him. The walk in this valley of the shadow of death was for me to walk it, nobody else was to walk it for me I found myself saying like Naomi “the Almighty has made my life bitter” like Job “the arrows of the Almighty are in me” and like Paul “a thorn in the flesh”.

My search for help for my grief met with being fitted into phases and stages rather than
my whole story and experience being heard. I met with encouragement such as ” let go” and “move on”. This made me question whether, what I was feeling and going through was normal.

I could not conform to society’s expectations; the only course to take was to grieve secretly. When in the shower I cried my heart out, alone in my room, or at any given opportunity when alone. Friends and acquaintances that met me would comment, “You are looking well!” But deep down I was not well. The societal expectation could be perhaps that there is lack of full understanding of the damage and life-long grief that a parent can experience after the tragic death of a child. Throughout history, one of the marks of civilization has been demonstrated by mankind’s effort to alleviate human suffering. Men and women have been and are still committed to fighting sorrow, misery and the prevention of accidents to name a few. Nonetheless, the noble efforts of mankind fall short of removing the tragedies that touch our loved ones and the grief that we go through. I have discovered that grief cannot be obliterated and it is a task that has no companion. One has to work at it alone. For the past 2 years and nine months (almost three years), there is not a day that has gone by, when I have not shed tears. There is not a night, when trying to sleep during which I have not seen the image of Kundayi in pain and the events that followed. There is not a day that has gone by where I have not worked very hard to try and keep or maintain my sanity. Wherever I turn there is always something to remind me of Kundayi. I was robbed of my future and no other parent should be robbed of his or her future in such a way. It is painful.

Kundayi is a very special child. I have used present tense, because that is what he remains to be in my heart and in the hearts of his father and brothers. I breast fed Kundayi longer than his brothers and the attachment is deep. Kundayi brought so much joy to every member of the family. He loved to lie on his father’s chest. Each time he saw his father sitting relaxing on the sofa, he would jump at that opportunity to lie on his chest. I had no shortage of baby sitters, his brothers used to fight for him. Joshua loved and was very good at playing with him. Nyasha enjoyed feeding him and making sure that he ate his vegetables and Daniel was very good at getting him to sleep. He could walk him around the block in his stroller until he went to sleep. All his brothers played rugby and cricket during their school years, and at any given opportunity they passed on the skills and knowledge to their little brother.

Losing Kundayi removed within me the desire to live. The establishment of a school is important to me, because it is about honouring Kundayi’s memory and a representation of the potential his life held. With the wonderful educational opportunities provided for him, it is clear that Kundayi realised his potential. It is with this realization that I am investing my energy in creating this education opportunity for boys and girls to reach their potential.

One of the needs for human beings apart from the well-known basics such as food, water and shelter is knowledge. The noblest thing any human being can do for another is to satisfy the basic needs including the need for knowledge, thereby creating opportunities to meet these needs. It is my view that we have a responsibility to help others achieve their potential. I am also convinced that education is the first step on the path towards enlightenment.

Join me. Lets DO IT FOR KUNDAYI and the many boys and girls.