The foetor of his breath was a biting mix of booze, a nightmare that still intoxicates my feelings. As I sit in my cozy domicile, surrounded by the comforting familiarity of family and friends, my mind wanders back to the unsettling encounter. The beautiful serenity of Mother Nature, now an aloof memory, seems like a fugitive dream.
His soul seemed to have been drowned in ethanol a million times before he could really be that I saw . His tattered clothes reeked of its residue. The acerbic smell of whiskey clung to him, a noxious cloud that suffocated my senses. Perhaps, in better days, he had savored the finer bundles and laid a bottle under his pillow before the dawn. But now, his eyes stared out with a haunting, deathly gaze, like a cat choking on its last breath.
The putrid smell emanating from his bag was overwhelming, an ill-scented mix of rot and decay , a rotten egg is far sweeter than the taste of his presence. The air conditioner hummed in the background, a feeble attempt to neutralize the toxic atmosphere. As I struggled to process the scene unfolding before me, my pupils dilated in horror, my mind racing to find a way to escape the suffocating sense of intoxication.
Yet, I recall the freedom of solo travel, breathtaking moments with Mother Nature's brilliance in the rearview. The River Nile's majesty and vibrant smiles of black children along the roads. The cultural attire, wow !. From Bor to Juba, How amazing! . I had planned to go with Jelly Roll, NF, and Eminem, my musical icons. But the moment was shattered, forever tainted by the haunting scene that still plays in my head as I contemplate traveling solo again tomorrow.
© MZEE MACH
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