Cancer Awareness: The Uncle I Lost as a Child
Disclaimer: This story is based on events from my childhood. Names have been changed for privacy. This post is for cancer awareness purposes only and does not constitute medical advice. For medical concerns, please consult a qualified healthcare professional.
As we raise awareness of cancer, I have decided to start with something closer to home. I grew up in a small but closely knit community somewhere in Mash Central. The houses were evenly spaced, the rooms not enough to accommodate more than 5 people, yet my parents made it work. We were always overcrowded, and nobody belonged anywhere. Where you slept today was not a guarantee you would be sleeping there tomorrow. The place was always packed whoever got to put down their head first had the best spot and posture for as long as we hadn't come as yet.
We were packed 10-plus. I grew up in a hospital compound and therefore learnt about a lot of ailments. And best of all was taught on how not to stigmatize and discriminate against any forms of sickness. Back then, cancer hadn't exactly started ravaging, it hadn't been fully fledged. Not many talked about it as HIV and AIDS. Not much attention was given to it. Yet the demon crept in silently.
There was one uncle I was fond of, "Uncle Gray Bonzo," as I will call him today. The first time I was introduced to him, I was happy, excited, and over the moon, probably because he owned a very big haulage truck. I loved just going up there whenever he came.
Physically fit and always threw me on his shoulder when he came. He often parked a few meters from the compound as his truck wouldn't maneuver the small dusty pathways we had in the community. Ohh, I loved showing him off. To me, he was rich, he had it figured out. Always left a penny or two on each visit. His visits became so frequent I started feeling uncomfortable accepting any money from him, yet still loved him.
This time, he wouldn't throw me on his shoulder anymore, with each visit, he seemed to be drastically losing weight. We were raised never to physically diagnose people, no matter our assumptions. The frequent visits became minimal. I kept asking about his whereabouts, & always my dearest mother pulled the patient confidentiality card on me and told me he left for DRC. What did I know... my favourite uncle Gray Bonzo had stage 4 cancer.
I remember finally going to his house, was excited to be seeing him. I screamed my heart out at what I saw and asked Where is my uncle? What is happening? I couldn't understand what was going on, was hurt and confused seeing him.
My aunt called me in and said, 'kwanzi huya ndivo vakagara pabonde'. It took me time to recover from that. I was in grade 6 then. I pulled myself up and went straight to him, taking careful consideration not to hurt him. I could tell he was in deep pain. I knelt over and embraced him, crying myself at his feet. I knew this wasn't AIDS, this was a new demon that had slowly crept in. I held onto him for dear life I couldn't let go.
"Musiyei aone apedze shungu aone sahwira vake," they said, but what I felt inside was nothing no man could explain. I was hurting and couldn't talk. Nobody could numb all this pain. That night I saw cancer. Never got closure. Nobody took me in. Nobody thought I might have been traumatised by the turn of events. I was never sat down.
That night I knew of cancer, I saw it with my own eyes. It took my uncle. Uncle Gray Bonzo succumbed that very evening.
WHAT IS MUCOEPIDERMOID CARCINOMA (MEC)?
Mucoepidermoid Carcinoma is the most common type of cancer that starts in the salivary glands, the glands that make saliva in your mouth, jaw, and throat. It can present as a painless lump in the mouth, face, or neck, swelling that doesn't go away, difficulty swallowing, or unexplained weight loss.
LET'S RAISE AWARENESS
Cancer doesn't always come with a warning. Sometimes it creeps in silently while we think it's "just weight loss" or "just a swelling."
1. Don't ignore lumps, swellings, or unexplained weight loss.
2. Go for early screening — early detection saves lives.
3. Let's stop stigmatizing sickness. Support, don't isolate.
4. And please — check on the children who watch it happen. Trauma lives long after the funeral.
In memory of Uncle Gray Bonzo and everyone we have lost silently.
If you have a story, share it. Your story might save someone.
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