She sat transfixed to the small television. The scratching signal sounds irritated her. She tried to balance on the abnormally soft bed. She could just sink in its comfort. She’d never slept on such in all her seventy something years. Mouka foam adverts had won her over since she was but a young bride in their mini mansion. She hugged tightly the comforter-comfortable as well. She just loved its whole essence. It made her feel well and made her forget she lacked vitality. She was well now but for how long. She stared into the mirror ahead. There was emptiness in her eyes. She could see it but she wasn’t sure what sort of emptiness it was. Her hair was now fully gray and short. Her face was wrinkled and darker; the side-effect age came with. She had no reason to live anymore yet something let her cling smoothly to life; a memory forgotten.
The doctor had asked ‘Alex how many husbands do you have?’ he had said in English. Even though she couldn’t remember how to speak the language she still understood a bit of it and had answered ‘mewa’
She didn’t know what prompted her to give that answer. There had been just one man for her all through the years his name was Sanya. They’d gotten married and had children she remembered that so well but then he died twenty years later-or at least that’s what she’d told herself. She remembered nothing of Sanya just that she’d loved him so much. Maybe that was the emptiness in her eyes at least, she did remember telling her third daughter that when a young lady was in love, you could just see the whole essence in her eyes.
She smiled. It was one of the few memories that always sufficed. She’d had a daunting past. She was so sure of it yet she didn’t remember a thing of it. She remembered the very irrelevant things like eating breakfast and preparing to go to church-stuff like that. Never any mistake, accident, fight, argument or even how Sanya had died. She wanted someone to fill in the gap for her, tell her a story about her life but no one talked to her so much anymore. They left her to sit lonesome in her room. She even developed the habit of talking to herself and, not once or twice, she’d glimpsed Sanya in her doorway. When she tried reach out to him and call his name it was nothing but an endless stream of pain having fallen in the attempt. She told no one of these details as they regarded her every word has words of an insane old lady. She stared at the television. It seemed to have gained a little signal. They seemed to be talking politics and she didn’t care a thing about that. She’d lost track of politics since the Abacha regime. In fact, she’d lost track of anything she’d normally cared about. She had no idea of who ruled but one thing she did know was there was advancement in way of life, technology and fashion. Having been a small tailor, she was sure fashion had changed drastically.
She looked at her own IRO and buba-nothing had changed about it. IRO and buba was still there; the trend of the old ones and Yoruba cultures dynamism. She smiled and then frowned when she remembered her predicament. The doctor had said her heart was failing. She didn’t know what that meant but she was sure it had something to do with unhealthy days to come and then c’est fini, death.
Her sister was a doctor. She’d wanted her to treat her but she couldn’t reach her. She didn’t have the means. Her sister usually visited but now she didn’t anymore. She wondered why and immediately she glimpsed Sanya again.
‘what do you want’ she said in her native tongue. He had his back facing her. She could be sure he was the one but really who else had that same broad shoulder and masculine frame, topped off by black full hair and arms with muscles.
There was no answer.
There was something so different about him. He could have easily passed as any eligible bachelor in this day and age but there was something that made him different from the finest. She couldn’t tell what it was but she knew it had a thing to do with the fact that he was the only one she ever loved. She stared brooding in the depths of his fascinating and charming specimen, wishing he’d just turn back at her. He didn’t. A tear escaped her eyes. She willed herself to stand up. She hadn’t done so by herself in weeks but the determination in her guts made her struggle and she did. She held tightly the pole by the bed. Her vision became blurred by the tears pain caused but she could still see her goal and when she was almost at the door he was against, he wove at her from behind. She stood still for a moment and quickly put forward her hand to touch him. She was slow but she could already feel his quintessence. Her hand was almost to his broad shoulders when she gave out a small cry of dismay and fell down. He’d disappeared.
The nurse came inside and saw her on the floor. ‘Mama, do you want to kill yourself?’ her tone was more of anger than concern and sympathy.
‘please just leave me’ she said the tears in her eyes completely gone only a bitter taste was left in her mouth.
‘no, i would have. But I can’t’ she said and raised the older woman to her feet.
She looked at the nurses’ face and she saw Sanya. In her voice, she heard his voice. She knew her wishes to have him by her aside were all in vain. She sank deeply into thought of him and she remembered. He had been dying. He was sick and she took care of him. She was by his side every day of the illness and watched him die in her arms. She didn’t remember what the illness had been but she knew she’d devoted all her time to make sure he was alive. She remembered his smile at death. She remembered the love words they’d whispered to each other before he died. She remembered right then, she’d forgiven him for taking in a second wife when she couldn’t have a son. She remembered how easy it was to bury the grudge she’d had against him and kiss him. But she couldn’t forgive the second wife. She couldn’t.
Now, she let it go. She let everything go. All she wanted was his love.
Now she blamed herself for his death. Maybe if he hadn’t died, she wouldn’t be in any pain whatsoever. She’d lied to him that all was forgiven when she hadn’t forgiven Asake her best friend for marrying her husband. Even though she hadn’t verbally blamed her, she had blamed him and now she was filled with so much regrets.
Her heart throbbed for his love. It’d been so long and she knew the feeling was dangerous-almost 30 years. She whispered ‘I’m sorry Sanya, I’m sorry for loving you’ and shut her eyes tightly ‘I’m sorry but I just want to be with you’
Then she’d slept into death.
In the cemetery, where Sanya had been buried, they buried her closely.
‘a love that thrived in hurt.’ was carved on her tombstone.
She sat transfixed to the small television. The scratching signal sounds irritated her. She tried to balance on the abnormally soft bed. She could just sink in its comfort. She’d never slept on such in all her seventy something years. Mouka foam adverts had won her over since she was but a young bride in their mini mansion. She hugged tightly the comforter-comfortable as well. She just loved its whole essence. It made her feel well and made her forget she lacked vitality. She was well now but for how long. She stared into the mirror ahead. There was emptiness in her eyes. She could see it but she wasn’t sure what sort of emptiness it was. Her hair was now fully gray and short. Her face was wrinkled and darker; the side-effect age came with. She had no reason to live anymore yet something let her cling smoothly to life; a memory forgotten.
The doctor had asked ‘Alex how many husbands do you have?’ he had said in English. Even though she couldn’t remember how to speak the language she still understood a bit of it and had answered ‘mewa’
She didn’t know what prompted her to give that answer. There had been just one man for her all through the years his name was Sanya. They’d gotten married and had children she remembered that so well but then he died twenty years later-or at least that’s what she’d told herself. She remembered nothing of Sanya just that she’d loved him so much. Maybe that was the emptiness in her eyes at least, she did remember telling her third daughter that when a young lady was in love, you could just see the whole essence in her eyes.
She smiled. It was one of the few memories that always sufficed. She’d had a daunting past. She was so sure of it yet she didn’t remember a thing of it. She remembered the very irrelevant things like eating breakfast and preparing to go to church-stuff like that. Never any mistake, accident, fight, argument or even how Sanya had died. She wanted someone to fill in the gap for her, tell her a story about her life but no one talked to her so much anymore. They left her to sit lonesome in her room. She even developed the habit of talking to herself and, not once or twice, she’d glimpsed Sanya in her doorway. When she tried reach out to him and call his name it was nothing but an endless stream of pain having fallen in the attempt. She told no one of these details as they regarded her every word has words of an insane old lady. She stared at the television. It seemed to have gained a little signal. They seemed to be talking politics and she didn’t care a thing about that. She’d lost track of politics since the Abacha regime. In fact, she’d lost track of anything she’d normally cared about. She had no idea of who ruled but one thing she did know was there was advancement in way of life, technology and fashion. Having been a small tailor, she was sure fashion had changed drastically.
She looked at her own IRO and buba-nothing had changed about it. IRO and buba was still there; the trend of the old ones and Yoruba cultures dynamism. She smiled and then frowned when she remembered her predicament. The doctor had said her heart was failing. She didn’t know what that meant but she was sure it had something to do with unhealthy days to come and then c’est fini, death.
Her sister was a doctor. She’d wanted her to treat her but she couldn’t reach her. She didn’t have the means. Her sister usually visited but now she didn’t anymore. She wondered why and immediately she glimpsed Sanya again.
‘what do you want’ she said in her native tongue. He had his back facing her. She could be sure he was the one but really who else had that same broad shoulder and masculine frame, topped off by black full hair and arms with muscles.
There was no answer.
There was something so different about him. He could have easily passed as any eligible bachelor in this day and age but there was something that made him different from the finest. She couldn’t tell what it was but she knew it had a thing to do with the fact that he was the only one she ever loved. She stared brooding in the depths of his fascinating and charming specimen, wishing he’d just turn back at her. He didn’t. A tear escaped her eyes. She willed herself to stand up. She hadn’t done so by herself in weeks but the determination in her guts made her struggle and she did. She held tightly the pole by the bed. Her vision became blurred by the tears pain caused but she could still see her goal and when she was almost at the door he was against, he wove at her from behind. She stood still for a moment and quickly put forward her hand to touch him. She was slow but she could already feel his quintessence. Her hand was almost to his broad shoulders when she gave out a small cry of dismay and fell down. He’d disappeared.
The nurse came inside and saw her on the floor. ‘Mama, do you want to kill yourself?’ her tone was more of anger than concern and sympathy.
‘please just leave me’ she said the tears in her eyes completely gone only a bitter taste was left in her mouth.
‘no, i would have. But I can’t’ she said and raised the older woman to her feet.
She looked at the nurses’ face and she saw Sanya. In her voice, she heard his voice. She knew her wishes to have him by her aside were all in vain. She sank deeply into thought of him and she remembered. He had been dying. He was sick and she took care of him. She was by his side every day of the illness and watched him die in her arms. She didn’t remember what the illness had been but she knew she’d devoted all her time to make sure he was alive. She remembered his smile at death. She remembered the love words they’d whispered to each other before he died. She remembered right then, she’d forgiven him for taking in a second wife when she couldn’t have a son. She remembered how easy it was to bury the grudge she’d had against him and kiss him. But she couldn’t forgive the second wife. She couldn’t.
Now, she let it go. She let everything go. All she wanted was his love.
Now she blamed herself for his death. Maybe if he hadn’t died, she wouldn’t be in any pain whatsoever. She’d lied to him that all was forgiven when she hadn’t forgiven Asake her best friend for marrying her husband. Even though she hadn’t verbally blamed her, she had blamed him and now she was filled with so much regrets.
Her heart throbbed for his love. It’d been so long and she knew the feeling was dangerous-almost 30 years. She whispered ‘I’m sorry Sanya, I’m sorry for loving you’ and shut her eyes tightly ‘I’m sorry but I just want to be with you’
Then she’d slept into death.
In the cemetery, where Sanya had been buried, they buried her closely.
‘a love that thrived in hurt.’ was carved on her tombstone.
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