I stood quietly that rainy morning by the roadside. I,
together with some other random people sought refuge from the rain under some
iron roof-sheets which was normally a stall for a boli seller. My mind drifted
away from the moment. I thought of you,
Olu and the last time we saw. I assumed you would be somewhere now,
wherever. I was still very angry wit you. How could you? After all your
promises, how could you have given in so
easily? I thought you were strong. Well, you were. If appearances weren't so deceitful.
Your 6"1 frame, your very baritone tone, you hardly missed your gym
sessions and it paid off anyway. I always teased you about your looks and how I
saw the envy in other women's eyes when they saw me with you, our hands
interlocked, probably strolling to the nearest food vendor to grab lunch or
dinner or probably to just hang around to kill time. You were my fave, Olu.
It started that Easter Monday when you casually told me
about a cough. You seemed to make a big deal out of it when you told me it was
an unusual type of cough.
"Ehn, are you the first person to have cough
ni?" I laughed out loudly over the phone.
Nobody made me laugh like you did. Your sense of humor
was over the top. You disappointed me though, a whole lot. I didn't expect that,
certainly not from you. It was all too sudden. In spite of that, you were my
fave, Olu.
When, after a whole week, I heard nothing from you, I
dashed down to your house to give you a piece of my mind. I had deliberately
not pinged you on BBM or called. I was too angry with you for not bothering to
call me or text me when you knew so well about my exam in the carry-over
course. When I had unexpectedly seen that 'F' on the boards the previous year
and wept my eyes out, you begged me and encouraged me to shake it off. You even
said you would stand by me all the step of the way, all I had to do was decide
to tackle the course heads-on a second time. When on the exam day and even
after, I heard nothing from you, I was furious. I had planned to spit fire and
insult you for breaking your promise, something you hardly ever did. Imagine my
shock when I saw you on the couch at your parents' home about 40kg less than
your initial weight. I wanted to walk pass that stranger on the couch to go to
your bedroom, when I heard my name from this stranger. I could never miss your
voice, even if one thousand persons were screaming at the same time. I knew
your distinct voice and much more about you because you were my fave, Olu.
"Oh My God! What happened Olu? Olu, what happened?
What?" I screamed at the top of my voice.
I screamed because that person I was seeing couldn't be
you. No, it was too terrible to be you. You looked sunken; your eyes were
sunken and lifeless, your cheeks were hollow. You looked like something had
sucked a huge part of you. Your ribs were so obvious, like they would pop out
of your flesh anytime soon. Your skin looked bruised sort of, and you my
sunshine and best companion, you were the scariest thing I had ever set my eyes
on. Aunty Laide came out. She sighed and said you were too weak to engage in
any long discourse. She explained that the cough had taken an unexpected turn.
The same cough I had laughed about. The same cough you complained about when I
thought you were being petty. Aunty Laide said by the evening of Easter Monday,
when you coughed, you felt like a tug of war was going on inside of you. She
said you felt like something was burning and even with that, they all didn't
take you seriously enough to get you medical attention. My jaw dropped and
tears were pouring down from my eyes. It was not what she said that made me
cry, no. It was your sight that did. Little did I know that the worst was yet
to come.
"But why is he here, why is he home and not in the
hospital?"
"We took him to the hospital o on Tuesday. The
medical guys said it was an infection. He has been given some drugs. He is even
much better now. He just needs some rest."
I didn't understand. What was before me didn't seem like
someone who was much better. How could this being before me be much better?
There was nothing much to say. Your Mum already explained that you saw a doctor
and I couldn't possibly be more concerned than she was, right? I doubt that
now, because my instincts told me it could not have been a mere infection. What
hurt me the most was that I was helpless. True to what Aunty Laide said though,
by evening that day, you were very much better. We talked about my exam and
some other things. I teased you about the importance of my presence in your
life and how seeing me was really the only drug you needed. You laughed. But it
was a different kind of laugh. It lacked vigor and life and the type of humor
you always brought to a gathering. It was empty. I told you that evening that
you were my fave, Olu.
It was 9pm and you told me to leave because it was
getting really late. I bade you goodbye, gave you a hug and left hurriedly.
Omolara's call woke me up the next morning. She said you never woke up. It was
the most devastating news and phone call of my life.
No way, I saw him last night. He was really better. How
can? How? What is his plan and how does he expect me to go on in this cruel
life without him, without his calls, without his raucous laughter and without
his endless support?
Those were few of the questions I asked myself the following days. I became angry. Angry
with Olu. Angry with God. Angry with this world. How could everything, my whole
world just come crashing in the flash of a light. The twenty four years we knew
each other was not enough. It could never have been.
"Yaba, Yaba, Jibowu, Yaba." The noise from a
bus conductor and the struggle of two men beside me to catch the bus jolted me
back to reality. I checked my wristwatch. I had been standing there for 28
minutes. The rain had now stopped and the “boli” seller needed to get started
for the day. It had been a year Olu, since you left abruptly. One whole year had
gone by just like that. You were my best cousin ever. You were my best friend
ever. You were my best companion ever. You were my fave, Olu.
I walked across the road, to get a bus. I was running
late.
Ife.
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