The lover I never had
While sewing absentmindedly today, my mind traveled.
My mind wanders a lot. Either I’m imagining stuff or I’m reliving memories.
If it’s happy/exciting imagination or memories, I would find myself smiling so deeply a shy silly smile that can be only found on the face of one thinking of her lover.
And when my thoughts are sad, there’s a free show of tears. Someone would walk in on me crying ugly tears and I will be too embarrassed to explain that I’m crying from a scenario I made up in my head.
Just as a typical Nigerian uses ‘Lol’ or ‘Omo’ when speechless, my answer, in this case, is ‘You will not understand’.
And in the real sense of it, you won’t maidia.π€£π€£
Today, my thoughts wandered far. Years ago. My 100 level days.
There was this guy whose name I would replace with Ben. Which rhymes with his real name. And my close friends from 100 level who knew him would likely remember.
Memory fails me on how I met Ben. But I sha met Ben and he is one of the sweetest humans I’ve met.
I was older than him by a year or two and he was a level higher than I. 200 level studying Accounting.
Ben believed we could be something. But I wasn’t thinking the same. Why? The age disparity. Although small, it bothered me to no end.
I was so young and used to believe in submission. I just couldn’t see myself submitting to a younger person. He stressed on the insignificance of that. But I didn’t budge.
He came to see me almost every night. Anytime I start applying powder and looking for a nice cloth to wear at night, My roommates that time would start teasing me with his name. π€£
Even if I tried to be discreet about my dressing up to go downstairs and do ‘talking to’, they’ll still code.π€£
(Talking to; A slang for standing in the darkness with usually an opposite sex).
Before I left the hostel after residing there for three years, you can’t come downstairs jeje without seeing ndi ‘talking to’. So it’s normal to wear something nice before coming down. Even if you were just going to fetch water.
I sometimes used that as an excuse for my mini dress-up. Before I’ll go downstairs looking anyhow and ham someone I know.
But Dera will take it as a duty to come and be peering in the faces of those doing ‘talking to’ on a bid to catch me.π€£
It didn’t help that she could tell my physique in the semi-darkness. Sometimes the werey caught me. Other times, Ben and I will see her before she sees me and shift from there.
Ben always came with food to see me. Even when I did not ask. It was so consistent that sometimes I’ll want to make dinner. Then go ‘It’s true sef. Ben is coming to see me this evening’.
He would call to ask which food to get from computer village and l will tell him.
Good ol’ days when food was cheap and there were mobile food points at computer village and even ‘ukwu mango’. Especially ukwu mango.
While taking the ukwu mango route after lectures. Before you meet the canopies belonging to ‘ukwu mango boys’ who processed every and anything about school registrations faster but at double or triple the price you would have done at the portal, you would meet snacks vendors.
Snack vendors and gigantic coolers holding different types of rice and soups from where sweaty women served hurriedly into either take away plates or their plates which customers would use to eat at the spot. These women stopped serving either to give change after purchasing their food or to call passersby to ‘come chop’ as though it was free. It was that busy.
The public show of food reminds you of your hunger. If you were with some cash, you’ll get yourself a plate of takeaway as you hate eating in public and using their spoons which had conveyed food into different mouths belonging to people. Healthy people, sick people. Sick with noncommunicable or worse still communicable diseases.
Spoons that have been in the saliva of different genders, shape, sizes, and tribes. Those that brush and those that don’t give a single bother.
Using those spoons scared you to no end.
Other times you had no money, you’ll remind yourself that You have food at home or one or two of your roommates have food.π€£
Ukwu mango semi food market would later be taken over by passport photographers who always reminded me of bus conductors that would snatch your bag and run to keep it inside a bus loading to a different state. While you scream to their deafened ears that you’re just a mere passerby.
Those photographers would waste no time to drag you to take passports if you dare look at them or have the boldness to hold a stare for even a second.
Ukwu mango boys moved their canopies to a walkway directly behind the building that serves as the school’s farm unit.
A building you would neither know the name nor purpose until it’s time for clearance.
Food vendors would later move to the school’s main gate and then keke park upon its completion.
Food would become very expensive and students in a bid to escape the additional cost of takeaway plates will bring along their flasks while coming to buy food.
By this time, Ben and I would have become total strangers.
Now let’s rewind.
Ben would bring me food and we’ll gist into the night. I’ll tell him my problems mainly with my academics and school registrations and he’ll offer solutions or promise to help me and somehow, he came through.
He’ll tell me about his day, his friends and family. Random stuff.
I’ll need to go somewhere and I’ll call him. He’ll ALWAYS show up and sometimes in the company of his best friend who I have forgotten his name. The very tall dark guy who was shy yet, funny.
I remember the time Ben escorted me to my Dad’s office to collect stuff they brought for me.
My mum hounded me for weeks. Madam wanted to know if I’ve started keeping boyfriends.π€£
I knew his friends and his mom who he physically introduced me to. Against my will tho.
A very young, beautiful, and classy woman who I wouldn’t even recognize again.
Ben and I remained close until I traveled for the holidays and returned for the first semester in my second year with the news that I’m seeing someone new.
I can remember how his shoulders fell and I couldn’t answer his ‘So what next?’.
I initially couldn’t understand his withdrawal and the excuses he came up with when we planned to see. His visits to my hostel became less frequent. I was bothered for a while until I realized my selfishness.
The beauty of our ‘never relationship’ was it being so so pure. No kisses, nothing nasty. Just random hugs, massive support, and beautiful smiles.
I ran into him last year. We bought tickets for the same bus. I was on my way to my brother’s matriculation. And the bus was one of the two or three buses and a boat he’ll take to his PPA as a Youth corper.
He looked handsome and smart in his youth service regalia. His innocent smiles were still there.
The ride was quite chatty. He was showing me landmarks and random stuff as it was his state of origin.
Throughout the ride, I wondered if he was happy. What was new or had happened in his life? Had he met someone he likes and who felt the same about him? Did he remember ‘US’?…
I alighted before him not without us exchanging contacts and vague promises of texting on WhatsApp during the matric and the continuation of his journey. Vague promises of calls when we get to our respective homes, and eventually linking up sometime in the future.
I didn’t know I was staring at the bus as it sped away until my mum asked me if we forgot any of the plenty orishirishi we prepared to celebrate my brother’s matriculation.
No Ma. Unable to understand the mixed emotions, I was watching the bus take the lover I never had away from me.
.
.
For those wondering, it stopped at the exchange of contacts. I got home and stared at the number. Eleven numbers that once dialed, I’ll be speaking with Ben. I had wanted to ask him about his journey. Did his long legs pain him from sitting in cramped spaces on the road for long? How was the boat ride? When will he buy his personal life jacket? Was he thinking of me? How did he feel when he saw me? I wanted to talk and talk and talk with him.
I couldn’t bring myself to. I stared long and hard before deleting the number.
He didn’t contact me too.
Maybe we are better off as strangers.
.
.
.
Thank you Young John for pushing me to write.π
The best writer ever u re forever my inspiration
ReplyDeleteInteresting π€π€π€
ReplyDeleteInterestingπππ
ReplyDeleteAwwn. Love sweet sha. So, how deep are you into submission now, eh shild of the world?π
ReplyDeleteI love this. Can we write and send to you as guest writers?
Sometimes, we need to look past some factors, LOVE doesn't have conditions...
ReplyDeleteAge, height, complexion and all those stuff doesn't matter, as long as you're happy with the person.
With the last paragraphs, you still do like the guy after so many years, but why? Cos you're older than him, by just a year or two.. even though he cared so much for you... Chuckles*
Nice story... But if you still have someone you will want to make up with, you still might need to.