Uzoamaka

Piece submitted by Victoria Nkoro.

There is something scary about life, something disheartening about life, something exhausting about life. That thing sends chills down one’s spine, it causes the anger or happiness that was once in one’s body to suddenly dissipate, it leaves goosebumps on one’s skin and makes one still for a long time; longing for answers, for explanations, for reasons, because no matter how hard one tries to think about it, this thing does not just make any sense, and there is hardly ever any justification for it, it just happens because that is how it is, cruel.

***

1. I can be

My childhood was one filled with dreams. I was a young, vibrant, ambitious child, ready to take on the world with my supposed acting skills. I loved everything about the media, about acting, about living, about art, I loved the full package. One day, my aunty visited the house with a close friend of hers. I loved the lady she came with; she seemed wholesome, sharp, thorough and achieved. The lady in turn, aunty A, loved my twin sister and me a lot. She spoke to us about her career and how difficult it was for her as a woman, but she also said that she was never going to give up, because she loved what she did. Aunty A conversed with us more and I found out she was an aspiring actress. This dream she was never going to give up on, that she loved so much and would do anything for, was acting, my dream too. I pricked up my ears when she said that she was an actress and immediately told her how much I loved the media, art and everything about acting. She encouraged me, she told me that I can conquer the world, she told me to never give up, and she caressed my hair with so much care, assuring me that I am worthy of everything I dreamt of.

After a while, she brought out a compact disk(CD) from her big handbag that suited her outfit so well. In the CD contained one of her recent movies. My aunty inserted the CD into the digital video disk(DVD) and it swallowed it with enough gusto. The movie was great, although it was R-rated, so my sister and I had to turn our faces or close our eyes whenever a kiss scene popped up. I vaguely remember Aunty A’s scene, her friend needed some kind of advice on something. I remember watching her walk majestically into the spotlight, sway her hips till she sat on the sofa, advising her friend.

Aunty A was the first person with no blood relation who believed in me, she was the first person to assure me that I was worthy of dreaming, despite being told that I would go wayward. Aunty A was the first person I ever looked up to, she was just so majestic, everything she did just made sense. Her smile was the best, her eyes shone brightly; so full of life and nothing less, her laughter was filled with so much pleasure. I can recall her on this certain glasses that had a large frame, her eyebrows being arched a little too high and thick; the perfect 2012 makeup standard, her bold red lipstick; I can recall that much.

Aunty A assured me that I could be.

2. Promises

I can not exactly remember how the weather of that day was, but I know that it was a good day and my twin sister and I were elated for whatever reason. My mother was driving, my aunty was seated on the passenger’s seat, and my sister and I were at the back, occasionally sticking our heads in between the space of the driver’s and passenger’s seat. I remember her driving towards Abraham Adesanya road, I remember how devoid of traffic jam the road was, I also remember a certain yellow building by the right, then a green building, then a couple of other buildings, then Jeffrey’s plaza; I usually got my glasses done in a clinic there.

“Mama, do you know that that my friend you like lives close to this place where you get your glasses?”

My aunty asked while starring at me. I knew the friend she was talking about and I smiled.

“We will make out time to visit her do not worry.” My aunty assured.

I was excited, I was going to see aunty A again.

3. Longing

My aunty did not fulfil her promise of taking me to see aunty A, but she called her frequently so we; my sister and I, could speak with her from time to time. Each time we spoke with her, the calls were permeated with how much she missed us, while we asked her if she was fine and healthy. After some years, my aunty rented a house so she moved out. I stopped talking to aunty A and if at all I heard from her, it was an extended greeting;

“nne greet the twins for me o”. Then my aunty would tell us,

“ejima(twins), your aunty A said I should greet you people o”

and we would say,

“okay ma, greet her for us too”,

with much love.

Our conversations with aunty A grew weaker and weaker, then she got married and relocated abroad with her husband. The frequent,

“greet umu ejima for me”, stopped, probably because she and my aunty drifted apart for a while. Few years ago, I asked after aunty A while on a call with my aunty.

And she said;

“hmm mama, this life is funny. Do you know that A has brain tumor? And it is cancerous.”

“Ehn! How?”

4. Survivor

I continually asked after aunty A through my aunty. Most times, the feedback was negative, series of,

“she is not getting better o”,

“she is still there”,

“we are hoping on God”. I sighed whenever I heard such news, I just wanted her to be fine. At some point, whenever I asked after her my aunty just bitterly mumbled, “honestly Amaka, I do not know. I heard she cannot even make use of her phone properly.” And I was always left wondering,

“is it that bad?”

“will she ever get better?”

Months went by and one day I asked after aunty A, I was told that she was now divorced, “a divorcee, a divorcee, a divorcee. Why?” I had to let it sink in, because I was stunned. I had never pitied someone, or rather, I had never had so much sympathy for someone in my entire life. Months went by again, and I heard that aunty A was getting treated in a good hospital, she was getting better. My aunty could now speak with her, talk to her about things, and whenever I asked after her, she said, “she is getting better o.”

Aunty A was declared cancer-free in 2021. When I heard this, my joy hit the clouds. This woman made me believe that I could be; I was happy that even she could be, that even she conquered regardless of the plight, I was happy. After sometime I heard Aunty A was back in Nigeria and I asked my aunty to call her. My sister and I spoke to her that day and she told us how much she missed us. She sounded so full of life and whole, that feeling of ,“life has not been so fair to me, but I will never stop trying”, the same spirit she had in 2012. She celebrated her thirty eighth birthday in Nigeria. She did a photo shoot for her birthday, and a video compilation of her cancer journey. Her makeup was done, her dress was long and it suited her so well; she looked heavenly, heavenly blessed, healed, and alive. I was extremely happy for aunty A. I replied to my aunty’s WhatsApp status saying;

“aunty please wish her happy birthday for me. Thank God for her life.”

And my aunty replied my text, “she will hear.”

***

I was sitting in the living room this afternoon, worrying about my low phone battery and hoping that PHCN would bless us with electricity, when a text from my brother came in,

“that aunty A that lived in Jeffrey’s plaza has passed away.” I was still for a while, until I felt a sting in my eyeballs. I knew those things, those wicked things that gush out of one’s eyes without control when overwhelmed; I knew that feeling, it was way too familiar. To him, she was, ‘that aunty A that lived at Jeffrey’s plaza’, to me, she was the first outsider, the first person other than my mother and family members, that told me to soar the sky, damn right I could do anything I wanted, I could be. My tears finally triumphed over me and even now, they are still streaming down. As much as I want to control these feelings, I cannot. I wish I could say,

“this grief is not mine to bear”

but I cannot, because this grief is very much mine to bear. One never thinks about the impact another has made in their life, and that is because we only realize certain people’s value when we lose them. It is until you lose something, that you realize how precious it was, how valuable it was, how perdurable you thought it was. Remember when I said that there is something scary about life, something disheartening about life, something exhausting about life; this is it, death. And most times, no matter how hard one tries to think about it, death does not just make any sense, and there is hardly ever any justification for it, it just happens because that is how it is, that is how death is, cruel.