By Ogwiji Ehi Kowochio
Evening after evening, both of us held hands, taking a walk through lonely paths and occasionally perching at sit-outs to gaze at the sparkling eyes of the jealous stars. We enjoyed silent moments as I leaned on his strong shoulders, listening to the music that buzzed gently in his heart. For in his heart played a certain musical tune which could fit all romantic lyrics- so cool, so hearty.
Some evenings, we gaze at each other and I could not but see how much his eyeballs sparkled. I could not help but think that my dream of meeting someone who I could talk to about everything came true when I met him.
Like other couples, we had some misunderdings. We raised our voices in lover birds quarrel, momentarily turned our backs at each other and spoke bluntly to clear our heads. But all such fights ended with a long warm cuddle and apologies.
Ours was nothing like the contemporary; where love is purchased from shelves in colorful ready-made packets. Where love is like some fast food meant to quench the hunger of lust and essentially lacking the capacity to be sustained.
He and I worked hard at our relationship. We wrote each other, ate together and made sacrifices. We encouraged ourselves to remain academically focused while taking other courses like “sustaining relationship 202”.
During the new year’s eve, we reluctantly pulled out from our families to face school work squarely. I knew I’d miss the warmth of home but I found solace in the fact that this lovely macho was there for me. Never was he unavailable when I needed him.
On the night of my arrival, after the long chatter about the winding festivities, I told him;
“Dear, I really wish the whole thing lasts longer. It would be another year before I hit such celebrations again.” I said with a slight frown on my face.
He looked at me with a grin and I could see the fireworks in his eyes: “Someone is forgetting something…” he said.
“What is it?” I said, looking aimlessly at the sky. “What? Remind me.” I insisted.
With a warm smile, he whispered in my ear, “February 14”.
“Ow! I completely forgot. I seriously can’t wait!” I said aloud, unable to conceal my excitement.
As January strolled out of the year rather slowly, I beckoned on February 14 with all eagerness, for I knew it was heavily pregnant with flowers. Such lovely flowers that would not wilt for eternity. Flowers whose petals will tell the story of love from a different dimension. And so, I had many expectations.
I threw my arms opened to receive February only to realize that it brought along a cousin called “ill fate”. The month came with placards accompanied with clenched fists aiming blows at the face of student victimization and other academic ills.
As we trooped the campus in protest, I spotted my darling amidst the sea of heads. He was wearing his coat of patriotism. His shoes shinning with courage. In his hands lay sympathy and a first aid box was carefully moulded into his heart. He stole one look at me, blew a kiss, winked and walked on.
Not quite long, the policemen opened fire; aimed at one of the students fracturing his femur and all that surrounded it. My masculine lover ran towards the victim who by now was writhing in pain. Bravely, he offered his hand of sympathy, volunteering to use the first aid heart to rescue the poor guy. But hard luck knew no love as another wingless bullet came with the speed of light and snapped his life in split seconds.
It had happened too fast. As I ran towards my dying lover, I saw him striving to hold on to life a little longer. He was gasping for breath and trying to ask help.
“Ku..n..le!! I screamed with all my strength, running as fast as my legs could carry me.
Sadly, just before I got there, he gave up the ghost. It seemed like some nightmare that I would wake up from, but this was real; Kunle was gone. I fell on his lifeless body not minding his bloodstained clothes. I shook his corpse rigorously, I begged him to stay with me a little longer. But it was too late, Kunle was truly gone.
I wept for months to exude the pain that was lodging in my heart. I recalled all the moments we shared which will forever remain treasured memories. I wish January lasted forever. I wish February was one of those babies which miscarriage swallowed from the womb of time. I wish we could bring back those warm nights when we gazed into the skies, dreaming that our love never dies. I can only wish, for our love died when that policeman pulled the trigger.
Ours was a love story pushed out of the incubator by the cruel hands of time. Yet, I do not regret loving Kunle for he was a hero on both a private and public front. Kunle, no matter how many times you ask me out I won’t hesitate to be your girlfriend again and again. You definitely would win me as many times as you woo me. Darling, sleep on in the bosom of the Almighty.
-Shola,
In the loving memory of my boyfriend, Late Mr. Kunle Adepeju
P.S: This is a work of fiction. I do not know and have not met any loved one of the deceased.
