Chinwe. Whose name but hers could make it habit to keep running through my mind? Here am I at Heathrow awaiting my flight to Lagos. It is a rainy Thursday morning and our flight had been delayed due to bad weather. The weather had something somber about it, something that evoked emotions.
I am seated, engrossed, watching people as they come and go. Hugs, happy welcome hugs, as well as teary parting hugs were in abundance, a smile crawls across my face as I think of my fair share of hugs awaiting me in Lagos. London the culturally diverse city had been my home during my student days, the sadness that came with leaving this vibrant city is nearly balanced by the joy of home coming. Still, there is weightiness in my heart.
A few feet from me are some bulky Nigerian men chatting loudly in Yoruba; they had most likely come shopping judging by the luggage they came with. Across the hall there’s this Hajiya trying to calm her hyper active son. I hear her promise to flog him, the boy is as defiant as ever. From the look of things the kid would get a good whipping as soon as we get airborne.
A pretty young lady comes over and sits beside me, she silently fiddles with a tablet. Soon, soft quiet music begins wafting from the gadget in her hands. I say hi and we get talking. Tall and slim with short wavy hair she says her name is Lara, she’s British she adds, even though her parents are Nigerian. I just smile, I have seen many of her kind, Britons with Nigerian parents, even Chinwe claimed to be British, not even British Nigerian.
“Listen to Asa’s part, it’s my favourite” Lara excitedly drags me out of my thoughts and pushes up the volume a little louder.
“….It’s burning in my heart, its making me go mad, it doesn’t matter how it turns out to be”
Tears gather in my eyes and I smile again as I recall Chinwe’s response after I had proposed. She just burst into song:
“Why it took you long I don’t know, 365 days to show… Since you’ve let it off your chest I will gladly do the rest”
Chinwe sang the whole verse to me.
I’ll never forget that day, Chinwe, God bless her soul, had a sweet voice. Though she had coyly derided my delay in proposing, her response was the sweetest thing I had ever heard.
As the music continues, I notice tears rolling down my cheeks. I just couldn’t help it, being in an airport full of strangers notwithstanding. Lara looks up, I can see alarm washing over her, “Fred, is anything wrong?” I don’t answer; I just bury my face in my palms. I can feel my warm tears leak through the spaces between my fingers and drip on my trousers.
Lara is insistent and at the same time trying to be discreet “Fred, talk to me what is wrong?”
“Chinwe is gone”
“… She died last week”
I look up with eyes blurred by tears to see confusion etched on Lara’s face.
(c) 2013 The Author Immanuel Galadima reserves all rights.
P.S It's just fiction, and God forbid such happens to me or my wife to be. Hope you enjoyed the story? I would love to here from you.
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