Yes, I’ve been absent, I know.
Kadan Kadan. But life no dey hear.
Life has been moving mad fast, like one Hausa man on a bike on the express, no brakes, no signal, just speed. And me? I’m the terrified passenger at the back shouting “kadan kadan!” But life no dey hear. My veil is flapping dramatically in my face, and at this point I don't even know what route we're on, but I'm holding on tight.
Even though I’m pleading “kadan kadan,” life is like “nah, full speed ahead babes.” She’s not adjusting to my pace. Instead, she’s throwing all sorts of things my way, one trauma toss after the other. And me? I’m catching all of them like a champ, because what’s the alternative? Death? No thanks, ma.
This week, I heard my heartbeat... with my head. Not chest o. Head. Gbim gbim like a Fuji drummer was living rent-free in my skull. And for a moment, I was like “Maybe my heart is finally in the right place, my head.” But I had to take paracetamol, so maybe not.
Anyway, for someone who won’t shut up about being intentional and present in people’s lives, I’ve been MIA. I’ve been very absent (including this space). Mentally, emotionally, even physically. First time since I started working that I didn’t arrange my clothes for the week. Didn’t even iron. Didn’t even think about them till five minutes before heading out and consequently, I walked around looking like my problems.
Small thing, right?
My baby brother, our last born, had his convocation on Wednesday. I wasn’t there. Absent.
One very rare friend (and if you know me, you know I don’t collect friends like that) had her birthday picnic on sunday. Absent.
And now I’m about to be absent from work for two days because my head is just... not giving what it’s supposed to give.
Missy went home last weekend and I didn’t want to be alone, so I considered going home for the weekend, but I stayed back and wallowed in silence. That’s how I was wallowing, when my neighbor’s wife started screaming “egbami!” and everybody ran out.
They are very loud and dramatic neighbors so I didn't pay attention, also because about thirty minutes before, one woman was threatening to kill her daughter because she suspected she went to a boy’s house.
Anyways this time, it was real. One woman’s husband had just come back from work. He greeted people outside, entered his house, and in about 15 minutes… they rushed him out of the house, to the hospital. But he didn’t even make it far.
They brought his lifeless body back in the same Lagride car they used to take him, and the whole street was wailing. Just like that. Life & Death, no filter.
The same man that greeted the woman seated in front of my house just moments ago, gone. And then the theories started:
“Death followed him home and waited for him to settle down.” “He was sweating too much. It was spiritual.” “He was foaming at the mouth, ofa - spiritual arrow.” “They should’ve taken him to a spiritual man, not hospital.” “Abokis are better with juju.” “Shout Allahu on his head, maybe he’ll wake up.”
But all his wife could shout was “Ola!” and “semomale dagbe” meaning "how will I carry this alone?"
She had three children, but silence was all she got.
He was buried on sunday. They took Daddy Qowiy to the land where he had started building his foundation. Someone told me she remembered that someone recently prayed that when he left the “face me I slap you” compound he lived in, he'd finally move to his own apartment.
He moved on Sunday. But not the way he planned.
It’s strange, I know to ghost you guys for weeks, and then return only to talk about stress, and somehow segue into Death. But D’s birthday was last week Tuesday and D would have been 23. If Death didn’t follow him too.
But these things that we don't have answers to, we leave them to God and just continue to be dragged by life. We don't ponder on them too much because who's going to give you the right answers. The woman who believes in spiritual arrows? The one who thinks Abokis can bring him back? The one who swears that shouting Allahu would do the trick?
I'm sorry if you're struggling to understand the message in this issue, maybe I sent this one as proof of life.
In even more depressing news (lol), it's exactly 30 days to my birthday. I’ve curated a list, and somehow, you guys made it there. Whether that's a good or bad thing… you’ll find out tomorrow or next week.
Until then, stay jiggy and mind your business.