On the day Baami died I felt shattered and disillusioned. It felt like a dream. The day that proceeded the day he died was the most joyous day of my life. The saying that good things don’t last suits the situation.
Mama sprawling on the floor crying and tearing her clothes while my three younger ones were beside her, still feels unreal. The youngest one who apparently does not understand what was going on looked confused.
I looked into the yard and saw the basket I brought from the farm yesterday, still filled with yam I promised Baami I would arrange in the barn. He clearly told me not to forget to arrange it so as to prevent spoilage.
The last time I went to farm with Baami will forever be evergreen in my memory. We woke up very early in order to return home at a good time. Baami worked tirelessly and his face broke into a bright smile when I told him the news of my outstanding result. He promised to support me in my pursuit with all his might.
Looking at his lifeless body, I whispered quietly to him to wake up. I looked into the sky and prayed hoping for the miracle our teacher told us about; the miracle of Jesus raising dead. I prayed to God to raise him back to life and yet, nothing happened.
I saw Oye, my immediate younger sister holding Ibiyemi, her immediate younger brother with tears in her eyes. Omodele, the last born came to me looking confused. I held her in my arms and closed my eyes.
I heard the sound of my uncle, Jayeola, consoling my mum who looked pitiable on the floor lamenting her fate. I wish I could raise Baami. ‘Omodele!’ I heard a familiar voice calling and I turned and saw my best friend, Kehinde. He looked at me with uncertainty. I smiled a little and he relaxed. He held my hands silently.
The coffin was lowered into the red earth and filled with red earth. It felt unreal and eventually the crowd dispersed. My siblings and I remained with my mother in our red earth house. My mother, still sniffing and weakened, sat on the floor in despair. I sat beside her and saw Baami’s sharpened machete leaning on the wall.
Our mouths were heavy, we could neither talk nor eat. I know the end to my academic ambition has come and the only thing I could do is to look for a menial job to support the family. I looked at my mother and siblings and suddenly I felt angry. I stood up abruptly and went to Baami’s grave. I cursed silently and tears came pouring out of my eyes. I hated Baami for dying. I hated my mother for being weak and hated my siblings for being vulnerable.
I stood up and went inside the anger turned into pity and right there I resolved to help my mother and siblings and help myself. I wouldn’t stop believing in my dream and ambitions. I told myself I would make Baami’s dream for us come true…
I looked at my mother again and embraced her.
About the Writer
Glory Adelowo is a writer, journalist, passionate feminist and an entrepreneur. At present, she’s a student of Federal University, Oye Ekiti, studying English and Literature. She is more of an introspective writer and hopes to give a voice to women and girls through writing. When she’s not reading, she’s writing or meditating.
This is good content
Thank you
So impressive.