Taking a walk

The first time I heard the lyrics to the song Memory Lane by Haley Joelle, I immediately lined up all the people I had lost to death…the ones I miss so much…

After months and months of listening to the song again and again, gradually, living humans started to pop into my head when the song played.

With the living humans, I tweak the lyrics somewhat.

There are many people that come to mind, people I used to be with everyday and everytime…People who are no longer around me or available to reach very easily like they used to…

…Like today, I sent a photo from two years ago to my darling Nguvie and I immediately started to sing… 🎼🎶🎵I walk down memory lane, ’cause I love running in to you…

Nguvie and I

I realised, if I want to see them or be with them, I can just take a walk down memory lane, 🎼🎶🎵cos it’s the only place that I see them again🎵🎶🎼… whenever I want.

Tamed by age

Mimi stop that… Mimi don’t do that…Mimi why did you do that?

It was always one thing or the other.

One time it was a bead, passed through my nostril, my mom had to rush me to the clinic. I don’t know how but thank goodness it eventually passed through the northern end.

Another time, when I was four years old, my mom and I had to spend weeks at the hospital… I had successfully burnt my right thigh with a flask of boiling water.

Of all my wild adventures, one that always gets me is the look on my dad’s face when he came home one day found me on top of a hinged door.

The one that scared me the most was when I got stuck in a mango tree with a monkey who seemed to be out for revenge because I and the neighbourhood kids used to make fun of him.

At 40, I wonder where this wild child is.

Do I miss her? I am not so certain.

Do I like who she was, oh yes I do. She was wild and free.

But for the way I drive, I think everything else about the child seems to have been tamed with age.

Good Old Things

When I was about 19 years old, my “cousin” Gosha, in a bid to bond and create a deeper relationship with her dad began making trips to the town where I lived. Her father, who for reasons best known to him back then, had moved from the city where his family lived to the town where we lived, had a small apartment, somewhat like a bachelors pad; and so Gosha always stayed with us for the duration of her visits.

Gosha was and is a conversationalist; she can talk and listen for hours. She also is an arguer. She had my sister all to herself when it came to arguing though, you can definitely count me out of that. How they enjoyed it and laughed while at it, I still wonder. I loved the conversations. We would talk and laugh so loud, I remember my dad shushing us around 2am one night.

During one of those conversations, we began talking about old movies and Gosha recommended one; Gone With The wind. She said it was a must watch. About a year later, when she came for another visit, she returned with a video cassette of the movie. We promised to see it but we never did because no longer had a video cassette player as the world had migrated to Video CDs.

About a year ago, 20 years later, I suddenly started to crave old movies; I began feeding this craving one movie after another. I started with ‘The Sound of Music’ 1965; you could see the excitement on my sons face when he heard me singing along with Maria and the von Trapp family singers.

Next, I saw ‘The Godfather I’ 1972, then ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ 1961 and then ‘Coming to America’ 1988. One afternoon, while driving home, wondering what old movie to see next, I remembered Gosha’s ‘Gone With The Wind’ 1939. I finally got to see it… 20 years later and It was worth it.

Gone with the Wind is a beautiful movie, it tells a tale of a spoilt but strong and determined lady who must face problems brought forth by The Civil War and her participation in The Reconstruction as well. It does not exclude her love affairs and how they all played out.

After Gone with the wind, I made a list of popular old movies that I had not seen yet and then I began viewing them one after the other. I have graded them with stars, just in case you want to give it a go as well.

  • Father of the Bride 1950 ⭐⭐⭐⭐
  • Anastasia 1956 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
  • Roman Holiday 1953 ⭐⭐
  • Casablanca 1942 ⭐⭐⭐⭐
  • Mary Poppins 1964 ⭐⭐⭐⭐
  • It’s a Wonderful Life 1946 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
  • An Affair to Remember 1957 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
  • The Palm Beach Story 1942 ⭐⭐⭐⭐

I have got a few more I would like to see, but I have not made time for them yet.

  • It happened one night 1934
  • Chances 1931
  • 12 Angry Men 1957
  • Vertigo 1958
  • Double Identity 1944
  • Imitation of Life 1959
  • Sunset Boulevard 1950
  • The Apartment 1960

Also, in the memory of Olivia Newton John, I decided to watch Grease 1978.

Is there any good old movie you think I need to see?

My mother

I recently read the poem ‘My Mother’ by Ann Taylor. As I read the lines about the things mother did when she was an infant, I wondered about my own mother. Did she sit and watch my infant head while I slept? I don’t know. Did she have sleepless nights and gaze upon my heavy eye when I was sick and in pain? I don’t know. Did she sing me a lullaby and rock me in her arms when I cried? I don’t know.

I don’t know. I was too little to know. I know a mother would most definitely do all that and a lot more but I would only guess that she did.

What do I know? My mind recalls most of the things she did from my first day at school onward. I know that she really did pay attention to all I had to say, She also told nice stories. I know she taught me to pray. I know she guided me in the ways of the Lord.

I know she cared and I know she still does. Even as a wife and a mother, she calls me to know if I am okay. She wonders if my household had a good night/day and if everything is alright… She wants to know if she can help in one way or the other.

Sometimes I feel horrible and tell myself it should be the reverse but I realise it’s just the mother in her over-shadowing the daughter in me.

My mother.

Grief

When I was growing up, my family took many trips to my mother’s village home. We took these trips to go and lay some very close people to rest. My maternal family has lost so many people. If I were to make a list, we would have over 20 people on it, each death hitting harder than the last. We would cry, lay to rest and try to get on.

I never gave grief much thought till I lost a friend and then a cousin in the span of 1 month. Grief is hard. Grief is depressing. Grief is many things. One thing I know for sure is; grief is felt and expressed differently.

While I was trying to recover from the numbness of losing my friend, death hit my maternal family again. We lost our spice (story for another day). I watched everyone closely and realised everyone was grieving differently. Some of us spoke about her often with tears in our eyes, some of us remained mute and held back tears, some cried non stop, some refused to say her name or listen to anyone say her name… Everyone was hurting differently. One year after her death, everyone is still grieving… Most of us still don’t want to say her name, some of us think of her with a smile, some of us still cry… Grief never ends. It was on that day of her remembrance I wrote about the sad truth/fact I have come to accept, life goes on.

Things I have learnt in my grieving period:

  • Grief is normal.
  • We can’t dictate how a person should grieve.
  • There is no way around grief. You have to go through it to get out of it.
  • Grief will last as long as it wants to, you can’t force it to stop.
  • It is not predictable. It comes and it goes. Hits you at unexpected moments.
  • There is No shame in grieving.

I used to cry while listening to Drowning by Chris Young but now I even smile sometimes… Grief gets easier, it just rarely ends.

Sad truth

Life goes on

Sometime last year I was scrolling through the pages on the blue app and I found one of Torkwase’s questions, it read; “what is the ‘hardest’ truth/fact you have learnt?” I started to type my reply and stopped right in the middle of it. I couldn’t write it. I was half pissed and half ashamed. I didn’t write anything. Today, 13 months later, I remembered that question and I have the same reply.

I lost a very dear friend on the 4th of December 2020, on that same day my sisters came into town. They were sad for me, they knew what I was going through. The thing is, when I woke up that morning, I had a truck load of responsibilities I had to see through. It was the reason my siblings were in town. I never knew that before the day would get going I would get the news about my friend’s passing. The next day was the wedding of one of my cousins. I was responsible for almost all of the planning.

I didn’t explain what I meant by “my sisters came into town”. My sisters and I have this thing. We can talk, laugh and go crazy for hours, especially when we haven’t seen each other in a while. I had been looking forward to seeing them for weeks…but when they got here, I was numb. I spent the entire 4th of December in a haze, running errands and trying to be normal. I didn’t sleep. Not even a wink. By day break on the 5th, I decided not to put a damper on the wedding and its activities so I decided to put up a facade and be merry with everyone.

It turned out to be a beautiful day. I ended up having a lot of fun. My staff and students cooked and served the food at the wedding and it was lovely. I had another wedding cake to present at the other side of town, I tried to do it but it couldn’t work out, Sandra ended up doing that for me and she did great. The whole family had a great day. We took lots of photos and caught up with all the family members we hadn’t seen in a while. After the wedding, we sat at my dad’s house and talked and shared drinks till almost midnight.

That was when it hit me… I lost my friend, it hurt. It really hurt but I went ahead and did the things I had to do and continued with my life. That truth shocked me, it upset me and there was nothing I could do about it, it was the sad truth… Life goes on.

So Torkwase, that’s my sad, ‘hardest’ truth/fact… Life goes on.

What is your own hard truth/fact?

I think of you (Part 1)

A couple of days ago, I got up a little earlier than I had planned to, so I decided to snooze a little. My husband was awake of course… He doesn’t sleep much, so i asked him what the time was and if he could wake me up after 15 minutes. He told me it was 6:47am. I couldn’t sleep anymore.

If ever I catch the time at 6:47, morning or evening, I think of my cousin Imoter… And so on that day, that morning, I didn’t fall asleep anymore, my mind went to my cousin and then moved on to several other connected things, just because it was 6:47am.

I’ve always marveled at how the mind works, how you can just think of a person immediately you hear, see or do a thing that your brain has linked to that person. I also marvel at how you can start thinking what you are going to have for breakfast and less than a minute later, you find out you have wandered to just about anything at all. That’s what happened that morning. I started with Imoter and my mind wandered so far I lost any desire to sleep at all. This happens a lot, I always envy people who can just fall asleep with no problem at all.

Imoter went to school at the Ahmadu Bello University Zaria at the same time with my eldest sister. The school did not permit male students visiting female students in their rooms, so whenever he or any male wanted to see a female student, they would just shout out the room number. My sister Dough was at some point in block 6, room 47. So, the number 647 had to be called out loud enough to be heard. When they came back home for the holidays, Dough told us all how everyone in her hostel always knew when it was Imoter out there and then she mimicked his slow and sad “647” and that was that.

It’s been over 20 years, and there isn’t a time when I don’t think of Imoter when I see a number 647 or I catch the time at 6:47.

I don’t see him very often, sometimes maybe once a year. I rarely call him, but I can say one thing is certain, bro. I think of you… Very often.

A good old thing

Dough’s blanket and cardigan

When I was 19 years old (20 years ago) I bought 2 pieces of clothing. One was a dress that can be worn by a 2 to 3 month old baby girl, the other was a unisex pinafore jumpsuit for a 6 to 10 month old baby. I bought it for myself, for when I would have my own children. I didn’t have any children till I turned 31. I have a son, he used the pinafore jumpsuit when he was old enough to. It gave me joy to see my wish come true. I still have the dress.

The interesting part of the story is how those two pieces of clothing have become something I will always think about with a smile. In less than a year after I bought them, my eldest sister had a baby girl and I loaned the dress to her. I could have given it to her completely but I didn’t have the heart to let the dress go… besides, Suur (her daughter) would definitely outgrow it and she wouldn’t have use for it anymore… And so as soon as it didn’t fit anymore, I took it back and kept it safely.

Subsequently, my other sisters had 2 children each. The girls used the dress and the boys used the pinafore jumpsuit.

Recently I had a reason to remove the pinafore jumpsuit from storage, it is currently being used by an adorable little boy… He is very much like a son to me.

The pinafore jumpsuit and it’s current owner 😁❤️

I’ve found that I love to keep some stuff to remember loved ones by. One example is a cardigan and blanket my sister Dough brought back from university in 1998. At this point I don’t know if she gave it to me or if she just left or forgot them at home when she got married but that blanket and cardigan make me feel close to her and so I kept it. I can only imagine her shock when she realises they still exist.

I love to de-clutter a lot, but there are a few items I have a hard time throwing out, for example, I kept my husband’s cummerbund from our wedding for my son, I don’t know what use it will be when he is old enough to use it… But I would like him to have it.

Overtime I have come to realise that the older I get, the more I cherish old things that come with good stories. I sure still love new stuff but the joy of having antiques, especially the ones I have had a part in creating makes me get a feeling I cant even describe.

Mummy… Hug

I’m a big fan of small crowds. Very funny right? Yes, small crowds. What’s a small crowd by my standards? I come from a family of 7, mum, dad and 4 siblings. However, it was never just 7 of us living together. We always had extended family and sometimes friends and even paid help living in the same house with us. I can confidently say we were never less than 15 people under the roof of our small 3 bedroom flat. It never felt crowded at all. Never. We enjoyed different activities together, we ate together, we worked together. My mom was big on neatness and cleanliness so the ‘work together’ part was very important. Gradually everyone grew up and we’ve all gone our separate ways but we are still closely knit together. My siblings and I keep in touch and talk almost everyday, and it’s the same for the others… Terhemen, Moses, Esther, Angor, Terhemba, Saalu, Imoter, Shimayam and so many more. Every now and again I find myself craving small gatherings like the environment I grew up in. I find joy in small friendly crowds of 10 or so.

In this big love we shared and still share,We didn’t hug. No, we didn’t. My family wasn’t (and still isn’t) a hugging family. This didn’t mean we didn’t love each other, I guess we just expressed our love in other ways, hugging wasn’t just one of the ways. We were more into loud hailings and high fives… Yeah. I never gave it a thought or see anything wrong with it till I grew up and started mixing up with other humans. I’ve learned that people have different ways of expressing love and affection. I also think it’s a learned behaviour. You are either born that way or you learn it from people around you.

My 8 year old is a complete hugger. He can just walk up to me and hug or when I’m busy and can’t see him coming for a hug, he just alerts me by saying “mummy, hug”. I think he has made me more open to others. Lately I’ve found myself hugging family and friends before thinking about it…that’s new. I think I like it. I feel less rigid.

Lilly

She was my first. I had shared one with my siblings at some point and then I shared one with my sister and mom for a few years…but this one was mine. All mine. We clicked at first sight. It was a cool night in October 2010. I looked out the window and there she was and my dad said she was mine.

I love to drive. Lilly came with manual gears, that was the first awesome thing about her. I love to shift gears while I drive. Another awesome quality was the cup holders. I’m a fluid person. I always have a cup of something with me. The only thing I needed was a good stereo and when I got that, we were all set. She took me anywhere I needed to go. I had a job I did for a few months that needed some out of town work, Lilly took me there. 2 years later I got another job that was 1 hour away, Lilly made sure I got there and back when ever I needed to. She never gave me any trouble. Also, for a hot town like makurdi, the air conditioning was excellent. She was good to me and I was good to her.

One day came, I decided she had to go. It wasn’t her, it was me. The thing is, I have always loved change. Every now and again I rearrange my living room, bedroom, work space etc. I always try to start one project or the other and sometimes I buy new stuff to replace the old ones or I just get new stuff to add to the already existing stuff. When it came to changing Lilly, I was really stuck. I wanted a new car but I didn’t want to let Lilly go.

10 years was a long time. This was an argument for and against Lilly. 10 years of bonding and going places together. I didn’t want to let her go. On the other hand, 10 years of serving and going so many places, she must be tired, maybe I needed something new.

On the day she left, it happened so fast. One minute she was there and the next minute some stranger was driving off with her. I knew I was going to sell her off but I never knew it would happen so fast. I had always imagined I would wait for weeks for someone to come along and then another week for handing over and stuff… what the hell was I thinking? Just like that, she was gone.

A few weeks after she had gone, I had dropped my son off somewhere and I was on my way back home and then I looked at the other lane and I saw her and my heart skipped a beat. I pulled over. She looked good. The new owner was standing next to her. I wondered if he cared for her like I did. I doubt very much. I made a U turn just to take another look at her. I drove past, took a good look at her and made another U turn to head back in the direction I was headed initially. I felt like a traitor. My heart hurt.

I never saw her again. One day my husband came back home to tell me he saw her, he said she had a new look. Apparently she got a face lift. Well. Good for her. Sometimes my son would say “Mummy I miss your old car” and in my mind I would say “de kulen mo ivav ga” but instead I would just say to him “me too”.

I love the one I’m with right now, we just haven’t bonded so well. I don’t even know its gender.

‘de kulen mo ivav ga’ means ‘don’t reopen/reaggravate a healing injury/wound’

It’s a saying in Tiv language