I was only 17

I was surprised but excited to see her. It had been almost a year. I embraced her. We rocked each other from side to side. My sister from another mother; the big sister I never had.“Sister Beeee…I have missed you.” Her lean body was leaner and her hair was completely drawn to the back of her head. She loved short boyish cuts that accentuated her long narrow face, but today she looked different. She managed a smile. Her mien was also alien. Does NYSC change people’s behaviours or was it Enugu that had transformed her?

“O se dear, missed you too. I came to pick some documents from the senate building and I also needed to see someone in the hostel.”
“Ah, so I am in luck to have seen you” She nodded. I held her hands. They were cold and very impersonal. They were definitely not the same hands that always pull my cheeks playfully.
“You don’t look so excited. You look worried Sister Beeee” I had my way of calling her, caressing the ‘B’ between my lips like a pianist will sustain a combination of keys for special effect.
“Sis Beee, what about Brother Matanmi?” I opened this line of conversation to lighten up her mood and to rewind the sunshine that always beams at me at the mention of that name. But she was silent…

…I remember the first day I met her. I was at the Oba Kekere campus. She was in her final year and I was a freshman, a Jambito like we were called. I was a few days old on campus and I was waiting endlessly beside the road to get a cab to Obanla. It had been a long day and I was longing for a cold shower. She approached me with a wide grin and shook her head “Are you new?” She panned her eyes from my head to my feet. Nobody needed to tell anyone I was new. My shoes, a black leather loafer was shinning. It’s not because I polished them, but because they had not matriculated with the baptismal trekking on campus.

“Yes, I am new, 100 level, Applied Geology”
“Whaooo, Jambito, welcome…” I flashed a mechanical smile. I didn’t quite like the sound of that “Jambito” but I was gradually getting used to it.
“It’s not easy getting a cab here. We have to either trek or beg for a ride. My mind wandered to my father who had told me to bring the new Raleigh to school. Hmm… a bicycle on that stretch was a no-no. Besides, I didn’t know how to ride. I begged for his old 504 but he refused too. And thank God he did.
A few minutes later, we got a cab and she decided to pay the fare. She chatted with me as we walked into the hostel and even invited me to her room. I was excited but also cautious. Why would someone be this friendly and open? Then she offered me food.

“Ha, sorry Sis, I don’t collect food from strangers” She busted into a fit of laughter. And today, I understand why she found it hilarious. She must have seen my innocence and naivety laced with a little dose of foolishness, or who goes that blunt except a child? “Dayo, I am no longer a stranger. I am your sister, your big sister. And so that day I found a friend and a sister. She invited me to her fellowship on campus. She was my type; prime, proper, kind and caring. And because she is a Christian, I was very comfortable. Then one day after fellowship, she dragged me to her room. I had never seen her that elated. She didn’t have many friends, but I think she must have cherished our friendship in a special way.

“Hmmm….Dayo, guess what?” Her face was a million pounds, with the sparks and sparkle emanating in quick succession. I inched forward in my chair “Brother Matanmi proposed to me this evening.” I had a few friends who were in a very serious relationship, but we were all in 100 level, still a long time before it’s sealed. But this was real, a 500 level and another 500 level student, a Christian proposal, surely made from heaven. I smiled, as the wedding bells chimed silently in my head.

“Who is Bro Matanmi?” I had been a bit aloof. The reality and drama in that fellowship was of equal measure. I was young, naïve but also aware. I really didn’t want to know many people because even me, I didn’t know all of myself. I was still unwrapping my own surprises. “Haa Dayo, you don’t know brother Matanmi, the same Bro Matanmi, that leads prayers and deliverance sessions.” I raced my mind across the cross section of a typical fellowship sitting.

“What! Sister Beeee, Brother Matanmi! Hen en! I know him…Waoooh…that’s a good one” She smiled and pushed my hands playfully.
“He spoke to me about it a while ago and we have been praying…but finally tonight he proposed.” I could see the joy in her eyes and in her voice.
“Sister Beeeee….I am happy for you. Ha! that brother is the toast of many sisters o. People talk about him a lot. And he is very handsome too.” I was indeed very happy. I felt she was lucky to have been picked by this very popular brother, amongst the throng of beautiful sisters who must have been practising for the same scene.

…But today, Sister Beee was silent at the mention of the same name that brings smiles to her lips. Her silence was disturbing, very disturbing. She held my hands in a loose grip and looked straight into my eyes. Her sad eyes were tear-laden. “We are no longer together. He broke the engagement.”
“He did what? I was perplexed. The scene of returning a ring played in my head and the silence became endless. “Tell me Sister Bee, what happened? Why did he break the engagement? I thought he prayed, I mean you both prayed and he was convinced before coming to you”
“Well……so I thought. But…ha….Msheww ….I don’t know any longer. He is engaged to another Sister in the fellowship. Hmmm…”

I was angry, very angry because even though I had my fears, I thought it was a union made from heaven. And to have come back to the same fellowship to pick another sister was something I could not reckon. It was a season of breakups between vision-seeing brothers who were triple convinced they had found their missing ribs and the sisters whose ears were itching for the news till they become the victim. Of course, most of these brothers saw nothing… Yes you heard me, they saw no vision but they saw something. They saw the curves, the sumptuous front yard, the beautiful backyard, and decided to rent a space for a bit; but the confused landlord assumed they wanted to buy and so opened all her doors and windows.

Sister Beeee told me she will be OK and hurried away. It was not the days of mobile lines or emails. It was a hybrid – between landline and postal letters with stamps. Yes, that was the last time I saw her, heard from her or about her. How I long to see her. She appeared like she will remain broken for life. She looked like she will never recover. I looked on as she took the short flight of stairs; her shoulder not so high and her head a shy from the clouds. What will make a man deceive another and smear shit on her face right in the market place? And what will make women believe the lies for a long while and lie with the lies on a reclined deception with undiscerning ears?

I was only 17 and I didn’t understand…