Notes on Bobo's death

 

"It sucks, really. It sucks"

These are the phrases I've been finding myself mumbling after the boys that carried Ayomide to a distant hospital phoned us to break news of his death.

Struck with apprehension, empty of life, I grabbed my head, ululated, and let the words "o ti ku" sink well into it. I couldn't really grasp, but I felt a wild shudder inside my body when it dawned on me that he has truly become dead. I imagined what the word - "death" implies including things that may be connected to it - its smell, its colour, its appearance, its gait and recounted my loved ones whom I have lost to this thing - beast, spirit or a one-eyed animal carrying fragments of meat and blood on his long sharp teeth. 

 "the futility of life. the vanity of our struggles..."

Right now, I haven't yet been able to decipher what death find fascinating in this young boy's life. Is it his silence? his rare smile? or the unusual which way he bowed to everyone in greeting? Maybe his humility? Or his pale face? I'm yet to reach conclusion. I'm yet to. I don't know and don't want to know why this 300-level student of JPTS (a private institute) would die just like that after few days of illness.

Yes, he had been unwell. As a matter of fact, his Ibo roommate who we call Favour and two other sisters with whom they live together in the same face-to-face house - a tall lady and chubby light-skinned one had been around him. Especially the two ladies who are nurses had been administering injections on him and feeding him for the past days. I remember I went to greet him in their small room with big bed. That day, he was about to receive "abẹrẹ" and I was cracking jokes that I would call his babes to caress his temple and bare chest for quick healing and he smiled like he always does.

But what I've been finding scary when he was sick was that I didn't notice changes or signs of convalescence in him. Not even only me, several people in the neighborhood attested to it. Throughout the days they were taking care of him, his face was still gaunt and breastbone stuck out in his chest. He stayed daylong in bed. He would come outside in the night only out of been persuaded. He talked less. Whenever they asked him of his health he'd raise his thumb and say he's fine. Even when his  mother wanted to come to check on him he told her not to come because it's unnecessary, because he's fine already.

And so most people said he killed himself. He killed himself due to his sheer reticence. Those nurses who kept taking care of him kept probing him about his condition but he assured them he's okay, that he feel no pain in his body, even at the point of death. The women in the area, some while hanging a finger in their mouth, some shaking their heads pitifully, some mummuring it to themselves.

 "That boy killed himself" was their song 

Favour, his roommate and friend did his possible best. Even a blind can attest to his trying. Another crisis that arose in the area that evening was due to the school coordinator's non-challance about the boy's death. When he was on the verge of dying, people ran to his office, panting, telling him of the child's delicate condition. Mr. Greg as the man is popularly known was reported to have said he needed maltina and this shows utter "i don't care" attitude

...

The event following this was grave. Several friends and colleagues of the deceased who have become restive vandalized the school properties. Windows were broken, gates flung open, crucial files and books thrown away, laptops broken. At that moment of hearing those strange breaking sounds and angry voices of angry people everyone clutched their chest out of fear. I was with my twin sister and we were charging our phones. I couldn't believe I can run and scuttle like rats so fast and hid at a neighbour's house who isn't my tribe people. After this was a silence - though fear still pump in everyone's hearts still.

But the blunt fact is - causing the damages is unnecessary. Bobo has gone. He has gone. Nor can we see him again on this earth. His soul had fled so fast. He has departed. Like Charles Dickens said "Life is a series of partings". In life, pain and partings are inevitable. And one wouldn't enjoy the bliss in life while pining away with melancholy and counting regrets with fingers. 

PS : This note is written in dedication to Emmanuel Ayomide popularly known as Bobo who passed away after few days of illness. I come to

know him for the past weeks and believe me, he's a true human being. Continue resting, you occupy a space in our hearts, we'll forever remember you. O di gba!

******. ******

Kehinde Adedeji is a young Nigerian poet and writer. He is an ardent admirer of arts. You can find him on IG - @kehinde__adedeji