Goodbye’s the
saddest word I know…
Those are words from an old
song.
It took me a while to meet her
but I eventually did one evening, almost five years ago. She was quite elderly.
I understood immediately why it took that long to meet her.
“She does not want anybody
that will give her wahala” the agent
said to me.
“I will be good”, I quickly
replied, desperately too.
“Who will be interested in
giving her troubles”, I thought to myself.
I moved in about three weeks
later and laid my first complain the next day. That was when I realized that
she would only communicate with me in Yoruba. I knew very little of the
language so I wondered how I would get by with her. We were able to solve a bit
of that first complain and the many more that followed. Solutions were not
always in my favour, in fact, most times we had to compromise on issues but she
had ears that were always willing to listen and she would opt for the most
peaceful option.
It was only natural that I
fall for her sweetness in less than three months. Years later I swore to a new
tenant that she would have no regrets moving into our compound. The young lady
tried to explain the difficulties associated with living with a landlord but I
was resolute: she does not have wahala.
How could I state otherwise when all the time she looked at me I could see care
and love?
Many times I would greet her
and after her customary response she would say, “Mo fe ri e”.
I would rush upstairs only to
have her ask after the welfare of my sister and me.
“I have not seen you both in
long while” she would add in yoruba.
They were times when she would knock on my
door to ask that same question.
I sit on my desk and allowed
memories flow. I saw myself collect her key, lock the door, collect my share of
sallah meat, kneel before her, pictures whose imprints were hard to let go.
And then everything came to a
stop. Very abruptly I must say. Someone reminded me that she was old already.
My reply was that I knew, it’s just that I was not tired of having her around.
So on Sunday afternoon she left. I guess she didn’t say goodbye because there
really is no easy goodbye. That does not change anything; she had to go and we
will have to go on without her.
REST IN PEACE, ALHAJA!
