Christymama

So many unforgettable things happened. Was it when our commandant died? Or when my friend Ruth died on a random afternoon? But the one I will never forget is Emmanuel. I lent him my calculator, and after days of asking him to return it, he finally confessed that he had misplaced it. I forgave him. That Friday evening, Emmanuel and I sat behind the classroom, talking about movies and who was better at Further Mathematics. He told me about how cool his older sister was and eventually decided to walk me to my hostel. It was an evening I would never forget. I was looking forward to seeing him and continuing our conversation on Monday. On Monday, I was called to the admin office. I thought I was in trouble, although I knew that was unlikely. I was a goody-two-shoes, the teacher’s pet, the soldiers’ favourite and the ex-commandant’s ward. The admin officer told me he had called me because I was the class captain. We were going on a condolence visit because we had lost a classmate. I asked, “Who?” They said Emmanuel. Shivers went down my spine. My palms became sweaty. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my heart began to race uncontrollably. A few hours later, I was putting sand on Emmanuel’s grave. None of his family members came to bury him. When I ask why, I was told that, in Yoruba culture, parents do not bury their children. When I saw his sister, I told her about our last conversation and how much Emmanuel loved her. But instead of what I shared consoling her, she burst into uncontrollable tears. What killed my dear friend, I don’t know. But I have missed him.