“Look, The Zed, many of us didn’t marry the woman we truly loved. We marry the woman that was around when we were ready to marry. So, forget this thing …”
—Americanah by Chimamanda Adichie (Farafina, Lagos; p472)
Ah, I wish I could still the quiet
tear-filmed gaze that locked her
soft eyes and mine for a long
moment, when the dice of time
tossed back our paths at last.
My dream girl she was.
I saw in his handsome searching eyes
voiceless expressions of my innermost feelings,
when I gazed into his dark, shiny eyes, and
half-consciously muttered the name
I fondly called him.
MINE.
I felt through her dark lustrous
hair again, like I used to, to be sure it is her.
I admit I missed her; and it hurts really bad.
And I had called her before I knew, too:
PEERLESS.
My heart warmed and raced a moment
when I called him. Familiar feelings coursed
through my chest, and I know I actually still loved
him so much! Had even never ceased to
love him, miss him, all the years!
Not one day, heaven knows!
She is the peerless treasure I found,
the jewelled love I hoped to keep till
the end, and with dreams closing in
to fulfilment already then…
God!
I want so bad to hold him close to me
once again, but I won’t be able to have him
as mine again it seems: cos another
woman, his married, will now call him
Mine!
I recall haunting memories of a happy twosome,
and fun-filled love, and a spent-for, cared-for baby
girl; and the waves of time that finally rolled us
apart, and how I brooded with beer and
beer and beer!
Ah, I recall hurting memories of overwhelming
pressures from mum, and the distance in being
distant apart, and a pretty trying trust
of having to wait for you here, and how I cried and
cried and cried!
P, you caused me sore heartache
when you couldn’t wait while I travelled
abroad to further study and come back!
It was a stab to my chest when you said
you were leaving, and when you got married
when I was gone, I knew I have lost you for life!
Ah P, I didn’t tell you I
cried!
And when I begged him again, and
hugged him so tight, and sucked his lips
and neck, ah, I cried into him, and missed
him so really much; and he swallowed hard,
and his eyes were wet.
She hugged me tight close and time
stopped to count: and I wished, and yearned
to still that peerless moment for the rest of
our lives, that locked her and me for a
moment, when the dice of time
tossed back our paths at last …
WHO IS KAYODE THE WRITER?
Kayode Olla is a lecturer by daytime and a writer by dusk, with heart issues and mind themes being his muse’s fondest things. Together with his lovely wife, he publishes Bravearts Africa, an online and PDF magazine of the arts. His books are a novel Sprouting Again and two poetry collections Softlie & Seven Loves, Seven Hates. He keeps a personal blog here
