White Rose
(true story)
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PART 3
HE DIDN’T!
Whew! :-D
He continued-
“…it was a white rose in a cone-shaped giftwrap with dots
and lines of pink and purple, respectively. I was sure the reasons she bowed
her head were to suppress her ego, build up courage, and not meet my eyes
amidst her dialogue. I later found out I was right.”
“I was so taken aback that the only thing I could do was…
hold the rose. Firmly with my palsy hand.
My white rose. Our
rose. And said “thanks”. It ended up for the better… Much better actually that
I hadn’t said more than that. A part of me wanted to tell her, that because of her
antics I ended up getting 1st class service and a lil flirtation, but I didn’t
want her to read into it as post-defeat backlash. So I just left it at that…
for now that is…”
I smirked and shook my head- a gesture symbolizing “That’s
vengeful Umar for you!”
He goes on to say- “…at that very moment she was so relieved
and had her guilt lifted, that she consequently lit my face up as she rose with
a smile; and my spirits with her mesmerizing perfume that smelt as if she’d
just put it on even though we had been on a 11hrs flight.”
I inhaled deeply. I tend to do that when my mind wonders as
it wanders too much. I think it was my subconscious trying to go back into (past)
fantasy and take a whiff of Aisha. Well… just her perfume.
“I won’t lie to you man… I spent the rest of the day immersed in waking thoughts about the tits and bits of our encounter after we had lodged into the
hotel. You'd find me cautiously fondling with that white plant, which I've now separated from its encasement. I got really annoyed at her dad for refusing Chairman’s invite to stay in the
same place with us, because he had a discount there and the place is top notch.”
My left eye was doing the imagining/daydreaming and
shoe-putting- “if I was there I would….”
Right eye was widest open and trying to accept the reality
of things on ground as they were- Leukemia. Aaysha. Aisha. Window seat. White
rose.
My multitasking (daydreaming and listening) was interrupted
by a wonted and obnoxious knock.
The tall, uproarious, goofy, yet humble bulgy-eyed Industrial
Chemist (in-the-making). It was ‘Bunz’- his roommate.
He stood there with his two hands on his stomach, with the
middle fingers touching each other right at his belly button signifying the
letter ‘H’ for Hunger. It’s mime thing we do- campus blues. He’d barged in with
his voracious appetite that needed quelling. Believe it or not, he actually did
his IT (Industrial attachement/internship) at Mr.Biggs (fastfood joint).
Imagine that? Lol.
I stared, shook my head, then pointed (food), inhaled, and hissed (he'd just let an army of mosquitoes in).
“My hospital ordeal was as follows- 6 days of tests, about 2
days for the procedure, and 2 weeks for the convalescence- the doctor dictating
to me as Chairman nodded away. My thoughts were ‘by then my fantasy coquette
would certainly be gone gone gone!’ Because there was no way I could ask Chairman
point-blank questions about the friend he’d met. Nope. Not just yet. I needed
tact, patience, and had to work my way towards it. But most importantly- Prayers.”
I nodded in agreement with every word he said, especially
the last one. I was at the apex of my spiritual journey at that time you see.
So solace usually came through solitude, meditation, and prayers.
“For the most part, I was ‘lucky’! Got them prayers answered…they came for
dinner one night!”
“…I happened to be overdressed for the occasion – spent my
pocket money at a nearby boutique. The dinner wasn’t all that…”
In my mind- ‘Well… I won't say I’m not disappointed. But go
on.’
“…I was uneasy. Not talking much. It was one of those
dinners that made you lose your appetite and the effects won’t wear off till
lunch the next day. Oh yeah! It was all about Chairman and the General. The
only time I was mentioned was when my medical history was being discussed as if
I was a case in a medical journal and not present at the table! Imagine?!”
He shook his head. I laughed.
“The seating arrangement didn’t offer much in terms of
line-of-sight if you know what I mean. But I did get to see her in that
flawless ‘Abaya’ that beckoned my now numb imagination, as she went to
get a salad bar and some hors d’oeuvres. You should’ve seen me trying to stare with
tact.” *laughs*
One thing did come out of it though- Got most my questions
answered in one sentence.”
THEY LIVE IN KADUNA. SHE SCHOOLS THERE TOO.
HALLELUYA!!!
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They were there for holidays and we’re going to rendezvous
with his wife who was in Spain for a family visit.
Oh yeah! You heard me right. His wife…. Was in fact… a true
true bona fide aboveboard pedigree S-P-A-N-I-A-R-D.
:-O
My mind- ‘That lucky…. Ba..Man!!’
“I was like no wonder! Haba!! This kinda hair. Skin
complexion, chin, brows, her lips, those hazelnut eyes…. Yarinya sai kace aljana!? (Girl
was like a Jinn!?) *laughs*
“Trust me ma guy… right in that moment of discovery I was
sure my white blood count went up up up!”
If he still had one of those blood test he would’ve ‘proved’
it to me. He had this tendency to exaggerate, as in really really really
exaggerate, as I would find out later on in my relationship with him.
I was entranced and then envious of the General for such a ‘conquest’.
I had to stop Umar right there and then and have him extinguish this curiousity-induced
anguish I now suffer from.
“Tsaya Mallam! Spanish kace fa!? (Hold it Mallam! You
just said Spanish!?) How?!?”
(*Mallam is a prefix used in the Northern part of Nigeria
and nearby countries to denote respect. In this context there was an undertone
of exclamation to it.)
“It’s true! They met when he was a MILOB there. You know
they usually get posted out for foreign missions and courses. They would stay
abroad for a period of 6 months, if you are an attaché; or one year, if you are
a MILOB (Military Observer).”
“And…?!” Me thinking out loudly. It couldn’t be that easy….
Right?
He would later learn how her mom left her Latin homeland,
came to Nigeria, got married, learnt Hausa, converted to Islam ALL in the name
of friendship, bonds, compatibility, and mostly- LOVE.
Choi!! I know by now this all sounds made up… but trust me….
It isn’t. I am telling it as I remember.
And if you know me you’d know I’ve inherited good memory
genes (may the Almighty bless our parents' souls both alive and deceased). They
don’t fade that easily, especially if they make SUCH neural connections in my
dome. It’s been 9 years now!? :-o
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They left for Nigeria but not before visiting Umar in the hospital
and witnessing him hopped with drugs. That was his sorry state after having gone
through a life-saving procedure, which even had medical students coming all the
way from the States and Europe to witness.
In his hazy state he could’ve sworn
he saw her shedding a pearly translucent tear and her sis hiding behind her as
they stood by his now pallid, orgone-less, and motionless frame. He’d lost the fire they saw in him earlier before.
Wouldn’t you? If you had a 14hour operation with over 30
spectators, 6 participants, and even a cameraman!?
After he started recovering he’d hear his dad occasionally
receiving phone calls from the General and saying that the kids are relaying
their hi’s and condolences to Umar. The dad would pass the message accordingly.
But never once did he speak to them… I mean HER on the phone. It didn’t matter
to him, because he was confident that if he had a personal line (perhaps
cellphone) they would somehow connect. He was confident like that. *smh*
At this point I was thinking in my head that if I were him
that would make me heal and recover faster like a man with a mission, a blank
cheque, and a ticking time bomb that had no display.
AFLUTTER!!
Kaduna- Naija
on mind.
I was right. Again!? (I know I know- it’s either we had a
lot in common with this guy or I really do have an overactive imagination with
knack for hitting the bull’s-eye)
He said the two weeks recovery time earlier estimated by the
doctor ended up being cut down to 10days. He responded remarkably well to
medication and therapy. And all the final post-surgery tests concluded my
friend was fit be to 'Ebony' Romeo.
A thing I forgot to ask him was…
What did he do with the
white rose?
Their rose.
The rose.
Did his dad see it and ask questions?
Did he cherish and nourish it?
Put it in flawless water vase at the hotel?
Give instructions and threats
and rewards to anyone that would be able to keep it alive like that doctors
have for him through the Almighty’s Hand?
Did he?
Did he?
I know I would.
I would bring it back with me and it would be part of my
opening act and line when I meet my Spanish mulatto minx/belle. Romanticism at
its peak. *daydreaming*
Well it’s late for that now isn’t it.
He was sent home with a mission, a big grin, hordes of
instructions, 2 plastic bags (medicines & injections), and 4 envelopes (of
different sizes) containing medical reports, prescriptions, and test results to
ease with customs and immigration I presume, since then there was no TSA yet- post 9/11 days.
He confessed to sleeping half the night at the hotel eager
to hear the wakeup call from the reception desk. So he’d leap into KLM’s coach
bus and set his sights towards the left wing of the massive blue bird.
THE window seat.
He told me he’d done something so ‘unlike’ him, as if he was
ever gonna be the same the same anyway. Well… not after such an encounter he
wouldn’t.
He’d been amongst the first few to board the plane and bolted
straight for the red-letter window seat. It was such that Chairman was even
worried but his sudden surge of energy. That he had to check up on him and enquire about his stamina, biopsy points, and scars (he had a laser surgery) almost three times.
He was more than alright. He was on a quest.
Full of hopes.
Prayers.
And schemes.
All the while peering down the sparsely lit nightly skies of Toronto as they soared towards- home.
15 hours later…. He was in his quaint and spacious room that
reeked of loneliness, neglect, and precipitous sanitation. Of course that was
not until after having passed the hurdles laid from the gate, to the court yard,
and into Hajiya’s (his mother) parlor- maternal love and scrutiny, siblings'
rowdiness, close friends and neighbours, even house helps.
He is a really good person, so of course they would miss him
and worry.
His worry however was somethingelse entirely.
And his miss was a Miss.
:-)
He slothfully dropped his Wrangler leather jacket and sunk into
reverie.
----TO BE
CONTINUED----
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