JOURNEY TO AFTERLIFE: A TRIBUTE TO A.A. OLANREWAJU

-
I remember September 17, 2007 where our adventures began in that school. I can still remember how we became friends. We were newbies, so were others, and we seemed like being lost in a strange world. I can't remember what I wore on that first day, yet I can remember yours so vividly. You were on a blue jean top and a to-match blue jean trouser, a seeming Islamic cap on your head which accentuated you would be so religious. We found our seats on the second row, it was random, we couldn't have planned it. I was an introvert, so were you, or maybe you pretended to be then, I couldn't ask for your name and you didn't ask mine either, and our day went on in mute until we got to the hostel and we got to share the same bunk. I knew you wanted the top bunk, but you weren't tall enough to put your bed on it, I wasn't tall enough either, but someone had helped me. We fought that day also, and I won, but not by my might, but rather you succumbed for the sake of friendship. We ended the day sitting at the edge of the stairs with my plantain chips, yes my plantain chips!

Slowly from a friend you turned to a brother, we shared the same school father, and took care of my needs. It's so funny that the world will now know you and the third of us SULAIMON TAIWO washed my uniforms on weekends. Even if you didn't like it, but you still did it. I'm glad for that. The tantrums we threw in the hostels, they were great, and the memories I will forever remember. I remember how we would fight on who's older among us, and the tantrums that followed it, I remember the bullies, they were like those a big bro gives a younger brother he loves intently. I remember what you told me and the expression you showed when I told you about the girl I loved, and the questions you asked, I remember the advice you gave also and I won't forget that either. I still remember how we would open up our buttons flaunt our polo and walked around the hostel pricking on seniors and perhaps girls. You made me do those things, and I loved them.

You grew to be part of me, and me, a part of you. As maturity set in, we had our differences, we fought and resolved, we argued and we obliged. We had same dreams till it shattered, we had accomplishments to make till it got smouldered in the air. We had so many things to do and achieve till you moved on to prove maturity. You were good to everyone, you were a lovely and loveable person, you're someone I would always remember in my heart.

The last moments you spend with me would be memories I will forever remember. We had talked about secondary school days, old memories. We had talked about the future ahead, about our individual successes, we had incorporated our goal with a tag of OPTIMISM, hoping they would be realised. The moment you commune it to us you would be leaving, but we were too engrossed to notice. The last moments were bitter experiences, you had wished everyone farewell, yet we accepted it as a remembrance.

You were the one who knew when I faked a smile, and you knew why it came, you were the one who didn't seem to care I exist, and yet still care like we wouldn't be forever, and of course we are not going to be forever now. You always instigated me to do many things, to try many things, you believed in me. You had told me I only should confront you when we've achieved greatness. You had been an inspiration to many people and me. Today, you don't know again, but I must say, I am always jealous of you brother.

Now you're miles away, and oceans apart. You're never around again, but you will still be in my and their hearts. The love and memories will always be their, it will never die. After a week or more, many of them will forget you brother, it's not that they are cruel, that's just what life has taught us, to move on. I owe you so many things brother, mostly prayers, I would do charity on your behalf, and one day, perhaps I would write a book and dedicate it to you for this epistle can't suffice the grief I bear.



To the best friend I ever had, Goodnight.
AKINTAYO ABDULLAH OLANREWAJU (July 14, 1997 - April 16, 2018)

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

SOUVENIR OF WAR

-
Image
"Is hell enough the appropriate surrogate for my home?" the question I asked myself after the launch of the first airstrike. That evening was with a suspicious feeling. We had finished our dinner of crumbled bread and were perching against the wall when it began. The sound humming above the rooftops was a paradox of expression - sonorous to the ears, and yet petrifying the heart. "We leave before the dawn of tomorrow breaks!" father blared into my ears, and I nodded doggedly despite my conflicting thought of if running was actually the last resort. People would tag us cowards, snitch, and indict us, but I guessed that wouldn't matter. We'd already lost everything. Father had lost his wife, and I had lost a sister and my teen years. What more could the world say that would haunt our sanities? After all, a warrior flees to fight another day. For a decade, father and I had been surviving amid the seething sound of bombs and bullets, bodies pilled
Read more

Twenty Something Letters

-
Image
Firstly, today is 24th February, 2020. Today, it's my birthday and I am Twenty Something years old. Ordinarily, I am not a birthday freak, but this year, I want to make a difference and that's why I am dropping Twenty Something Letters - a collection of letters that seek love and approval; that show appreciation; and that tell of pain that has come to be part of my becoming. It is evident that these letters aren't fictional, but therein the letters are fragment of fiction, like that of letters addressed to situations rather than human. I want to also add that the fact that they are addressed to situations rather than human don't make them less true. I know it's not yours to bother about, but as in human, some may still find this confusing. If you get to read this means you truly want to read the letters. So, let me make an apology before you proceed to download. I am sorry if the collection of letters doesn't meet your expectations, I am not a write
Read more

The Thoughts of a Sane Madman

-
Introduction It's 2 a.m and I am wide awake, listening and communing with my demons. My heads are filled with throes, my heads? Yeah, my heads, because at the moment I commune with my demons, I have two different bodies, one is mine, and the other is for someone, or some people I don't know.  A dog doesn't return to its waste, is what they say, but every time I feel like the boy who has lost his way home, I give my bodies medals (self harm) and sink back into absolute nothingness. And again, like I have always failed my promises, I have returned to my waste, & my demons & and the remains of the sanity left in me is evaporating under the heat of finding a whole in the fragment of the broken shards of me.  1. How do you tell of a boy whose body is a confluence of pains?At other point, how do you tell of a feeling the evokes in a boy to disconnect himself from everyone, (himself inclusive) because he thinks he doesn't get enough love from them? That&
Read more