Almost like home

Almost like home

Before Solum, there was Neche.  A very beautiful, brilliant and, caring lady who’d always say to me when I complained too much about the strange happenings in my life, ‘make the best from what the world throws at you, Anthony. That’s the only way.’

She was beautiful, in that sort of way that is lovely and soft. In that sort of way that makes a heart feel as if it were swimming in honey. And by God I loved her! I loved her to the extent that my heart jumped each time I saw her. Or heard her call me by my baptismal name ‘Anthony.’  Her voice sounded crisp always,  like that of Daenerys Storm born.

“Anthony, make sure to attend lectures,” she’d often advise. “Always try to be positive about life,” she’d  console each time my depression surfaced. Her words were life to my soul. They’d would go on to help me shed one of my biggest flaws as a student. A deep seated pessimism about my chances in exams.

***

It  all started from the first night that I met her. A humid Nsukka night that  was full of fireflies. And distant faint  cries of the town’s  masquerade, Akatakpa; the  university was like a small town surrounded by the deeply practiced Akatakpa culture.

We were in first year. We were in the same class. The place was St Peter’s Chaplaincy, where I’d gone to join a legion of Mary presidium. The legion of Mary – a pious society in the church, referred to as ‘the army of our lady,’ set up a century ago, to pray and do works of charity and soul winning for the mother of God, was very important to my soul, during those very religious days of my life. I just had to join.

I had been a member since grade three and you know what they say about legionaries? ‘Once a legionary, always a legionary.’ So, joining a presidium was the first thing I wanted to do once I’d parked into my room, room 419 Akpabio hostel.

So, I stood at the door of the large legion hall eager but, uncertain. I couldn’t  pick out a presidium, easily. There were many of them. They all appealed to me at the same time. In the same way.

Groups of solemn looking people, sitting on plastic chairs arranged in circles around alters bearing the statue of our Lady and the voselium, speaking in whispers, greeting each other ‘brothers and sisters’ before speaking; reciting the rosary. ‘Hail Mary full of grace…..’ And the catena, ‘who is she that cometh like the morning, fair as the moon….’

Candle lights cast shadows on the walls, made the faces in each group difficult to decipher, just like the voices which seemed to be sounding alike when they greeted ‘Ave, Maria!.’

The flimsy flames fluttered in the cool breeze that characterized the campus. The pines whispered in the breeze. And I was peering into faces. Not that I was actually looking for any thing in particular, in the faces. But, I looked, anyway, because.. curiosity. Grandfather always said that one sees the soul of men on their faces.

That was how my eyes came in contact with Neche’s and her slight dimples. Eyes that looked so piercing, laid back and calm, like those of a happy child.

Her impulsive, instant smile immediately our eyes met, made me smile and, I  felt my soul and body gradually being dragged towards her. In an instant.

And by the end of the evening, I’d joined ‘mother of God Presidium,’ her presidium and walked home talking Chem 171 and Zoo 151 with an angel.

Neche was an angel. And each wednesday, I’d attend our weekly meetings unable to keep my mind away from her, away from her face that glowed like the full moon. Away from her voice that always spoke wisdom. Words like, “you must be strong enough to survive this world, Anthony.”

She’d become my first experience of love.  The feeling. And when I say love, I mean that type that is pure and innocent. The type that made one content to just sit and watch another sleep, to derive  joy from just knowing that another existed. The kind of love that’s not self-serving. The kind of love that made me happy to sit each day at the back seat in class, just so I could stare at her simple body, intermittently.

However, first and second year would come and go with all the stress and all and, I’d never be able to express that love to Neche. Not even on our first year dinner night when she was dressed in that silver colored gown that made my head spin and my words stutter when I had to go over to her table to ask her to take a picture with me.

The seasons came and departed and my tongue would remain sealed. And not even the euphoria of the new rains that came and departed could get me euphoric enough to speak out my heart. Not even her sweet words, like the ones she spoke to my mother once, when my  mother came visiting, “ Your son looks so much like you…no wonder he is so handsome…” could untie my tongue.

I was naïve and scared. Plus, her grades were far better than mine. Those days, my self worth and happiness were determined by my performance in school. And medical school made me turn average, overnight. My class had the most brilliant people I’d ever met. It was difficult, almost impossible, for me to measure up.

And so, I kept the feelings buried in my heart, waiting for a time when my performance would at least, catch up with hers.

But, third  year came with a lot more average grades and, the realization that I was never going to do better than Neche. Nor even catch up with her. Thus, I was never  going to be able to utter the words. Until that rainy day- that cold day that it rained so heavily that the anatomy room got flooded to the knee level and the students panicked.

***

We had just finished harvesting the heart of the cadaver, a now blackened body of a dead man. The wrist band read ‘died in 1985.’ And the bullet holes in his chest, one of which also went through his heart, made me think of the movie ‘saving private Ryan.’ I  imagined the bullets flying into his chest and blood splattering all over the place and then his body falling like a heap of sand.

Still, I wondered how many people the owner of the body must have killed before he met the firing squad.

They say that life is just a big circle and that whatever goes around, comes around. Looking at the heart being dissected nonchalantly by medical students in white coats made me think about that big circle of life.

Perhaps, that’s  why ripping out the heart had been difficult for me; that day, was my turn to dissect. And it’d gone pretty well until I got to the point of cutting out the heart when  my fingers trembled. They say that death is not always the end. So, why would I cut out the heart of that body?

Morality. Good. Bad. Wrong. Right.

The battle raged in my heart and when Neche saw my trembling finger, she smiled, before reaching out  for the scalpel. She dissected with an artist:s precision.

“It was to protect you,” she’d explain to me, days later. “It’s not good for them to know that you couldn’t even rip out the heart of a dead man.”

***

We were almost  done with dissection for the day when the rain came with a heavy, sudden bang! Heavy  angry droplets of water falling on the roof of the low dissection hall. The sound of rain falling on the asbestos, drowned our voices. The light went off. And we could barely make out our individual faces.

Nevertheless, the rain brought me joy, because I loved rainfall. It  was the first rain of the year and the smell of freshly watered anthills and leaves, filled the room, overcoming the strong smell of formalin used in the preservation of the dead bodies, the same strong smell of formalin that made our eyes water and our nostrils drip of mucous.

The rain fell as hard as the  thunder  that roared in the distant. It fell until we started feeling the creeping flood in our shoes.

But, we thought it’d stop raining soon. Storms don’t happen in the coal city. So, we stayed back, waiting. Waiting for the rain to stop.

But, instead of the rain stopping as we hoped for, the  flood got bigger and bigger, till we could take it no more. The panic spread rapidly and the students decided to swim in the rain rather than swim  with the broken parts of dead men. For the dead bodies were mostly torn apart now. We all made for the door, almost at the same time.

The  door was narrow and so, many fell. Into the muddy flood. I wouldn’t have looked back to see those who fell but, I heard a voice that sounded crisp and sing-song. It called out ‘Anthony!....Help me!’ My Neche was about falling into the water.

I didn’t know when I dived  into the water, my white coat and all, laying my  body  as a soft landing for her. My  knees were strong and so, was able to help me stand again, after the dive. When I got up, I had Neche, resting safely in my arms. And that- the fact that I was able to help her, made me feel so good. The memory will never be erased from my heart.

We both were stained and the muddy water kept falling from our white coats as we scampered away. The chaos was everywhere, still. But, I managed to get us to the safety of the gate. At which point I had to keep her on her feet as we took shelter under the roof of the gate house, waiting for the rain to stop.

And then, I don’t know how it happened but, I said it. I found myself speaking the words. “I love you Neche,” I said, wrapping her face in my hands. I still  don’t know what came over me. I said those words and I was shocked by my own voice. How did I manage to say those words?

She stared at me. Her eyes fixed, unblinking.

I trembled, unsure of what to say next or what to do. But, one thing I was certain of was that I didn’t want to see her frown. That’d kill me. Perhaps, that’s why when I saw the wrinkles appearing from  the corners of her eyes, I  got scared and apologized.

“I’m sorry, I said that, I’m really sorry…..I…” but, she raised a finger to my lips and started laughing. A hearty laughter that came from her belly and bared her snow white teeth .

She smiled too. A deep feminine smile. Then, she hugged me. A tight clasping or should I say wrapping of her arms  around me. It created a feeling I’d never be able to explain. It felt as though, my mouth was full of melting sugar.

“let’s go to the hostel,” she smiled into my eyes. “I’ll tell you something.” She lead the way and I followed. I was never ashamed to follow her lead.

***

Then, we walked back to the hostel. I was Silent. The rain had stopped suddenly but, the lightning still flashed menacingly above the trees. The smell of the new rains filled my lungs with a deep longing that I knew had Neche’s face all over it.

She held my hand as we walked and suddenly, I regretted apologizing for the words I’d said earlier. Her soft hands felt so comfortable, almost like home.


©Nnaemeka Ugwu.