THE DEATH OF HIS EYES
She is not wrong.
He was at Iwe Iroyin house. It was at that moment that her tears dried. It was at that moment that she got up and moved towards the casket, spoke words into his ears that she would not tell any other living soul, kissed his cold lips. And then she walked out of the center, to songs from the blue and white clad Macjob students singing the sorrowful dirge: “Oro nla le da, eyin te po mo eye , te je o dagba.”
She went with them to where they buried him. Where she has left his body for 20 years but has a part of him that would never die with her.
The journey of the reproach and shame of her widowhood would take her across nations. It was a journey that took her along the corridors of a hospice in Canada, here she would pray for and send every sacred soul that departed from there a message for him. It is a life changing experience from which she will never be the same, never be whole in the way the world wants her to be, but perfect in the eyes of her maker. The same grace with which the Lord has dealt with her is the same that He will continue to deal with her. In that she has her peace.
“To be a person is to have a story to tell.”
Isak Dinesen
AKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you Edetaen Ojo, Mrs. Owotomo, Mrs. Majek, Erelu Apagun, Lanre Ogundipe (I will always cherish the book “The Young Widow” that you gave me), and NUJ Guardian Newspaper Chapel, Lagos under Gbolahan Gbadamosi. I will also always be grateful for what was done for me by the late Apagun Olumide and Olusola Saraki.Thank you Edetaen Ojo, Mrs. Owotomo, Mrs. Majek, Erelu Apagun, Lanre Ogundipe (I will always cherish the book “The Young Widow” that you gave me), and NUJ Guardian Newspaper Chapel, Lagos under Gbolahan Gbadamosi. I will also always be grateful for what was done for me by the late Apagun Olumide and Olusola Saraki.
