We were both in the same junior high school but I didn’t think of him when we were there. He was in the third year while I was in the first year. That wasn’t the only thing we had in common. We were also living in the same suburb. Sometimes we both met while on our way to school but we didn’t say a word to each other.

When they completed school and the school was having a leavers’ jam, I went there. That was the first time he spoke to me. He asked, “What are you doing here? You didn’t complete school with us so why are you here enjoying our party with us?”

He said it in a jovial tone as if it was his way to break the ice that existed between us. I smiled. I wasn’t ready to answer but he pushed for an answer. I told him, “I came to see how it’s done so when it gets to our time, I’ll know what to do.”

I’ve forgotten what ensued after that answer but I remember every now and then, he would come to where I was standing and say something to me or stay with me for a while. I went there with some of my classmates but he managed to take my attention off them. When the jam closed, he ran to me and said, “Wait for me. I will take you home. It’s too late.”

It wasn’t that late. I remember half of the sun was still in the sky. It looked orange, ready to set for the night to take over. When my friends asked me to go with them, I said, “Jonathan lives in the same area with me. I’ll go with him.”

I waited for a while. He came running, holding the container he carried to the jam. We talked while going home. He was funny. He was sweet. He made little touches. He was one of those guys who tapped you while talking to you. He tapped my shoulder and showed me something. He touched my hair and he accidentally touched my breast. He looked embarrassed while saying sorry. I only smiled. He ended up touching my emotions. I was only a girl, twelve or thirteen.

From that day we became friends. He came around my area often. I knew he came for me but he hang around with the guys until he had the opportunity to talk to me. One day, I realized I hadn’t seen him around for days. I made enquiries and I was told he had travelled. It crashed me. “He travelled and he didn’t tell me? Do I mean something to him at all?”

I was disappointed. I complained to myself while mourning the disappearance of someone I thought I had feelings for. He stayed out until his results came. The day he came to town, I was the first person he came to see. I remember being angry at him. I remember him trying to convince me that his travel was impromptu. I don’t remember forgiving him but I think I did. When he came to the school for his results, I saw him. I recall pointing at him and telling my friends; “That’s my boyfriend going.”

They both screamed, “Ayyyyy! Since when?” I couldn’t answer that because he hadn’t proposed to me.

He got admission to St. Augustines. It was very huge. Only brilliant students got the chance to be in St. Augustine’s and that increased my affection for him. He went to school without saying goodbye but I forgave him. He wrote me a letter. That was the year 2000. A letter was a thing and receiving a letter from someone said a lot about the relationship between you two.

I don’t remember the details of what he said but I remember he drew a heart somewhere and wrote in the heart, “Don’t break my heart.” It was in that letter he proposed to me. Young love. You don’t know much but your heart seems to know its way around the issues of love. It dictates your thinking, your feelings and even spring up stories in your dreams while you sleep. I read that letter over and over again but when I wrote a reply, I couldn’t post it because I had no money.

He wrote another letter asking why I haven’t replied to his previous letter. Again, he begged me not to break his heart. Love is sacrifice so that day I sacrificed my lunch money and bought a stamp to post my reply.

I don’t know how I survived until he came home on vacation. The day he came home, we met. He held me by the hand like I’m the only possession in his life. Young love does something to you I swear. The love you find when young is different. Maybe it’s because of the innocence or the fact that it’s the first. It changes you. You even act silly.

One afternoon, I ran out of school to his house because he told me his parents would be at work. We were in his house, in their hall, sitting next to each other vibing and all when out of nowhere his father entered. Immediately after his father entered, Jonathan sprung out of the sofa and said, “We are not doing anything. We were going to play Ludo.”

His father looked at me in my uniform and held me by the collar and took me outside. I thought he was going to harm me. He was looking around for something: a cane? A knife? A stone? My imagination was running wild. I burst out crying and begging him not to beat me. I repeated, “We didn’t do anything. He said I should visit him and I did.” Jonathan stood at the doorway watching while his father dragged me out of the hall, straight to my school.”

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I’d never been beaten in my life the way the teachers beat me. One of the teachers took the time to take me home and report the issue to my parents. My dad got crazy. “Since when have you been running out of school? Do you want to become a prostitute? Should I stop paying fees so I take you to the street?”

Parents and the way they exaggerate issues. My dad beat me black and blue while my mom stood there stoking the fire.

I thought that was enough. Before supper was served, we heard a knock on the door. It was Jonathan and his father. His father was holding him by the scruff while shouting at him. Immediately my dad saw them, he got up. Jonathan’s dad started shouting at my dad blaming him for not raising me well. “Warn your daughter. My son has a huge future ahead of him. Your daughter shouldn’t come and distract him. Keep her away from him before anything bad happens.”

He spoke of the letter I wrote to Jonathan as if I wrote erotica. My dad felt accused, embarrassed to be attacked in his own house. He beat me again. He went through my bag and saw the letters Jonathan had written to me. He beat me more and asked my mom not to give me food until he says so.

It was only love I fell in. I didn’t steal a goat or run naked in the market but my parents treated me like a criminal. I would never forget the feeling and shame they put me through. Even in school, they teased me. I nearly stopped going to school because it was no longer fun. The love I thought I had left me stranded and bitter. I felt Jonathan didn’t do enough to protect me. I was angry: why did he bring his father to my house?

That’s how the relationship ended.

We met at the University and reminisced and laughed about it. At some point, he wanted a relationship but we were too old to connect to our past, that young love that grew like fire in our hearts. We had seen a lot and had lost our innocence. It wasn’t possible.

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I’m now happily married to a pastor and raising three adorable kids. Jonathan is also married. He posts about his family often on Facebook. I believe he’s also happy. We are friends on Facebook but we hardly talk. It’s life. We are both busy living it and making each day the best it could be.

#MyFirstRelationship

—Aframa

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