We were friends for over a year before he finally gathered the courage to propose to me. He called me strong; “Too strong is not easy to talk to you about things of love. It’s like your heart and being aren’t carved for love. You rather hit the street and hustle than sit and listen to a man talk to you about love.” It was funny the way he said it. I told him, “No matter who we are or who we appear to be, there’s a place for love. No one, especially woman can escape the need for love.” So he proposed but I wasn’t that into him so I told him to give me some time. He had been a friend and I knew how good he was as a friend. I hadn’t had the time to look at him through the lens of love. As in, “Look at him, he’s so lovely. How I wish he was in my bed. Look at his eyes, I want my kids to have those things.” Never did I do that so when I asked for time, it was for me to think about him along those lines.
My mom fell sick along the line and I told him I was going home to visit her. He said, “Take me home with you. I want to see your mother. Does she look like you? I want to thank her for giving birth to a beautiful lady like you.” I said, “Awww.” Of course, I didn’t say it out loud. The strength in me wouldn’t allow me to be a woman in his presence. A day later, he was with me in a trotro to the bus station. Hours later, we were in a taxi going home to see my mother. He sat next to me, skin to skin, breath to breath. We’ve never been that close so it got me wondering; “Hmm this guy isn’t bad after all. He cares. Look at him here with me, going to visit my sick mother.”
My mom was sick and the way I got the news, I thought she couldn’t even talk. Immediately she saw us, her eyes went straight to Philip. She said softly, “Did you come to see me with my in-law?” He smiled and I smiled along. I answered, “We came to visit you. I was coming alone but he decided to come and greet you. He’s a friend.” My mom extended her hand and he took it in. The handshake lasted longer than usual. Their hands were locked as they talked to each other.
“Gentleman, what’s your name?”
“My name is Philip.”
“Were you part of Jesus’ disciples?”
“No, I don’t think Philip was one of the disciples, or?”
“It looks like we both didn’t take our Sunday school seriously but God will forgive us.”
They burst out laughing.
“Is it true what she’s saying? That you’re a friend?”
“Yeah, we are friends. Very good friends?”
“I understand, you kids of today think you can outsmart your parents. I understand.”
It was a returning journey. The state I found her in wasn’t as dire as my senior sister made it sound. I gave her money and asked what she wanted me to do for her. She answered, “Just don’t make him a friend forever. He looks like a husband in my eyes.” I screamed, “Mom, that’s not what I’m talking about.” She responded, “That’s what I want to talk about.”
On our way back home, he laughed a lot. Something was making him happy. He was in love with my mom, it was obvious. He said, “Your mom saw me just once and realized I’m a good husband material but you’re here putting me on probation. You think that’s fair?” I told him, “It’s unfortunate you came back with me. If my mom thinks you are good husband material, then why didn’t you marry her?” We both laughed, the kind of laughter that goes deep into the heart and brings out good feelings. By the time we got back home, I had accepted his proposal.
My senior sister called me, “Mom called to tell me you went to see her with your husband.” A few hours later, my junior brother also called, “You have a husband and you haven’t introduced him to me? He has to come and pay akonta sikan immediately before I take you away from him.” I think everyone in the community got to hear from my mom that I’d visited with my husband. Later when I called my uncle he also said, “We are patiently waiting for the wedding. When is he coming home officially?”
Whenever my mom called, she asked of him. One day she called. Philip was with me. Before she could ask about him I retorted, “He’s here. No need to ask about him.” I gave the phone to Philip and the conversation lasted for several minutes. He laughed throughout. When I took the phone from him, I said, “You can’t come and win over my mother’s heart like that. It’s not fair. You two won’t talk again.” But a few weeks later, we went back to see her. She was still not well. Mom was weak and was struggling to sit but she gathered the last strength left in her and walked to the kitchen to cook something for us. We both screamed no but she didn’t listen to us.
Close to an hour later, food was ready. While we were eating, she sat next to Philip asking him If I’d been cooking for him. If I’d been treating him well. If I’d proven myself to be wife material. To date, I don’t know what my mother saw in Philip that made her like him that way. Anytime we talked, she mentioned his name. Whenever she talked to my brother and sister, she mentioned Philip and how cool Philip looks.
Our relationship was two years old when we started talking about marriage. Philip was ready and I was ready too but my mom wasn’t ready. She was always sick. We couldn’t possibly take a step when the woman who will accept everything was suffering.
One evening, my senior sister called me. She had been living with my mom for over a month, taking care of her. She said, “Mom’s situation is critical. As we speak, she can’t even talk. She can’t maintain a gaze. She’s slipping.” I asked her, “So what are the doctors saying?” She responded, “Nothing new. They are doing their best.” I told her, “I will come around tomorrow morning. I hope she’ll get better by then.”
I woke up in the morning to see four missed calls from my sister’s line. I spent the night with Philip so I put my phone on silence. I called back and she didn’t pick up. I kept calling but all my calls went unanswered. I told Philip, “I’m calling my sister and she’s not picking up. It feels like something is wrong.” He asked, “Something like what?” “I don’t know but last night we talked before I slept. She told me mom’s situation was critical, only to wake up to see her calls again. What was she going to tell me.”
I got up, dressed up and started going. I was at the station when my sister called to tell me, “Mom couldn’t make it. She died at dawn. She’s at the morgue as we speak.”
I’ve known pain but the pain that flushed through my heart at that moment was like no other pain I’d ever experienced. I broke down in the car. The guy sitting next to me kept looking at me but couldn’t ask what was wrong with me. I kept crying until I got to the hospital. Philip called and I told him what had happened. He screamed, “Ohh! How can mom do this to us?” That statement brought more tears into my eyes. It was like the world was ending for me. Mom was only fifty-nine so how could she die?”
The whole week things were hectic for me. I expected Philip to call often but he didn’t. I was the only one calling. I remember I even complained and he said, “You’re busy mourning your mom and I don’t want to interfere.” I told him, “That’s the more reason why you should be here with me. You shouldn’t leave me alone at this moment. She’s not only my mother. She was your good friend too.” Nothing changed. I was the only one going up and down with my siblings, planning the one-week rite of my mother. I saw Philip four days after my mom had died. I went to his house to tell him about the one-week rite arrangement. This guy saw me and didn’t see how miserable I looked. He was trying to have shuperu with me.
“Philip, seriously? It looks like the moment we are in is lost on you. My mom died. Your friend died. You haven’t shown any form of sadness or care towards me. You don’t even call. I came to see you and you want to ignore what I’m going through and have shuperu with me? Are you out of your mind?” I stormed out of his house with tears in my eyes. I was expecting him to call or even send a message apologizing for his weird behaviour but he never did. He called and talked as if everything was normal. A day before the one-week rite he called to tell me he couldn’t come because of work-related issues. I’ve forgotten what he said but it sounded like he was supposed to go to work or something.
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I nodded my head and told him to take care of himself. After the one-week rite, I was expecting him to call and ask me how everything went. He didn’t. My senior sister was asking about him. My brother asked about him, even my uncle. The way my mom spoke about him, they expected him to be closer in a moment like this but this guy never did. I was home when he visited. He started talking about how busy life had been and how sorry he was for not being able to make it to the one week and all. I was sad, angry and disappointed in him so his apology got me livid. I spoke my mind; “I’m surprised the way you’ve acted since my mom died. You have no human feeling in you if that’s how you behave towards your friends who have lost a dear one. I’m shocked and I don’t think I will ever forget that.”
The fight continued on Whatsapp. He said, “The dead are dead, it doesn’t mean life should stop for the living. You’re taking things too far.”
I shook my head in disbelief after reading the text message. I said to myself, “When this is all over, I will count my friends again and I don’t think this guy would be one of them.
Mom is still in the morgue. The sadness hadn’t left me but Philip is making my situation worse. The last time I was there in his house he attempted shuperu again. I pushed him away and left his premises. I told myself I would never step into his house again. He’s not even trying, at least he should fake sadness and pretend he’s with me in these hard times but he doesn’t care. He goes to play football and posts happy pictures of the parties he attended. I see them on his status and feel like I’m all alone in these hard times. I’m waiting until the funeral is over to break up with him, that’s if he hadn’t already broken up with me.
Do you think I’m right to end it because of what he’s doing? Is it even normal, his behaviour? He lacks total empathy and it scares me. I fear for my future with him.
–Sarafina
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