Sometimes I imagine the universe is a small room with just the two of us in it.There are no rules, the only rules that exist are the ones we make.
Our life together has been beautiful. We’ve had our falls and our triumphs. Sometimes we fight, other times we make love. My memories of us- our memories together is the best gift you have given me.They strengthen me and give me the will to continue fighting.
Olowo ori mi, cancer will not kill you. I will make sure of it. Every sweat I secrete will be dedicated to giving you back your life; giving us back our life. It was you who taught me how to handle the sword. It was you who taught me the techniques of Ijakadi so that I could defend myself against Olu if he attacked me again. You taught me how to fight and I will fight for your life.
Never mind what the doctor said. What does he know? Baba Dundun, the priest, assured me that your case can be helped. He said you will live again if I offer a befitting sacrifice to Babalú-Ayé, the god of healing. Oko mi, you will dance again. I have missed watching you dance at the festivals. Two festivals have passed now and you have not been present to wow the audience with your swift dance moves. Your dancers try but they still dance like sheep without a Shepherd. I have washed your costume from your last performance; it is ready for you to wear again, for you to dance again. First thing tomorrow morning, I will run to the market to purchase the broom, clay pot and grains that Baba Dundun requested for the offering. Don’t you worry oko mi, bata yin– your dancing shoe awaits you.
I hope I am not disturbing your deep sleep with my rant but it is hard not to talk to you even though i know you cannot respond. You know how much I like to talk and you always listen. I miss it, I miss talking to you and even nagging at you.The doctor says I should allow you to rest but how can I? Who will listen to me? Is it your mother who has taken to calling me a witch?
I hope you are no longer angry with me for calling her a madwoman, I already said I was sorry. She shouldn’t have raised her voice at me. It is one thing to call me names and maltreat me because the gods have denied me the joys of motherhood but it is another thing for her to raise her voice at me. Even you know how much I despise it, you know I wouldn’t tolerate anyone yelling at me. I had broken my mother’s most cherished pot because she yelled at me, not on purpose though, it was reflex. We had just finished entertaining the suitors that had come to ask for my hand in marriage and I was washing up. Maami came to the backyard where I was washing to tell me that Baami had agreed to their marrige proposal. She also said I had to go ahead with the marriage whether I liked it or not which did not sound very pleasant to hear. I did not like my supposed husband to be and i tried to make her see reason with me but she yelled at me instead. That I got me angry and i smashed the shiny pot to the ground. Maami and Baami were very angry with me, they gave me out to the next suitor that came knocking. It was you- my love. You were supposed to be my punishment, you were poor and had only a few tubers to your name and they hoped that the poverty and starvation would make me regret turning against their decision. Fortunately, you turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I have told you this story on many occasions.You should have told your mother, you should have stopped her from yelling at me that day but that is all in the past now.
She cannot put us asunder, our love is stronger than her taunts. Cancer cannot put us asunder, our love is stronger. When I carry bricks to the building site my back aches, my head pounds and the rest of my body aches like never before. Yet, I will not stop carrying them because I need to raise enough money for your upkeep and treatment. It is my heart that pains the most from watching you lie almost lifeless but it will not fail me. It is stronger than pain, olowo ori mi taught it to be strong