LETTER TO FIJABI –poem
ROMOKE, THE POET, SO BETRAYED –title
If Fijabi could betray Romoke then, who else won’t Fijabi betray? Romoke, a very pretty lady of unequal beauty –daughter-ed to a late wealthy merchant, who was once the richest in the whole of the Olyridarian empire.
Romoke and her husband, Fijabi had been together for some time now, before Fijabi got stung by the feeling of travelling abroad to further his studies –If no one was happy with the idea, Romoke was pleased, she did.
It had been a common re-occurrence, where husbands would leave home, only never to return to their wives. There exist,a long list of occasion, where betrayal theaters around, while honesty suffers off-stage. The case of Fijabi and Romoke was thought would be different –it was the least ever expected.
From the very day of their discussion, they have began planning in harness. New clothes, shoes, caps and other would-be-neededstuffs were being purchased. Romoke would not rest, seeming as if, she was the one doing the travelling –come and see how she hops from one shop to another –buying the buyable, shopping for all the shoppables. Even someone, relocating should not go such length.
Fijabi waved her as he stepped the stairs of the airplane. Wavingback, she turned the face of her six-month baby towards the plane to at least, bid her Dad, a goodbye.
Reluctantly, on that very day she dragged home, filled with some sense of emptiness –the feelings of loneliness, the feelings of I-have-been-negleted. But, after some time, she motivated herselfto carry on with life.
Now, it is six years –Fijabi, her husband is not back! A master program should at most last for two years, what then shall we account for the additional four years?
Days of sadness are over, months of sorrows had all passed, but, whenever she remembers Fijabi, she cries. She had waited enough.Now, her patience has been stolen. Like a chief judge that landed in jail, she was so frustrated.
Fijabi had betrayed her -carting away with all her inheritance, leaving her, to live by little or nothing. Just the small earnings she makes from her only surviving shop had been the major pillar, upon which she rests.
One day, those feelings of I-have-been-cheated came visiting, she was so nervous that she could not explain how she journeyed to the Mandy Rivers. Soliloqu-ing, all her way, she sat by her shores.
And soon, she began to write of her feelings on the watered soil. In big captions, she wrote:
(LETTER TO FAJIBI)
Here, I am
Seated, beneath the tree of remembrance.
Gathering your words, to fill my ageing basket.
Watching and waiting, for your promised horse.
Like every other day,
I use to come around
To rehearse old memories.
Those memories of gone(s).
Should the palace forget their crown?
Should the calendar ever forgets the date?
Our pledge-spit is dried,
Its markings are all gone.
Come over –
Make memories return like pilgrims.
I see them
Come every day, flowing
Like eternal spring.
If your land
Has been enslaved to forgetitude
Let me hang around
To watch you pass.
Sooner or later,
Feet to feet, we
And so, she hated Fijabi, the more! Regretting ever haven trusted him, in all the entirety of her life. But, instead for luck to desert Fijabi, his fortune boomed,even bigger. He was happy celebrating around, going places to enjoy a filth-filled-fun –FIJABI, the betrayer forgot that, the hell fire was prepared for his likes.