SEPTEMBER TO REMEMBER FOREVER
Unforgettable…that’s what you are to me. They call you September to Remember, and maybe you’re only answering to your name, but over the years you have done a terrific job of it. I don’t like you very much, and I’m not sorry to tell you. Every year, when you arrive I become very feely, and more so this year, for some inexplicable reason. I’m normally a feely person, intense and introspective too. All the other months know this, and we get along quite well, without grating on nerves or raising any hairs. I mean, relationships are not easy but we try, and we get by. But you, somehow you manage to insert one event into your time that makes me wish I could borrow my fairy godmother’s wand and banish you to the land beyond beyond. Oh my fairy godmother, the reason I may never forgive you. But I won’t start there.
I’ll start from that Sunday morning when I was twelve and I got lost at Oshodi because my mother was away in Enugu and Bridget the help refused to take me to church. It was Thanksgiving Sunday and I didn’t want to miss Sunday school thanksgiving cake, and mummy was going to fly in from Enugu and meet us in church. I had pleaded and I had whined, but Aunty Bridget was adamant. She was catholic, and Sunday mass afforded her the opportunity to be with her boyfriend, the tall dark man who mummy said must never come to the house but he came anyway. I decided I would go to church myself, by danfo. I got to Aguda bus stop and boarded the first bus I found, and somehow I found myself at Oshodi, when I was supposed to be at Gbagada. How was I to know that I should have asked the conductor where the bus was going before boarding the bus? But the real question is why did it have to happen when you were in town? Bridget the help lost her job for disobeying mummy, but what did you lose? Who punished you?
Then let’s talk about when I was 17 and the man from hell tried to rape me.