It was really painful . The story could have been better if the little time I saw your smile was something you would keep doing. Your head, wow!, Those skinny little cocunut peanut of a head as I always joked, made me liked you more. The way you shake them gives me the motive that you either not in the mode for any gesture or you want me to give you my outdated tecno p5 which you gladly used for your amusement.
AYO is a Yoruba boy I meant when I came to Ife,osun state. He is adept, something I rather fined strange in a boy of four years old. My mission to the land of the great oduduwas' was something vogue of every Nigeria student- entry exam into one of the best school the country has got to offer. Days after days ,AYO always make me leave my books to indulge me in those blank, childlike dance of hiss' . He would say", alonto,alonto(a version of Azonto; popular dance exhibited by Sarkordi; a popular Ghanaian musician). The way he danced it was what captivated my mere spare time. He would shake his skinny,little head down as if it was about to fall down. I would laugh my heart out.
There was a day he came back from school,he sat down and started crying . I was met with a sad door. I proceeded to where he was," AYO!, Kilode(wats is happening). He just looked at me and smiled mustering something in his dialect which I could hardly comes in terms with. I don't really know why he did that. Was it the sake of fun or something embedded to the tears he did share,i just can't fathom.
The night came and everyone was fast asleep. My nephew didn't ask his girlfriend to come over to his place this time. Since they won't be doing nothing except kissing and cuddling, so why make the trip. As I was enjoying my beautiful cold sleep,i heard a shout,Ayo!....Egbami(means something ridiculous).......and a lot of utterance that seemed Greek to me...I and my nephew,first of all,hesitated thinking that arm robbers are kind of invading their premises. The shout went on for further twenty minute,then we were absolutely sure that most probably it was AYO.
AYO was leaving. His mouth ,eyes,hands were quite shut. The father brought out slippers and started flogging them but hell no!, This tinny boy held them as thigh as a lady's wrapper. The father and my grown up nephew brought out cut onion, put some liquid in his eyes and his tight forced hands but AYO was proofing stubborn . The mother started roaming on the cold bare floor. The father was acting rather manly as expected. All eyes were fixed on Aladji Musa as he administer the commodity of his dieties .
I became cold but my spirit was on fire. I bent down and started praying silently. My mind was moving in the Holy realm. The child(Ayo) started reviving. As he was coming alive,my breathe became shonky . A voice whispered gently,'do you want to exchange his life for yours', but I persisted. As he was coming alive, I was dieing . I was losing oxygen . My body was losing his life best asset(air and speech). I stopped and I started gaining momentum and as I was doing so,Ayo was losing his. I just sat there in shock.
Aladji Musa was later told to help to convene the dying Ayo to the hospital. Aladji brought out his Toyota Camry and Ayo was carried in by his brave father. As soon he stepped in, the car engine stopped.it was rather mysterious . I ,my nephew,his crying mom ,and sympathetic father and the already impending bereaved neighbours came to joined hands in pushing the costumized perfect Camry. We tried but all to no avail . The car refused to heed to the death of Ayo. It seems they both were in totaled agreement . After a while, Ayo started giving out some green-whitish foaming content from his mouth. His eyes are gone. His father now share the bounty tears engraved in his heart. Ayo is no more. He chose death and not life.
I was quiet as I logged into transit. In the afternoon he was crying,maybe its something predestined . The lesson I learnt painfully was this: when death comes,no one can stop it,no even the records of amusement.
