Reminiscing about my childhood would not be complete without the Igbo highlife musician Eugene Mbaebie. I didn’t even know this man’s name until some months after my dad passed away.
At 6:30am on a Saturday morning in the year 2020, I decided to wake up early and get the morning clean-up over with as fast as possible. The rest of the house was still fast asleep, and the morning sun was still peeking through the corners, ready to rise high into the sky.
Armed with a bucket of soapy water, a mop, a broom, a parker, and a small rag for dusting, I set to work and began with the window louvers. As I wiped off the dust from louver to louver, my mind wandered off to my father, whose body still lay in the mortuary.
I pondered how different our lives were going to be in the coming years. Well, first we had to plan his burial. He would have been buried by then if not for the pandemic.
I thought of how he looked now; I hadn’t gotten the chance to visit him in the four days he spent at the hospital before he passed.
The last memory I had of him was when he left for the hospital with my mom. The blue shirt he had on, which was once fitted on him, now looked very loose. His gait was shaky, and he’d developed a tiny limp.
At that exact moment, an intrusive thought crept into my mind, Is this the last day I’ll see him? I remember mentally rebuking the thought instantly and thinking of positive things. If only I knew...
After wiping off the louvers, I decided against taking my mind down that sad and heartbreaking memory lane.
Suddenly, a song my dad used to play in his car popped up in my head. The lyrics went, “Oh Lord, had I known”. An inexplicable urge to listen to it again brewed deep within me, so I typed out the lyric on Google and found the song.
I proceeded to play it and continue my cleaning. I sang along to it while several memories of my childhood flashed through my mind.
On those days in primary school, my dad would pick up my siblings and me from school at the end of the day in his red Nissan car. The interior of the car had these comfy seats covered with a dark brown cotton material. In the center of the windshield, over the rearview mirror, hung a huge rosary with beads the color of candle wax.
There was also a miniature banner of the Nigerian Navy hung over the mirror as well. We would then ride through the rough roads of Festac and back to the house. As he drove, my siblings and I would sing along to Mr. Eugene Mbaebie’s cassette playlist blasting at full volume through the car speaker.
My dad would sing along with us too. We loved the music because it made us feel like we were old people 😅. Either we were singing or we were fighting with each other 😅.
Unrelated, but why do siblings fight a lot when growing up, only to become the best of friends in their later years?
My childhood was properly littered with this man’s songs; it’s almost like my dad was his number one fan in the entire world 😂.
It’s been three years since my Pops passed away. May his soul rest in peace. Up until today, anytime I wanted to feel close to him, I just put Mr. Eugene’s playlist on shuffle and listened away. Sometimes I can almost feel my dad’s presence when I do this!
You know what? I’ll even listen to the song while I edit this!
