it was late in the night. I was in my half lit
room,studying with my candle. For some
reason, I felt a strange presence, like 'something'
was hovering around but I wasn't going to be
distracted, I had a lot to cover before the exams I
was to have the next morning. I was seated on
my plastic chair, my table faced to the wall,
backing my door.
Just then, I heard my door knob click and the
door began to slide open, slowly. The door made
a
lazy yawning sound as it rolled on it's hinges. A
gust of the chill uli wind blew in, troubling my
candle light temporarily.
Whoever or whatever had opened my door,
wasn't about to close it and I wasn't about to
turn
around to find out who, either. I was bent over
the
table and had my eyes focused on my books.
But
at this time, truth be told, I wasn't really seeing
any words in my books, only blank pages.
People
sometimes describe it as being calmly scared.
"Thud!" Something dropped. I jerked.
I grabbed my Nokia phone, turned on the
torchlight and swung round to see who or what
was disturbing my peace. I saw Ogute Godwin,
my activist neighbour, had collapsed, he had his
back to door, his legs spread apart and his head
tilting to his left shoulders. His lips seemed to
move, but I could not make out any words. He
had embarked on a hunger strike to protest the
hike in school fees. It was his day five (5)
without
water or food. All our pleading with him to go
about his activism some other way had failed-
he
was a headstrong young man and had assured
us
solemnly: "I'm not backing down ever...I'm the
captain who sinks with the ship!" It was a
profound Martin Luther King Jnr moment!
I rushed to him to see if he was alright. Maybe
he
had seen a ghost.he looked particularly pale.
As I tried to take his right hand to check for a
pulse, his hand suddenly clasped mine tightly
and
seemed to pull. I looked at his eyes, they held
what I imagined would be deep messages from
his soul. Godwin always had profound words.
His
lips quivered a bit, I knew he wanted to speak so
I
leaned in and put my ear close to hear his
words.
They were strained and lightly spoken in between
pauses.
"chike...A chick...that will grow into a cock, can
be spotted the day it is born..." Then he seemed
to fall asleep.
I shook him and called out his name as he was
slipping from consciousness. He came to, again
and spoke.
"I think...I have better ideas...on how to fight the
authorities...Jesus already died for us all, no
need
for me to try to steal his glory, by dying. Kindly
arrange gala and lacasera for me, abeg!