₦airaland Forum

Exactly three years and few days now was since Ahmad first told me he loved me. We were in the social science faculty sitting in the economics garden together over which tall dense trees shielded our heads from sky sun and wilted flowers lay weak on the ground and other chairs around. I vaguely smiled glancing in the way of the university sculpture garden, through the spaces between walls, some sculpture work could be seen and then my face returned in the way of the economics department building. I would remain dismissive towards Ahmad’s confession of love for me because I was afraid of being hurt. Although I had never been in any serious relationship with any guy before. Ahmad was literally my first but I have had roommates and friends who called their boyfriends endearing names and said, ‘I love you’ at the end of every call or text message.
Still yet with that effort, the guys left them. With that I had sworn if I ever got into any relationship I would never say ‘I love you’ to my boyfriend when we are together except at the end of text messages. My actions would prove my love for him, I constantly told myself and marveled at how it was so easy–something that came almost naturally– for Ahmad to say, I love you when he escorted me back to my hostel front, he urged me to walk on while he watched me go, although I had been shy, but I still obeyed him. With Ahmad’s sweet gestures it was almost impossible to assume that his love was unreal or that he didn’t mean it when he said I love you to me, at the end of every single call and how he never failed to call me sweetheart at the start of our calls. Ahmad had been like a shield, a solid rock for me, although we hardly discussed what we were expected to but he had been my consoler, with him in my life, regardless of our imperfections and his mistakes, I found him worthy of soothing me.
I remember when my head ache because I had over-worked myself or the sun had been too hot during day time, instead of taking drugs like he advised me or to take a rest by sleeping, I talked to him and instantly I began to feel relieved of my pain. Ahmad was a medication I took when I was in pain or distress. I can never forget him for one beautiful role he played in my life. He always knew when my monthlies came and he called. He cared so much saying sorry all the time he talked half- through our call. He identified. With his questions, he had really wanted to know how painful it felt, how hurt I was at that moment and to ease my pain he sometimes said, ‘I’ll buy you your favorite fruits, oranges and guavas, or would you prefer fura?’ And he rose my craving, my craving for those fruits, fura, ice-cream and meat pie is unquenchable.
I remember how we asked about each other’s family members even when we only knew a few of them. I remember us asking how our mum and dad were doing and how often we shared jokes. I remember the first time he truly made me mad. We had been taking long walk under the star lit night sky in campus along the gleaming roads and he said something that offended me. As we walked on I ignored all he said, he became frustrated and because he could not bear the thought of losing me, he had knelt down to beg. Am sorry he said anxious, his voice quaking. I was shy because campus was well alive with students walking around. Thank God I had asked him to get up immediately even before I could decide to forgive him because, I had been embarrassed instead of pleased. I didn’t expect that he would go that far.
I would never forget his obstinate coaxing before, until my obstinate and resolute refusal to let him pay for what I buy soften his obstinacy to giving up, then it became awkward later as he stood by watching while I paid for all I bought from nighties. He never failed though at paying the bus conductors my transport fare before I could when i was going home on weekends. Ahmad’s tenderness towards me was inexhaustible. He wasn’t the kind of guy who always wanted to be in control, he wa....
http://insightfulobserver.com.ng/blog/2018/06/21/we-could-have-survived-a-story-by-saadatu-aliyu/