For three weeks a crowd had gathered at home to celebrate my grandmother’s life. For three weeks the atmosphere was gloomier, tainted with sadness and frustration, and thoughts of never seeing her again scared all of us. For three weeks, her children and grandchildren sobbed uncontrollably, her siblings mourned, and neighbours and friends could not come to terms with the fact that she had gone, never to come back. My grandma was a people person, cherished by all, admired by many and adored by her family. Her zeal was unmatched. During her warmer days, her warmth could be felt across the fraternity. Her remains finally arrived from the States, where after months of treatment, she had lost a fierce battle against cancer and slipped into an eternal slumber. ‘Fare thee well and luck go with thee’. Our eyes were tired and swollen, still, we could not hold back our tears. The melancholic mood would prolong a little longer if not for a foreseeable couple of weeks. In the world we cometh, in the world, we goeth.
Read – When Nana Kwame Died – A Creative Non-Fiction by Alvin Akuamoah, Ghana
My grandmother is unaverred to anyone; to me, she is a legend. A stronghold of all walks and precisely, a pillar that will stand for centuries like the pyramids of Misri. As much as I know human beings are a passing cloud, never, not once, did I ever imagine that my granny would someday lie cold and motionless. When I was a little girl, my granny used to wake me up so early every day. I groaned every time I heard her call my name to tell me that time was ripe for a stroll. We would always walk and jog for an hour, along the shores of the vast Indian ocean. The morning breeze serenaded our ears with sweet whispers. Drops of sweat sliding down our cheeks were enough evidence that we had gone out for a reason. We would talk and plan for the day ahead. When we arrived home, my granny never needed a rest, all she needed was a jembe so she could tend to her gardens. Before breakfast, we would check on her chicken. My granny never got tired as she only needed minimal help albeit my input was immense.
Read – Reminiscent Goodbye – A Creative Non-Fiction by Yipah Reuben, Nigeria
My granny enjoyed several productive television programs, particularly the evening news. I always loved sitting by her. Occasionally, she would chase me away whenever she felt I had become a bother and I would hesitantly run knowing very well she could not match my pace due to her age which had compromised her swiftness and agility. Even though I pretended not to hear what she said, a smack on my back that I could never ignore, was enough to keep things going. Now, her traditional chair is vacant but I do not feel like going for it as the house is empty. The memorable days are gone and my jig-mate is no more.
I was shaken to the core when I received the news. My mom had called me inside. She looked devastated. Her eyes were swollen as she wore a pale face. She could not look straight into my eyes as I eagerly awaited to hear from her rather trembling voice. How do you tell your daughter her best friend is gone? Where to? How will she receive such news at her tender age? Does she have the stamina to bear the weight of such magnitude?
Read – Cranium – A Creative Nonfiction by Rachel Ajokeade, Nigeria
Family prayers were always fun with her in charge of reading the Bible. Somehow she couldn’t read a full sentence without cranking us up. Even with her glasses on, she would miss a letter or replace an entire word with an alien terminology unheard of, that could plunge the entire session into moments of hysteria.
Granny was always a force to reckon with and a model to emulate. The door to her home was always open for all. We were blessed with an angel down on earth, now we have a guardian watching over us from above.
This Creative Nonfiction was published in the October 2022 edition of the WSA magazine.
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