Describing love

A rainy day and the wind was howling when I pulled up in front of St. Johnson’s care home somewhere hidden in Ikoyi. It was a grand building that had aged nicely and still had the air of prestige. Well of course it would have, this was where some of the older elites came to relax and mingle. Quite similar to the Ikoyi club but older. It was rumoured to have been home to a white lord before he suddenly felt home sick and packed up his family to return to England. You could still see a hint of the British architecture if you looked closely.

I brought my jacket over my head as I stepped out of the car and dashed up the grand stairs, my hand bag hanging onto me for dear life. I was to meet an elderly lady named Susan Oloruntobi.

I’d gotten an email from her sometime last week requesting for my attention as she had an answer to the posed question on my article.

I write the Hearts and Desires section for The Truth newspapers company and sometimes I ask readers heartfelt questions. In the paper for Wednesday last week, I’d asked my readers to describe love without using the actual word and to mail their responses to me. The best and or the funniest would be selected for publishing.

I don’t get a lot of traffic in my mail regardless because painful as it may be, I have to acknowledge that it wasn’t the most widely read section. It is what it is. 

So I was pretty excited when I saw a mail coming in as a response to my question. However, I was surprised when the writer politely requested that I come to meet her at so-so location.  Initially, I scoffed and thought to ignore it. On second glance though, I noticed the address and realised that I could have a tete a tete with one of Lagos’ finest! It didn’t take me a third thought to pen this visit into my log book and that’s how I got here. 

I walked up to the reception and asked for the name just like I was instructed to. The well dressed receptionist gave me directions and sent me on my way. I found my mystery woman sitting in a cozy chair beside a large window which overlooked a large pretty lawn. Elderly people could be seen loitering around, discussing, sitting in groups playing uyo and some enjoying the view of  exotic flowers. Truly, a magnificent place. The website hadn’t done this place justice. 

I called out her name and greeted her. She turned to me and I felt like I was looking at one of the most beautiful elderly women I’d ever seen. She was dressed in the traditional top and long skirt Ankara but the bright mix of colours flattered her shiny dark skin. She had on her matching scarf which had the appearance of a traditional cap just like president Osinbajo’s infamous wear. Underneath, her hair was still thick and a nice shade of black mixed with silver, all packed to the back.

She smiled at me and offered me the sit right in front of her. She spoke eloquently with a rich husky voice and  a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. 

When I was done gaping, I proceeded to introduce myself (as if she didn’t already know who I was) and asked her what her description of love is. 

She took a sip of water from her cup sitting on the stool beside her and said to me,” It’s more like a story than a bland answer. Within the story, you’ll see what it means to love and be loved. Are you still interested in listening?” Of course I was and I told her so. I brought out my phone to record and waited patiently for her to start. She took a deep breath and then she began...

“Well my dear, It was back in the 1970’s when the groove was still on and I’d just moved into Surulere. It was one of the most happening places in Lagos then, and I was to live with a wealthy aunt whose kid’s were all grown up. I was to attend the University of Lagos,  to study psychology.

I remember the first night I spent at campus. Earlier in the evening, I’d gotten acquainted with my roommates in Moremi hall and timidly stepped out to watch the students come alive at night. That’s the first time I saw him. A head full of woolly hair with a small parting to the left side. Glistening brown skin clad in fashionable clothes and pearly teeth unmasked when he smiled. What a beautiful sight it was to behold when he threw his head back to laugh. As if he could absolutely die if he didn’t let out his joy. What a good looking young man. We locked eyes for what felt like an eternity, but was probably a minute, and that was the beginning of a sensational relationship. 

Education was paramount to Deji just as it was to me, but that didn’t stop us from having a little bit of fun. His father was a well to do man who was thriving in the agriculture industry, so he’d gotten Deji a car to move around with. Oh how I loved to go for rides with him in that car. We’d zoom fast on the third mainland bridge, playing tunes from the radio and singing our heads off like we had no care in the world.

When it was time for the general school dance, there was no doubt that we’d go together. We snuck in spirits and added it to our drinks, giggling and hanging on to each other while others watched us enviously. Who wouldn’t?? We were such a perfect couple. There were rough times yes, but they were fewer than the best times. 

He was a very attentive boyfriend, coming to pick me up after lectures and babying me when it was that stressful time of the month. He loved to read too so we swapped paper backs and comic books of different genres till we didn’t know whose was whose anymore. The lagoon became our favorite spot, having picnics and going for occasional swims with friends; stealing a kiss or two in between. 

Countless times, we joined the crowd of students who trooped to the Shrine to watch Fela perform. He was my first for many things and I was his first for a couple of things too. 

We tried the legendary hemp together and many other silly things I’d rather not say.”

At this point she smiled sheepishly while playing with her silver chain, like she was gladly reminiscing on those particular memories. Then she continued,

“We were together till graduation and by then we were well acquainted with each other’s family. It was only natural that he popped the big question and I screamed a loud yes. I never looked back once. Not like I had a choice when he’d always been the one just for me.

He was just as good a husband and father as he had been a boyfriend. Making sure I was comfortable and happy, taking care of the kids when I was too tired to, and crooning our old favorite songs to me while we danced in the middle of our bedroom. 

You can imagine how devastated I was when he died of a heart attack. My children were fully grown then so I didn’t have any pressing responsibilities but I felt the weight of loneliness deeply. I almost lost my mind you know. He’d been my world, literally. I couldn’t look at another man the same way. Heck, they wouldn’t even have known how to treat me right just like he did! If that wasn’t love honey, I don’t know what is.”

Coming out of a trance from this cute love story I’d just heard, I couldn’t help the longing feeling I had for affection or a relationship just like she’d had. Time had flown and the sun was setting in the distance, casting a soft pink glow on the now empty garden below. 

I thought about the bloody traffic I had to face to get back to my home in ketu but the visit was worth it. I knew I’d think about this lovely woman and her story through the journey. 

 I thanked her genuinely for her time and her story, and she waved it off just like the true well mannered woman she is, saying instead,” No, thank you for coming out to listen to an old woman prattle on about her good old days. My children aren’t around right now and I find that I’m bored of staying inside the house.”

I laughed it off and told her that I’d enjoyed the visit just as much as she had. Feeling like I’d found a substitute grandma, I left with a promise to visit sometime soon. And I planned on fulfilling that promise.