Nipped in the Bud

Most writers often draft their stories, on paper or mentally before they orchestrate the final piece. I could not come up with any creative or captivating way to start this beautifully sad story; hence, you might find out that you just read the opening lines of the story.

Secondly, I want to apologize for three things; the bold assumption that I am a writer, the spoiler—that the story is going to be a sad one, and finally, I didn’t use a “firstly” before using the “secondly”.

I was reading a piece some days ago, and it had this bold question; “what was your first encounter with love?”. Not the kind of love that was preached on the pulpit while we grew up, the kind that we were forbidden to talk about as kids. My memories took me way back to Sonia! We were classmates back in primary school, and she was my first love. Truth is, I just discovered that she was my first love, when I reminisced all that transpired.

I was about eleven years old and she was twelve. Her birthday was on the Ides of March. She had a really long, full, woolly afro hair that was usually packed as a double ponytail. She would have been best suited for an African Barbie. She was undoubtedly the smartest in the class, and she came from a wealthy family. She could play the piano, violin and she was the official soloist if the school during ceremonial events. She sang the national anthem so beautifully, I’ve never been so proud of being a citizen of this nation. She also had an impeccable accent, many of us felt she was forming “phoné”, but I loved it. I loved her accent because she was the only one that called my name with endearment. Well, growing up, I discovered that it was the right pronunciation of my name all along. Everyone had been calling me wrongly, she was the only one that called me in the right way… “Clement!” not the other one that my Mother still calls me till tomorrow.

Sonia was the pearl of the whole school. I was just there, unless it came to sports. Exams and all the academic activities, the main purpose of being in school, bored my existence. But sports? It made me feel alive. The cheers from my colleagues when I ran first past the finish line always made me feel like a king. But none of those cheers made me feel as good as Sonia made me feel. She would send me notes with sweets in it.. “I am proud of you champ!” or “You did great today”. It was heartwarming to know that she saw me too. I wasn’t invisible to her, in her world of glamour and excellence.

Everytime I saw her, I smiled, and she smiled too. I was just a young boy and I had neither gotten touch or mastery of my feelings or emotions. I am sure she would have known all that was going on, she was obviously the smarter one. Anytime I was on the field or on the track, knowing that Sonia was watching was an incentive to do better. It was even more effective than my mother sitting beside me with a cane while I did my assignment. Because of Sonia, I became conscious of keeping my inform less dirty than it used to be. She was always looking sharp and neat, I had to improve my game.

We barely talked. I was okay with the reinforced gifts, and smiles here and there, words of admonishment, and winks. She was a front bencher, and I was a back bencher, I never had the nerve to push my luck. I hated to be picked on by the teachers.

There was this day I went out of my way to steal an extra piece of meat and placed in my lunch box. We barely ate meat at home, Sonia ate meat every other day. All I wanted to do was to share a piece of meat with her. First, to show that I care and second, to show that ‘we are not all that poor where I am from’. Sadly, she did not show up. That was one of the boldest days in my life. I walked up to the teacher to ask her why Sonia didn’t come to school and Mrs Offor said; “Ask the Principal”. I am sure she made that comment to deter me. I am also sure the principal was shocked when I walked into his office… he looked at me with an obvious grin and he asked; “How may I help you?”

My confidence melted, but I could not turn back at this time; “Mr. Eket, Good morning Sir. My name is Clement—I tried to call my name the way she did, I am sure it was a failed attempt—and I came to ask why Sonia Ejiofor did not come to school today”

After a few seconds pause, he took off his glasses and replied; “I am sorry about your friend. She could not come today because she had an asthma attack. Perhaps the preparation for Inter-house sports affected her badly.” I never knew what asthma was, I didn’t even know it was a disease, I did not know what to think that it was. “When will she return?” I asked, hoping to hear a fixed date or something to hold on to.

“Young man, I don’t know”. I ran off, because in my head, I felt I was never going to see Sonia again. I remember going home sad and angry at the world. Perhaps that was my first exposure to heartbreak? It was worse when I got home. My mom knew that I was the one that stole the extra piece of meat. I come from a home where we counted things like that because we had so little. I received an unexplainable kind of beating. I have a scar on my back till this day. I knew I deserved to be beaten, but in my defense, I was pounded beyond my age. That pain was no where near the disappointment of not seeing Sonia.

One fateful Thursday morning, in fact, I remember clearly now, it was the morning of the heat to the Inter-house sports and a week after the meat incident. I was going to school, feeling excited and empty on the inside. I knew I was going to do well, win races and all. But Sonia was not going to see any of these. You can guess how my face lit up when I saw her standing with other girls in front of my classroom. I was so happy, I waved, and ran to her. She was equally excited, she hugged me and in my ears, she whispered “I missed you”. I didn’t know what to say, or respond, I didn’t know what it meant. I am sure I broke her heart with my next line of response…

“what is ashma?”… (that was how Mr Eket pronounced it). Immediately, she became, a bit sober. I had never seen her that way. I knew I had said the wrong thing, but I could not undo it. I stretched out my banana chewing gum and Dr. Milk sweet to her, she took it, smiled and said “Fank You”. “Are you okay now?”

She raised her head, this time, holding my hands and looking into my eyes; “Clement, I am okay. I just came to watch you win”. Well, that was the plan anyways. I had a new sense of pride, determination and vigor… let’s say I was reinvigorated. The heats went well. But at the end of the day, I wasn’t given inter-house sports gear. My parents didn’t pay for a new one and the school was going to stick to using the new one the next day. This was a big concern because, I was not going to participate in the March past or run. This was a big blow to Green house, but a bigger blow to me. I remember crying all the way back to the gate. Sonia kept running after me and signaling me to stop. I didn’t want to stop because I was ashamed for two reasons; I didn’t want her to see me cry and I was from a poor home that could not afford one thousand naira for sports gear.

She consoled me, gave me six sachets of glucose and encouraged me to come the next day. “I’ll figure something out”, she said to me. I didn’t understand the remaining thing she said because of her accent, but they were very reassuring.

When I got home, I told my parents about the sports gear incident, but their response was not encouraging. They told me to wear the old one to school. They swore not to buy a new one for someone that was not excelling in academics, besides, I was in primary six. Why would they buy a new sports gear if I was going to use it only once? They even threatened not to sew Christmas clothes for me if I pressed on. Well, young Clement went to bed and left home every early the next day.

I didn’t know what Sonia had in mind, but I trusted her. She was smart and rich, and that combination could do anything. When I got to school, I kept searching for her and when I found her, she was still in her school uniforms. She told me that she would not put her sports gear on because she was not competing or participating in any sports. She had even convinced our house master to give her shorts instead of skirts. I didn’t know how she did it, but she did. I was really inspired. It meant a lot to me. Looking back, I tend to understand more that love cannot be devoid of sacrifices.

I changed into the sports gear she got me, and I left my old gear in her bag. I proudly ran into the field to make her proud and win prizes. I was going to give her one of my medals too. Mrs Offor almost made a scene. She kept yelling my name…. “Clement Azubuike, you did not pay for sports gear, how come you are wearing one?” I just didn’t pay her any attention.

After the whole events, while the teachers were collating the results for announcement, I began to search for Sonia. I didn’t see her anywhere. I ran to my classroom. There, I found some policemen, the headmaster, and a couple that I would later know to be her parents. Sonia was no where to be found, I was putting on her sports gear and mine was in her bag. The only liberating factor was the note the kidnappers left behind. They kidnapped her to threaten her father’s political ambition. He withdrew from the gubernatorial race that year, he was even the flagbearer for his party. After his official statement showing withdrawal from the gubernatorial race, Sonia’s corpse was returned to him.

Imperator_Sylvestro