Twenty Children Cannot be Friends for Twenty Years
After a long absence from home, I finally travelled down to my hometown this December. My brother was getting married and I had to be there. I missed my mum, grandma and my little cousins (postscript: they are not even little anymore - Introduction to Absence 101!). I was also hoping to see my friends. I thought they'd take a break and come from the big cities. I looked forward to seeing the ones we went from St. Patrick's College to Adekunle Ajasin University together. Expectedly, I was excited as I departed Jos for Oka-Akoko, Ondo state about two weeks ago.
When I heard that my brother was getting married
First things first, my first week in town, I rested, then I saw family members, some were rightly angry at me for staying away for too long. In a week's time, we got the wedding done with. I shifted my focus to my cousins. We were fond of each other some seven or eight years back, so how was I supposed to know that the years I spent away from home - my final couple of years in the university, national service and subsequent job hunt - would make us become familiar strangers? It wasn't all that bad though since I still remained my favourite cousin's favourite cousin! Earlier today, we celebrated her graduation as a seamstress. And that's where this piece is headed.
Joyous because someone is taking my last name even though she's literally not my wife
While the graduation program was going on, I spotted an old friend, a senior friend, to be honest. He worked at the university bookshop that also doubled as a café where my good friend, Francis, worked. Omooba, that's his name, was jovial and always full of jokes. I called out to him and he turned his motorbike around. He halted where I was standing and we exchanged pleasantries. Our conversation lacked the humour and levity it had in years past.
My favourite cousin and I
I asked about our friends, the ones with whom I haunted the school's bookshop. It was then it occurred to me. I haven't reached out to my old friends in a very long time! Now, I was expecting to see them and pick up like we never left. It was why Omooba was no longer warm. He told me that not a single one of our friends was in town, perhaps it was the nature of their work in the big cities that's keeping them away this festive period.
In the evening, I reached out to some of them on WhatsApp, I tried calling some. It was never going to be like old times. Their voices/tone sounded less excited than I expected. And then, I remembered a Yoruba proverb: “Twenty children cannot be friends for twenty years.” While this saying has several interpretations, the one that applies to me and my friends is that regardless, life will happen and things won't be like old times.