SEPUYA

EPISODE 5.
I wasn’t like most 16 year olds you knew. Or they weren’t like me, as I liked to point out.

Few of them understood anything about Nigerian Politics- or that of any country for that matter, not to consider the history of economics or anything about Marxism.
Most had not even finished reading any of their high school textbooks, and that was even if they could recognize the pages of those books when they were opened.
I, on the other hand, had gone over and over again, my Chemistry, Physics and Biology textbooks. I read Literature as well; critiquing Chinua Achebe’s ‘Things Fall Apart’, moving on to Wole Soyinka’s ‘Ake’ and onto J.P Clark’s book on poetry. I nailed all my exams, of course. It would be unlike me to score anything less than 80% on any test. Not even after a recent sickle cell crisis. They definitely weren’t like me.

But I wasn’t like them, either. I walked cautiously. I ate and drank cautiously; for my water couldn’t be too cold nor my food too spicy. I loved and even lived cautiously, for I knew that I could die from more reasons than the average Nigerian youth. They, were warned to be careful on the roads, as road traffic accidents accounted for up to 20% of death amongst the young.

When I thought of death, as I was frequently forced to by my numerous crises; road traffic accidents formed no neural pathways in my brain. They weren’t so important to me. More acute causes for me could be pulmonary embolism- my lungs could become blocked with blood clots; bleeding into my cranium, or severe bacterial and viral infections resulting in a really bad crisis. There were a ton of other reasons and really, the list was endless.

And so, I lived with a sense of purpose so rare that it was easy to intimidate my classmates, what with my vast body of knowledge and astute level of wisdom. They didn’t know, however, that they intimidated me as well! Their football skills, adept speed at running and breath-taking physiques were intimidating for me. I wouldn’t lie, I got jealous most times.

All I had, was a well-developed brain that I had to protect jealously from infections. For though it was worth more than gold to me, Neisseria wasn’t selectively smart. It could ravage any sickler’s brain and mine wasn’t an exception. My bones, although much needed by me, could be nonchalantly infected by Salmonella, giving me a much dreaded form of osteomyelitis.

And so, what did I really have? On some days, I really wanted to give in to despair, but on some others, inspired by Kale, I was spurred to live; treasuring each moment- for it could as well be my last and I had to measure my happiness like grains of rice.

I didn’t let Miss Tara know any of this, for at 39, the wear and tear of age was already being signaled on her face. The past 16 years had created wrinkles on her face, which she tried endlessly to smoothen with make-up.

Miss Tara came home late sometimes. I think there is a new guy, but she wouldn’t tell me. She had a guilty look on her face last night when she returned by 11pm to still find me awake.

I had become a husband of sorts, for she cared for none as much as she did for me.

‘Good morning Sepuya’ she said.
I winked.
‘How many times have I told you to call me mum?’
‘Miss Tara…!’
‘Ok, Sepuya, what?’
‘You came home late last night.’
‘And?’
‘Sepuya, I’m an adult’
‘I thought as much!’ I said, triumphantly, drumming my fingers on the kitchen tabl.
‘I do not know what you are referring to, son’ she giggled as she emphasized the word ‘son’
I pointed a finger at her eyes ‘You sure do! Miss Tara, let me see your phone.’
Her eyes widened.
I continued, not one to be taken aback.
‘There’s a man. There’s definitely a man.’
Miss Tara stared at me and I saw a certain longing in her eyes.
She sat on the sitting room sofa
‘For the last 16 years, I have…’
‘Miss Tara, you don’t have to explain. I understand.’
‘Can I ask you a question?’ I asked.
‘Sure.’
‘Do you like him, or do you like him like him?’
She laughed, almost doubled over.
‘Hmmmn’ she moved her head from side to side as if trying to decide which of my options suited the situation better.
‘I definitely like him like him’
She looked up at me.
‘He’s a great guy. You should meet him soon.’
‘Ok.’ I paused a little and then said with an authority of some sort:
‘He had better be good to you!’
Miss Tara tapped me on the back.
‘Yes dad.’ She said, proudly beaming and marveling at the young man I was becoming- I suppose.
I meant every word of what I had said. No one was permitted to mess with Miss Tara for in the entire world, she was the one I loved the most.
As she walked out the door this morning, I watched Miss Tara in her blue heels and bright red lipstick. Even if I didn’t live for so long, I would live long enough to ensure she was happy. I thought, a grim look plastered on my face.
Tonight, we would discuss the new Mister’s hemoglobin genotype.