Diary of a sad ghost

I have always wondered what would become of me when i die. I have seen friends lose their friends, i have seen parents lose their children, i have seen children lose their parents, i have seen husbands lose their wives, and wives, their husbands, and so on. I have heard that when we die, we feel nothing and know not what would be happening when we die. Only the people we had left behind would hurt and cry their eyes out, and sometimes, because of losing a loved one, a person could die of shock. But then again, i have also heard of situations where a person dies and there is a wide spread of jubilation, especially by people who ordinarily should hurt and cry.

I had returned home early from work the other evening. I had severe head ache and so i assumed i had malaria fever. I went home early to get treatment, but some hours after i had taken some malaria drugs, i knew i should feel better. However, instead of better, i felt worse. It was unlike me, i did not often have malaria and when i did, a couple of dozes of the plenty malaria drugs they have today would have done the magic. But this time around, it did not. My body began to burn, so much that it could boil noodles or maybe not, but i was burning up. Mum tried to cool me off with a soaked hand towel but i burned even more. I knew i would be alright by day break, all i needed was so catch a sleep but i could not. Then at last, i slept off. I had never slept so peacefully before. The malaria drugs must have worked, perhaps, the soaked towel with which mum had cleaned my body worked the wonder. Which ever of them it was, i was thankful it worked.

Still in the most peaceful sleep i had ever had, i heard screams, shouts and crys. What was happening? I could not tell, and honestly, i did not want to wake up for i was enjoying my sleep. All the shouts, screams and crys continued but they became louder and i began to hear familiar voices amongst them. First, i heard my mum's, it was the loudest, then i heard my dad's, it was not so loud but i still could hear him. My Dad would never cry, more so, scream. I knew i had to go find out why mum was crying so loud, and why dad should even cry at all. I was scared, i had hoped nothing bad had happened to either of them, but i was sure they were not fighting. Dad would never lay a finger on mum, he would never think about it. Mum would never do anything to make dad want to lay a finger on her. I had never seen a couple like them my whole life, they were indeed, "best of friends" if you like. Was anyone fighting them? But of course not. Dad was loved by everyone. One time, a stranger came to our neighbourhood and tried to fight him because dad told him to return some corn he had taken from our farm without letting him know. Dad is a good man, he would have let the stranger go with the corn, but he told dad to mind his business without knowing it was from our farm he had taken those corns and so dad asked him to return them. In complete refusal to return the corns, the stranger attacked dad but my dad did not have to lift a hand, for our neigbours were always ready to fight for my poor old dad.

What could have been the reason mum and dad were crying? I wondered. Then i got up and went out to find out. As i went out to find out, i saw people trying to console them, mum was dirty from rolling on the ground. Dad sat on the ground as though his world had come to an end. Oh my son! Oh Tofa! God why? I heard my dad continue to say in pains as he cried. It did not make any sense to me, did mum and dad have another son? I asked myself. Why would they hide this from me? I wondered. But i had heard dad mention my name, Tofa.

The more i tried to make sense of the rather very strange happening, the more confused i became. I knew i needed some explanation from either of my parents. Mama, mama, i called out, as i walked straight to my mum. She would not look my way, she was probably too busy crying and rolling on the ground but i would have non of that. Mama, mama, i continued to call. Just then, it occured to me she could not hear me, nobody could. They could not notice me. I became even more confused and scared. Papa, papa, i called as i turned towards my dad, but he could not hear nor see me. In the pool of my confusion, i tried to touch my dad but i could not. Oh God, let this be a bad dream, i prayed in fear. Then i ran back into my room and found me lying lifelessly on my bed. Oh God, please, i can not die, at least, not now, i begged. When it dawned on me that i was dead and nothing could be done about it, i began to cry but that also was a useless thing to do.

I sat and watched every one cry for my death. Soon, family memebers and friends heard about my untimely death, and began to troop in. Amongst friends who had come in were Fatima, my very beautiful girl friend, and Ilyasu, my loving best friend as well as other family friends who had heard the very sad news. They all spent the whole day with my parents, and when night came, everybody except some family memebers, returned to their homes. Dad had said it was pointless to leave me in the motuary. Who would he leave it there for? He had asked. I was to be burried the next day. I could not believe that was happening to me. Mum and dad did not sleep that night. I sat next to them talking and wishing that somehow, they would get to hear me, but that unfortunately, did not happen. I went out that night, it was about 2:13 AM, then i heard voices, i went to go see the people talking. "hey, i heard a voice call, it could not be me he was referring to, nobody could hear nor see me, i thought. Hey, the voice called again. As i turned to see, it was a young man, about my age. Me? I asked. Yes, you, he answered. I was surprised. Can you see me? I asked, curiously. Yes na, i blind? He answered. I heard you talking with someone, where is the person? I asked again. He went that way, he answered, pointing at a direction. What a relief that was to me, someone could see and hear me. But why are you out here by this time of the night? I asked. Nobody could see nor hear me, he said. Wait, are you dead? I asked. Yes o, he simply ansered. But what happened to you, i further questioned. Guy no dey ask me all these question abeg, you be God? He replied, angrily, before turning away. I roamed about our neigbourhood the whole night, and as i did, i met people who had just dies like me. Soon it was day break again.

The day on which i would be burried had come. Again, family and friends were there to say their final bye bye. My pretty girl friend, Fatima, had got her eyes swollen from crying. My best friend Ilyasu could still hardly believe i was no more with them. There were lots of people who had one or two nice things to say about me. It did not take long and i was lowered into the grave. As that was being done, people began to cry. Men, women, boys and girls. I felt very important and loved. Thank you, i had whispered to them, but of course, they would not hear me.

Shortly everyone went away. Most of my friends had found their way to a hotel where they wanted to probably sit together and discuss a thing or two about how to pay a condolence visit to my parents, so i thought. I thought i needed to hear their discussion so i went with them. On their way to the venue, everyone talked about one or two memorable event we had. My girlfriend Fatima would not contribute to the discussion as they walked. My best friend, Ilya continued to hold hands with her as they went. When they got to the venue, they drank beer and ate cow tail. Some drank malt and ate pepper soup. They told jokes and laughed at their jokes. My girl friend seemed to be enoying herself all of a sudden. They took selfies and took group pictures. I began to feel as though there were happy i had died but honestly, it looked that way . They Once in a while, someone would scream, Na wa o! So Tofa don die like so? And then another person would achoe, this life self, may his soul rest in peace" as they continued to eat, drink and make merry. I waited for them to discuss about a condolence visit but i did not hear that discussion. Soon after, they went their separate ways. My best friend Ilya and my girlfriend Fatima, went on the same way. As they went it seemed as though their closeness had increased. I was just burried and they were hugging and cuddling like that? I wondered. But they continued to go and instead of a separate way, they went to Ilaya's house. How could this be happening, it has not been two days since i died, and a day since i was buried.

The sudden closeness between my best friend and my girl friend did not make too much sense to me. The only sense it made was that he was trying to be with her in her trying time. Fatima loved me very much, maybe more than i had ever loved her too. She was indeed very beautiful. She was fair and tall, she had the most beautiful eyes i had ever seen. The tenderness of her voice was a sweet melody. Her smiles gave peace and her laughter healed pains. Her curves were head turning, she was simply a work of art. My friends thought i was lucky to have her, some of them thought i did not deserve her. She was a gift, one i probably did not really deserve. Now i am dead, it was going to be very difficult for her to cope without me. I hoped she would not do some thing as stupid as try to take her own life because she really did love me.

But why is my best friend taking her to his house? There must be a very genuine reason for that, i thought before leaving them. As i left them, i went home, mum was still crying and tears would not stop rolling down dad's cheek. Some family members were there with them. I wished mum and dad could hear me so i would tell them i was fine. Seeing them in such sorrowful mood continued to break my heart and there was nothing i could do for them. Then, the thought of Fatima and Ilya crossed my mind again, i went straight to Ilya's house to clear my every doubt. When i got there, i met the mum in their palour. Good morning Ma, i said. Funny, isn't it? I had forgotten i was dead but she would not hear me. I went towars Ilya's room, the door was locked, but i went straight in, one of the benefits of being a ghost, i did not have to knock. As i went in, the first voice i heard was my girlfriend's. She would not stop saying " i love you Ilya" as my best friend banged her. I could not believe my eyes and my ears, but they were right. I had seen in the movies were ghosts flogged people and sometimes slapped them. I wanted so much to slap the living day light out of them both, but i could not. I stood and watched my best friend bang my girl friend while she continued to scream out his name with pleasure. Did i not die only two days ago, when did they begin to love themselves that much? It was one of the worst days of my death. I would never forgive them both.

From there, i went to the place i had worked. I was a hardworking person, every one loved me at work, especially my boss. When i got to my work place, it did not seem as though i was ever there. They went about their work laughing and smiling, nobody talked about me, my work desk had been cleared and had a new person on it. They were gisting and laughing with the new guy as if he had been there all the time with them and not me. At a place where i thought i was loved, i was already forgotten. In all of their conversation, my name was not mentioned once. I was sad, why have i been forgotten so soon? Was i a bad person, or were they just pretending to have loved me? I continued to ask myself.

Then i went back home from there. By that time only mum and dad were home. Our family members had returned to where ever they had come from. Mum was still crying, dad was trying to make her stop and eat something. They both had not had any food since i died. The most difficult part of my death was to see mum and dad suffer the pains of child loss. Oh God, it should have been me, mum cried. I understood their pain. I was the only child, but even if i was not, they would have felt the pain but maybe not so much so, but i was the only child. I began to wish i had other siblings. But wishes, infortunately, were not horses. Dad scolded me for every little thing, he made me work tirelessly in the farm, i had always thought he hated me.

Dad continued to console mum, but all of a sudden he too began to cry out loud. God why? He questioned, as he cried. That broke my heart a great deal.

It was night soon and i hoped mum and dad would get some sleep, and thankfully, they did. But why would they not? They had cried for two days straight and had not eaten any food. They were tired and exhausted, and so they must sleep even if they did not want to. As they slept, i went roaming the streets again. I did not understand the whole thing. I had thought that when we die, we would find eternal solace, but why am i still restless and having to see all of these happenings? I thought, as i continued to roam about,,,,,,,,,,,,