Some memories don’t fade, and there are some moments in life you don't just remember...they remember you. They lurk around somewhere in your mind and gets triggered by something. They lie in wait there until a smell, a scene or a sound pulls them back. For me, that memory smells of ewedu soup, scenes in a hospital setting, and sounds like her laugh echoing in the quiet room *Male ward.*


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So, it happened to be my third month in the ward. I had become a shadow of myself, I feel you can imagine what a person would be like after undergoing series of surgeries while still expecting to be operated on again. My body had become unfamiliar to me, I had become familiar with the smells and routine of the hospital. I know each nurse and doctor by name, not to mention the unexplainable pain I was in as well. Family didn't just come, they stood by me, friends came, but she...she came differently. She never called or asked if she could visit..she would just show up. Sometimes with malt, sometimes with milk, there are times she comes with biscuits and sweets, and sometimes with nothing but that smile that makes me feel good.






I knew back then that it wasn't convenient for her, even though she never made mention of it, I knew she often skipped lectures to come. She would drop her bag on the chair to sit beside me, and talk like we were still in the school cafeteria. She would tell me about the happenings in school, she would gist me about the newly introduced courses, she would tell me about her hostel drama, she would tell me about the lecturers eyeing her, there was a time she told me a lecturer had named her *Oyinbo IBASS* due to her complexion amd beauty. There was never a dull/boring moment with her, she could turn anything into a story, and somehow, those stories carried me for the best part of the day.




One particular day stays sharper, vivid and memorable than the rest. The rain had started without sign, it was a very heavy one that you could hardly here what the person next to you was saying. It was on a day like that that she came in all drenched while holding a bag that smelled of soup under her long gown. It was obvious she had done all she could to guard the food she was carrying. It was around that time I was told I could start eating at the hospital as well, she knew about it and had gone all in to prepare something.




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*“You need real food, not this drips and injections."* She said while helping me remove the wrapped semo. She made ewedu soup, and that's one of the reasons why that memory lingers...I don't take ewedu, that was my second and last time, the first time I did was before I fell sick and it reacted, it gave me a hard time, I vomited and dealt with stomachache for days, so ever since, I had kept my distance from that soup. But , that was what she prepared, even though she knew I don't like it.



Since it was made out of love, I ate it, she ate too, while talking and laughing about what we’d do when I got discharged/better. *(Best part was....the soup never reacted or caused me any inconvenience at all)* She listed her plans....evening walks, hangouts, my birthday party, dinner date and all. She spoke as if the future was certain, she said it as if the only thing for me was just to be out of the hospital walls. That hour was the best for me, it felt like I wasn't just surviving like survival. It felt like living.




Before she left that day, I caught her looking at me in a different kind of way, she was so lost in thought that she didn't realize I had seen her. When she caught on, she just smiled, but that smile looks weird/forced. I was wondering what it was she was thinking....was she memorizing my face in case she couldn’t see it again. Well, we ignored it and started another story. I never forgot that moment, even though she was quiet, it told me what her laughs, stories, smile and jokes never said aloud.





Almost a year later, I walked out of that hospital feeling a lot better and healthier. She was there, looking so happy as if she was the one being discharged, she insisted on cleaning me up, and carrying my bag downstairs to where the car was parked. She was there as I went for my various checkups, she was there as I slowly regained my strength, she was there through it all.... I don’t think I ever found enough words to thank her.




And, like always, life moved on. About a year after I got better, life happened to us, we drifted apart....not from anger, not from infidelity....just that silent change of two souls heading in different directions. Presently, she’s no longer my partner, but she’s still one of my realest and closest friends. We can talk for hours without even touching or mentioning the past, that doesn't mean the past wasn't there, it was there holding and binding us quietly.

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And every now and then, when the rain starts without notice, and the smell of ewedu soup drifts through the air, I go back to that Male ward. She’s beside me, unwrapping my semo, eating together and talking like the future is already here. And, I believe her.




**All pictures are mine.**


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