Beauty's Story
Page 16
It had been extremely difficult having to choose an appropriate song for such an inappropriate issue as an unexpected premature death of my one and only sister. And I’m not sure where Beauty is headed (I’m not sure where I’m headed after my death for that matter) but I had to be hopeful. I had no other choice. Hence There’s a Place Where the Streets Shine, the following lyrics being key:
No more pain, no more sadness,
No more suffering, no more tears.
No more sin, no more sickness,
No injustice, no more death…
How I’m going to actually carry it through is another matter entirely…
July 2006. Beauty’s Funeral
Theo
I’m sure this is why she was called Melody… what a powerful rendition… she speaks for all of us in that song…
What a mess I’ve made of everything. Absolutely everything… Mel is right. Beauty, I hope, is now in a place where she will be free from every kind of pain, including those inflicted unintentionally which don’t hurt any less nonetheless.
Beauty’s death has thrown up issues for me at both personal and professional levels. It’s just as well that my testimony was accepted – I was restraining her as she attacked me. And that is rightly what happened. That is the fact.
The truth of the matter though is that there were other options.
Option number one: I could have just stood there and taken her beatings and beratings. I could easily have deflected the crockery. She was angry. She had every right to be. She was in shock and was acting contrary to her character. I should have known that. If I’d just stood there and taken it like a man, she’d have eventually run out of steam, and we could then have had a conversation. The only thing that would have been dented would have been my pride.
Option number two: I could have walked away. She probably would have followed me, but not if I’d run to the car and driven off. I know I can outrun her, I’ve proved it on so many occasions: if I wanted to show I was very upset, I’d sprint to the car and screech off. It irritated her. But I did it anyway. This would have been a good time to have done that, given her time to cool off before picking up the conversation. If I’d done that, the only person who would have suffered would have been my ego. Beauty would most probably still be alive.
Option three: I could have held my peace and let Mel break it to her when she’d planned it all out. She obviously knew that Beauty would take it badly hence she said to leave it to her. I should have just have sat back and allowed the sisters to sort it out between themselves.
Option four: If I were talking to somebody else, I’d have said they could have restrained her by holding her hands behind her back. I could have done that. Effortlessly. Would have done that if somebody were being unreasonable in the streets and was resisting arrest. Why didn’t I do that? Honestly, it was because I was angry. More like enraged. I didn’t really have to shake her to stop her.
But I did. I did shake her. Far too much. Far too hard. She did slip away rather quickly though… I have wondered whether she had any undiagnosed conditions. She didn’t seem to have put up a fight for her life… I don’t know… all I do know is that I shouldn’t have shaken her. And somehow I can’t seem to get past that.
The service is coming to an end now. I’m one of the pall-bearers, naturally, as is Josh – who doesn’t look me in the eye. Neither does Ash. And Mel, I can almost touch the anger oozing at me when I’ve had to speak with her. Yet she can’t blame me a hundred per cent. Or can she?
What am I supposed to do now? From being married and childless to being widowed and a father to a teenage girl. What shall I do about Ash? Is it even true? How can I know for sure, without subjecting anyone to tests and further anguish? Beauty was good with things like that. She’d have helped me navigate the waters after she’d calmed down. I should have known better. If only it hadn’t been Mel. Beauty was so angry – I’d never seen her that angry. Yet she’s right. I should have told her about me and Mel. I should have understood her anger. I should have stood by and taken it till it subsided – and it would have… why didn’t I just do that?
“Dust to dust… ashes to ashes,” Rev Craig brings me back as he speaks the closing blessings.
The journey to her final resting place was so quiet I could almost hear the grey matter groaning in my brain. For most of it, it was like I was in a trance. I noticed a few bowed heads as the hearse drove along London Road to the cemetery, but that was about it. Near full automaton seemed to have set in.
Bearing the casket. Lowering it into the grave. Throwing in the last rose and the first shovel of earth. Saying goodbye to Beauty has been the most painful experience in my life. We were supposed to be together till ripe old age. We were going to go on that cruise, we were going to have babies, even if eventually we had to adopt, we were going to work it all out… and we could have worked this out… if only I hadn’t shaken her so hard…
I’m not ready to leave her just yet. I just can’t… I’ll meet the others at the reception in a little while. For now, I sit on the nearest bench to Beauty’s grave, resolutely focusing on options for a tombstone for one as loving, innocent and kind as she was. All my glazed eyes can see, however, is an empty weedy lane ahead of me that stretches out as if to eternity…
EPILOGUE
July 2006. The Funeral
Beauty
At 10 o’clock this morning, the bells of St Katherine’s Church chimed 35 times, one for every year of my life.
They all look so sad, so broken, so lost. My departure was sudden so they must still be in shock. For me, the shock was how much lighter I felt, and how much faster too. And free. I know I’m on my way to the place where the sun never sets, where there’ll be no more pain, no more tears. But for now, I want to hang around and say my goodbyes – not that anyone can see or hear me, except for Ash who senses me sometimes. Still, I want to leave my well wishes behind, hoping that those will, in time, wipe away a tear or two.
Look at Sunita. I’m glad she isn’t dressed in black. Her little white and yellow dress is a breath of fresh air in the sea of dark blues, greys and blacks. I whisper a ‘thank you’ to Daisy who seems to have shrunk; her eyes are sunken, and Rob, the rock who looks like he’s crumbling.
And Josh – such a picture of dignity. His composure. His manner. His words about me, and to me. What a comfort! I’m glad he’s looking out for Ash who is fiery on the outside and all eaten up on the inside. My dear Ash. For one so young to speak such truth with boldness and to have such insight. Between the pair of them, I worry that they might not let the incident be the unfortunate accident that it was. And ultimately what the implications might be for Theo.
It was an accident. I know Theo didn’t mean it the way it turned out. I’m certainly more useful to him alive than dead (even though he often called me ‘useless’). Yet, even while I was alive and well, what many didn’t realise was that various parts of me were getting either atrophied or fragmented… I guess it is difficult to really see past what it is we want to see…
Seeing how shattered he is, I just want to get it across to him that I forgive him, for everything, that is everything… but of course he can’t hear me…
And Mel, what was she thinking? Why didn’t she tell me all these years? Now she’s gone and lost everything. Grieving as she is on so many levels, she is still able to spread such comfort with her singing. Whether she’s received any comfort herself is yet to be seen.
The graveside. After Theo, Josh and the other pall-bearers lower my casket into the ground, Sunita, cradled by Daisy, with Rob holding her hand, throws in the first single red rose. Then Ash throws in a white one, and Josh a red one. The next is a white one from Mel, a red from Daisy and a white from Rob followed by a red one from Theo. Between the five of them, they throw in 35 red and white roses in perfect synchronicity. How they managed to arrange that when half of them aren’t yet speaking to one another, I don’t know. It has to be Daisy’s handiwork.
/> And then comes the time for the earth to be shovelled in. Theo takes the lead in this. And while the shovelling is going on, the grave sounds of mud against casket are muffled by Mel’s beautiful encore of There’s a Place Where the Streets Shine. I don’t think that was planned. Many join in… I do as well, but nobody hears me…
As they file back to the car park, each lost in their own thoughts, memories and grief, I hear Theo say to Rob that he needs to stay behind for a bit, and that he will join them in a little while. Rob carries on to the car park, but doesn’t drive away. Daisy and Sunita ride home with Josh and Ash. The reception is taking place at theirs.
Theo sits himself on a bench. I sit next to him, placing my hand on his. He withdraws it almost immediately, rubbing it briskly, as if he were cold. He looks in my direction, but his eyes are gazing way past me, past the seas of headstones and tombs, past the trees, plants and hedges, far away into the horizon… I know, of course, that I’m invisible to him, as I always was. Only this time, I’m not invisible to myself also.
I cannot linger here any longer. My homecoming party is in full swing. My chief host is here to lead me there – to that place where I shall be known, and loved, and forever called Beautiful.
I turn to face him, and cannot suppress my gasp… I’m beginning to take delight in my reflection which I’m seeing in his eyes… for his smile is rapidly washing away the every imperfection of my face…
Notes/Glossary
1.Chinchin and puff puff are Nigerian snacks made of dough.
2.Pounded yam – a smooth dough of mashed yam, akin to mashed potatoes but of firmer consistency. Traditionally it’s made by pounding boiled yam pieces with pestle and mortar. Nowadays though, it can be made in a pot using yam flour and hot water.
3.Egusi soup – a kind of soup thickened with melon seeds. It has many varieties to it, goes well with pounded yam amongst other accompaniments.
4.Born throw-way – derogatory, similar to bastard, implies one who doesn’t know or has forsaken their roots.
5.Oga – master, boss, chief, governor.
6.Molue – big yellow buses in Lagos, the molue is distinctive for its ricketiness, the antics of the bus conductors and the fact that the bus hardly completely stops at the bus stop. It takes a peculiar skill to get on and get off it and remain standing on one’s two feet. Overcrowding is the rule in molues, but it is the cheapest form of transportation in Lagos.
7.Yam and Peppersoup – Peppersoup is a light (texture) spicy soup that can be eaten as an appetiser or with yam or unripe plantains as a main meal.
8.Up and down – a two-piece wrapper made of special fabrics such as wax print, fancy print, tie-and-dye (adire) or George.
9.George – a more expensive fabric used for special occasions.
10.Gele – a traditional headpiece – different communities use different fabrics/textures, and they can go from simple to elaborate, depending on the occasion, and of course on personal preference.
11.Itsekiri and Urhobo are historical rival ethnic groups in the Warri area along with the Ijaw.
12.Oyibo – a white person in Warri pidgin. In other parts of Nigeria, it’s oyinbo.
13.Urhobo-wayo – a play on the Urhobo greeting Urhobo wado and also a stereotypical description of the Urhobo people as being cunning.
14.NEPA – the Nigeria Electric Power Authority is responsible for supplying electric power. However, because of its inefficiency, it got corrupted to mean Never Expect Power Always. Whenever there’s a power cut, there’s a general outcry – NEPA!
15.Jollof rice – a popular Nigerian dish made with rice and a tomato-based sauce.
16.Moimoi – steamed beans pudding.
17.Dodo – ripe plantains sliced or diced and fried.
18.Ashawo – prostitute in pidgin.
19.Ewuwu – a type of mask/masquerade in some parts of Nigeria, typically terrifying.
About the Author
Rita Ese Edah is passionate about helping people overcome barriers. A mother of three, playing with the family pet dog and crocheting random pieces help her to unwind from the stresses of daily living.