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Last night, at approximately 8:37 PM, I opted to hire the services of a taxi driver to take me to my destination in Maitama. The evening air was dry and cold, a stark reminder of the transitioning seasons, and the chill permeated my very being as I jolted past familiar streets. Amidst this twilight drive, I caught sight of an old woman, approximately seventy-five years of age, navigating the uneven pavement with the aid of her gnarled cane. Her frail figure, silhouetted against the fading light, stirred a profound sense of empathy within me.
Unable to ignore her plight, I instructed the taxi driver to pull over. “Driver,” I said, “please, let us assist her first.” The driver complied, eyeing me curiously. I approached the old woman, offering her a hand and a comforting smile. “Mom,” I said softly, “please get in. We will take you where you are headed.” Tentatively, she declined, but I persisted, and after some coaxing, she acquiesced.
As the taxi navigated the short journey to her residence, I engaged her in light conversation. There was warmth in her frail voice, a testament to a life lived, and despite her initial reticence, she shared snippets of her past. Upon reaching her destination—a quaint mini estate—she disembarked, grateful but somewhat hesitant to let go of her past.
I returned to the taxi, and as we approached my destination, I realized with sudden horror that the old woman had left behind her walking cane. Frustration welled inside me; I had intended to help her, and now I must rectify this oversight.
This morning, driven by determination, I sought out the woman in order to return her forgotten cane. I navigated through the estate, my heart punctuating each step with an increasing sense of urgency. Upon entering the yard, I was met by another older woman who appeared to be of even greater age. I described the woman I had helped, and the elder’s eyes darkened with an unsettling understanding.
“Wait here,” she said gently as she disappeared inside. Moments later, she re-emerged, holding a photograph. My heart sank as I recognized the face—was it even possible? The woman I had assisted was indeed the same as in the picture.
“Her name was Mama Tinu,” the elder began softly, “but you must be aware that she passed away twelve years ago.”
Stunned, I protested, “No, I helped her home yesterday. She cannot be gone!” But the older woman’s gaze was serious, her expression one of profound sadness.
“If you wish to know the truth, follow me,” she said, and we made our way to the cemetery. Each step felt surreal as doubt and disbelief tangled within me. Before long, we stood before a modest gravestone. Emblazoned with the name “Mama Tinu,” it confirmed the inevitable. Stricken with a sense of unreality, I collapsed into the moment.
To my astonishment, nestled among the flowers at the base of the grave was a small, carefully wrapped package. The older woman motioned for me to open it. With trembling hands, I peeled away the layers, revealing a handwritten letter.
“My Son”, it read, “I know you are a good man because I anticipated your return with my walking stick. This treasure is my way of expressing gratitude to you. Use wisely. Goodbye forever.”
As I looked up, bewildered, the older woman smiled gently, yet I remained locked in a state of shock. Inside the package lay a collection of seemingly nonsensical items: papers, trinkets, and clippings of various articles. It was a curious collection that defied logical explanation.
Suddenly, a wave of revelation washed over me. Among the articles, there were reflections of humanity: old love letters, notes, political opinions. Perhaps Mama Tinu sought to convey a poignant message—that life contains myriad stories beyond the mundane distractions we often chase.
I grinned, a spontaneous laugh escaping my lips. It was a timely reminder that a good story could rise beyond the fleeting noise of reality. Thus, in that cemetery, I discovered a truth I had long overlooked: the world is full of incredible narratives waiting to be uncovered. And so, fortified with the newfound conviction that we must pay attention to the stories around us, I vowed to become a chronicler of things that matter, resonating from the heart of Abuja and beyond.
Otunba Abayomi Odunowo.
SB E-news
SB events magazine
Efficiency magazine
Efficiency award for Excellence EAE.
www.sbenews.com.ng
www.efficiency.com.ng
ceo_sbenews@efficiency.com.ng
sbeventnews@gmail.com
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