Love, Pain and Christmas.
NOBODY KNEW WHAT HE was feeling, sitting
in that polished pew, listening to the choir. Nobody could
glimpse into the sadness in his heart. For everybody in the
candle-lit church, Somadina was so lucky. His parents were
wealthy; they had single-handedly built the altar, the
stained-glass windows that gleamed in the after-light of night.
He was aware, consciously, of their admiring eyes, of their
envying smiles. He was used to them. He was also aware of
those other eyes, the ones that looked on with longing, the
ones that begged him to look at them. ‘Those girls
practically devour you with their eyes,’ Ulora would say, and
he would chuckle. He would stare at her and he would shake
his head. If only they knew…
There was always this tingling feeling he got when he saw
that special person. He would glance at that person, that
person would glance at him, and in those swift seconds that
their eyes met, his eyes would say all the words that his
mouth could never say. He would always steal a second glance,
but that person would not glance back at him.‘You have to make a move,’ Ulora always said. ‘You can’t keep dying inside.’ He would nod his head, yes, but the next Sunday he would glance into those soft brown eyes and courage would fail him…
‘See who is here,’ Ulora whispered, jolting Somadina back into the present. He glanced behind him and felt that warm tingling feeling. Their eyes met, only for a few seconds, but Somadina felt warm all over. Did that person just smile at him? He reclined against the pew and closed his eyes, and suddenly all the images started forming, all the fragments of lonely daydreams started joining, and he smiled to himself. Distinctly, he heard Ulora’s voice: ‘The name is Udoka. I found out from Amara yesterday,’ and he smiled even deeper.
There was the usual ‘God-bless-you’ and ‘Merry Christmas’ after the carol service. Somadina pushed past smiling people. He looked around, desperately. He walked quickly out of the church. He did not notice the cluster of girls that giggled as he walked past them. He cringed briefly at the sudden sting of the harmattan breeze. He had suddenly forgotten that it was December. He hugged his jacket closely to himself. Udoka was not part of the little groups that stood outside, chatting. The sky was filled with stars when Somadina stared at it, and he wondered if that special star was there, if it would lead him to Udoka.
He ignored Ulora’s jokes as Daddy drove them home. He pressed his face against the window and stared at the cars that whizzed past. The houses seemed to whiz past too. In the cold darkness, they looked like tiny specks of rushing light. He wondered if Udoka was in any of those houses. He imagined Udoka lying in bed, in one of those houses. He imagined himself lying in bed beside Udoka, imagined the warmness that would fill him. Then he thought suddenly of that brief smile, and he felt warm again.
* * *
Mummy was not always at home. She was always travelling. England today, Dubai tomorrow. She had a big boutique in Naibawa Street and she was always travelling to buy shoes and cloths and jewelleries. Daddy did not like it. They were always arguing. Somadina always heard them from his bedroom. ‘You need to stay more often at home,’ Daddy would say. ‘These children need you.’ There would be a brief pause, and Somadina would hold his breath. Then Mummy’s voice would drift carefully to him, soft, confident. She would say that Daddy was jealous because she earned more money than him. Daddy would chuckle, Mummy would erupt in angry words, and the next day, she would travel to Dubai, or England.
Mummy was not at home that night when they returned home from Christmas Eve Service. Somadina wished she was around. He did not know why he wanted her, but he just wished she was around. He went into his room and flopped on the bed. Soon Ulora joined him. She had changed into a nightgown, and he noticed how much she had changed. Fleetingly, he thought of her naked with Marcus. He wondered what they did whenever Marcus visited and he left them in the living room.
‘You didn’t talk to Udoka,’ Ulora said. Somadina nodded, yes. A soft silence draped over them, briefly. Somadina needed that silence. He wanted to think of Udoka. He wanted to put his hands under his boxers and touch himself. He wanted to be aroused by thoughts of those lips, of those brown eyes, of that lithe body. But he also wanted Ulora to sit beside him. He wanted to smell the floral scent of her powder. He wanted to ask if she would sleep in his room that night, but instead he said, ‘Mummy will return tomorrow. She can’t spend Christmas in Dubai.’ Ulora nodded, yes.
Mummy did not return the next day. Daddy drove them to Christmas Service. Somadina searched for Udoka, but there was no sign of the soft brown eyes anywhere.
The days after Christmas were the most painful. The harmattan became dustier, colder. Boxing Day was boring, so was New Year Eve. Somadina did not go to church that New Year Eve night. Ulora smiled knowingly when he told Daddy that he felt sick. He lay in bed all night long, and occasionally sounds of fireworks would reach him. Then he heard the boom, and a second one. He rushed outside. Clouds of smoke ascended to the sky in graceful spirals, like burnt offering unto God. ‘It’s Boko Haram. They are at St George’s,’ someone said, and suddenly he felt himself shivering, felt his very essence leave him. When Ulora ran into his arms, alone, he held her and tried not to cry with her. He never saw Daddy again, and he never saw Udoka.