abbensetts13

First Fragment

She was the one who taught me to laugh and the one who discovered that my laughter betrayed longing.

She said my smile was the blossoming of a tulip, my complexion the radiant black of the night, my eyes a harbor light guiding sailors lost at sea.

After she left me, I was hospitalized.

Another Fragment

They told me that I was going mad. They said I was shouting her name countless times, laughing, and mocking the winds that whispered her last words to me:

“Aminu, you made me live long enough. I would have died long ago.”

Why won’t I go mad?

I was like a madman before I met her. She gave me my senses.

And Another Fragment

I laughed uncontrollably, but these tears trickling down my eyes in the moment of my laughter, mocked me, whipped my existence, crushed my bones like grasses beneath a tractor.

“You laugh and cry at the same time.” The orderly sympathized with me.

“Yes. Because I see her smiling face and hear her last words at the same time.”

A Rear Fragment

Today, I tried not to think about how her smiling face used to ignite the muse in me to write secret love letters. But not until when her parents came to the hospital to condole with me. One glance at her mother and a cold memory came crashing on me like the tsunami. A lone tear trickled down my cheek and stained my heart.

I started crying and shouting her name again.

A Small Fragment

“How much do you love me?” She once asked me.

I stared at her admiringly, my gaze lost in hers. I pushed my arm around her shoulders, letting her head rest in the hollow between my chin and shoulder, “I love you! The weight of this love surpasses the word MUCH. That is everything I know. I don’t know how much I love you. I love you.”

She laughed. Her hopeful glow engulfed me, shimmering. My heart was everything but sad.

“How much do you love me?” These words came out from my mouth honeyed all over.

“I love you…I love you so much I will give everything only to live with you.”

Our eyes met. The bond of love tightened us with a smile.

Horizontal Fragment

When you escaped Sambisa, you told me you were just like a tiny fragment floating in a vast river. Life was so cruel that you considered suicide. And when you were diagnosed with HPV, the urge to commit suicide increased.

When you met me, everything changed. You told me you began to appreciate life again and forget about their threat not knowing they were still looking for a way to get you.

One shot in your brain confirmed your departure from this world. They took you away from me. They didn’t take away your life alone. They also took mine.

And when you died in my hands after I begged you not to leave me, you told me you would have died long ago. You said I gave you so much to hope for in life. You thanked me and drew your last breath. I stared at your lifeless body and I went mad.

A Painful Fragment

I remembered the dream I had yesterday. We were walking side by side on the seashore, holding hands, clinging to each other. I felt the light of your love defy the great studded distance between the heaven and earth and fill it…when I decided to kiss you.

You disappeared.

Last Fragment

Today, I came back home, the fragments of my life washed over me, nurturing my loneliness. The sky cleared and darkened again. The facades of buildings whitened and then blackened again. And the asphalt hardened and then softened again. But my loneliness never passed away.

These words came frequently now to haunt me in my dreams. I was no longer afraid of reading them. These words; pitch dark, red, like the blood coagulating on the chest of a slaughtered bird, inscribed on every corner of my walls, on the stars and the horizon. These words, “You will love again.”

 

END

**************

Post image is by Guyanese artist and filmmaker Kwesi Abbensett. Check out more of his work HERE.

About the Author: 

Portrait - BasitBasit Jamiu is a freelance writer. Some of his stories have appeared in Literary Magazines such as Naijastories, AllStories, Muwado, Storywrite. He is currently working on a Novel.

Tags: , , ,

I hold a doctorate in English from Duke University and recently joined the Marquette University English faculty as an Assistant Professor. I love teaching African fiction and contemporary British novels. Brittle Paper is the virtual space/station where I play and experiment with ideas on how to reinvent African fiction and literary culture.

6 Responses to “Tiny Fragments on Undying Love | by Basit Jamiu | African Fiction” Subscribe

  1. Gbolahan Badmus 2015/02/23 at 12:27 #

    Basittttt!!!!!!!!

  2. Pearl Osibu 2015/02/24 at 04:11 #

    This is lovely.

  3. Uzoma 2015/02/24 at 10:23 #

    Beauty at its best…

  4. Marriam 2015/03/01 at 11:03 #

    Breathtaking prose. The best I have read this year.

  5. Peter Ngila 2015/11/26 at 12:41 #

    Good work. I loved the story.

  6. Nana Yaa Asantewaa 2016/07/10 at 15:01 #

    Beautiful style, Basit.

Leave a Reply

I hold a doctorate in English from Duke University and recently joined the Marquette University English faculty as an Assistant Professor. I love teaching African fiction and contemporary British novels. Brittle Paper is the virtual space/station where I play and experiment with ideas on how to reinvent African fiction and literary culture.

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Archives

Is Tram 83 Misogynist Poverty Porn? Petina Gappah, Tsitsi Dangarembga, Ainehi Edoro Deepen Conversation as Ikhide Ikheloa and Richard Oduku Publish New Essays

tram 83

Two days ago, we covered an important conversation that had started on Facebook in reaction to Ikhide Ikheloa’s essay in […]

A Letter of Secrets | By Nwanne Agwu | Fiction

11893775_10207320117223894_2273125653442773633_o

On the streets of Lagos, a boy searches for himself in mirrors. — Romeo Oriogun. Saturday, 01 April, 2017 Dear […]

Opportunity for African Writers | Submit to CODE’s 2017 Burt Award for African Young Adult Literature

CODE BURT

CODE have made a call for submissions to its 2017 Burt Award for African Young Adult Literature. The award replaces the […]

Wind | By Ayoola Goodness | Poetry

22543886309_a158d9b912_o

because of you i have learnt how to make rainbows with my eyes. my eyes tossing the sun. but they […]

Sarah Ladipo Manyika’s Like a Mule Bringing Ice Cream to the Sun “Briefly Noted” in The New Yorker

sarah-ladipo-manyika

Sarah Ladipo Manyika’s second novel, Like a Mule Bringing Ice Cream to the Sun, has been featured in The New […]

Dear Ms. Paper: Why Does Yaa Gyasi’s Homegoing Bother Me So Much?

Ms.-paper-2-e1491459476602

 Dear Ms. Paper I found Gyasi’s Homegoing a dizzying, confusing wreck of a novel. It felt like way too many […]