It is with an indescribable uneasiness that I penned down this letter. For quite some time now, lost in the ocean of confusion at the confluence of indecisiveness, I had racked my cerebrum for a better means of telling you what I’m about to say now but couldn’t just think of a better way until today that my subconscious told me “why not drop her a letter?”. I earnestly hope and pray you would accept what I’m about to say in good faith and see reasons with me after gulping down the content of this letter.
Nevertheless, I believe you are doing better than I had left you, my love. Loads of greetings backed by love from this end.
You remember how long it had taken me to win your heart and trust, the barricade of blockade I had to break to reach your delicate heart. You know how I had longed to hide in the warmth of your cold embrace.
I can still remember vividly well, the memory still lingers and fresh, the day I first heard of you. It was in the novel “Americana” by Chimamanda, I was flabbergasted by her explicit description of you that I felt beautifies in my tummy that at that instant I fell in love with you.
The day we finally met, that cold evening, Your fragrance of history with a touch of fame made my love for you to triple. I was awed by the way you sat on the hill all glorious and unperturbed watching keenly all who came around you. Around your thoracic region lay your “selling point” the university of Nigeria, sitting all dignifying.
Someone once said that you had no other “selling point” that you had nothing else to offer except the university of Nigeria. It was after much deliberation that I had to accept it – the truth that you had no other ” selling point”, that it is the University of Nigeria that gave you an edge over your peers and placed you on a class of your own.
Just like it is the smell of a corpse that attract flies to it, so it was for me, It is the university of Nigeria sitting calmly around the thoracic region that attracted me to you, the fragrance of history and wealth of knowledge emanating from it made my love for you to blossom.
As I write this, memories of those days we had spent in sweet-nothingness in the home of love flood my mind making me feel uneasy, unsteady, and doubtful of my decision. Memories of those early days when we were still struggling to know each other. Those days that we struggled with everything.
Those early days arid breeze would blow resting on my arm, forehead and every part of my body reddish-brown particles — those early days all you offered me were cold nights characterized by wet breeze running down my spine leaving behind goosebumps as it’s a parting gift, it’s only parting present.
In those night’s I would run to the warm embrace of my blanket thinking there lay my saving grace but alas even in my blanket the cold breeze still ran down my spine, scaring me to my bone marrow making me feel I had made the wrong decision of loving you.
Margaret Ekpo convocation arena reminds me of the climax of my newness to you. I was so nervous that I panicked the day I came for clearance late only to find out that the faculty officer had left, I cried because I thought I had lost my admission meaning I would not see you, my love, again. Those days “ndi passport” asked me to take 64 copies of passport as I would need them for my clearance, and I did!
Nsukka the beauty of the sun, my love. Those days of still getting to know you came with it struggle and tussle for the limited resource you shoved at my face and that of my fellow cubs, we that were new to you. Those days I rushed down to veterinary medicine lecture theatre as early as 6:30 am for a 7:00 am lecture, only to arrive and discover the lecture hall was still locked, meaning I and my fellow early-comers would have to wait for the door to be opened.
At the end of the day, I would end up struggling to go in with those who came as late as close to 7:30 am, pathetic!
At physical science lecture theatre sat corruption. Students would use bags, books, pen or even sticks to keep space for their friends who were still in their lodge or hostel contemplating whether or not to come for the lecture while my humble self that came early would end up standing throughout the lecture straining my ears, eyes, cerebrum and everything within me so I could follow what the lecturer was teaching.
The struggle at jimbazz drained me of everything I had eaten and would eat after then. At Jimbazz sat the real struggle. At Jimbazz girls forgot they were girls and needed to behave “all tush”, at jimbazz boys forgot about their crush and joined in the struggle.
Everyone pushed, trying to out power the other. When I would finally make it into the small classroom someone would announce that the lecturer would no longer come or worse still that the lecture would now hold at a different venue. Tears would threaten to fall in its torrent, but hell no, I’m a guy who had his dignity to protect even though you were gradually taking the little I had away from me.
I wish I could stop this thought from flooding my mind, the thought of times with you. Those days I rushed for classes walking an average of 3 km daily, running from Faculty of biological science lecture theatre to Abuja building to George Marion Johnson building (GS building).
Those days I struggled to adapt to loads of stress you placed on my shoulders, those days I felt like giving up on our love and return to my formal life but my love for you kept me moving, moving against all odds.
Nsukka my love, I miss the sight of uncompleted projects that sit at every one of your hooks and crannies, from the uncompleted stadium to the one around the faculty of art to that which sit at your heart just beside Nnamdi Azikwe library and many others. I miss those days of watching pharmacy student walk around you on their ash and white uniform feeling like the world was revolving around their “bumbum”.
I miss those Saturday mornings at the stadium for sport with boys, girls, men, women and people from all works of life with their different sports kit each person facing what he/she came for, which is to exercise the body. Those days I had spent in the cold arms of hunger with no hope of anything that looks like food, I miss. I miss that Sunday morning rush to st peters and still ending up not getting a space to seat inside the chapel. Nsukka you had it all and I sincerely miss all we had shared.
Nsukka, I don’t know how to say this but I regret to tell you that the reason I write to you is to inform you that I no longer love you the way I use to. That my heart now beats for someone else. I hate to tell you this but it is the truth. Love is something of the heart and I have come to discover that with each passing day my heart tends to be drifting away from you, far away from you.
I hate to tell you that what I now feel for you is nothingness clothed in uncertainty and with each passing day the linen of uncertainty cladding my nothingness is being stripped off giving me the conviction that I no longer love you. This is the truth – the gospel truth, accept it, please.
I don’t know if you would care to know she who stole my heart away from you, but just for the records, I would like to inform you that it is she your half-sister, Enugu, in whose palm sat UNEC that my heart now beats for. Her fragrance of wholeness and accomplishment lured me to her. In her eyes I see my future smiling down at me.
You are beautiful and I believe that for this reason, you will find someone that will love you the way I did or even more. I miss you and the times we had shared in joy, sorrow and mixed feeling but I wouldn’t want to return to you. I will take it that we met for a reason; that we are meant to cross path en route to my destination. Take this in good faith that I your former lover miss you but wouldn’t want to return to you. Best of luck and goodbye my love.
Your former lover,
#last days in Nsukka