This Things Happen

We started talking after the general compound clean up — an exercise which takes place every last Saturday of the month. I was apportioned to clean up the area close to the compound gate, which was adjacent to her assigned sweeping area. After I swept and collected the dirts into a heap, she asked me not to worry that she'd throw the dirts into the thrash. That was the ice breaker, and that was how we started talking. Her name is Chika.

She is tall and has straight long legs you'd mistake her for a runway model. Her skin is brown and smooth, and when she smiles her oval face reveals a perfect dentition and nice little dimples etched on both cheeks. She is what you'd call "a babe".

She stays with her mom, and their apartment is a window away from mine. You could say I was thier neighbour next door, or next window if pun is your thing. Due to the proximity, I could hear the chit-chat between mother and daughter. Chika didn't spare any detail when gisting with her mum. They talk like friends; in contrast to the discussion out of obligation prominent in African parent-child conversations.

I didn't see Chika again until on Thursday evening while I was returning from a football viewing center. She was coming back from a church meeting when I chanced upon her. We talked about work. We talked about life.

From the way she spoke, you could tell she's a lady who knows what she wants and goes for it without being apologetic. She exuded confidence and a lot of charisma. She told me of her plan to expand her mum's restaurant business, and increase profit by supplying catfishes from her fish farming project which she plans to start soon.

Home was still a long way off, so we kept talking through the dark streets with the moon behind us. She told me she has a masters degree, and currently studying for a professional certification.

My respect and admiration for her could no longer be hidden when she told me of her brother in final year whom she was sponsoring. Her dad is a deadbeat and her mum doesn't make enough money, so at twenty-seven, Chika is already a breadwinner.

She can easily be called Agụ Nwaanyị. An Igbo word that loosely translates to tigress.

One evening I saw her come back late from work around 8pm, looking disheveled and worn-out. Her hair was rough, her jacket was loose, and her bag was almost sweeping the floor as she dragged her feet through the corridor. I asked her if the traffic was terrible today, because traffic of late had been hectic and could induce the type of stress written all over her.

"My mum was rushed to a hospital after she collapsed in a market," she answered in a low voice. "I dashed to the hospital immediately I got the call and I have been there since."

The two most common causes of mortality for elderly people in this part of the equator are diabetes and high blood pressure. The latter is what caused Chika's mum's collapse. It is a condition that requires proper treatment and monitoring. It is advised that patients check their blood pressure regularly. A person can leave his/her home in the morning vibrant and healthy, and could be struck by hypertension in the afternoon. It is one of the reasons why grown-up offsprings of elderly parents receive unexpected calls from relatives with apprehension.

I was brought back from reverie when Chika said she'd be going back to the hospital that same night.

"I hope her condition is not too bad."

"The tests showed nothing serious, but she is not looking strong," she tried to hide her emotions and show strength, but I could tell she was anxious. "I just want to prepare a meal for her and myself, and then I would take some clothes along so I can change into work outfit and leave for work from the hospital tomorrow morning," she continued.