It’s funny how a song can slip into your ears and, without permission, make you feel closer to someone than ever, even if you haven’t seen them in months.
I tap my left foot against the tiled floor as I sit in the waiting area adjacent to the conference room of The Sail Group of Companies, the leading digital solutions company in the country.
I gently use my fingers to trace the stitches on the blazer I’m wearing, paired with a camisole tucked into a black straight skirt, hoping it will hold me steady and untie the knots inside me.
Looking out through the floor-to-ceiling window on the fourth floor where five other interviewees and I sit waiting, I silently pray that I will one day work in an establishment like The Sail and live the life I so desperately wish to have.
As if the knots inside me aren’t enough, my patience is wearing thin as the phone of a fellow
interviewee sitting beside me, who introduced himself as Kunle, rings for the fourth time. He has disconnected the first three calls, but the caller is relentless. Would it be rude if I ask him if he’s aware of the ‘do not disturb’ feature on his phone?
I am about to tell him to pick up the call for God’s sake when the phone goes silent. I’m about to heave a sigh of relief when it rings again. This time with a different ringtone. Dolly Parton’s Coat of Many Colors, fills the silent area.
All eyes are now on Kunle, but I let mine fall back on the tiled floor as I continue to trace the stitches on my blazer, fighting the emotion that the song is stirring within me.
I don’t respond when Kunle excuses himself to receive the call. The song reminds me of what happened six months ago. Slowly, I let the memory engulf me in its warm embrace.
***
I sat under the shade of the guava tree in front of the boys’ quarters we called home, where my family of four lived. A few steps away stood Kamara’s three-bedroom flat, set apart in the compound, gracious to look upon.
My brother, Teju, had gone off to play football on a nearby field with Kamara’s brother. My parents were out at work, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I could hear Kamara clanking pots in their kitchen.
With my legs firmly tucked beneath me, I picked up a twig and dragged it through the sandy soil before me, sketching a house with large windows and a car beside it. Sometimes, I’d stare into space, imagining myself and my family living in Kamara’s flat or my dad driving my brother and me to school. I was so lost in the world I was building that I didn’t hear him approach me.
“Hey, kiddo,” someone called to me. I looked up, startled. When I realized it was Matt, I changed my surprised face to feign annoyance, crossing my hands across my chest.
“Stop calling me kiddo, Matt. I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen, I'll be eighteen in five months.”
Matt grinned, leaning back as if he already knew what my face would do the second ‘Kiddo’ left his mouth. He gripped the 25-liter keg and the funnel he was holding. Water must have stopped running in their house again. That’s the only reason they come to fetch water from the tap inside the compound. “Same difference, Tammy. You're not eighteen yet. So, you're still a kid.”
I narrowed my eyes at him as though I wanted to cast a spell on him, then threw the twig in my
hand at him. He laughed as he dodged it. My eyes traced the tiny creases around his eyes as he
laughed. Too bad I’m not eighteen yet, and he still calls me kiddo. Plus, my studies come before
anything now.
I was twelve when I first saw Matt. We had just moved into the boys’ quarter, and Kamara had
invited me into their house. Matt was visiting on holiday. “Who's your kiddo friend?” he'd asked Kamara.
“I'm not a kid. I'm twelve years old,” I replied, glaring at him.
“Same difference, you're not eighteen yet. You're still a kid, kiddo,” he'd said.
I should have reminded him then that he was still a kid too; he was just fifteen. But now, he would be
twenty-one by the end of the year. I've lost the chance to say that to him. I took my eyes away from his face and directed them to his phone, changing the topic. “You’re always playing that song.” I pointed at the phone in his free hand. Coat of Many Colors came through the speaker.
“It's easily one of my favorites. Teaches me to value whatever it is that I have right now.”
“Must be nice,” I muttered as I turned my gaze to the house and the car in front of me.
“You’re drawing a house again,” he said. I didn’t give him a response. He spoke up when he noticed my change in demeanor. “What is wrong, Tammy?”
I looked at him for a few seconds before deciding that I could trust him. “I’m angry,” I said slowly through clenched teeth.
“At me for calling you kiddo?”
I let my eyes wander to the house on the sand again, giving myself a second before responding. “Not at you, Matt. I'm angry at my parents.”
Matt studied me for a while before putting down the keg and sitting on it, facing me. He placed
the funnel next to the keg. That was not the first time he’d occupied that position. The guava tree
seemed to bring us together. “Why are you angry at them?” He asked, carefully choosing his words.
“They are too complacent! Why couldn’t they just be like other parents? I’m angry because they
didn’t fight hard enough to get more money. I’m angry because my dad didn’t fight when his dad
withdrew him from school at a tender age so he could send his siblings instead. Maybe he’d be
earning so much money today!”
I paused just long enough to catch my breath so I wouldn’t start spilling water from my eyes. “Why didn’t my mom fight her aunt who married her off to my dad at a young age instead of educating her?” I continued. “Why didn’t she run away? Every day, I think about what life could be like if we were also comfortable. Aren’t they tired of how things are? I have so many dreams I haven’t been able to fulfill, and they hurt so much. Now, I’m worried I might not be able to go to university because we can’t afford it. I graduated from high school last year.”
My chest heaved in an uneven rhythm when I finished speaking. Matt released a sigh. He leaned forward, his two hands on his knees. Looking at his eyes felt like I was looking at Kamara. Little wonder Matt is her favourite cousin and loved having him
around during the holidays.
“I can understand where the anger is coming from. Hurts and pains from experiences and yet to be realized dreams, and from fear for how the future will turn out if things remain the same.”
I looked away from him so he wouldn’t see as I wiped the tear running down my face.
“But can you look at it this way? What if the reasons your parents couldn’t give you the life you desire is not because they didn’t try? What if it isn’t because they didn’t desire more out of life? What if it isn’t because they didn’t fight enough? But because of the resources and exposure available to them.”
“So many what-ifs. You can’t understand. You’ve never been in my shoes. You’ve never been
sent out of school for due fees before,” I retorted.
“That’s true, kiddo. I have never been sent out of school.” Matt raised his two hands in surrender
before he continued. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have an idea of what you’re going through. I see your parents, Tammy. I see how hard they work. I saw your father go out in the rain yesterday when everyone was still inside. Do you think he wants to go out in the rain to drive his boss? Are they in the house right now, lounging? No, they’ve gone out to work. They may not have known to do better during their younger days.”
I let my gaze fall on the funnel beside the keg, war waging between holding to my anger and
seeing things from Matt’s perspective.
“They wake up every day, doing things they don’t want to just to bring something home. That’s
courage. That’s resilience. I know it hurts that you’re not living the kind of life you want. Maybe
your parents also want to live a better life, but they don’t just know how to do it. Do you think
they might have made better decisions if things were different for them?”
As Matt continued to talk, some images began to flash before my eyes. Just then I remembered
hearing my dad talk to Mr. Kareem, his friend, on the phone asking him for money to balance my
school fees so I could write my final exam in school. I could see the dejected look on his face, dropping his head in his hands when his friend turned him down. He didn’t know I was peeking through the curtain.
I could remember my mom serving my brother and me the little food left in the pot while she and my dad went to bed hungry that night. I started to picture it in my head; the images forming slowly, one after another.
What if my dad had actually begged his father when he told him to drop out of school so he could send his younger siblings instead? What if he didn’t have anyone to turn to for help at that moment?
What if getting married to my dad had been a better option for my mom at the time? What if she fought
but still lost to her aunt and had to get married?
After all, maybe some things are not as simple as we think they are.
Matt's voice brought me back to him. “Assuming they didn’t do some things they were meant to do at some points in their lives, accounting for how they live now. If given the chance to redo some things in the past, I bet they would take it.”
I tried to say something, but the words were stuck in my throat.
“You know what my dad told me some time ago. He told me to choose my battles wisely. When I
asked him why he said so, he said that if he had known better, he wouldn’t have married more
than one wife. At the time, it felt like a luxury to him. And he could afford it. But when the emotional commotion started, he knew he had made a mistake. He told me that if he could go back in time, he would have stuck to my mom alone. That moment, the anger I had held onto for everything we went through as a result of his actions began to wane. That’s why I can relate to how you feel, even if it doesn’t have to do with money. Parents make decisions that affect their children. But while we can’t control what happens with them, we can control what happens with us.”
Even the rich cry, I thought to myself. I didn’t stop to think that Matt, too, could have a fair share
of life.
“Your mom made the blazer you wore to Church last Sunday, right?” he asked.
I nodded. I did not need to mention how much I hated the blazer. It was for my graduation from
high school the previous year. There was not enough money to buy a new one, so my mother picked clothing materials she had in the house and made a blazer from the little knowledge she had of tailoring. “Why couldn’t I get a new one like Kamara?” I cried.
Matt said the blazer looked really nice when he saw me in church. He called it “kiddo’s coat,” likening it to Joseph’s coat of many colors. I thought he was going nuts seeing beauty in a handmade blazer.
“She made it from clothing materials from the house,” I said.
“That’s it right there. She used the resources she had to produce something for you to wear for your graduation. Let the blazer be a symbol of what is possible for you. Let it inspire you to create a future that you desire with what you have today. It may be hard, Tammy, but it’s not impossible. And please, forgive your parents for what they might not offer you today, and celebrate their courage and resilience to get what they can offer you now. Be mad at the situation instead of them.”
By the time Matt was done, I felt a quiet guilt settle in. I told myself I should be more grateful, that I should be able to see the good in what I had while still wanting more. But it’s not as easy as we say it is. And it hurt so much. My hurt had morphed into anger, and I couldn’t see anything else. Would my parents find it weird if I gave them a long hug when they returned home today? There would be no need to tell them why. They would just think someone had borrowed their daughter’s body.
“And concerning your education, I might know an organization that offers scholarships. You
could apply. If chosen, they’ll fully fund your education.”
“What about the application fees?” I asked, dryly.
“Don’t worry about that. I can get the form for you,” Matt said and smiled. His smile was a reflection of hope for me. It could be the opportunity that’d change it all. A step to new beginnings for my family and me.
“Thank you, Matt,” was all I said when, in my head, I wanted to throw my arms around him. He’d saved me twice today.
“I’ll get everything you need and let you know when I get them. Maybe you could even come to
my school,” he said with twinkles in his eyes.
“You want me to come to your school?”
“Yeah. Or you don’t want to come to my school?” he asked.
I shrugged, feigning indifference. Like I couldn’t care. “I’ll think about it,” I replied.
Matt laughed. “I know your type,” he teased.
“What’s my type?” I asked him.
He narrowed his eyes at me, as if summoning the answer from my head. “A hard girl, kiddo.”
Before I could give a comeback, Kamara screamed Matt’s name from their flat. Poor girl. She must have been expecting the water since forever. It had almost become like a pattern. “Kamara saved you. Now, please don’t keep my friend waiting. And thank you so much for today.”
“You’re welcome, kiddo.” Matt stood up, picked up the keg to go, forgetting the funnel behind. He was always forgetting things. Like how he forgot his phone the last time he was leaving, and Kamara had to run after him.
“Hey, you’re forgetting the funnel again. I hope you don’t forget yourself at home on your
wedding day,” I teased.
“I won’t, kiddo!” he called back after picking the funnel.
III
“That was my mom,” Kunle says before blowing a raspberry as he takes his seat beside me again.
He brings me out of the memory I’ve been lost in. I look around to see just one more person before me.
“She’s so optimistic about this scholarship. She has been calling to know how it’s going,” Kunle adds.
I want to tell him to shut up. His unsolicited information didn’t allow me to finish my memory tour. I was about to visit the part where Matt disappeared the day after our talk. I had gone to Kamara’s flat to thank him for making me see things differently, and to tell him that I told my parents to rest when they returned home and did all the chores. It made them happy.
Kamara said he had some family emergencies and that he would be back soon. But Matt didn’t come back. He didn’t even wish me a happy birthday when I turned eighteen last month. After a month of being away, he sent the scholarship form and other materials through Kamara. I filled out the forms and returned them to Kamara for him to submit.
After waiting for five months without a word and already giving up on the scholarship, he sent a message through Kamara that I am to come for the interview at The Sail Group of Companies. Now I’m here.
“My mother was praying for me, that’s why it took so long,” Kunle offers again. I give him a small smile, hoping he’ll catch a clue that I do not want to talk to him.
I return my gaze to the floor as I ponder possible questions they might ask me in the interview. My hands find the stitches on my blazer. Dolly Parton’s voice fills the air again. I raise my head to look at Kunle, only for me to realize the music isn’t coming from his phone, but from an office opposite the waiting area.
The door opens, and I see Matt come out of the room to answer a call. My mouth opens wide. He stops when his eyes meet mine, picks up the call, and tells the person he will call them back.
After he cuts the call, he walks over to me, grinning, a crease appearing around his eyes. He seems to
have changed his haircut, and a beard is now sprouting. A lot can actually change in six months.
“Hey, kiddo. You came. I’m glad you showed up.”
“Well, it’s Tammy now. I’m eighteen. You’ve done a lot getting me here; the least I can do is show up.”
“It’s nothing,” he says.
Of course, like you disappearing is nothing. “Yeah, thank you,” I answer instead.
“And you wore your blazer,” he says, pointing to it.
I smile and smooth it with my hands before answering. After his talk that day, I began to see the blazer in a different light. I don’t see an ugly cloth anymore; I see a symbol of what’s possible. To be fair, it is actually beautiful. Anger blinded my eyes.
“Yes. A reminder of courage, resilience, and what is possible with the resources available to me now, right?” I ask, angling my head to look at Matt’s face.
“Right,” Matt replies, happy that I still remember our last conversation. “And happy birthday. You turned eighteen last month. I guess I can call you Tammy now.”
“Thank you, and I'll pretend you didn't disappear and forgot to wish me a happy birthday.”
“I'm so sorry, I had to come for a family emergency, after which I had to go back to school with hectic coursework. I couldn't come back. I'll make it up to you when I next visit.”
I nod. “Apology accepted. What are you doing here? I just realized you're not here to apply for scholarships.”
“Actually, the company belongs to my uncle. But my dad is on the scholarship board, that’s why I’m here. I came to give him a document.”
“Ooh. You didn’t mention that the other day.”
“Oops, I must have forgotten to add that detail. You know I keep forgetting things.” He gave me a smile that screamed he had intentionally left the detail out.
“You forget things behind, and you’re a terrible liar. Thank you for getting me here, anyway.”
Matt smiles. “You’re welcome. Just do your utmost best and don’t fret. I hope this marks the beginning of the new era for you and your family that you’ve always wished for.”
“Amen. I’m grateful for helping me do this.” I look around to see that I’m next to go in. Kunle will go after me. I look beside me and see that he has gone out again. Probably to receive another call.
“So, would you be coming anytime soon to Kamara’s place?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. Schoolwork is getting crazier, and I’ve been elected to an office in my
department. It might take a while for me to come visiting again. But don’t tell Kamara, she’ll go on lecturing me about deserting my favorite cousin.”
“Okay. Your secret’s safe with me,” I say, as I make a zipping sign over my mouth with my hand.
He smiles, and we both hold each other’s gazes longer than we normally do. Maybe I’ll actually consider applying to his school if he asks me again. Matt’s phone rings. He breaks eye contact and picks up the phone to tell the caller he will be on his way soon.
“I need to go now, Tammy. I hope to get good news soon from this. You go give them a blast.” He holds out his fist, and I bump it. He turns to leave, but I call him back.
“Hey, Matt. You forgot something. You always forget something,” I tease. In a usual habit, he looks back, probably hoping to see a forgotten funnel. “Just kidding,” I say and begin to laugh.
Matt smiles and shakes his head. “That was a nice one, kiddo.” I narrow my eyes as always, and he laughs, satisfied that he has his comeback before leaving.
The interview door opens, and the last person before me comes out. Kunle is back. I hear my name from inside the conference room, and I stand up.
“Good luck,” Kunle says, flashing me a smile
I nod at him. Maybe he's not a bad person; maybe he just loves offering unsolicited information. I smooth my blazer as I walk toward my interviewer and the possible opportunity to build the life I've always wanted.