“Hello
mummy”, I said as I answered the phone. “Bayor, it’s me, Daniel”, came the
response from a voice I could barely hear or recognize. If he didn’t mention
his name, I would have thought it was either a wrong number or a network
glitch. In the few seconds that passed before he continued, I tried so hard to
reconcile the voice I just heard to the picture of my childhood friend I had in
my mind. Though we had not spoken for quite some time, I still knew something
was wrong. All these years, whenever I spoke with his mum, I’ll ask about him
and his siblings partly because as their dad passed on a few years ago, he was
the man of the house. “I’m on the sick bed but there’s something I’ll like to
discuss with you” he added. This came quite as a surprise but I agreed and told
him I would see him as soon as I could. I was on a journey up north to Kano
that day and although I knew I would make a stopover at Kaduna, I knew I would
have to really squeeze out the time to see him especially since I knew I was on
assignment and didn’t really call the shots as regards my movement.
Being that
I left Abuja pretty early, I arrived at Kaduna in time to catch my breath as I
awaited the arrival of the guys in the other car who decided to take off some
time later than we did. I felt the need to rest for a short while before they
arrived and my kip was interrupted when my younger sister came in to announce
that the other team had arrived. It then meant that I had subtly made up my
mind to see him on returning from Kano so that I won’t be in any kind of rush.
The drive down to Kano and the programme logistics were rather demanding that I
didn’t remember to call to ask about his well being till much later. When I
eventually called, the number never went through. This was the case till I
returned back to Abuja and got a call moments later from my elder sister that
Daniel didn’t make it. When she gave details of the time he passed, it
coincided with the time I was on the road to Kano. I was lost for words at the
sudden realisation that the call he made to me was more important than I had
given priority to. All of a sudden, I started to see blocks of time that I
would have maximized to get across to him. I couldn’t help thinking to myself
what it was that he wanted to discuss. Why me? What would I have said? Would it
have made any difference?...
I really
wish I know what to write to make this post worth the reading but if it makes
any sense, the definition I heard from someone of the word “Poor” comes to
mind. He said P.O.O.R is an acronym for “Passing Over Opportunities
Repeatedly”.
Need I say
more?
- ‘Bayor