Dear Diary: The Re-union (My Diary and I)

dear diary
Dear diary,

It’s been long since I put pen to paper to share my thoughts and relieve my awry days. Two years have passed since I last wrote and I wish I had a cogent reason for this but I don’t, well, I have reasons but none is cogent.

Days ran quickly, too much was the burden for me, alone I fought the numerous problems that confronted me, I couldn’t think of writing. Sadly, the precious moments we shared faded and that became a luxury.

It began with my refusal to go to the University of Lagos. Truth be told, till now, I still don’t know what got hold of me but for the first time I stood my ground against my dad, it wasn’t pleasant, you know. A cold war began; Dad barely spoke to me. In fact it was like I stopped to exist, my elder sister with her radical nature wasn’t of any help, she had the chances to preach to me for long hours at a stretch like Mama did, she rather choose to openly support my decisions, all of them.

I had no answer for the million and one times Mama asked “but Ama? Why you juss chanji your mind laik that?” my response was a blank stare.

Two years as passed, here I am in Room H32, Awo hall, University of Ibadan, getting settled for the beginning of my second year. Though Chief Obafemi Awolowo hall is way nosier than home, it is better than the silence that echoes at home, where it is chaos neatly defined and I like it.

I felt like a champion when I ignored UNILAG’s admission offer for UI but my repeated failed attempts to convince Dad to pay my tuition fees made me feel like a child, his comment, “Shebi you are grown enough to decide which school’s admission to accept, so you must be grown enough to fend for yourself.” left me in pieces..

The bills of my first year in school were on Mama, my sister and sometimes from her fiancé, Michael, it wasn’t easy but they made sure I had everything I needed from textbooks to tooth picks; meanwhile, the gulf between Dad and I widened, the silence; deafening. Our conversations have reduced to the daily greetings and the unavoidable instructions which I reply with monosyllabic answers.

The good news is that Dad has paid my fees for the second year, after several conferences meetings with Mama and my sister. There is a lot to say, how can I say in one day things I have been unable to tell anyone in two years? So much, I have not written about, like this new feeling of great disgust towards Dad, the feeling of exhilaration about my sister’s engagement after a fight with her lover, Michael that almost broke them apart. There are also things that I am struck with; like grandma’s constant interference and Dad’s continual support of Mama especially, in the wake of Grandma’s wahala.

Soon, my sister will drop our family name and hopefully our family troubles; she would become Mrs Egwin, no longer Miss Diaso. I was home last weekend for the introduction. I still recall the smile on Sister’s face throughout the ceremony, the way Michael held her hands delicately with their fingers intertwined, Mama’s laughter that seem to come out directly from her heart and papa’s shoulder set upright in pride was enough indication that all would be well while am back in school.

It’s a Friday night in what has been a stressful week. Lectures have begun fully and the number of boys reporting for Awo 101 every night has increased. The moon is out, the lights are out and there is a cool wind making its way through the windows of my room. This is a perfect night for one of my usual walks that clears my head; but all I want this night is to lie on my bed, listen to music till I forget the world around me.


                                                                                                                          Your friend,
                                                                                                                          Me.

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