My phone screen confirmed it was 5:06hrs as I gently closed the door.
Not missing a beat, I turned right towards the pond. Then at the intersection, I pivoted left.
Without any conscious thoughts, I had changed the route.
Walking towards the sailing club through the harbour I stayed on the tarred lane.
Then just as the road diverged, I took another right
Again, I paused.
“isn’t it too early to walk through that path? My head rears up
Stick to the road where passing autos can see you and help can come if you need it”
“I want to stay closer to the water than the automobiles” I slurred in my morning croak
Singing a #yoruba song which proclaimed that his mercies are new every morning. I bypassed this man who sat on a bench soaking in the sea. He greeted cheerily as I passed
Few metres further down I heard;
“go back and sit with him”
“Emi kan!” (Not me) I threw back a curt response without missing a step
“Go and stay with him” that voice persisted
“Why? At 5am? A man leaves his house to commune with Nature and you want me to go interrupt his fellowship?
You know even I wouldn’t welcome such an intrusion. You do understand how sacred these early mornings are, don’t you?
“Besides, he is a Briton. And you know how some of these Brits can stare at you like you are a pest. Or is it because he smiled genuinely?
I was blabbering and now pacing back and forth deliberating
“Also you know my App is counting steps. I can’t interrupt it”
Dear Reader, can you see how easy it is for us to blame Jonah when he almost bunked Operation #Nineveh?
“Amara, did you not ask to be used? Go to him”
Heart in hands, I strode back to the man. He was by now posing by the wall for a selfie
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” I blurted out before overthinking sabotaged me
“Oh sure, come and sit” he made space with a smile
.
..
…
“A lovely morning isn’t it?” He smiled at me with bulbous eyes as grey as the clouds
I nodded. Clutching my water bottle like a toddler with #separationanxiety
“Was that a gospel song you were singing or just any song? It sounded nice?
“Yes. Gospel song” I bobbed my head again
“Lord, what is this about? I sat there stiff
Then *Mike* opened his mouth;
Recently diagnosed with cancer, he commenced #chemotherapy few weeks ago.
As much as he cannot grasp the journey yet but he takes advantage of each day as that is all we have
He has taken to coming out in the mornings to watch the sunrise and sit with #nature
Of course by now, the hot tears were streaming down my face as I leaned in closer
Mike is scheduled for a stem cell transplant in a couple of months to sort out this #myeloma – a type of blood cancer. He is hoping it goes well
I enquired if #leukaemia and myeloma are same. He cited the different types including #lymphoma. I let him know about my friend in Ghana, Princessa who is riding out the waves of lymphoma
He spoke. I listened. He told me about low immunity, the pain in his back, the cancer journey, the uncertainty, the fear.
While I switched between wiping tears and laughter, he wanted to know if it was a bad morning for me
“I rode the cancer storm too” I showed him my physical battle scars. He appeared incredulous.
Moreover, I shared with him how I felt led to backtrack and sit with him and my initial reluctance. How I could have missed him if I hadn’t veered off from the tarred road. How this wasn’t even my usual route
Mike is from Durham up North. Asserted that they are friendlier and warmer than the southerners here
“I hate the word ‘remission’. It feels ominous. his voice was now edgy
“Same here. I struck it off my register and replaced it with healed” I concurred
He however refused my offer of prayer. He has an issue with #OrganisedReligion. Notwithstanding, he loves seeing the Nigerian children immaculately dressed up on Sunday mornings to church. A reminder of his own #sundayschool days as a kid
Mission accompli, I stood to leave.
Another glance at my phone.
05.49
