You Can Never Walk Alone

Dear Diary,

My neighbour died today.

Alright, not this one downstairs who gave me the bike.  A neighbour across the street. Yes, that first house in the street, the white one. No, not all the houses in this street are white. 

I do not know yet if it is the him or her. The funeral home had the body covered when they exited the house and placed him/her in the van.

Yes, I feel awful.  This is the first dead body I have seen in ….I cannot recall seeing a dead body in the last decade.  So, yes, this has shaken me badly.

Yes, I recall attending Da Titi’s final rites in the village in 2018 and also Justice Oputa’s.  But I never saw their bodies.

And to think that another neighbour across from me, died late last year.  I saw the ambulances and medical crew enter the house, about three vehicles.  However, they spent a long time in there and for a reason I cannot recall, I went back inside.  

Yeah, I think a part of me knew.  And did not want to see.  You know how sensitive I can be when it comes to these things, and then cancer left me so sensitive that I can no longer withstand a lot of things – so many emotions now.

I cannot even explain what lured me out there that early.  Had jerked up suddenly. Then went to pee. On my way back, a look at the timer said 0536.  And I groggily went back to bed while muttering prayers.

When I got into bed, I stood up for no reason, again, and still praying I went into the lounge.  I  have a habit of going to peer out whenever I wake up, or stand by the window and soaking in the skies.  

That was when I saw their lights were on.  A sight I have not seen in the years we have lived here. It is only the house on the adjoining street that lets their outside lights stay on.

As I pondered the strangeness of it, two headlights blinked and caught my eyes.  An ambulance – parked on double yellows – by my side of the road.  

“Awww, one of them is in trouble” I thought as it all tied in together for me. The lights on the porch, the ambulance.  Then it drove off.

Since I did not see what transpired before then, I said a prayer for them – a childhood prayer habit I have, for whenever I see an emergency services vehicle.

Meanwhile, I stood rooted there and watched. The lights remained on in the house even as the dawn gave way to daybreak.

That was when the sterility of this land hit me.  How can an ambulance be at a neighbour’s home by dawn and nobody is out?

Where I come from?  neighbours would have poured in. More so, as they were seniors.  I felt pity, anger, and confusion. Then I said a prayer again.  I did not know what to do – if they were any people of colour, I would have knocked on their door. As they would not have minded.

Nonetheless, after NSPPD, we went back to bed. And that light was still on.

Later this afternoon when I woke up, I went to the window again.  Saw a younger female standing by the porch, talking with another couple by a car. Another unusual and I wanted to go and ask.

Then when I got downstairs, the car was driving off and nobody was outside there.  I lost my nerve and went inside.

While we were virtually attending Koinonia Sound of Revival Calgary, I went to the window again.

That was when I saw the man.  He came out of the house, with gloved hands and walked to a bus with the booth hanging open.  The bus was parked beside their house. He went back into the house and then they came out.  He and another female, dressed in same blacks and blue gloves.  They were carrying the body. I watched them lay it at the back of the open bus before shutting it. They drove away and a younger man emerged from within the house to rearrange the bins.

Then I turned and told my son that the person died.  

I still find it shocking, annoying and cannot process all my emotions yet.

How can someone who is in their 70s die and everywhere is quiet?  like a chicken just died?

These are the times I am glad for our communal culture.  The same culture which they termed intrusive.  Yes, we are intrusive because we do not let you go through life alone.

Can you imagine if that was back in Nigeria? Someone died at home and had to be moved?  Like the whole street would be there.  And to think they most likely died at dawn!   The entire neighbourhood, the village people, and religious families would have flooded the home.  The children’s friends, in-laws, grandchildren’s friends, everyone.  Even perceived haters and enemies come around.

Death, just like life, is a serious business for us.  You cannot cry alone.  Food would be overflowing.

But this, this sanitary life, where someone dies and everyone buries their head in the sand, is not good.

It is not good for my soul. And talking of soul, I am smitten wondering if that soul was saved.  

Another reminder that the harvest is truly plentiful in my neighbourhood.  And the Great Commission beckons.