Okeoma Erojikwe - Honest Colors

 

My grandmom and my grandpa were such a beautiful couple. Their home in the rural part of eastern Nigeria held fond memories for me as a child. Their home was the spot where I and my cousins-- I mean, we gather over Christmas and long vacation to spend our holidays. It was really fun. I remember how we could dance and jump the stairs and have so much fun shouting and nobody ever told us to keep quiet. The highlights of my vacation would be remembering how we sat around my granddad as he told us stories about the animal kingdom and how the turtles were the wisest of all animals. 

 

And my grandmom, on the other hand, loved cooking and would always prepare special delicacies of our traditional meal and serve us after the session. My grandmom was a lovely person. She loved having people around her. And I loved her personality. We were quite close. She taught me most of the important things I knew today. Taught me to cook, taught me to clean, taught me life values, taught me to always stand by the truth and speak the truth at all times, to be kind and to be patient as well. 

 

Then, when I turned 16, my granddad had a fall on our famous place stairs and he broke a limb. He was transferred from the village where he was to the town where I stayed with my parents. I stayed with my parents to receive better health care. My grandmom had visited a couple of times to check on him and perhaps wished he could come home earlier and went back to the village. 

 

But sadly, towards the end of that year, my granddad died, away from my grandmom. My father was quite devastated, so was the rest of my siblings and the entire family. My dad had called me and said, I should go stay with my grandmom to give her company for some time. I was delighted to do so. She was my friend, so I looked forward to that. But then, my dad told me that the custom, the part of the country where I come from that my grandmom is not meant to hear about my grandfather's death, until certain elders and relatives are gathered to give her comfort before this news gets to her. He emphasized that I should make sure my grandmom doesn't have a hint of what happened. And I agreed on this. 

 

Few days later, I traveled to see my grandmom. She was quite delighted to see me, asking me how everybody was, how the husband was, how my siblings were. I quickly told her everyone was fine. We had a lovely meal that day and we talked deep into the night. It was later that night, when I had retired to my bedroom that I realized the enormity of the task ahead of me. It meant I was going to keep a vital information from someone that was so close to me and so dear to me. I had to deal with this. 

 

Days later, I went shopping with my grandmom, did our chores, cooked, did massages, which she taught me how to. There were awesome moments I hold there. But in the midst of this, I was in a battle, a constant conflict with myself, and I kept thinking, why would my dad tell me not to tell my grandmom? I remembered I had promised to keep it to myself. Then I'm like, “How will she even react when she knows her husband is dead?” 

 

I mean, we continued this way. It even got worse when one morning, my grandmom wakes up and tells me, “Oh, Okeoma, I had a horrible dream last night.” And I'm like, “What happened?” And she said, “Something terrible had happened to your grandpa.” And I said, “No, mama, he's fine. Grandpa is fine.” I had lied to her. I had lied to someone that taught me the value of speaking the truth at all times. 

 

Then shortly after that, we had woken up one morning to the sound of cars coming into the house and we quickly went to know what happened. We met my parents and some other elders. And my grandmom welcomed them. Yes. She was quite apprehensive and wondered why they would come so early in the morning. And in the midst of it all, I noticed the women were going around her, trying to comfort, just stay around her. Then the men walked in, all sat down. Then she was just looking around, and someone told her that my grandfather had died. 

 

As soon as she heard this, she just stand up from where she was and she started pacing around. Then she screamed, then she continued screaming and she kept on saying, “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.” And in that same moment, she turned to me in the corner where I was and she said to me, “Okeoma, you too? You knew about this?” I could clearly remember the look of disappointment in her eyes. I felt that betrayal from her voice. And in that moment, I was frozen and I felt like my world came crashing on me. I sneaked away, shaking into the room. I didn't share this with anyone. I rather withdrew myself from her. I avoided everywhere she was. I didn't bother trying to do things like we did before. There were moments where she sent me on errands I could go, but it wasn't the same anymore and this went on for some time. 

 

Then at some point, I realized I was missing a great part of my grandmom. I was missing the home I found in her. We were decades apart, yes, but she's someone that shared and understood my world. So, I decided to go have a conversation with her. I decided to just say something, perhaps she would open up a conversation and I could apologize because I felt so guilty I had done something so wrong. But when I spoke to her, I was amazed. Nothing had changed. She was her normal, warm self. She was happy. She was quick to tell me, “Oh, come let's cook. Oh, come to massage.” And I'm like, “What really happened? Was it I wasn't that serious, or was it that it was all in my head, or is it that time had healed her of the disappointment she felt with me?” 

 

But then, I was glad I confronted this fear. I was glad I was able to gain so many more years of friendship with her. And I was happy. We didn't allow a custom to come between what we held so dear. I realized in all this that in confronting our fears and facing our truths, we find peace. Thank you.