Jimmy’s Graduation
At the lapse of our four years at law school, me and Jimmy took different paths. For a while we talked on phone but would later loose contact and get lost in the world. That things would end up like this , that a time would come for parting, that we were just passing through each others lives are facts I had never given a second thought
Back in our university days we lived in the moment, wasting a way every single time together even though we never knew it would be the last one. We would leave campus and wander off to the streets on weekends and would drink ourselves mad. We told ourselves stories and Laughed loudly when drunk seldom caring who was listening.
On Mondays we woke up with hangovers and had to debate whether to go for lectures or stay in bed. Late after sunset while the world slept we stole off and read through out the night and would sleep all day. We shared a meal when there was not enough money to buy two. We shared clothes and shoes such that we wore them in turns. Once we dated the same girl unknown to all of us. Instead of fighting when we came to know she was playing all of us, we laughed ourselves off until our ribs almost cracked.
I know much of jimmy, but only as much as I came to know in our years in University. Much of his story that I know was told to me by himself. Usually while at our favourite bar drinking cheap gin, on rare moments when we were not laughing at flies flying by or describing girls passing by, we would tell ourselves our stories; stories of who we were; our roots. Coincidently, we shared a lot in common. We were both from poor and humble backgrounds. Our parents sacrificed a lot to see us to University and through. We were our families only hope. Ours were stories of step mothers, or one meal or no meals. Ours were stories of families investing in education. Many things bond us together, those who knew us would say. But nothing much Than our stories.
University life seems long but is short. As we moved in cycles with seasons in the sun, making merry and Living each moment to the fullest, making promises that we would always be together, crying together in pain and rejoicing together in jolly times, the four years quickly faded.
A few days before our exams I recall we sat in our usual bar, we talked as usual. We were all excited, happy that finally we were approaching our graduation day. “ Mum will be so proud of me. I am happy, happy that I am almost making her dreams come true.”. He said with his bright eyes glued on his bottle while gently sipping his gin.
“ what plans do you have after graduation?” I inquired.
“Get myself a job and may be then I can make life a little better at home. No more starving, no more embarrassments because of unpaid dues.” We laughed, even though it wasn’t funny.
“And you?” he asked.
“ Same. Get a job. Build dad and mom a house, Marry Angel…” we again laughed.
After our final paper we parked our belongings and both took separate ways. I still recall the tears in my eyes. It was only then that I realized how much he meant to me. Karl Gibran put it right,
“Love knows not its depth until the hour of separation”
Even though it hurt to see him walk away, inside me I still knew we had one more special day, graduation day. I could only imagine what a day it would be.
On graduation day as I sat under a tent amidst a multitude of grandaunts I kept looking a round hoping I would make up a picture of Jimmy, but in vain. When names were being read out, under the scorching sun of midday , Jimmy’s name was read out as the best student; student of the year. We all clapped and cheered, I felt proud. But soon all went silent. We waited in vain to see him step forward.
A few moments later an old man and women matched in front. They were carrying a portrait, it was Jimmy’s. His smile was as bright as usual. It seemed like him himself. I thought within me what all these meant. Although the truth seemed apparent, I didn’t or rather I couldn’t imagine it was what I thought. No one cheered . The silence persisted for a while.
After graduation, I made haste and caught up with Jimmy’s parents. I introduced myself to them with pride that I was his best friend during campus days. “ where is her? Why hasn’t he come? I guess he must be busy, I guess he got a job.” I said, impatiently waiting for an answer.
After a moment of silence, his mothers faintly spoke and said, “we are having an after party behind our cathedral church, would you like to attend? Jimmy will be happy to see you.” She asked. I readily said I’d love to, with much excitement. If only I had known.
We drove through a maze of paths, up and down hills and valley landscapes, through one village and another. Finally, we reached an old catholic church with a wooden cross that pointed high a bove mango tree leaves to the sky. We parked on the drove way and walked passed the wooden door all the way behind, but in silence. Jimmy’s mother held his graduation gown in her hands. The place was desolate and silent , save for the songs of the birds. The church was bushy. From the look of it, it was apparent that it had been abandoned for sometime.
There were no crowds, no one but us, save for villagers passing by minding their own businesses. What kind of party is this, I asked myself. Before I knew it we were in a commentary. Making our way through a forest of grave stones, new and old, we stopped on one. It had an inscription on it reading,
“ Okite John Jimmy,1993-2017.”
Jimmy’s mother gently walked passed me and put the gown on the cross that stood on the grave. We all broke down; we wept.
Jimmy’s Father, who for awhile appeared to be strong put his hand on my shoulder, it was trembling and I could hear him sobbing. As if in whisper I herd him say,
“For all our days are passed away in thy wrath: we spend our years as a tale that is told. The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. Who knoweth the power of thine anger? Even according to thy fear, so is thy wrath. So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.”
We walked a way. I took the pain and all the memories with me, memories of all that was, and all that poor Jimmy thought would be, but will never.
Elianu Noel Francis
23/July/2022
At the lapse of our four years at law school, me and Jimmy took different paths. For a while we talked on phone but would later loose contact and get lost in the world. That things would end up like this , that a time would come for parting, that we were just passing through each others lives are facts I had never given a second thought
Back in our university days we lived in the moment, wasting a way every single time together even though we never knew it would be the last one. We would leave campus and wander off to the streets on weekends and would drink ourselves mad. We told ourselves stories and Laughed loudly when drunk seldom caring who was listening.
On Mondays we woke up with hangovers and had to debate whether to go for lectures or stay in bed. Late after sunset while the world slept we stole off and read through out the night and would sleep all day. We shared a meal when there was not enough money to buy two. We shared clothes and shoes such that we wore them in turns. Once we dated the same girl unknown to all of us. Instead of fighting when we came to know she was playing all of us, we laughed ourselves off until our ribs almost cracked.
I know much of jimmy, but only as much as I came to know in our years in University. Much of his story that I know was told to me by himself. Usually while at our favourite bar drinking cheap gin, on rare moments when we were not laughing at flies flying by or describing girls passing by, we would tell ourselves our stories; stories of who we were; our roots. Coincidently, we shared a lot in common. We were both from poor and humble backgrounds. Our parents sacrificed a lot to see us to University and through. We were our families only hope. Ours were stories of step mothers, or one meal or no meals. Ours were stories of families investing in education. Many things bond us together, those who knew us would say. But nothing much Than our stories.
University life seems long but is short. As we moved in cycles with seasons in the sun, making merry and Living each moment to the fullest, making promises that we would always be together, crying together in pain and rejoicing together in jolly times, the four years quickly faded.
A few days before our exams I recall we sat in our usual bar, we talked as usual. We were all excited, happy that finally we were approaching our graduation day. “ Mum will be so proud of me. I am happy, happy that I am almost making her dreams come true.”. He said with his bright eyes glued on his bottle while gently sipping his gin.
“ what plans do you have after graduation?” I inquired.
“Get myself a job and may be then I can make life a little better at home. No more starving, no more embarrassments because of unpaid dues.” We laughed, even though it wasn’t funny.
“And you?” he asked.
“ Same. Get a job. Build dad and mom a house, Marry Angel…” we again laughed.
After our final paper we parked our belongings and both took separate ways. I still recall the tears in my eyes. It was only then that I realized how much he meant to me. Karl Gibran put it right,
“Love knows not its depth until the hour of separation”
Even though it hurt to see him walk away, inside me I still knew we had one more special day, graduation day. I could only imagine what a day it would be.
On graduation day as I sat under a tent amidst a multitude of grandaunts I kept looking a round hoping I would make up a picture of Jimmy, but in vain. When names were being read out, under the scorching sun of midday , Jimmy’s name was read out as the best student; student of the year. We all clapped and cheered, I felt proud. But soon all went silent. We waited in vain to see him step forward.
A few moments later an old man and women matched in front. They were carrying a portrait, it was Jimmy’s. His smile was as bright as usual. It seemed like him himself. I thought within me what all these meant. Although the truth seemed apparent, I didn’t or rather I couldn’t imagine it was what I thought. No one cheered . The silence persisted for a while.
After graduation, I made haste and caught up with Jimmy’s parents. I introduced myself to them with pride that I was his best friend during campus days. “ where is her? Why hasn’t he come? I guess he must be busy, I guess he got a job.” I said, impatiently waiting for an answer.
After a moment of silence, his mothers faintly spoke and said, “we are having an after party behind our cathedral church, would you like to attend? Jimmy will be happy to see you.” She asked. I readily said I’d love to, with much excitement. If only I had known.
We drove through a maze of paths, up and down hills and valley landscapes, through one village and another. Finally, we reached an old catholic church with a wooden cross that pointed high a bove mango tree leaves to the sky. We parked on the drove way and walked passed the wooden door all the way behind, but in silence. Jimmy’s mother held his graduation gown in her hands. The place was desolate and silent , save for the songs of the birds. The church was bushy. From the look of it, it was apparent that it had been abandoned for sometime.
There were no crowds, no one but us, save for villagers passing by minding their own businesses. What kind of party is this, I asked myself. Before I knew it we were in a commentary. Making our way through a forest of grave stones, new and old, we stopped on one. It had an inscription on it reading,
“ Okite John Jimmy,1993-2017.”
Jimmy’s mother gently walked passed me and put the gown on the cross that stood on the grave. We all broke down; we wept.
Jimmy’s Father, who for awhile appeared to be strong put his hand on my shoulder, it was trembling and I could hear him sobbing. As if in whisper I herd him say,
“For all our days are passed away in thy wrath: we spend our years as a tale that is told. The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. Who knoweth the power of thine anger? Even according to thy fear, so is thy wrath. So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.”
We walked a way. I took the pain and all the memories with me, memories of all that was, and all that poor Jimmy thought would be, but will never.
Elianu Noel Francis
23/July/2022
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