Friday 5th july, 2013 would have been the saddest day of my life. My best friend who doubles as my sister was almost killed by ritualistic men who came out for operation in Toyota bustop lagos by 11pm and her blood would have been on my head.
I met Uche in the university in 2007 when I was a second year student of English language while she was a student of economics in the same university.
She was my next door neighbour. Before she became my friend, I had been selectively social and making new friends wasn’t my forte.
For some mysterious reason, Uche and I bonded and our relationship quickly morphed from friendship to sisterhood within the space of two months.
She was very homely, caring and a lovely girl while I on the other hand was somewhat wild and constantly won ‘awards’ of the biggest scumbag.
She helped me to examine my life, evolve and become a better person. My parents liked her so much because of the positive impact she made in my life and for that she has free access to my family house till today.
Back to my story. It was a wet friday night in July, 2013 at about 10pm, I called Uche to meet me at the hotel where I was at Ajao Estate, Lagos because we had the intention of setting out so early the next day to Balogun Market.
I had a business partner who came in from Amsterdam; a fashion designer and I was his model and manager. We needed to export African prints to Amsterdam.
For me, it was a major business deal, one that needed professionalism and dedication and it was also the first time I modelled for anyone for a fee and it was exciting.
I needed Uche’s help because she knows her way around Lagos unlike me because it has always been her place of residence.
That night, I waited endlessly for her to come because it was getting so late but I didn’t see her neither was I able to reach her.
With no iota of an idea of what might be wrong with her, I concluded it was the usual Lagos traffic so I went to bed which turned out to be my shortest night ever.
Less than one hour after I slept, I was woke by my ringer which was the loudest and low, it was ndi eke (policemen).
They saw my friend running like a mad woman in the street of Lagos visibly traumatised. Sleep quickly vanished from my eyes and I woke to reality.
When everything calmed down, she told me her story: she alighted at Toyota bustop waiting for the next bus which usually heads towards airport to pick her up with the intention of dropping at Ajao Estate gate.
While she was standing there waiting, 2 boys with machete started chasing them (they were about 4) with the intention of butchering them to death.
They ran as fast as their legs could carry them but the 2 ladies among them were not so lucky. They were murdered by these idiots who took out some of the body parts. The scene was too gory and horrific.
My Uche came back to me, complete but traumatised. Uche is the only lady I can write an epistle for and it will still feel like a sentence. She’s the 2nd closest person to me in this world, she’s been with me in time of poverty and in time of plenty, she has told me that giving up is not an option, she respects my opinion and is never judgemental.
I call her Oku (fire), Marce, Hygi and she finds it funny. Today I celebrate the woman you have become and I’m glad we are both alive to witness this day.
Happy birthday Hy!