My dear Samira
I don’t just like the idea that Saturdays are becoming a pin in my head. They have become awkward moments I have to deal with. I never would’ve thought my Saturdays would be this bad. In fact, it has become a mental torment. This past Saturday, like the previous ones over the year, rolled my mind into deep thoughts that irrevocably ignited thoughts I had long buried. I thought thoughts like that would degenerate into mental chaos. Yet, I am sharing some with you. But aren’t we supposed to share both good and bad moments together?
You remember when I ever told you about plans for the unlucky girl who will spend the rest of her life with me? Such a sad and miserable lady. Yet I always know it will be you. You are always that unlucky girl who will persevere under the torments of my mental fortitude. You already know a good deal about me. I think that’s a plus. You know I talk a lot. Yet my information and words are measured. You also know I listen a lot. And I analyze each and every word uttered to its logical conclusion. This reminds me of what a friend once told me: “A thinking guy needs an understanding lady.” I guess this is the reason why a lot of the ladies tried their luck but never succeeded. As Vladimir Puttin stated, “It’s not a bluff.”
You know, a friend asked me how you managed to be a constant in the equation while all others became variables. He wanted to know whether it was intelligence. I couldn’t allude to that because I have met a lot of intelligent ladies who ended up as variables. Was it intellectualism? Well, I have met a few ladies who share this urge. In fact, one of them topped her year group and became valedictorian. Another one recently got married in the US when she couldn’t get through. She’s almost finished her Ph.D. too.
If you could remember from 2021, I told you a lady was on me to move to China for a Master’s program, where she elected to take up all the bills. She was equally a valedictorian in her year group. Those you witnessed are not even included. The Fatimas, the Bilkis, and the Jamilas. Of course, Jamila’s name will often ring a bell. Her story has been distinct. It’s quite unfortunate that you were in the UK when she got married to a gentleman we both know well. I never would’ve imagined a thing of that sort could happen to me, a son of Adamu, the Carpenter. Yet it has happened.
I know you may be getting lush from my emphasis. I told you that you were the reason I never closed that link with Jamila. I first told you about her the day you came to my room on a visit. The day another lady brought me food and she realized you were in the room with me and none of my roommates were present. I know you will be laughing at her reaction when she said, “Why didn’t you tell me you have a guest?” The same day, my very good friend came for us to go for lectures and met you in the room, and you both had a lengthy conversation. I guess this was the only meeting between you and my friend. However, he never ceased to ask about you in any of our conversations.
Ahem! Now Jamila’s story.
Do you remember when I told you about the lady I crushed for four years before opening up to her? I first met her in my first lecture at the JQB Lecture Room 14. She was the first point of attraction because of the green veil distinguishing her from the rest of the class. I crumpled down to sit beside her in the second row from the front. I had entered from the backdoor. We introduced ourselves, exchanged contacts, and had a little chat about ourselves before the lecturer entered. Indeed, after the first lecture, there was another lecture at JQB 24, which I later found out you were part of. Despite entering the next lecture with her, I sat at the back of the class. Unusual for me, I never told her how I felt.
Our friendship grows with each passing lecture. It further grew when we went on a field trip in the same semester. It was in two groups. Fortunately, she was in my group. In the field, we followed each other like a couple of squirrels. I took pictures of her, and she also did so in return. We even gave the camera to a colleague of ours to take pictures of us. I guess it was one of the most memorable field trips I ever took as a student. I intended to open up to her upon our return. We couldn’t meet after disembarking from the bus when we got to campus. Then destiny creeps in. What my good friend will say is, “Life happens,” and that changes the direction.
I rescheduled it for the following Monday, before or after our marathon lectures. Then, on the evening of the same Saturday we returned from the field trip, you happened. I chanced upon you. We mistook you for another lady we were looking for. I told my friend after he exited your doorway that I already liked you. My friend inquired, “If I like you, then what about Jamila?” I told my friend Jamila that she could wait. Samira has to go first. Laughing. I can still remember the reaction on my friend’s face. Shock was an understatement. That was it. So, Jamila was on hold.
Four years later, by then, we were in our final year and still held onto friendship like a forgotten rag on a dry line. One time, on our way from lectures, she was going to see her “boy” at Akuafo Hall, and while I was on my way to the Elizabeth Sey Hall, I rekindled this whole story. Was she surprised? No! She actually thought of it in our level 100 and 200 days. But she lost hope when she realized I was seeing someone else. Even though she didn’t know the person and didn’t ask, I also never told her until she saw you on my WhatsApp status after your graduation.
You may be wondering why I am telling you this story. The reason is simple. She believed you had robbed her of a precious item. Even on the eve of her wedding, she still finds time to chat with me on this issue, wondering why it never happened. Do you believe that I met her on campus when I was coming for your graduation ceremony around the registry piazza? If you can recall, I came late because she saw a gentleman at your setting—a gentleman she had repeatedly refused to marry until now—and she never wanted him to see us (I and her) together. Apparently, she said the gentleman had talked about me before.
My dear Samira, my gender operates from two main spots in relation to their lovers. Firstly, every guy wants other guys to approach their woman. This shows their woman is not an expired product. When guys discover that other guys stop attempting to their woman, then they know that the taste of their woman has either gone bad like Kako fish or expired like Jambo spices from the empty market shelves in Makola. Then, guys realized it was time to pound on fresh ladies in the market. I believe you know how flies abandon old fish for newly drawn fish from the sea. same way guys operate.
On the other hand, even though guys are extremely excited to know that other guys are approaching their woman, they expected the lady to turn down these flocks of frolicking guys. This is their expectation. You might not have realized how excited guys are when they hear about this, not from their lady but especially from their peers—guys. This elevates Efo’s expectation from happiness to excitement. In a kind of zero-to-hero scenario, Daavi has sent Efo to cloud 9. At this juncture, a guy can swear on the tip-edge of his mother’s cloth on this lady. Vowing for her is an understatement. That’s when you hear a Dagomba man say Naawunzogu.
My dear Samira, you may be wondering why I have recounted this unexpressed expectation from guys to you. I know it is something I told you before. Do I expect the same from them? Why not? But this is an overwhelming expectation. In as much as the majority of flies are put away by a monger’s smoke, a few flies still get their bite on the fresh fish. This is why I don’t expect anything of the sort from you. I expect you to know better. There are certain actions from our side that might elevate our position immediately but have long-lasting consequences. The same pride made us gift a piece of our ribs to others without contest.
As you take pride in the joy of association, you must also know that most guys are like these flies that refuse to be sent away by the smoke until they get their bite from you. And when they do, they vanish into the revving sea winds in search of their next meal. This has always been the case for guys. By now, you should know some guys are not into you. I have learned this since my primary school days. As I have told you before, my luck often shines the brightest when ladies are involved. But I will leave you in the hands of Norman Vincent Peale, who stated that whenever you “change your thoughts, you change your world.”
As you thread your way to the other ends of the world, you should as well know that these things are real and consequential. You may not know, hear, or see; now you know, hear, and see. I can sleep now on a Saturday night, feeling fulfilled and relieved.