READ: The Drummer’s Exodus: Heartache (3)
“Bobo ti mo maa n soro nipa leleyi (This is the guy that I talk about)” talking to Bisola “tama lo sinu gbo, oma lulu emi yo si ma korin (With whom I go to the woods, he plays and I sing)”. “Ore, what is sele? (Whats going on here Pal)” Emeka probed “Na the babe wey I tell you ni Abule be this (This is the girl from my village that i spoke of)”. It was then I realized I hadn’t told Bisola about my first best friend and my drum skills, but, Adesuwa was euphoric and wouldn’t stop going on about my drum skills, I turned to look at Bisola and for the first time she looked at me with such hate and walked out, I ran after her.
Caught up with Bisola, calmed her down and explained why I never told her about Adesuwa which was because she left when we were 12 without saying goodbye and I didn’t mentioned the drums because of the promise I made to my dad about shunning drums for my education. Bisola said “Kilowafe kinse bai? Tori ajeji ni e simi bai. Oso aduru nko beeyen funmi. Je loro nko ta mase (What would you have me do? You are a stranger to me as of this moment. You couldn’t tell me things like these about you. I need time to rethink about us.)”. She went back to her room and I left for my hostel. We were on a break.
It was a day later Adesuwa caught up with me while I was taking a stroll and we talked at length about childhood till her move and up to date. I learnt she left the town to her cousin’s (Bisola) place at Ijebu and changed her name to avoid possible identity by people loyal to her uncle, since her father was out of country and didn’t know about her grand-father’s passing until her aunt wrote to him when she arrived at ijebu. It was really nice talking to her, we rhymed so well that I started feeling the same way I felt for her back in the village.
I missed Bisola so much that it showed in every area of my life, even my lecturers noticed my gloom. I decided to take a leap of faith to get her back on her birthday. It was the evening of her birthday ceremony (which I gate crashed by the way) I took the centre stage with a drum and played it (it had been 14years since I picked one up). It wasn’t after some major errors did I get back in tune and everyone was marveled, and that did the trick with Bisola, we were back together and the victory was bittersweet as I had broken a14year-old promise to my father.
I was done with education and headed back to see my father, only to discover he was quite in a jam. He had received payment from the king for a welcome ceremony for rich potential investors from Lagos and he wouldn’t be able to play as he became ill a day before the ceremony. The king felt swindle and refused a refund and threatened his life if he failed to deliver his service. I told my father I would step in on his behalf and play for the king (which was on the noon of my arrival). He was quite scared due to my lack of practice and the ensuing disappointment will cost us both our lives, I told him I’d require little practice because it’s similar to riding a bike. My father said he was sorry for taking away the drums from me and that he was proud I made another path for myself outside the family business. At the ceremony, 3 visitors (potential investors) were present, the king’s court and the entire village were at the square. The time came to showcase the best drummer, I came up in my father’s full regalia and people began to murmur since it had been a while they heard me play, I looked up at the visitors and I could see doubts in their eyes also, turned to the king and all I saw was anger and disgust. I turned to the crowd and saw my father, Adesuwa and my dear Abisola with a look of encouragement. I was in the woods again and I played like never before the visitors had to leave their sits to congratulate me, one took me aside, gave me his card and told me he could help me if I decided to move to Lagos. At the end of the ceremony, congratulations rolled in from the king, town and the 2 ladies in my life, then I went to my father and told him about Abisola’s birthday and that one of the visitors is was willing to help me out in Lagos if I decided to go professional which I told him I wanted. My father was deeply disappointed at me, he was bitter and his words to me were very unkind, I left and headed for the woods that evening.
At my usual spot of solace, I heard footsteps and I saw Adesuwa coming to the place also. She said she overheard my father’s bitterness and knew where I would be after then. We got talking and she was all “Mo nifere gaan (I love you scatter)” we ended up kissing and Abisola was there to see it happen (she had followed Adesuwa to deliver a message), that was the last time I saw her and Adesuwa.
Memoirs of a Pensioner’s son, not Edited nor proof read, just poured out. safe