Hello, Obinna. How Are You Today?

Hello, Obinna. How are you today? Hope you’re flourishing and shining like the star I knew you to be. If so, doxology (I’ve always wanted to use this). I don’t know if you remember me, Sonia. The cute cheek-full girl that joined you in primary two at Oakland Kiddies School. The Lagos socialite, Mrs Owonifari was our proprietress, Mr Abatan was our headmaster, and Miss Tosin was our class teacher. Remember?

I hope you do because I never forgot about you. Not once. How can one forget their nightmare so easily? You were my nightmare. What I felt for you was love-hate. I mean, I admired your excellence and brilliance. I bragged a lot about this exceptionally brilliant boy in my class to everyone who cared to listen; that boy was you. How could I have hated you then? I’ll tell you. You probably already know. As much as I think I liked you more than I hated you, I expressed my dislike for you more.

I joined you at the end of the term, just before exams, and took the third position, despite not taking several classes with you. And I thought to myself, getting the first position should be easy after getting accolades from Mr Abatan and some staff members. I knew you came first, I don’t remember who came second, but I knew Bolu and I shared the third position. The plan was to beat you the following term and get the crown; little did I know that you were a beast.

You reduced me to second-position material, and I didn’t like that. I later discovered you were a star boy and never took any position below first. Annoying boy! A fine one at that, with an annoyingly beautiful smile and hearty laughter. You were a daredevil like me too. You were artistically inclined, and your appearance was always immaculate. We competed in everything but handwriting. Mine was not anywhere close to yours. Your writing was too good to be a child’s. It was perfect. You were perfect.

I think I hated you more for being a daredevil and constantly doing things to annoy me. I thought I was the most daring child till I met you. You did the most stupid things just because “I dare you to.” The one that made me lose it was when I or some boy in our class dared you to lick the sole of your shoe, and you did. My God! I almost died. Your immaculate appearance didn’t save you from the new identity I gave you; I started to see you as a pig. I took a lot of dares, but I would never have done that. I was too much of a cleanliness freak.

Do you remember how you, Uzondu, Shannon (the artist in our class), and I used to draw superheroes in notebooks during breaks and after school while waiting for our parents? I remember those Ribena drawing and colouring contests to feature on the KKB show. You were my only concern; not even Shannon got me worried. You were my only competition; what couldn’t you do? Of course, your lines were always slightly straighter than mine, and your curves more perfect. Again, annoying boy!

Obinna, you were my nightmare. And God knows every session, I prayed not to be in the same arm as you, cos that was the only way I could come first in class. I wasn’t willing to be studious just to beat you. Who studies in primary school? Obinna!

But I honestly thought studying was silly every time my mother preached it because what’s wrong with your head? How can you not understand and remember the little things discussed in class? I thought studying was for adults and complex things that requires studying. I was a reader but never studied. I’m paying for that as an adult. By the way, I’m still not a studious person, and people think I’m just being modest when I say that.

Not like I have facts that you studied at home, but rumours had it that your dad only let you and your siblings watch the news, especially CNN, on TV. It was very believable. It explained why you were our “current affairs teacher,” supplying our actual teacher with a fool’s scalp full of the latest news and the best student in the class when all you did in school was play.

You were the most playful in class. In fact, you were a clown. You were the gang leader of jumping desks and chairs, playing super heroes (particularly spider man) and police and thief. I was the only girl in the gang, remember? (I thought girls’ play was dumb). I wonder how we remained the neatest in our class with all that rough play. So the rumour was very believable; I didn’t doubt it a bit. I still don’t.

Do you know you influenced my decision to become Catholic? I’m not saying I became a Catholic cos of you. I always wanted to be Catholic, but seeing you and your brother gave me an extra reason to want to be Catholic. The way you two carried yourselves, with your scapulars adorning your necks, was admirable.

Anyway, I converted at ten, and it’s one of the best decisions I made with my mother’s complete support. So, I write as a baptized and confirmed Catholic now. It’s silly how I used to take sides with you as a Pentecostal child in those silly arguments about Catholics being idolators, with my full chest and sharp mouth, even when I knew nothing about being Catholic. I had only attended a few times.

You were the standard then, a trophy child. A whiz kid. Obinna this, Obinna that. Everyone thought you’d get some crazy scholarship to study abroad, like at the Ivy League schools. I was one of them. You were the overall best student in that school, both primary and secondary. Your brother followed in your footsteps, but you did raise the bar really high.

So as I write to you, like every other time I think of you, I wonder where you are and how you are doing. Did you remain the exceptional child you were known as? Did you get that scholarship? Or did life happen to you too? Did you even live to see adulthood? I really hope you did.

If given another chance to meet you again, I’ll sing your praises and tell you how much I’ve grown to like and appreciate you. And yes, I’ll like to be your best friend, if you’re still interested. I know I was mad, even disgusted, the first time you publicly declared me as your best friend (this was after that stupid dare, hence, the disgust). I remember begging someone to replace me as your seatmate after that, and if I’m correct, I think it was cute, calm Jennifer.

I really was just a bad belle sha. I’m still very competitive in things that matter to me. Thank you for giving me a good run, and maybe because of you, I hate to be the best or brightest in a room. If I must, I love a good challenge.

Are you wondering why I’m suddenly writing to you? Well, it’s not sudden because I never stopped talking about or looking for you on social platforms. I don’t know why I can’t find you, and it scares me. Anyway, I recently witnessed a live interview of a brilliant young man; an acquaintance. During the interview, I couldn’t help but remember you, Obinna Uchenna, and wonder where and how you are, with a wide smile on my face.

Most times when I struggle with studying, I remember my mother’s words, “If only you read like your mates, there is no way you will not get at least one scholarship.” And then I remember you. Now, I really want to know. Were you really studious, or just thrived on talent, and everyone else assumed you were studious? Please, let your answer be yes. It would be good for my bruised ego, and I’ll continue to lie to myself that I can be exceptionally brilliant, too, if I put in the work. Would you believe if I told you my retentive ability gets worse with age? It’s a miracle that I remember my name, everyday.

Honestly, I don’t think I can ever be the studious type at this age. I just care to not be foolish enough to be a pandemic and to be smart enough to hold conversations. Hahaha, you could tell I just lied, right? I do care; maybe not enough to be an Einstein or an Obinna.

It feels so good to write to you, Obinna, though I fear this “letter” might never get to you. I ended it with a big smile. BTW, I hope you are still as handsome as ever. Have you grown muscles like The Rock, or are you built like a sugar daddy? I’m really curious. You know, I tend to like people named Obinna or Uche just because of you!

Anyway, send my love to my baby boy, your brother. Sad that I don’t remember his name, to think I claimed to like him more. I was just a fecking hater! Sadly, it took some growing up to realize that your little crush on me may not have been one-sided. I was just too blinded by the “hate” of your audacity to see it.

Somehow, I hope the universe brings you here and we reconnect. It’s okay if we’re now worlds apart in beliefs and character and can’t stay connected. If the universe doesn’t agree to you ever seeing this, I’ll hold on to beautiful memories of you. Again, thank you for a beautiful childhood memory and the challenge. Would it be weird to say I love you? Yes. ‘Cause, really, I don’t know you. So correctly put, I love the memory of you.

We’ll talk more if and when we meet again, Obinna. Until then…

Sincerely,
Sonia/Ekata

PS: I still move with the boys; I just don’t take stupid risks anymore. Can you believe I can’t ride a bike? A shame, I know. I don’t even follow superhero movies. Double shame. I failed the geng. Forgive me.