18/01/2024
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I saw my father yesterday, exactly one month after he diēd.
I saw his ghost sitting under the mango tree in our compound.
Seeing my father's ghost was the scariest thing I had ever encountered.
That night, the wind was blowing harshly against the windows of my room, and thunder rumbled angrily as it made way for the blue lightning that streaked the sky.
It wasn't long before rain began to pelt down lightly, rattling against the zinc of my roof.
The noises the rain made coupled with the booming sound of the thunder stirred me up from sleep.
After plying my drowsy eyes open, I remembered with alarm, that I had done my laundry the previous day and I had hung them on the thin rope in our backyard to dry.
I recalled that I didn't bring them inside in the evening and that if left, the rain would soak them.
So, I sprang up from the bed and helped by the dim glow of the oil lamp left burning on the table beside my window, I made my way forward, moving out of the room, and entering into our dark corridor.
"Mama! Nneka!" I called my mother and my sister from the corridor in case any of them had left anything outside.
"Mama! Nneka o!" I yelled more loudly and at that same time, the rain increased, pouring heavily. I assumed my mother and my sister must be in a deep sleep, and I didn't have enough time to go into their rooms to wake them as the rain was getting heavier, so I turned, and following the long corridor, I dashed out of the house to salvage my clothes from the backyard.
Our compound was a large one and getting to the backyard would take a little while, so I walked faster. I could hear the patter of rain dropping to the ground from the zinc roof.
Despite the little light produced by the starved moon, I fumbled on my steps as the whole place was dingy, making it hard for me to see.
I regretted not bringing a torch with me.
I was already close to the place where my clothes were hung in the backyard when I stumbled, startled by the sight before me.
My fathēr who had been buried a month ago sat under the mango tree in our compound, clad in the white singlet he often wore when he was alive. He was silent and still as the rain sprinkled down on him, as the heavy wind caressed his beards. The only thing about him that moved was his eyes which shone bright like that of a security dog.
I wiped at my eyes with both hands, to make sure that I wasn't dreaming, and when I removed them, he was still there, sitting under the rain. The only that has changed was his eyes – they were now staring directly at me.
I didn't know when the scream left my mouth as I shrieked, calling on my mother and my sister to come to my aid.
I turned and fled, not minding that my clothes were still outside and wet. As I scampered away, I glanced over my shoulder to see that my dēad father was still watching me from where he sat.
Immediately I reached the corridor, I hurried into the first room that I saw which happened to be mine.
Breathing harshly like a child forcing out hard f***s, I rushed to the windows and slid the curtains close before reaching to tune up the wick of my oil lamp, watching the flame illuminate brighter, chasing away all the shadows and dark corners of my room.
Still trembling with fright, I turned to return on the bed, but I was startled yet again by what I saw on the bed.
There on the bed, still laying down, face white and body cold, was me, pills of drugs littered around me.
I realized then that I was watching my own body from where I stood.
I realized that I had diēd the previous night out of drug overdose after I took some drugs to help me curb the depression of losing my father.
I realized that I was able to see my dēad father because I myself had diēd, and it was my spirit that had been experiencing everything.
It finally made sense why my mother and sister couldn't hear me calling them very loudly.
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