Slowly On the Ice

Enitan was the fifth friend to die in our circle in the last five weeks. The previous weeks had come with their complexities and kept us on edge. Enitan, like her name implied, was a child of history. The only child that Eledumare allowed to stay with her mother, who, after six miscarriages, never gave up on her quest for a child. At just seventeen, “Eni”, as we fondly called her, was an articulate storyteller. She often told the story surrounding her birth with eyes beaming so brightly and her smile so wide, revealing her diamond-studded braces made to correct the friction her love for chocolates had caused. We could all tell this made her feel special like she had a greater destiny than all the children that went away. I often listened with amazement and eyes focused on her braces as she spoke, trying to reconcile her parents’ bizarre belief in traditionalism and their equally strong faith in the Catholic Church.

Oakland International School Akure had brought us all closer. It was a prestigious school for its academic reputation and entertaining people from all walks of life. Jamal was the first friend I made. That sunny afternoon, just as dad’s clumsy driver had sped off hastily to go pick mum up from the airport, leaving ten years old me in front of the school gate to cater for myself. Jamal's parents offered to help me settle in and provide all the parental guidance I needed in filling our hostel forms. He flashed a shy smile at me, and it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Jamal wasn't like the regular friends I had in primary school. He was intentional, caring and mature for his age. His brown hair complemented his golden-brown eyes, making him look like one of the characters from one of Enid Blyton’s novels dad always brought back from one of his travels. Even though I was six months older than him, he always felt protective of me, and I felt safe around him.

Jamal introduced me to Chiasoka, and she insisted I referred to her by her nickname “Soki”. She lived just a stone’s throw away from Jamal in the big cream house that stood gallantly in their estate. So it was only natural that we became friends too. She laughed just like Jamal did, and I wondered if it was something they learnt, something they shared in the estate. She was a sight for sore eyes, and she rubbed it all on our faces. Jite and Noja were the quick-witted twins that everyone wanted to associate themselves with. We had run into them in the dining hall when Soki and I were setting our cutlery for lunch. They had gotten into an argument with the dining perfect and Soki, being the sharp mouthed one, went in to fight for them. This act alone endeared them to us, and they joined our circle. Then came Feyisayo, who we nicknamed ‘Shy Sayo” for obvious reasons. For someone so shy, Feyisayo was lewd. She was that friend every boy in the class would brag about touching her big breasts under the mango tree or raising her skirt near the matron's house.

Now, all that had changed. It felt like the sword of Damocles was hanging over our heads, and we couldn't find a happy place. I was concerned about Jamal. It was just the two of us left. Now that the news of Eni’s demise had reached our classmates, I wondered how hurt he was. He was in love with Eni. I had seen the love notes they both shared.

It’s been three days since the announcement was made on the television about Jamal's demise. The dinner barely passed through my throat that night. I wondered which felt worse, the taste of the brown rolls of cinnamon bread or the pity stares mum and dad shot at me. They knew the special bond we shared. I reached out for the glass of water just across my plate, gulping it down in a quest to quench the raging fire building up in my chest, and as it seeped through me, the tears came, then rage followed afterwards.

Mum watched me like a delicate flower about to wither if let out of sight. She was thankful the school prolonged our holiday and kept me home. Mum was perfect. Her light brown eyes and kohl black hair sat perfectly on her oval-shaped face. Her slender tummy was a constant reminder that the womb carried just me. She was prim and proper. She shot an evil eye to those who called her ‘Mummy Susan’ and reprimanded those who shouted “Iya Sussy” in thick Yoruba accents across the street.

That night, as she slept beside me, a ritual she began ever since the twins first went missing, I couldn’t help but feel hate and despise for my perfect mother. So perfect she was that she didn’t take note the first day I came home crying when Jamal asked Enitan to be his girlfriend or the envy I had in my eyes for Chiasoka and her flawless beauty. She didn’t recall the nights I spent pleading with her to let me change schools because my friends called me “blackie". They said my complexion stained their white uniforms and my teeth were so big they didn't let my mouth close. That's why my decision had been easy.

I had help from my Cousin, David, who had delved fully into the life of crime after being expelled from the University for Cultism and rioting. Although he was ostracized from the family, he knew he could count on me whenever he needed cash. He didn’t judge me when I told him why I wanted them dead. He didn't call me a seventeen-year-old murderer. But now, my heart bleeds for Jamal. Although David swears he didn’t add his name to the list, I wonder who did.

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