I Remember

Moments in Time — A Medley

I remember my mom's smile on her first visit.

I remember going home after several years away—the smiles, the hugs, the dancing.

I remember my first trip outside Canada—Vegas. I remember thinking: What fun is there to have under all this heat?

I remember my first car. It took all of my savings to get it. I remember how proud I was.

I remember queuing up in front of BestBuy on a cold morning for the PlayStation 4 release.

I remember the “Drunk in Love” concert—my first concert. I worked in parking while Jay and Bey did their thing at the Winnipeg Bombers Stadium.

I remember my first Tim Hortons. I remember thinking: sweet nectar of the gods.

I remember my first day in Canada. Minus 32 degrees. I remember wondering: why does anyone live here?

I remember when calls were charged by the minute. Every call intentional and terse. But at night lovers lay awake burning the midnight oil, professing their love—because the calls were free.

I remember how much I used to look forward to midterm breaks.

I remember when being cool meant acting oblivious to excruciating pain; from belts, pelts, whips, kicks, konks, trunks, brass and cutlass.

I remember pant creases being all the rave.

I remember inspection day. And the angst that came with it.

I remember Biology. The hot biology teacher.

I remember English. I remember it for the same reason.

I remember social nights. Music (Love is Wicked - Brick & Lace) bouncing across hall speakers. Awkward lists and dares being read. Juniors glad to be there; Seniors in dimly lit corners, practicing biology behind stacked plastic white chairs.

I remember peddling contraband in the dorms. Half cup of garri, two cubes of sugar—50 Naira. A packet of Indomie noodles—30 Naira.

I remember calamine lotion. I remember being drenched in it, after being afflicted with chicken pox. I remember having to go home. I remember being happy to do so.

I remember Agege bread—soft, sumptuous, buttered Agege bread.

I remember food deals. “My Sunday night rice and chicken for your Friday night beans and garri”.

I remember computer lessons. I remember CorelDraw. I remember Marvis Beacon.

I remember Yahoo Messenger, the thrill of logging on to a new message.

I remember teaching my baby sister how to clap.

I remember when 30 Naira was a lot of money. A pack of biscuits, a sharpener, sweets, and there’ll still be leftover change.

I remember feeling sad when we had to kill the chicken. I remember eating said chicken despite my sadness.

I remember bedtime stories on hard mats under starry nights. Stories of tortoise and his many escapades. I always wanted more.

I remember when all it took was holding hands; not kisses, not coitus, but the warmth of another’s hands mangled awkwardly with mine to say, “I fuck with you”.

I remember Saturday morning cartoons.

I remember my first crush. Puff-puff hair, a beautiful smile and phenomenal handwriting.

I remember Ali and Simbi.

I remember running in circles. Running round the school building a few times before tossing my fallen tooth on the zinc roof.

I remember when Mum and Dad stood like giants.

I remember running the sewing machine needle across my finger, just to see what would happen.

I remember riding Okada(bike) through the sandstorms of Kaduna. Save for my eyes, everything was covered in sand.

I remember.

I remember.

I remember.