•What They Will Miss About Late Mrs. FATIMAH BAMIGBETAN
MY FLOWER WILTS
It is in the Harmattan, a season when the dry, dusty wind dehydrates man and nature that the Flower God gave me to nurture and nourish wilt into the lifeless remains of an energetic, dynamic and loving soulmate.
Saturday, November 20 was very bad for us. Not even the prick of a pin triggered her reflex, no pinch picked pain, her eyes looked nowhere and at no one in particular. The doctors and nurses described the situation as being in a coma and assured that it was not unusual for patients to exit and rejoin the living in two, three days. Someone had a case of a coma that lasted 60 days!
I needed to understand the coma. So I googled how to get out of the coma, picking a few tricks that could work and revive my wife. Like arranging familiar voices or playing her favourite music. Just anything that could reset the brain from shutdown to exit mode. Pastors and prophets responded to my phone calls and, with the phone placed on her ear, prayed vigorously for the turn- around. Pastor Okunade of the Eternal Joy Parish of the Redeemed Christian Church of God, Ejigbo where she was the Women Leader, prayed. Pastor Shola of the Mountain of Fire & Miracles prayed. Prophet Akinola Ehimisan prayed, Pastor Taiwo prayed. Pa Saheed Shittu, who has adopted us as his children also prayed.
When the first rays of Sunday, November 21, hit her face, miracles began to happen. She moved her pupils. She raised her legs, arms and hands and her breathing improved. She moved her lips in response to conversations. She was even able to drink a little water.
Another 24 hours, we felt, we should have her back.
The victory was pyrrhic. By 10.30pm, she was gone.
Since that tragic moment, I have tried to rewind to July 17, 1990, when I met Fatty at her friend, Louisa’s birthday party. I was looking for a wife, somebody younger than me to mould into a life partner through a courtship that would enable us to understand each other and live together forever. When I saw the dark, busty lady with a pretty face and a nice set of teeth, I knew it was my bus stop. I didn’t have to look any further.
When she gave me her ears, I told her I wanted her to be my wife. She believed I was joking and was amused by what she felt was my sense of humour. She gave me the wrong address, believing that I won’t even bother to follow up. I proved her wrong and found my way to her home.
For days, weeks, months after that encounter, I had just two jobs: working in the day and spending time with her in the evening. I was ready to give any rival the stiffest competition possible.
Considering the 8-year gap, it was only logical that I became a friend and mentor, coach and adviser as I gained her trust and affection and became her manfriend. I was ready to do everything it required to achieve my intention to spend all my life with her as my wife. On December 26, 1998, we unwrapped our own box by tying the nuptial knots till death do us part. She was at the Obafemi Awolowo University pursuing a Bachelor’s degree in English. It could have been a convenient excuse for any uncommitted partner but Fatimah was so faithful to our love that she chose to be mine forever. I can never forget that. I will always be grateful for the sacrifice. Our first child, Omokorede, was born while she was concluding her studies. She was the unmatriculated student who attended classes with her mum, The only student who took lectures but was not required to write an examination. Although we took advantage of the fact that my mum lived in Ife and we thank God for blessing us with Olumide in May 2003 and Bamikole in November 2005. We teased each other about forming a kids’ quartet with another baby girl but events rendered it unachievable. Like all mothers, Fatima doted on her kids, prepared them for school and was active in the parents/teachers associations of all the schools her children attended.
When they got to secondary school, she made them salivate on their visiting days with her chicken stew and basmati rice then sternly urged the lesson teachers not to spare them if they lagged behind in class.
Quiet and gentle mostly indoors, the sociable elements of Fatty came alive at social functions dominated by her friends and acquaintances and it always marvels to watch the transition from the recluse to the excited fun lover. Her accomplices in this act are Elejigbo, her tailor of two decades and Ogor, her stylist of over a decade.
Between the two, new fashion styles that help package my wife for the social circuit are executed before her make-up artist finishes the beautification so well that, often, I give God the glory for giving me a perfect combination of brain and beauty.
Fatty liked to throw surprises. On my 55th birthday, I was surprised when she invited me on a trip to the United Kingdom to mark my birthday. She had saved money for the trip to show her love and gratitude for the love we shared through the years. Unfortunately, I could not make the trip due to official reasons. I can’t forget that.
Although Fatty didn’t play politics, she developed analytical skills for strategising to win and was my private adviser. There was a day I addressed a gathering in support of a big aspirant. It was shown on television. As soon as I got home, Fatty wasted no time in telling me that I had committed a blunder and should expect my comeuppance. I made it look like she didn’t have all the facts, then retired to my thought and saw how right she was. It came to pass!
Vacation was one of the bonding strategies of our union. Influenced by my exposure in reporting the tourism industry, we recognized the importance of local tourism and included it in our courtship. Our targets were new five-star hotels. We enjoyed our weekends in many of them as we compared notes on their catering, beds and customer service. Then, as the kids came, we expanded to the West African coast, touring Cotonou, Lome and Accra. To organise our trips better, we joined the Hemmingway Travel Club in its earlier days. Over the years, we’ve done African American and European capitals including Cape Town, Nairobi, Masai Mara (also in Kenya), London, DC, Dubai, Houston, Dallas, Jacksonville etc.
Fatima looked forward to these trips and the fact that we give each other and the children the attention that their schooling and our own work didn’t achieve. We felt it also gave the children the opportunity to experience diversity among people and places and a sense of the global community they have to deal with.
Many of our close friends and relatives have wondered I why and how they didn’t know we were carrying such a huge burden alone. I think it was the consequence of the system we set up over the years not to admit third parties into our quarrels or “private” matters except on the principle of the need to know. It helped us to keep our secrets secret and wire a close-knit unit where everyone felt a sense of belonging and little need to look outside the system for solutions. We are really sorry that it affected our external relations and now that the five-man team has been reduced by fate to four, we hope to reposition our unit within the web of many networks that gave us succour in our hour of grief.
To Fatimah, I thank God for allowing me to know you and enjoy the grace of your undying love. I thank God for using me to show the world your immense potentials and talents in leadership and humility. I thank God who giveth and taketh. He gave me the flower, he knows why it had to wilt. He will give us the strength to carry on.
Rest in peace, no more head-Shattering migraine that pain relievers could not stop; no more chemotherapy that took the patient with the tumours; no more surgeries that took you under the knives again and again. You suffered enough, time to rest that body and let the soul on another journey of creation. It is well with your soul.
By Kehinde Bamigbetan (Husband)
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