By: Ayo Babalola.
Take sips of your favorite drink as you read.
In our 2nd year of school, there were many people who suddenly took attendance of campus fellowships serious.
They joined different service units and became visible. One of such was R*, and she was very well known in our campus fellowship drama unit.
At the time, drama skits were considered a cool way to win souls for Christ, so every fellowship organized a drama weekend or at least got invited to Minister elsewhere. It was yielding efforts, and every week souls were won and added to the fold.
My younger sister came to visit me on one of such weekends when my fellowship was hosting a drama weekend. She’s an artist and really knows her craft, so when she commended one of the actors and even wished to meet her afterwards, my respect for the said person increased. I mean, my sister is an actor of repute and should know best. Whether they did meet or not I do not remember. These things happened over 13 years ago.
A few weeks later on a Sunday morning, there was a dark cloud on the skies of our side of town. People gathered in clusters and whispered, circling their hands over their heads to ward off evil. I walked closer to a group and asked, empty bucket in one hand and curiosity plastered over my face, what had happened.
“It’s one girl in WCF o. She had an abortion and died” replied one of the girls.
I’d never seen the speaker and doubt that I ever saw her again after that, but bad news unite people really fast. Plus ours was a really small campus at the time and everybody knew everybody.
“Wait, what? That’s my fellowship o. Which girl?” I asked.
Everyone in the group stepped away from me quietly. Perhaps there was something in our fellowship that was contagious and they didn’t want to be infected.
I still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of it, so I inched closer.
“Which girl abeg?” I asked again.
“You will know her na. One short girl like this” the speaker described, placing her hand parallel to the ground a little above 5 feet, “and she is a student of ELS. She’s even in the drama department.”
Okay. I began to run everyone I knew that was in the drama department through an exclusion criteria.
Definitely not male. So all brothers were off the list.
Dark skinned. So, that excluded Shade, the fair skinned and obnoxiously rude auntie that wanted us to greet her just because she had been present at Methuselah’s birth.
Short. Like, this short. That excluded a few people who were average in height.
ELS. I knew many girls in ELS because in year 1 we’d taken a few classes together.
I ran them all through a mental sieve and was left with one.
‘R?’ I said her name out loud.
“Yes, R.” One of the ladies confirmed. I dropped my bucket and sat on it, clapping my hands and whistling loudly.
No way!!!
Were they seriously saying death had taken her, like death death, the final occurrence? Like we weren’t going to ever see her again on this side of eternity?
Unfortunately, yes, as posters of her obituary confirmed a few days later.
The gist was that babe had gotten pregnant and had an abortion, then began to bleed and was in severe pains. She was crying so hard her roommate was begging her to share what was wrong with her but she didn’t say anything, just kept on crying. Her roommate got angry and told her that if she didn’t want to share what was wrong with her then it was her business but she would leave the room for her. I really wish she hadn’t left her. The R girl continued to bleed until she died, and it was in her pool of blood that she was found.
On that Sunday morning. Did she go back home while pleading for mercy? I hope so.
She was an only child.
Her mother was a nurse.
Her parents said they wouldn’t have minded a grandchild seeing as God gave them just the one and even after years of trying, they couldn’t have another. It was a needless death.
Every girl on campus suddenly became a Saint, judging and casting stones. One girl who was cohabiting with her campus boyfriend at the time declared that she’s surprised that R was sex.u.ally active. Ha!
That which she was hiding from her roommate who may have taken her to a proper hospital, cost her life and became public knowledge. I know 3 people after her who got pregnant in school but did not dare abort because her life became a lesson.
So what’s the moral of this gist?
I am Nigerian, not Hebrew 😁.
Born as Titilayo Oladimeji, I have been known by the nickname Titipetral for nearly two decades. I am a Financial Advisor at a reputable financial institution in Lagos, Nigeria, with over 10 years of experience in Financial Advisory and Credit Analysis. I am also an author and the founder of Titipetral Publishers, a duly registered publishing company.
In addition, I lead the Titipetral Empowerment and Development Network (TEDN), a duly registered philanthropic initiative dedicated to supporting underprivileged girls, boys, women, and men in the Alimosho area, Nigeria’s most populated local government, focusing on serving the underserved.
For inquiries or collaboration, you can reach me at Titilayooladimeji@titipetral.com or titipetral@gmail.com.