How can I forget? It's been years now, but how can I possibly forget, the anguish... the pain.
IMAGINE
An experience marred with such sorrow, an experience which offers you the poisoned cup of immortal grief to drink from, and causes you to agonize over the everlasting impression in your stomach; such was my pitiable state the very first time I saw my dad cry.... I felt my heart reduced to a million pieces, like a shattered glass.
SILENCE
The drive to the cemetery was a silent one. Dad had opted against walking , he wanted to be in the car; I dont know why but I joined him. Our vehicle was the last in the convoy, we were followed by a long train of people, who were either very sober looking, or crying. I turned to dad. His dark shirt was in sharp contrast to his light face. I also noticed his eyes, though he hadn't shed a tear, but I saw so much sorrow and pain in his eyes. Those eyes that usually unveiled vigour and displayed happiness, were lost in sorrow. I could not bear to see dad in such state, so I turned my face away. The vigour in dad's eyes wasn't the only thing that was absent; the ever present reflection of the laughter we almost always shared was gone. It had been replaced by dead silence, such silence that whispered sorrow in our ears.
TEARS
When we got to the cemetery, I turned to dad for only the second time - I had consciously avoided looking at him - dad's eyes were red, the kind of eyes you saw in monster movies. But this was no monster.This was my dad, my hero, my champion. Then I saw them, the tears. They flowed freely down to his cheeks, and I saw his lips take the arc shape. My dad was crying like a baby! Oh my! I felt a sharp knife pierced through my heart. Never had I seen him shed a tear.
TRADITION
"Sacrilege"!! "Abomination"!! My uncle's effeminate voice rang from the side window.
"Kenechukwu, what are you doing?" He asked my dad. "Have you forgotten that it is against our tradition for an Okpala to show his tears? Wipe your tears Kene, those tears should stay hidden!"
At this point, I could no longer hold it. I do not know what came over me that instant, but I'm happy it did.
"To hell with tradition uncle, to hell with tradition!" I saw the shock in uncle Nnamdi's eyes, he wasn't expecting it.
"why should he hide his tears"? I continued. I could feel different kinds of emotions flooding through me.
"where was tradition when you needed money for your little daughter's operation?"
Uncle Nnamdi kept mute!
"she died because of lack of medical care, what did tradition do uncle, tell me!"
He blinked several times trying to hold back the tears, but his eyes failed him. Uncle's tears drew fine lines across his face.
" My father is about to bury his wife and three children, at the same time.... "
Then I turned my face to dad. Our eyes met for the first time since the accident.
"....biko, let him weep".