I didn’t want to write this week. It wasn’t writer’s block or the occasional frustration from sounding like a broken record. It was not the feeling of speaking to the Nigeria wall, either.
Nothing of the sort.
It was the call, Ikeogu. The call from your sister, Ada, on Saturday night. The call shattered me and left me bereft.
I had not spoken with Ada since she returned to Aba from Abuja after she and your wife, Nneoma, took turns to nurse you before and after your return from the Obafemi Awolowo University Teaching Hospital in October.
When Ada first called on Saturday, I missed it. For some inexplicable reason, my mind began to roam as I dialed back.
I thought of that encounter on September 12 at the teaching hospital. You had just been operated upon the previous day and I came to Ile-Ife to see you with my friend, Niyi.
Ada met us at the entrance of the emergency ward. She looked exhausted but relieved. She said your surgery had gone well, but the anxiety leading up to it and…
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