April 4 would have been your 36th birthday.
But you are holed up in the grave.
Mama’s last wish was for me to take care of you; her last born and she did emphasize it for me to your hearing.
After your graduation, I had to bring you from home to Calabar to see how I could assist you climb in a career you loved so much – Photography, and you were doing quite well until death cut you shot.
You came everyday by 6am to the Police detention facility to see me while I was detained. You came everyday to the prison to see me until you were hospitalized. On your hospital bed the night you transited, you kept talking to me on phone in prison and crying and begging to have me by your side. You said there is something you wanted to tell me face to face and I kept assuring you that I will beg the prison authorities and see if they can bring me under guard to see you the following morning but that was not to be.
Since your birthday, I wake up every morning with tears in my eyes. I couldn’t see your corpse. I have not seen your grave. But I am still wondering what you wanted to tell me. I keep thinking about the big dreams we shared and I keep feeling quilty that mama may be feeling I failed her wherever she is.
My jailers did not kill you. Far from it. Death did. But my jailers denied you my love which you craved so much in your dying moment. I may have been able to do something differently had I been free or so I think. But those that held me for no offence, rejoiced while you were lowered to the abyss and while I wept in solitude.
I won’t even give them the honor of mentioning their names. But I remember there was a time when our own father too was very powerful in Obudu where we all come from. To the best of my knowledge, I cannot remember him oppressing anyone to assume that it may be karma for me. Those who have so much power to jail me today were mere commoners who could barely eat well that time. Today the table has turned and they have power to jail the poor and outspoken.
Still I won’t be angry with anyone because anger is a very destructive emotion. Vengeance is unto the Lord. I have converted my anger to tears before God. My honest prayer to God, and I mean it, is to please keep those who jailed me in good health and stability of mind and grant them long life to also witness what God wants to do with ME. They will be astounded.
Lastly, I may have failed you my brother, but I won’t fail your young wife and two little children. They have become my burden and I am not new to carrying heavy burdens. The grace of the cosmic and plentitude of the universe will sustain us here until we also take our own leave from the queue of life.
Time will heal my wound and dry my tears.
Rest In Peace Agbibia.
Your brother, Agiabekong.
Citizen Agba Jalingo is the publisher of CrossRiverWatch and writes from Lagos State.
NOTE: Opinions expressed in this article are strictly attributable to the author, Agba Jalingo and do not represent the opinion of CrossRiverWatch or any other organization the author works for/with.
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