I Grew.

I grew up with girls, fully aware that I wasn’t one of them, you see, mum and dad were very busy, literally, always at opposite ends of the country. I still ask myself, what would have happened if grandma and grandpa weren’t alive? I probably would have been adopted; I scribbled that in my jotter at age 7.

My mum’s sisters were like super heroes; they would sit in front of mirror and pull out their purses, sticking colored brushes in their faces for minutes, the transformation was alarming, I would enter their rooms and find their heads replaced (well I used to think so), so beautifully painted that my drawing book couldn’t compare, the hair around their eyes would have magically extended looking like the doll for girls in the shop around the corner beside the woman that sells fried yam.

I could almost hear their eyes click when they blinked.

Although I knew I liked to play football and listen to the man I used to call puff-puff daddy on TV then, I wouldn’t miss my aunties’ super-hero transformations for the world.

My friends never listened to me anymore; I guess they were bored with my super hero transformation stories.

I liked having stories to tell but having people to listen became harder by the day.

One time, I left the house to go and play with my friends on the field, there were these girls that lived down the building and they would sit together on the balcony and watch me walk out of the house, I didn’t know we would be friends that day until my friends refused to let me play football with them.

I grew quieter as the days went by, finding company with the girls on the balcony. the view was amazing and they also had stories about their aunties superhero transformations.

We would literally talk for hours, sitting there till our parents came back, in my case; grandparents. They showed me the games they’d always play among themselves, I knew it was weird but I found it fascinating, I mean; how else would I pass the time.

The dry season came and it was very cold, the last time I played football, I remembered having a sharp pain in my chest, and the dust seemed so much and I didn’t know what to do.

There was this little perfume I had then, I used to press in my mouth and the pain in my chest would go away, it was like magic, but on that day I couldn’t find it.

I remember waking up in the hospital and, my mum was there and grandma too. The doctor was showing them a picture of a plastic man that had been cut open and I could see his skeleton and some bags in his chest just before I went back to sleep.

The next day, my grandmother told me that I couldn’t go out to play to play ball anymore. She wrapped me up in thick sweaters and I found myself and the girls on the balcony looking alike, our bodies covered from head to toe.

But there was always something deeper that made them girls and I a boy.

That same week my mother came to see me then I think I asked a her a question that I’ve always wanted to.

“Who is my real mummy, you or grandma?”

 She looked at me strangely like I had something funny on my face.

That afternoon, I overheard her taking with my grandma, I sat outside the door, mum sounded like she had a running nose.

The girls on the balcony and I were starting a new round of a game they called Ten-Ten, we would through  our legs in the air and clap our hands, my grandma came and called me, I went to the room and saw my bags packed.

I asked her where we were going and she told me that I would be spending the holidays with my mum and she would soon be here to pick me.

A new house and a new school later.

I found myself living with my mum and dad now, my new school is really nice, I like my class teacher too, everything was moving was going fine until people started to treat me differently.

You see; the pain in my chest is more frequent now, and my mum explained to me that my magic perfume is called an inhaler.

I still can’t play football with my mates. I’ve learned to stay alone in class during break time and the girls are there to keep me company, we share long stories and they even know how to play ten-ten.

The boys in my class call me boy-girl because I refuse to play with them and I feel explaining my reason to them is unnecessary because they say im a lazy boy and only give excuses.

In my new estate, there are a lot of games and, children from other houses come out and play catcher running all around the houses and open road in the estate.

I’ve always kept what my mummy told me in my mind, I didn’t want to play rough.

I came out one day to play with the other children but they did not listen to me when I told them about my favorite cartoons and how nice the girls in class are.

Most times, it would turn into argument that ended with me telling them that I am a boy and not a girl that they called me all the time.

We had inter-house sport in school and I really wanted to participate and show them that I am a boy and I can do what they do too, so I told myn class teacher that I can’t play football but I would run for my class.

Uncle I won the first race and the second one.

See, I won this medal, my mummy said its gold, I won it yesterday.

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I have been talking Tobi, a very brilliant young boy who I met in the recuperating ward in the hospital breathing with the aid of a thin oxygen pipe running beneath his nose.

I came to the hospital today, not because I was ill, I literally was bored and I often pay charity visits to the hospital (and yes I do these things).

I walked into the ward to find this boy with a bald calling out to me.

“uncle,uncle!! Come let me tell you something” and so Tobi told me the story I just narrated in what seemed like the most engaging two hours of my life.

“Uncle” he continued “When I woke up this morning, I had pains my chest my, so my mummy brought me to the hospital. I will be fine tomorrow and I will go back to school on Tuesday, my mummy said that I will leave the hospital tomorrow evening so I can do my birthday party at home, uncle I’m going to be thirteen tomorrow”

I looked at my wrist watch and it was thirty minutes past six. I told Tobi I had to go and promised to bring him a gift the next day.

His eyes lit-up and he screamed thank you so loud I was almost embarrassed. I hugged him and his rubbed his shinny bald head so close to my shoulder and I said my good-bye.

You see, I have soft spot for kids, but on this day, I’ve come to see just how much there can be behind the mind of every child, Tobi had grown so dear to me within a very short time.

As I walked out of the ward, he called out to me “UNCLE!!, what is your name?”

I turned back to him and smiled, “my name is Biodun” I replied.

I walked on out into hall way leading away from the ward, I found a woman crying beside the doctor and she seemed to be in so much pain.

‘Too much for one day” I said to myself, wondering what the doctor must have said to her and also thinking of little Tobis’ fight to prove himself.

Monday came and while I was at work I occupied my mind thinking of the gift I would get for my new friend Tobi. I had to close early so I could meet him before he left the hospital.

I opened the door of the ward singing ‘happy birthday Tobi” as I walked over to meet an empty bed.

I couldn’t ask the sleeping patient close-by if Tobi had checked out. The nurse came in shortly to wheel away the oxygen tank; I walked up to meet her and I asked about the boy that used the oxygen tank, she answered me as we both walked out of the ward.

I briefly saw the same woman I met on my way out of the hospital yesterday crying bitterly again, only a lot more this time.

The nurse, still standing there as I adjusted the parcel I had in my hand, spoke in a  calm tone “it’s a pity, he lost his battle to cancer today”

I dismissed her claim by referring to the boy that had Asthma aided by the oxygen tank.

“YES!” she insisted, “he had cancer of the lungs” and she hurriedly walked away.

I turned back in shock, almost losing balance and grip of the parcel I had in my hand. The crying lady came clearly to view as she was being comforted by her friend who said to her; “ It is okay mummy Tobi, he is in a better place”.

 Biodun Laaro