Slow strips of light steal across my bedroom, the sun is rising. It sweeps gently over my room till it hovers over my bed a red blotch dominates the white spread. A pencil coated the same colour lies unobtrusive on it. Tell-tale signs of a story.
The light dances up now gently warming my feet,covered in white socks on a brown table. It moves upward now flowers on my patterned skirt caught in spectrum of colour. It is the only skirt I have. It will have to do although it is not white. The light pauses on my white singlet. The sun has finished rising. My entire room is caught in it’s light. My arms are coated in sweat as they reach up to fasten the rope on the fan. The rest I have already tied in a light noose around my neck. When I kick the table away it will tighten and I will dangle. A human sized pendant swaying dead.
My entire plan is hinged on the fact that my parents will not know until it is too late. That mother’s cloying smell of akara which she cooks every Saturday morning will hide the smell. Then I hear a lilting voice. I do not place it immediately but when I do I hurry. I hide the rope quickly. Throw a blanket over my bed and dash into the adjoining bathroom.
The voice humming has paused outside my door.
‘Open the door’
‘I’m in the toilet’
‘Your voice sounds cracked, is anything the matter’
I clear my throat as gently as I can before I answer.
‘Jesus loves you Bimbo, I have no idea why but I feel I should tell you that.’
She is quiet for a while and then she continues humming slowly till her voice recedes down the corridor. The tune Great is Thy Faithfulness swells into recognition.
She does not know, but I sit on that floor crying for a good twenty minutes. The wind plays with my hair.
For the first time in my 15 years of existence, the hymn clicks into my consciousness. I sing it gently to myself not caring that my voice is raspy. For once I understand; Jesus loves Me. No greater promise is there.
-Sometime in 2015.