WHEN THE SUN SETS

2006 (Present Day)

Enugu State

Obumneke, on that rainy November morning, your mind does the same dance once again.

You know that dance pretty well...

The one where you remember being 14, young and happy at a time when the world around you was literally crumbling.

You are standing under the udala tree where your elder sister, Chisom, used to play the Iyo game until her arms ached; but as you look at the vast grassland ahead, you miss the now-empty space where Papa's mud house used to be.

It had been a sorry excuse of a house, but the old soul had raised the family for many years.

Suddenly, your thoughts cut off mid-way. You touch your cheek to find a drop of moisture lying there. In shock, you look up at the dark sky that had suddenly turned dewy with impending rain.

When did this happen?, you wonder.

Had it been when you'd stood for the past 20 minutes reminiscing? Reliving those unforgettable moments and regretting the ones that never happened? You look up at the sky again, awaiting answers. And just when you finally give up and decide to leave, a figure steps into the silhouette of the clear forest.

Your heart skips a beat when the figure slowly steps into the light.

Then, like a train wreck about to happen, Echezona stands right beside you. You take a deep breath to steady your mind, turn around slowly, and just like that, all the memories come rushing back.

---

1970—The Past.

The first day you saw him, Echezona was a 16 year old boy who had just lost his two parents to the bombing going on in Abagana. The Biafran war was at its peak with food and water becoming a regular rarity for the igbos. Nevertheless, Papa had still brought Eche into the house.

As Eche walked in, Papa merely grumbled to everyone that there was a new "nwoke" in the house and you all should "take care of him”. While Chisom rolled her eyes and stomped her feet against his decision, your inquisitive eyes merely took in Eche's torn "Ghana Must Go" bag and his battered "Oliver De Coque" shirt.

You curiously walked up to him, ignored his stunned look and said, "Welcome to your new house".

And those words began everything.

Over the next few weeks, Eche became your safe house and you became his. When the disaster the war brought slowly wiped the fiery look on Papa's face and made the whole house desolate, Eche took your hand in his own one day and led you to a forest behind the house.

That day, he looked into your confused eyes and whispered, "this can be our secret. We can come out here to play without papa and mama knowing". You had simply laughed, muffled his hair and said okay.

That forest shade always brought back myriads of memories for you…

The many times you and Eche spent hiding behind the Udala trees whenever the bombings were going on; the very first time Eche held your cheek and kissed you so much you never wanted to let go—and finally, a few months towards the end of the war, that unforgettable moment when Biafran soldiers arrived to forcefully abduct him into the army.

To this day, you still remember your heart-wrenching screams as those soldiers took him away.

You remember how mama had to hold you down to stop you from skyrocketing into the truck.

You remember the moment Eche's eyes locked with yours and you'd wanted so badly to say the three words more than anything, but his soulless eyes said it all...

"I love you".

---

Over the years, you've constantly come across this phrase:

Childhood love is fickle. It literally means nothing.

Every single time you've heard it, you've wanted to yell and say it was all a lie.

The void of emptiness you felt for days after Eche's abduction hadn't been nothing. Those moments when you'd stood and waited in that forest shade for his return had not been nothing.

And when he finally returned after Biafra ceased to exist, clad in a horrifying uniform and looking like he'd been through hell and back, you'd cried so hard for the boy he once was and would never be again.

On that day, he held your hand and said softly:

"Obum, I have to leave this place. I am no longer the Eche I was before. I need to figure out a new life for me. But let's promise each other that no matter where life takes us, we must meet in this same forest shade every year. E nu go?".

You'd wanted to scream and tear him apart. How could he even dream of leaving you when he could find himself right here with you and Papa, Mama and Chisom?.

But you did not say anything. Instead, you smiled through the tears, hugged him tight and watched him leave your life.

---

Present Day.

You've often asked yourself:

Would Eche have stayed if I'd asked him to?. If I had insisted, would we have actually had a chance together now 35 years later?.

As you gaze into his smiling face filled with warmth and fatigue, you want to tell him that the past 35 years of your life being another man's wife have felt incomplete to you.

You want to tell him that these annual visits at the forest glade you now owned always left you tired and wanting more. You are already 50 years old, and yet that dance of love and hate you had for him was one whose tune you have tired of.

Worry clogs your throat because you also want to ask him if he is finally getting better with his Lung Cancer treatment, a sweet gift from those horrible months spent in the Biafran camp.

But...just like countless other times when insecurity, self-doubt and fear stopped those life-changing questions from leaving your lips, you simply smile painfully, hug him playfully and say—

"Welcome home, Eche".