My name is Adediran Ogundipe Samuel, I’m twenty-seven years old, I’m from Ilesha, Ilesha East LG, Osun State. I’m six feet and four inches tall, a student of Ladoke Akintola University popularly known as LAUTECH, I am studying Urban and Regional Planning (URP), I was in three hundred levels (300L) when I met Mariam and here is the entirety of my story.
It was in the year two thousand and eighteen (2018), the Eid-Il-Kabeer festival as my Muslim friends would call it was fast approaching but I personally know it as Iléya. I’ve never been to Iwo, I only often hear of the town from my friends who hail from the town and I have only had the impression of the religious commitment of its people. Its deep-rooted cultured children and a wild range of intelligent individuals who are students in my school.
It was about two days away from the Iléya festival, I was still in school, I didn’t want to go to Ilesha because I felt there was nothing new to me about the place anymore. I have lived in that city since I had my first breath and I am 27 years old now. I’ve never travelled anywhere else except for Ogbomoso where I was studying so this time. I wanted to take a different dimension of spending my time – I wanted to experience an adventure of my own.
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I followed Abdul-Hamid Bankole Mahmud aka BamKo, a friend and a roommate right from my first semester in two hundred levels. A mild guy and very handsome, not as much as tall as I was but he was well above six feet.
We arrived at Iwo a day to the Iléya festive at the brim of the night, and the first impression of this town was mesmerizing. A statue of two soldiers was placed in the centre of a roundabout. The area was overwhelming with people arriving from different places, beautiful people appearing from different angles and the noise added to my escapism – a sudden surge of insouciance flushed through me for a reason I haven’t been able to figure out till today.
We got to BamKo’s parents’ house, a great location in a very surprisingly quiet environment. A newly developed community in the heart of Òkè Afo around Dharu Al-Hijira crescent as the place was used to call. We alighted the motorcycle, showed ourselves to BamKo’s room, his siblings are yet to sleep and it was already past 12:00 AM in the morning. I was very tired, Bamko seemed to still have some calories left to burn. I asked to be shown to the bathroom and was shown to one in the beautiful amazingly architectured four bedrooms duplex. 12:40 AM, I was in bed overhearing the prattle of BamKo’s siblings with their brother and some perhaps cousins and nieces until I faded off.
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It was the “Salam alykhum warahmotullah wabarakatuh, àkú ọdún óò, èmi ó ṣe púpò rẹ láyé óò,” from the neighbours that woke me up the next morning, it was 10:23 AM, BamKo was already dressed in his Jalabiya, his sister was looking angelic in their deep dark Khimar and their beautiful fair completion faces were shining as though they were specially polished by some Arabian glacier. I am a devoted Christian but I cherished these ladies, the attire has a combination of modesty and fashion – I loved what I saw.
BamKo was on a call with a friend from LAUTECH who also hails from Iwo, the local internationally known street boy, the only real Àjàgun himself from Àjàgunlàse, bàbà for the girls, his name was Ogunsola Qodri Alani. He was not very handsome like BamKo but he was way richer than the both of us combined. He was five feet three inches tall, body built like an athlete, he has an amazingly expensive taste of clothes and shoes, he’s making money like he has a machine that mints money; “Maga mi ni láti sànwó mí,” he would always say.
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We would be having a get-together party tomorrow and they’re preparing for all the needed. I was still in bed and BamKo’s family’s neighbours won’t let me have the morning for the “Salam Alaykum warahmotullah wabarakatuh, àkú ọdún óò, èmi ó ṣe púpò rẹ láyé óò,” was so loud, concurrent and became unbearable for me.
I sluggishly walked out to the living room where it looked like the number of people in the house when I came in yesterday had gone four times higher in number, “ẹkàro Sir, ẹkàro ma,” I prostrate, “Káàrọ ọkọ mi, eku irin àná, ṣe ó réra?” BamKo’s mom asked, “rárá ma,” I replied and moved out where I had a first experience of how it was like to celebrate Iléya with a Muslim family. It was like I was at home during Christmas – every single lady and woman had something to do from cooking to washing the dishes and the males were just prattling.
To Be Continued.
About The Writer
Olamide Yakub Lateef is 26 years old. I am Yoruba, I’m 5ft5 tall and I hail from Osun State and I’m an indigene of Iwo. I am an undergraduate student majoring in computer science at the online University of the People, CA, USA. I’m a lover of writing, I’m a poet and I love to take tasks the same reason I’m into programming.
I started conscious writing when I was a little above sixteen years old; that was when I first wrote my first poem. I’ve been writing since then, I’ve written many unpublished poems, short articles and few proses. I love to write because it’s the easiest way for me to relax after I might have written a few lines of codes in programming and by telling stories I feel like I’m building my very own universe.
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