A tale from the distant past, By Femi Fani-Kayode
I sit in my study silently: head-bowed, pensive and all alone on a pitch black, cold and wet December night sometime in the distant past. It is after midnight, the guard dogs are on the prowl and have long been released, the wind is blowing fiercely and it is pouring with rain outside. What a fearful and stormy night this is: it feels as if the elemental forces have unleashed their full power against we mortals and all the occupants of the earth. Such a sad, angry and lonely night.
Everyone in the house is fast asleep except me. I sit back, meditate and reflect. My sadness almost overwhelms me as I think of the ugly events of the last few weeks and months. I ask myself, who was right and who was wrong? Where did the two of us go so badly wrong that we cannot even talk again or care to find out how one another are faring? Where did all the suspicion, bitterness and hurt suddenly spring from?
Where did it all start and when did our love suddenly end? Is it possible for love to turn to such deep hatred overnight? Can three years of love, friendship, fellowship, special moments and trust be wiped away by three months of doubt, betrayal, acrimony, deceit and a frenzy of blind rage, harsh words and mutual suspicion. All these thoughts race through my mind as the tears silently run down my cheeks on this lonely and stormy night.
My soul is deeply wounded and my spirit weeps and groans with pain. In truth my heart has been broken. Yes I too can talk about “this heart of mine”. I too have a heart just like the one she often writes about in her short yet beautiful prose. And this heart of mine has been shattered into a thousand pieces.
All appears to be lost and there seems to be no longer any reason to live. Then suddenly and out of the blue I remember St. Barts. That distant West Indian island where it all began many years ago. I remember the white sands, the deep blue sea, the peaceful and empty beaches where no other soul could be heard or seen for many miles around. I remember the thousand stars that lit up the night, the bright and warm morning sun, the gentle breeze of the summer wind and the starch-white seagulls hovering to and fro: that was the beautiful paradise called St. Barts.
It was our island. It existed for just her and I. I remember the ecstasy that we both shared there. I remember the levels of passion that we attained. I remember how our souls touched with orgasmic pleasure. I remember that refreshing “La Vie En Rose” smile from this goddess of the Delta and this God-sent child. That smile that filled me with joy and made me throw back my head and roar with laughter. She brought passion, hope, strength and inspiration into my life. She ushered in a refreshing wave of blissful love and proved to me that I had every reason to live.
We made love on that beach over and over again and the light blue sky, the deep blue sea, the beautiful white sand, the twinkling stars and the bright yellow sun of St. Barts bore witness to our conjugal nights and our sacred union. This is a memory that I shall never forget and it is one that I shall cherish till the day that I die. The Lord may take La Vie En Rose away from me but He will never take away the joyous memories of our time together in St. Barts. Those memories alone wipe away the misery of this sad, lonely and stormy night.
Those memories alone are the evidence of the love that we once shared. Those memories alone are what shall give me strength and keep me going until I find love again. Those memories alone are what will sustain me through the darkest hours of each lonely night. Those memories alone will give me the courage to move on and live my life without La Vie En Rose by my side. I love you, O God sent child. I always will. And one day we shall return to St. Barts and have one more night of making love on that beautiful beach under the light of the moon and a thousand stars.
One day we shall return to our island and enjoy one last night of unrestrained pleasure and passion where our bodies, souls and spirits will be as one again. One day we shall return to our dream and on that day we shall look into each others eyes and once again roar with laughter as if we had no care in the world and as if there were no tomorrow. I thank God for the time we shared at St. Barts and I thank Him for the three beautiful, tumultuous, tempestuous and delightful years that I spent with La Vie En Rose. She was vivacious, fresh and effervescent. She had more passion and drive than anyone that I had ever met. For her the sky was the limit and no one could hold her down.
She was our very own Khaleesi, the Mother of Dragons. She was our Helen of Troy whom men could not resist. She was our Cleopatra for whom kings gave away their kingdoms. She was our very own Calypso for whom mortals gave away their liberty and souls. She was our Mermidan Queen, a princess of the southern seas and a goddess of the Delta. She was wild and free. She was indeed the God-sent child.