Frustration Killed The Cool Kid III

Frustration Killed The Cool Kid I & II: here and here

It is the essence of life, isn’t it?, death. We all have the propensity to sleep and never wake up, it is our most common bond besides love. This was perhaps the most pivotal lesson I learnt from my friend, Debola.

“Fiyin, I am going to die eventually, so why the heck not?”
“Why the heck not what?”
“Why the heck shouldn’t I live a precarious life?”
“Not on this matter Debola, let’s not throw caution in the wind.”
“Where are your balls?”
“Where they ought to be.”
“Grow an extra pair bro.”
“Be careful Debola”
“I’m sorted bro, worst case scenario, I’ll die”

Debola decided to driving to okija shrine to see what the fuss was all about: detached limbs, severed heads and all. He wanted to write a cover story for the Guardian, and the infamous money-ritual harbour, okija shrine, was as juicy as it got.

“Bro, aren’t you going to come with me?”
“God and Amadioha forbid! I will stay here with Ada”
“That Igbo girl will ruin you”
“better a woman, than some village priest with evil powers”
“while you’re at it, grow four extra pairs”
“Hug me, incase this is the last time”
“Be safe”
“I’ll be fine but pray to your God for me”

We hugged tightly for two minutes, as if to say we would see again in eternity. I did not see Debola for a week and he was supposed to be gone for a few hours. Maybe his predilection for risk had finally caught up with him. I was worried, then I grew frustrated. Guilt absorbed me as I remembered the lyric to a song: “If you love somebody enough, you’ll follow wherever they go…”


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