The winds

The harmattan winds had no rival, as they blew across the Lagos Highrise, sending people indoors, making them want to snuggle in layers of sheets till it betrayed them by ushering in the southern winds a little too early. But tonight, it blew as though with a purpose, like every shiver in every spine was a foreboding message that it had to imprint on the fractured minds of these mortals.

No one with sanity for a friend should have been out, but there were a few.

Njekwe Nnamdi, a man of stout stature, his body shaped like his skeleton could not hold the weight of his muscles, with a hairy chest and nipples we would rather not spend moments describing, stood on the balcony of his penthouse suite on the fifty-fifth floor as if daring the winds to freeze him if it could. A glass of sweet red in hand and sultry thoughts on his mind, he remembered Ninse his smallie, the woman he dreamed with, the woman for whom he had made all his fortune possible. He remembered her smallish frame, that ran through the streets of Enugu with hair flying in the wind and a mischievous smile playing on her lips. He remembered her teaching little children with snot in their noses and thumbs in their mouths, he remembered how she will call them special and giggle with a laugh no different from theirs. He remembered playing hide and seek with he and how she would hide in the tree while he searched the ground. He remembered how she would dangle upside down from a branch for him to plant kisses all over her face. He remembered that she would smile, but he could not remember why he had never thought the smile was a mask or why he never paid more attention, how she became more different with each passing worse than the last. He could not remember why he had not gone home earlier, why he had not held her hands tighter as she dangled off the window ledge; all recollection eluded his thoughts. He could not remember why she had hit his hands till he let go instead of holding on. He could not remember why she did not scream as she fell but screamed when had almost pulled her in. He could only remember her saying, “Wemdi, I’m sorry, but you have to let me go.”

Nnamdi shivered as the memories of old and the harmattan winds fought for his attention. Taking a sip of his wine, he watched the horizon now dotted with skyscrapers and twinkling lights of vehicles and buildings. The wind blew again, “Wemdi,” calling out in Ninse’s voice. He muttered, "I must be drunk so much that even the winds sound like Ninse."

"I should head back inside cause my doctor would have a heart attack if he knew what I was doing", he thought to himself as he walked toward the door that separated the terrace from his bedroom. “Wemdi,” the wind called out again and Ninse’s laugh tickled by as the it blew. He looked up by instinct as she was always hiding in the trees. “Down here,” the wind giggled again in Ninse’s voice. “Ninse, e kporo’m oge abuo,” he said with a heavy heart as he walked to the terrace railing and leaned over its edge. There she was smiling, “Wemdi, come join me,” she said mischievously as she stretched forth her hand. Nnamdi’s hand moved towards her; the memory of her fingers playing on his bald head and playing on his mind. He grasped her fingers. She felt cool, like a lingering kiss.

Looking into the deep coffee pools that were Ninse’s eyes, He said, "Take me with you, ahapụkwala m otú m na mbụ." She smiled and said, “I won't", and then he felt her pull, he hugged her as they fell together. Now, he understood why she never screamed.