What If...

There is nothing in this world I hate more than a January morning in England. Oh! How I detest the dampness, the fog and most certainly the frost in the air that comes with it. However, all that I could live with but for the fact that a January morning in England is also deceitful. The brightness in the sky gives you a false hope that heaven heard your prayers last night and it just might be  -2 degrees rather than -10 degrees. Ten times out of ten, it is latter rather than the former.

Nothing was bringing me down today, not the frost, not the damp and most certainly not the disappointment that the brightness in the sky presented a false hope of a sunny day.  It was -13 degrees and yet I was determined to have a great day!

Phew phew phew … I whistled happily as I walked to the 79 bus stop. Today is going to  be good day  I thought to myself as I waited impatiently for the bus to arrive. 

“Where is the bus anyway?” I spoke quietly to myself. Of course I did not want to be mistaken for a retard.

“Whop! Whop!” I coughed in an attempt to disguise my whispering from the people waiting at the bus stop with me.

“Wow that was close”, I thought.

Imagine if they concluded that I was a retard. I obviously would be given a wide breath when the bus arrives and we finally get to file in. It is bad enough that I am an African girl living in England, I did not want anyone thinking I was a retard as well. That would be double trouble.

I stretched my hand to signal the bus as it whooshed pass me.

“Bloody bastard!” I shouted at the bus driver, this time not bothering to disguise my words with even a sneeze. I regretted my impulsive words immediately as everyone turned in my direction. Oh great! now they think I am an aggressive, ill-mannered African girl.

“Who bloody cares anyway?” I thought to myself. At least, I was bold enough to say what all of them were thinking.

I boldly looked each one of them in the eye and dared them to say anything. Everyone seemed to suddenly receive a very important text message on their phone, as they all quickly whipped out their phones and tapped vigorously at it while avoiding any eye contact with me.

I must stress the fact that I shy away from using profanity, as much as I can of course. But I dare anyone who lives in a country where profane words are used like an elder in Umuanunu village uses proverbs, not to swear at least twice a day. As a child, my mother would threaten to wash my mouth out with Omo detergent if I swore. In fact I can truly say that I couldn’t say a swear word until I was eighteen. Eight years later, I still hesitate to do so except in exceptional circumstances, and I think the current circumstance warranted at least 3 swear words. In my defence, I only used two.

The bus had taken its maximum capacity of passengers therefore could not stop at the bus stop where I waited, to take in anymore passenger. That's just my luck!.

A good day was slowly turning to a bad day. Nevertheless, I was determined not to let that happen. I was not going to let a minor bus incident steal my joy and so I clung to my happiness like a drowning swimmer clutching at a broken twig. Desperation, I swear is the mother of invention. 

My mind sought new ways to entertain itself. I thought to myself, if I had my life to live over, would I change anything?

At first, I riled at the idea that I would want to change anything about my life. I am well educated, I have food on my table, the clothes on my back are of a good quality and to top it all off, I have a family that loves me unconditionally. Why then would I want to change anything about my life? I thought.

As I thought about my perfect life, doubts began to creep into my mind and before long I realised that I had changed my answer to the question. My life was not so “perfect” after all.

It needed a few tweaks here and there.

If I had to live my life over again, instead of wishing away the years in boarding school and whining about the punishments, watery soup and cold baths, I'd have relished every minute of it and recognised that they were the years that shaped my future and the only chance I had in life to cast my cares aside, to live without major responsibilities.

I would never have maintained my father roll up the car windows during our trips to the village just because I was afraid of a little dust settling on perfectly ironed dress. A dirty dress was like a tiny speck of dust compared to the troubles life brought with it.

I would have encouraged my friends over for a visit even though our sofa was faded and we had no cable t.v. In doing so, I would have been able to easily separate the wheat from the chaff.

I would have taken the time to listen carefully to my grandfather, my grandmother, my mother and my father as they ramble about their youth. For truer words of wisdom were never spoken that those that fell from an experienced tongue.

I would have lit the pretty pink, passionate red and baby blue candles that were shaped like cupcakes before they melted in storage.

I would have lay on the lawn with my siblings and cousins and never worried about grass stains.

I would have laughed and cried less while watching television and reading my novels ... and bit more while watching real life.

I would have shouldered more of the duties and responsibilities carried by my Father and Mother which I took for granted. I would have eaten more ice cream and less salads.

I would have hugged my mother a little more, said I love you to my father even when he upset me, listened to my brother brag about his achievements, allowed my sister launch my favourite dresses and never complain when she borrowed my stuff and never returned them.

Given another shot at life, I would seize every minute of it, see it for the blessing it really is, try everything at least once, laugh recklessly, cry shamelessly, love desperately and never give any minute of my life back, I will use them all until there was nothing left of it.

“Excuse me, are you catching this bus?” an unknown said to me.

Firmly dragging me away from my musing.

“Yes. Thank you” I replied as I watched another bus 79 slowly make its way to the bus stop where I stood. This time thankfully, it did not whoosh past me!

It may yet be my lucky day.

I am i~Witness. 

Chukwunonye Chinwe writes from Nottingham, England.