My First Love
I still cannot remember how and the exact moment I struck up friendship with her, which by degrees, blossomed into a formidable love relationship. We were in our second year in university taking a four-year degree course in journalism and mass communication. Just like her name sake Abishag, who became king David's nurse when he grew old, her physique was flawless. She was a demure young woman with dark, inviting almond eyes and cute round cheeks. Her silky black hair almost touched her naturally well curved hips which progressed downwards to form the most amazing, shapely legs I had ever seen. Her potent smile and look left me hypnotized each time she stole ardent glances at me whenever we were in class. Her charm was ineffable, to say the least.
Initially, I never thought she was interested in me until she started sitting at a close range from where I used to sit in the lecture hall. Eventually, she began sitting right next to me. It was undeniable that we genuinely enjoyed each other's company. The spark of chemistry between us was organic. If either of us arrived earlier for the lecture, we would reserve for or wangle each other a seat. This not only spared us time and the inconvenience of having to look for a seat in case one was late for class, but also ensured we sat next to each other. I was always thrilled at the prospect of having her beside me. During and after lectures, we compared our notes and corrected any mistakes and omissions made. Besides doing our assignments together, the two of us formed discussion groups for various course units and then invited other members to join us. The move was all grist to the mill of not only our academic performance but also the cementing of our relationship.
* * * * * * * *
One Sunday morning when I was leaning nonchalantly on the balcony of our hostel, Abishag stealthily came from behind, slipped her soft arms gently round my waist and whispered “I love you, handsome,” into my ear. “Oh malkia,” I let out a groan as I wrapped her arms tightly around myself. As she laid her head on my shoulder, I felt her body begin to turn warm and then suddenly hot. Our breaths quickened. My heart raced as I deeply inhaled the fragrance of her soft hair, savoring the scent of her body. We were completely lost into our own world. We would have remained locked in that unprecedented, blissful moment long enough to go overboard, had I not politely, albeit reluctantly disengaged from her.
When I turned to face her, she outstretched her arms, inviting me for an embrace. She gazed deeply into my eyes and smiled affectionately. The sight of her was breathtaking. She looked so lovely that I was tempted to instantly draw her into my broad, muscular chest and hug her tight, but was afraid we would never break away from our clinch. Instead, I took her hands as I racked my brains to find the right words to explain, without offending her, why we had to be careful. “Malkia,” I began, using the Swahili pet name I had given her which means queen, “I've been crazy for you all this time.” “Then what's the matter with you?” she asked, with a puzzled look on her face. “We must exercise considerable restraint,” I continued, “lest we fall into sin.” Having explained myself to her, we both gradually began to regain our composure.
“But can I at least take a photo of you?” she requested, while taking out a Canon EOS 650D from her handbag. “Sure, why not?” I agreed, as she pointed the camera straight at me. It was one of those rare occasions I had someone take my snapshots. Being a photographer myself, I was accustomed to shooting subjects as they posed or otherwise for photos, depending on the nature of the desired image. It therefore felt a little odd being the subject in this case. Nonetheless, I let her take numerous photos which we thereafter reviewed together. “How do you create the blurred zoom effect in a photo?” she needed to know. “Well, there are many ways for doing that,” I recalled from my practice, “one of which is to zoom while at the same time pressing the shutter release button.” I showed her the technique of controlling the amount of zoom as the effect was sometimes too much. We had much fun experimenting with the zooming, from out to in and the other way round. Besides trying to stop for a split second through the shots to see what results we would get, we also zoomed out fast then slowly. “The photos are amazing!” she exclaimed in delight.
“Then,” I went on, “you need to watch out for the light levels as too much light can over expose the photos, making them come out too light.” “And how do you go about that?” she asked. I lucidly explained to her how one reduced the amount of light entering the camera by having the aperture up high like F32 as it made the hole in the camera lens very small. I also tipped her on reducing the ISO to 100 as it made the sensor in the camera lens less reactive to light, thus helping in reducing over exposure. “All the while you are zooming in and out, ensure you hold the camera securely,” I advised her.
As we took each other's photos in turns, I also guided her to focus and minimize the delay between pressing the shutter button, and the camera actually capturing the picture. “I can't wait to work with you in photojournalism projects next semester!” she exclaimed. Just then, it struck me how useful those photos could be in our computer project which required an individual to create a personal website detailing his or her profile information. We downloaded the photos from the camera to my laptop and then made an online back-up of them through the Backblaze online data storage service. Thereafter, we started working on the project.
The following day, she called me very early in the morning, supposedly to wake me up and inquire of how far I had progressed with the computer project. “I'm done with creating the basic structure of your own project and developing the code for uploading photos.” “That's so sweet of you, babe,” she remarked, before asking whether we would still go jogging as agreed on the previous day. I replied in the affirmative: “In fact, I was getting into my tracksuit when you called.” We set off at a slow but steady pace, gaining momentum as we went on. It was an exhilarating experience running beside each other. At one point when she fell short of breath, I offered to hold her hand as I urged her on. “The slope is too steep for me,” she admitted, and requested that we stop for a while. But since we were not far from the top and I did not want the dawn to break before we had returned to campus, I coaxed her into finishing the rest of the distance. And so did the morning jog ultimately become a daily routine in our lives.
* * * * * * * *
Besides I being an assistant head of the news department in the University's radio station and Abishag an editor with the University's newsletter, we both co-hosted a three-hour gospel reggae show in Swahili. I still recall her initial discomfort with Swahili but after thoroughly discussing our primary target audience with her, she sussed out the importance of using it as our broadcast language. Since she was not as proficient in Swahili as I was, we began by writing full scripts for the show. Later on, after coaching her extensively, we settled on using semi scripts. She, in turn, introduced me to the Ge'ez language in which her father, an Ethiopian detective, was a scholar.
Mr Damise Asfaw had met Abishag's mother in Kenya while on official duty. After courting for two years, they had gone to the Ethiopian town of Hosanna where he grew up, to solemnize their marriage before returning to Kenya. Abishag's paternal grandfather, a repository of Ethiopia's history, was among venerable relics of Bishops of the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church. Among the things she taught me was the Lord's prayer which she demanded I recite to her until I had fully mastered it. Whenever we ate together, we would say the Lord's prayer in Ge'ez which really intrigued everyone around. This is how it looked like in writing:
Our Father of heaven hallowed be thy name
ABUNE ZEBESEMAYAT YITQEDES SIMIKE
Come thy kingdom be done thy will
TIMTSAE MENGISTIKE WEIYIKUN FEQADIKE
As it is in heaven like this on earth
BEKEME BESEMAY KEMAHU BEMIDR
Our bread of each day give us today
SISAYENE ZELELE ILTENE HABENE YOM
Forgive us our sins and trespasses
HIDIGLENE ABESANE WEGIGAYENE
As we forgive who sin against us
KEME NIH’NNI NIHIDIG LEZE ABESE LENE
Lead us not o lord into temptation
EETABIANE EGZIO WUSTE MENSUTE
But deliver us and save us from all evil
ALA ADHINENE WEBALIHANE EMKWULU IKUY
For thine is the kingdom power and glory
ESME ZIAKE YEITI MENGIST HAYL WESIBHAT
For ever and ever Selah.
LEALEME ALEM.
...................to be continued.
No comments:
Post a Comment