What Chidumeme Wrote to Chiemelie

In 1980, a girl called Chidumeme picked up a pen to write to her friend Chiemelie. The letter is preserved in The Old Residency Museum, Calabar¹. Below is a reimagination of the contents of this mysterious letter.

Dearest Chiemelie,

I would be amused by the way you lie, if the sight weren’t so sad.

You nod, you brush it off, you smile. It’s comical, the way you project all of the strength that you do not have.

“I’m fantastic,” you say — but you’re not even fan. Not to talk of tastic. No fan, no tastic. Only sadness.

Chiemelie, I can see through you.

You are transparent before me — better recognise. That I don’t say a lot, doesn’t mean that I don’t see a lot.

When I feel things, there are ways I proceed. If it’s bad, I either deal with it, or I fold it and arrange it neatly in an aerated box for later access. Or I wear it on my sleeve until it fades. But if it’s good, I hold and cherish it until its time is up.

I don’t know how you handle. But I know you.

If you feel some type of way, I can tell. I know. Remember, you are like glass before me. I give you the chance to formulate your thoughts and position; because I believe I ought to afford you this one modicum of human dignity. If I opened my mouth and out flew an accurate assessment of your innermost thoughts, you would feel naked. Ashamed. Violated.

So I do not.

But don’t lie to me about what lies in your heart; for it is as futile as futile can be.

Because no matter how little I care, I can sense it. Every small inflection in your voice, every lilt of your tone, the slightest twitch in your brow. I can read you like a book, but who prefers to sit with a book when the author is standing right there, able to explain all concepts therein?

Not me.

So, Chiemelie, please relax. The next time you see me, take off your jacket. Stretch, release the tension in your back muscles. Lean back in the chair, take off your glasses and let the tears flow.

I think it would do you a world of good.

Love, Chidumeme.

[1] This is not, in fact, true. There is no such letter, and this fact was sprinkled in to add a little bit of pizzazz. Hehe.