How My Dead Uncle Appeared To Me, Seeking For My Help – A Lady Narrates
If he didn’t appear to me directly, I would have assumed it was one of those fairy tales no matter how hard they try to make me believe. I have never believed in fairy tales or ghosts. But my dead uncle coming to ask for my favour proved me wrong - A lady narrates as tears drip from her eyes. According to the lady… "It all started when one of my uncles died. We all traveled to the village for his burial. We went a few days before the burial. On the day of the burial, I didn’t go along with them. I hate going to burials because I didn’t know how to react. At times I see myself laughing when others are wailing, so I rather stay at home to avoid unnecessary drama and gossips.
I was home alone as others have gone for the burial, I was hearing cries and wailing coming out from the deceased compound. I was outside our compound licking orange and looking around. Then this man came visiting. It was normal, people troop into our house every time we visited the village.afternoon Sir. I greeted. He responded and asked whose daughter I was, I answered and he gave out the usual exclamation and surprise of how grown I was. He asked about my other siblings and I affirmed that they are all fine. He then asked after my mum and grand mum and others and I told him that they went for a burial. He said he was also going to the burial and thought my people were still around so he could join them and go together.
He sat down and asked for water to drink. Then he uttered Ha! Expressing surprise on how small I was, and how big I have grown. I went inside got the water in a jug, poured the cold water into a glass cup for him. He finished the water in one gulp. Another one he said stretching out his hand for another. I poured. He drank, again. All in one gulp. Please put another one he said again with a soft smile. I looked at his throat as the water made it’s way down his throat, his Adam apple kept bulging up and down. It was funny, I tried so hard not to laugh. He didn’t rush the third glass as he did to the previous two.
I looked at him, he was a very tall dark, and handsome man. He wore flat leather slippers. A pair of black trousers and a blue plain shirt. He was neatly shaved. He smiled and stood up. And said, I can now continue my journey but before then I will like to ask you for something, he pleaded. With a smile, I said ok Sir. You can ask whatever you want. My daughter, I’m entrusting my children into your hands and your family, please do not live them. Being astonished, I replied, but Sir I don’t even know you. He said, don’t worry my daughter your parents will tell you all you need to know when they return. You will even find out from your ground mother the moment they return, but do not be scared. Your father will understand everything. Tell him, in no circumstance must he allow my children to drag any land with my brother. And he must keep them away from him. You are scaring me, Sir, I replied shivering. Why are you scared? He asked. You use to be a very good friend of mine when you were small. It was at my house you spend all your days when you people come to the village. I know how soft your heart is and how kind you are. So take care of them, he whispered. I wanted to say something, but he caught me off and said I'm late my daughter. He started heading towards the deceased compound. But he turned back and said these last words, it was so painful and so hurting, that the memory has refused to go away. He said, always pray, my daughter. It’s a wicked world. Then he left. I was restless in the house as I wait for my family to return.
When my mum and others returned from the burial that evening, I rushed out to welcome them. I reached my grandma first and hugged her tightly. How have you been? She asked affectionately. I wanted to reply but then I felt goose bump on my body. I swallowed hard and tried to open my mouth to say something. I couldn’t. The words were shutting off. I started pointing at my grandma’s chest in a fight. What is it? she asked in a panic. My mouth was wide open but I couldn’t utter any word. My grandma was wearing a burial polo. It had a picture of a man. He had a bright smile and it was the same man I had given three glasses of water a few hours ago. I was sure it was him.
Later that day, after they have helped me pull myself together. I narrated everything to my people. And it was him, the man that came to me. He was the same man we came back for is burial. According to my father, he was a very good friend of his.
DISCLAIMER: All the pictures that are used in this article are fictional.
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