My final year in high school was the first time that I really understood the rapid flow of time. I was surrounded by the signs of coming change. These changes affected not only the classrooms and football field but also the noise and the air of the corridors.
We were in SS3, and the exams were almost coming. The teachers kept sharing with us past questions to practice, while parents were always telling us that WAEC was everything. What was going over my mind the most was not only the exam, but also my friends. I kept on seeing a picture of a life without them. One day, during lunch, we were sitting under the mango tree by the school gate. It used to be our regular hang-out spot, but that day it seemed a different one. Out of the blue, Chika suddenly said, "You know that this is the last time we are going to be here like this, right?"
Nobody said a word. His words sat with us. Then Amaka spoke. “We should make a promise,” she said.
“What promise?” I asked.
“That we’ll never lose touch after school.”
We all agreed quickly. That day, under the mango tree, we promised each other that graduation wouldn’t break us apart.
The days went by. We studied hard, but we still found moments to laugh and enjoy ourselves. Uche’s silly jokes during prep time, Amaka sharing her snacks, Chika’s football goals. Everything felt brighter because I knew these days were slipping away.
But slowly, I started to notice how life was pulling us in different directions. Amaka wanted to study medicine abroad. Uche dreamed of UNN. Chika talked about joining his uncle’s business. I wasn’t sure what I wanted yet. Even so, the promise kept us close.
Graduation came quickly. The sun was sharp, cameras were flashing everywhere, and everyone was signing shirts. There was laughter, but there were also tears hiding behind smiles.
We found our way back to the mango tree. No speeches, no noise. Just silence and the weight of all our memories.
“Promise?” Amaka whispered.
“Promise,” we all said.
And that was it. We stepped into a new world.
At first, we kept it. Calls every week, chats filled with jokes, stories, and late-night talks. It felt like nothing had changed.
But life doesn’t stay still.
Amaka left the country. Uche got buried in school. Chika was busy with work. Slowly, the messages stopped coming. The group chat grew quiet.
Once I was going through it in the evening and noticed that the last message was there for weeks. I was about to write something but I didn’t. Just looking at the blank page, I felt how distance had stealthily entered. It felt like time had gone by really fast without us noticing how much distance had crept in between us.
After that, quite a long time, I happened to spot Uche at a bus station. We hugged, laughed, and chatted briefly, but as soon as we went our separate ways, I felt that difference again. We were not those kids under the mango tree anymore.
That night, I was questioning myself if we had broken our promise. However, it could be that the promise was not to be in contact every day. That it was about keeping the connection with each other by still having the bond in our hearts, even though we had been separated by life.
A little while later, my little cousin inquired, "Why aren't you and your old school friends make-up anymore?"
I wasn't able to explain it properly. Relationships are not always going to end. Sometimes they just go to sleep.
So, I went to our old group chat and wrote: Do you guys remember the mango tree?
Amaka replied: How could I forget?
Uche added: That place where Chika fell trying to climb.
Chika followed immediately: I didn’t fall, I actually jumped!
The silence was gone as if by magic. We laughed and chatted for an hour. It was not like having a face-to-face meeting, but it made me remember the promise was still there.
Today, when I am at my old school, I always make a stop next to the mango tree. The branches have grown, the leaves have become fuller, but the memories have not changed.
I found out that friendship isn’t necessarily going through episodes of incessant calls and daily chats. There are times when the relationship is just at hand, without any calls or messages.
And I connect those moments to that tree and the friends with whom I shared my time under it when life was difficult; and I smile. Because some promises are eternal.