My grandfather was one of the noblest men that I have met in the few years that I have sojourned on this earth. And, though I still have some more years to live, I am not certain that I will ever meet his match, for who will use the simple things of life to teach me the great lifetime lessons that my grandfather did?
My grandfather nicknamed me “Uko-owodeen”, which means a courageous and strong man, and he made sure I lived up to that name. My granddad instilled in me a strong sense of responsibility by assigning me household chores.
Other grandchildren used to envy me because I was my grandfather’s right-hand man, and he truly cherished me as a woman would cherish her handbag. It is not that he dispensed his love to his grandchildren with favouritism, I was the only grandchild who took everything he taught us seriously, and that made him love me so much, always having me by his side like a joey inside its mother’s pouch.
It was my grandfather who taught me that doing home chores like cooking, washing clothes and keeping the house was not solely a woman’s responsibility. I can vividly remember the number of times my grandmother went to the market to buy foodstuffs from when I grew up to know them until they ceased to be. My grandfather rarely allowed that. His reason was always that he did not want his wife to grow older than her age.
“Uko-owodeen, I want my wife to be in shape and remain attractive to me as long as we both shall live; she is my Juliet”, he had told me one day when I asked him why he made all those sacrifices for his wife.
We always found his reason to be amusing because we had imagined why an old woman with wrinkles scattered all over her face should be kept in shape. Where will a woman in her late eighties get shape from?
I never missed my grandfather’s meals, except on rare occasions when I was not around. And, some of those times I was not around, my grandfather always treated me well by reserving a separate meal on a special plate for me. And, as famished as I used to be sometimes like Esau, and even if I was not, I would prey upon the meal and lick the plate because his meals were always delicious, especially when cooked in “esio using”, his favourite local pot for cooking.
My grandfather was a very funny fellow who oftentimes tickled us with his jokes, but a day came when his joke translated into a piece of heartbreaking news that made me sad. He woke up one fateful morning and convened an emergency family meeting. Extended family members who lived far away from home were contacted, and before noon, almost every family member was present. Nothing was superior to a patriarch’s call.
It was only a few family members who could not make it to the meeting because they lived in other cities, and my grandfather understood why they were not present.
“I summoned all of you to instruct you on how you are going to share my little wealth and to bless you before I die. I am going to die tonight”, my grandfather said softly and solemnly.
Everybody in the meeting laughed. Soon, the laughter became infectious, and he, too, was caught laughing. I did not laugh alongside others, for though I was quite young, I knew what it meant to lose a dear one in death. Instead, I recoiled to a corner in my grandfather's conference room and started sobbing. Suddenly, I became everybody's object of laughter, but I never cared.
Before he finished his meeting with his family, my grandfather had already sent out two of his grandchildren, who were much older than I was, to go and bring his Parish Priest and a Catechist whom he had already given an official invitation for benediction.
I cannot tell what transpired at the end of that meeting because I had cried myself to sleep. By the time I woke up, it was already dark and scary. I wanted to run to my grandfather's room, but I was scared I was going to see his ghost since he had already informed us in the last meeting that he would kick the bucket that night. Grandpa lived for five more years and never died as he told us he would after that meeting.
He was ninety-nine years old when he did that drama.
His old age was admirable and enviable. Some people, both distant relatives and villagers, often prayed that if they should live to be as old as my Grandpa, God should also make them as strong as he was whenever they came to visit.
My grandfather had a bicycle, which seemed like an artificial leg that took him to wherever he decided to visit, both within and outside our community.
I was informed that my Grandpa had been knocked down by a reckless driver when i woke up that morning. He came back from his usual morning prayer at church and was not careful enough when he wanted to cross the road while riding his bicycle. The driver was not to blamed.
I was not allowed to visit Grandpa while he was at the hospital and I don't know why. Perhaps my father, who visited him regularly, knew that I wouldn't want to leave his side.
I was finally happy when I was told that Grandpa was finally brought home when I came back from school that day. I did not care to put off my school uniform or drop my school bag because I was so eager to see him.
He was gasping for breath as I stood beside his almost lifeless body. "Daddy, what happened to Grandpa, is he going to die?" I asked my father as tears flowed down my cheeks.
"The doctors have done all they could to bring him back to life but he wasn't getting better. They said he is not going to make it", Dad explained in a trembling voice.
Grandpa had breathed his last by the time I turned to him again. I knew because Dad had closed his eyelids and pulled the piece of clothing that was on the lower part of his body over his face. He was a hundred and four years old when he died.