I remember Stella Obasanjo,
Stella O.,
Stella,
Stella Obasanjo
twa’s just 2-days ago,
no, I mean two days ago, two years ago,
seems like yesterday.
Now, im writing about her
two days after two days ago two years ago.
I remember Stella Obasanjo.
I was at the Abuja Airport ,
was about to board a flight for Lagos
when I heard the news,
the news that Stella O. had died,
Stella O.? died? How can she die?
Stella O., of all people?
how come? its not possible.
I thought it was one of those news broadcasts,
like the one I usually saw,
about one of her programmes,
I thought it was business as usual,
that she was kinda making one speech or the other,
perhaps it was another propaganda,
political propaganda,
meant to scare somebody,us.
Who could be behind this plot to decieve us?
Who could think of killing the President’s wife?
until I moved closer to the TV,
and heard it with mine ears that Stella O. was no more.
I said to myself ‘this is another joke’.
another story, another fairy tale,
another journalist gone mad,
like the ones we were used to hearing,
that soon the truth will come out
and the joker would go a-hiding.
I was just beginning to like her,
she was everywhere: on the TV and the radio,
on the front-page of every Newspaper,
journalists always had something to say,
something to say about Stella O.
she was the name around town,
news: good, bad, linked or reflected,far and near,
her balls of fame were just bouncing everywhere.
I liked the fact that she devoted her life to Children,
she was always around them,
they were always around her.
Children like myself, who had a hope less than I did,
Children like myself – who had a future,
unsure, unreal, but at least, amidst the National chaos,
at least She was their hope.
Children, our National but forgotten heritage.
A week earlier, I had been thinking:
if only women in our time had eyes that could see.
If only we had 100-Stellas,
perhaps we could get more Children off the streets.
I never knew that t’would be soon over.
I saw in her something I didn’t see in many women
I saw in her – through the eyes of the children always around her
a mother, an aunty, a friend, a hope, a glow of light in darkness.
Though we never met, twas like I already knew her.
My heart was with those children-always around her.
There I was, standing by the TV,
watching, listening to the news,
the sad news that Stella O. was dead.
I was glued to that T.V
the airport TV.
until a little child ran into me,
and I bounced back to life
and heard the last call for boarding.
Through the flight, I couldn’t compose my thoughts,
I wanted to get hold of the next newspaper.
I remember Stella O.
They said she died in Spain,
the said she went for plastic surgery,
Plastic surgery?
I opened my mouth and said ‘for what’?
Stella O. you mean Stella O. went for plastic surgery?
how could she go for plastic surgery?
what was she thinking about?
when we are not talking about M. J
I asked: what else was she looking for?
wasn’t she already beautiful?
She was indeed beautiful,
what would she do with Plastic surgery?
T’was like a joke, I just couldn’t believe it,
Even now, I almost can’t believe it
As I remember Stella O.,
I wonder why women can’t be satisfied with how they look,
I wonder why humans like to add to God’s own image,
I wonder why we like adding to God’s finished work.
As I remember Stella O.,
I remember that she was also human,
- a human that could choose to do right and wrong,
- a human that could be of help to other humans,
- a human that takes decisions, makes mistakes,
even to attempt to do something that could hurt herself.
As I remember Stella O.,
I remember that many people are sick and need a doctor,
and for lack of time, finance and care they die.
Yet many, hearty and whole feel they need also doctor,
to step-up them up into a level higher than life,
and even in a wealth of finance and care, they also die.
As I remember Stella O.,
I remember Proverbs 31:30
- that favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain:
but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised.
As I remember Stella O.,
I remember that lives of great men just remind us
that we can make our lives sublime,
And, they, departing, leave behind
their footprints on the sands of time.
I remember Stella Obasanjo.
MyPenMyPaper
Links:
Stella O. on Wikipedia
Nigerian President’s wife dies after plastic surgery operation in Spain
they say, they say