The First Time I fell in Love

I am capable of loving because I have fallen in love before

Sitting here, alone in my room recalling a fond childhood memory. It is my favourite and whenever I think of it, it moves me to tears.

It is about the first time I loved.

Aunty Daphne was my primary school teacher.

She was this pretty, soft-spoken, and kind lady I developed a soft spot for in primary 1 when she was my English teacher and in primary 2 when she became my Class Teacher.

My mom sold ‘Provisions’ (Nigerian for Beverages and groceries) in the market and after school, I’d beg, cry and beg again, for Indomie (Noodles) and eggs to go give my Aunty. Her house, alongside her parents, was a stone's throw from my Mom’s store in Orile, Lagos.

This should be in Primary 1 or 2 then but every once in a while, you’d see me after school, in my school uniform, walking happily, sometimes singing, with 2 Noodles (now Indomitable) and 2 eggs in a black nylon bag, headed straight for Aunty Daphne’s house. It never occurred to me how little the gift or silly the gesture was, it was my best thing to do. Giving gifts to my aunty.

I loved Aunty Daphne so much that my Mom after a while had no choice but to comply. When I say “I want to give Aunty Daphne something*”, my Mom diligently wraps two Indomie in a plastic Bag, carefully selecting two eggs and wrapping them separately in a Santana white nylon, then, she’d double the package in a bigger plastic bag and off I go. I did not entertain friendly distractions on the road to such a holy quest — I go straight down from the store to my Aunty’s house.

Aunty Daphne’s parents came to know me as her friend. When I knock on their gate and say “it is me, Vikki”, they’d scream for Daphne and say “your friend is here.” I never went in or accepted to be entertained when invited. I always stand by the door, say my greetings and hand over my package to my aunty and say my goodbyes. Always cheerful, she’d thank me and I’d happily run off. Feeling so proud of myself like I had eradicated poverty in Africa.

In retrospect, I didn’t know then, what Aunty Daphne did to win my heart and I don’t know now. What I know is she was so kind to everyone in school and was the most beautiful woman, I had ever seen and somehow, I fell irrevocably in love with her.

When I was to graduate to Primary 4 and the School changed my Class Teacher to Aunty Christiana, I cried non-stop. As I write this, I remember crying to my parents and to anyone who cared to listen that I didn’t want any other teacher than my Aunty Daphne. I remember refusing to go to my new class. I wanted to remain with Aunty Daphne in primary 3 until she came to us — we were a handful, crying outside her class. She told us not to cry and that our new teacher was equally nice and good. With her assurance, we went to our new class and for me, this is the last memory of her in the recesses of my brain. This and the one time I went to say hi in her home and was told she had gone to school — University I hope.

So many years have passed and tonight, again, I have tried, unsuccessfully, to remember her last name or recall her face entirely, but again, like the last time and the one before that, I am unable to. I remember her complexion and that she had a kind face but not her face as she looked.

There’s one thing however, that is still etched in my heart as vividly as can be. My love for Aunty Daphne. I still love her. Will always do.

I must have cost my mom a fortune carting her products to pursue a love interest as I did but I didn’t know all of that. I adored my teacher so much that I wanted to give and give and give everything — my mom’s things.

I also remember fondly, one time, I had gone to deliver my usual ‘gift’ of two Indomie and two eggs and she was not available to receive them by the door. Her mom welcomed me and when I inquired about my aunt, said she was not around. I remember telling her mom by the door after peering my head at the dad seated inside to make sure she gets the noodles. “Nobody should touch it”. “Give aunty Daphne for me oh” I must have been so cute because they laughed.

People will forget what you give them, what you said to them or didn’t say to them but they’d never forget how you made them feel

Aunty Daphne made me feel good. I was a child but I felt seen and happy with her. She must have commended my homework or classwork but I cannot remember what she said or any of our classroom interactions, just how much I enjoyed her company and how her face lit up when she sees me coming with my Black plastic bag.

On nights like this when I remember Aunty Daphne, I say a silent prayer for her, that she is she’s alive, healthy and great and that the light she touched my life with be graciously extended by strangers to her family, her children and children’s children.

Ps: Kudos to my mom for indulging me. If I trace every act of kindness I have done in my entire life, bits and pieces of it can always be connected to my mom and how she brought me up. A selfless woman.

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