Hey! Fish Girl
The first time I fell in love, it was by the bank of the Opobo River. Mama had sent me to buy fish from her regular customer and in my haste, I bumped into him. Well, maybe not his physical build but his presence. He was out of place; an anomaly from the scenery I was used to. He was light skinned, the type we call yellow pawpaw but he was short and bearing him down was a heavy looking camera hanging from his neck. A crease of worry swept across my face as I pondered on how a man could be so yellow and also so short. All short men I knew, were dark and usually sturdy, but here he was almost of the same stature as my seven-year-old brother. I tried not to stare and pushed away thoughts of the boiling water waiting for the fish I was carrying. I followed his strange movements trying to capture life around the river and imagined I was a model whenever he faced my direction. I would strut my waist forward and bend my neck like I had seen those ladies do in the magazines. Raveling in my little hall of fame, I did not realize when yellow pawpaw approached me. I was startled when someone touched my arm. Looking down, I meet with the most adventurous eyes ever.
“My name is Fred, what is yours?” he asked in a rich baritone that came somewhere deep within his small body.
Shocked, I ran all the way home to mama’s angry glare. I offered no apology and went about my chores. His daunting eyes haunting me all evening, even in my dreams.
The next day, I dressed in my good clothes and went to the river, hopeful that I would see him and put a rest to the unrest in my stomach. He was standing beside the jetty, looking at the water in its ambiance through the lens of his camera and I wondered if I should tell him the story of the sacred fish which turns into a guard at night to watch all of Opobo. I smiled at my thoughts and nudged myself towards him.
You can also read this short story- BLACK RAIN
“Oh! Fish girl, you are here. I have been waiting for you. Would you tell me your name today?”
“My name is Belema” I replied.
“Be-li-ma? Has a nice sound to it”
“No! Its Beh-lee-ma, not Beh-lii-ma” I corrected him furiously which somehow seemed humorous to him for he began laughing.
“Easy there fish girl, don’t be so serious. My boat is about to leave and I wanted to give you this. You are really pretty”
I took the picture he handed me and was struck by lightning. Okay, maybe not lightning but I was amazed at the person I was looking at. There I was, the wind in my skirt, blowing it in the same direction as the dance step of the palm trees behind me. My basket of fish in my hands as I looked towards the river. The colored lights decorating Oniru’s bar seemed to add a certain glow to my skin. I was different, I looked beautiful and free. I raised my head to show gratitude to him but he wasn’t there. The boat had left already. I ran the length of the jetty, waving the picture and shouting his name. He couldn’t hear me. I fought to stifle the tears trying to flood my eyes and watched the boat speed off into the sunset. The butterflies still flickering in my stomach.
This was two years ago, but those eyes still haunt my dreams. I can still hear his voice faintly calling fish girl. The ink on the picture is fading away slowly, but I still hold on to it because I know someday, I would see Yellow paw-paw again.
