The smell of roach was the sign that something huge was in the offing, something unprecedented, unpredictable, unfathomable and scary. It turned out to be a young man, younger than her son, but she fell for him, flat. And the centre couldn’t hold when word got out that she orgasmed at her old age.
In another situation, two lovers felt the only way to be together was to run away via a train leaving for the sunny city of Lagos from the chilly city of Jos. They chose to elope through a train beaming with people afraid of the consequences of the muscle being flexed by Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu and Jack Yakubu Gowon. And the heavens came down.
These two scenarios are the tragic love stories that provide tonic for the two novels of Abubakar Adam Ibrahim, also known as Khalifa. The first novel won for Ibrahim the 2016 Nigeria Prize for Literature with ‘Season of Crimson Blossoms’.
The second scenario is the heart of his new book, ‘When We Were Fireflies’, the home for the tale from which an Audible Original audio short story, ‘A Love Like This’, was plucked. The scene at the Gidan Makama Museum in Kano is surreal.
The new work examines reincarnation from a more curious look. It leans on love stories to look at the other world, the margins, most of us will forever query its existence. It is a magical work rooted in realism.
Set predominantly in Abuja, Kafanchan, Kano and Jos, this novel is largely about Yarima Lalo, an artist who, during a visit to a train station, begins to recall that his present life is neither his first nor his second. Memories of how he had been killed more than once in the past start to unsettle him and make him seem to be losing his mind.
At the train station, he meets Aziza, a single mother who will play more than a passing role in his efforts to piece together the past so as to make sense of the present. This layered work is home to children who aren’t children, creatures who look ten years old but talk and act like ancestors. It also has those called ‘absonders’ and the ‘unblind’.
Yarima’s journals, which he writes about his early years in his attempt to understand the memories tearing him apart, open new vistas as we follow Aziza’s reading of the entries. Aside the journals, aptly called Chronicles, he also paints out his memories on canvas. Reading the journals and looking at the art works make Aziza first think he is insane.
With the help of his memories and help from Aziza, he goes in search of people in his previous lives and his findings are mindblowing.
Aziza’s parallel story is a major plot driver. Her travail with the family of her vanished ex-husband help build suspense and keep the reader turning the next page. She is one character feminists are bound to hail for the way she exercises her agency, even in the face of stiff opposition and palpable violence. Her strong nature strengthens Yarima Lalo’s equally strong personality.
As serious as the thematic concerns of the novel is, there are dark humours that ignite smiles. One of such is where Yarima Lalo describes himself as ‘stupid idiot’ for following the instructions of a child to come to the popular Berger Roundabout in Abuja to see ‘fireflies collectors’ releasing souls of the dead.
Ibrahim brilliantly reimagines the fantastical beliefs that shape the thinking of millions of us. And his use of real events, such as the Kafanchan riots, the capture and killing of Boko Haram founder, and several others, roots his magical rendition in realism and teases believability. It will set you thinking, make you ask questions, question what you know and imagine new possibilities. The insistent questions will be around reincarnation, not just its possibility, but also the number of times one person can die and return to this world.
There will also be questions about the possibility of creatures we can’t see (except we are unblind) co-existing with us. And then there can also be posers on being able to recall previous lives.
The Khalifa’s love for love extends to one of the foundations of the book, Omm Sety’s magical tale of love, which ended tragically in her first coming. Omm Sety was born Dorothy Eady in the London suburb of Blackhearth in 1904. When she arrived in Egypt, she said she felt she had been there before, perhaps thousands of years earlier. Her 1931 marriage to the Egyptian Eman Abdel Meguid was how she ended up in the country she once called home.
While Yarima’s memories are brought back by his presence at a train station, Dorothy’s was rekindled by an accident at a young age.
Like Yarima, her claims were disputed but she stuck with her truth. One of her claims was being lover to an ancient Egyptian king.
Her parents were said to have taken her to the British Museum where she saw the picture of the ancient king and it triggered memories of her time with him. She identified the monuments and other artifacts in the rooms of the Egyptian collection. According to historical accounts, she kissed the feet of the statues, and later decided to study ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs.
Dreams also played a role in her recollection. Like Yarima Lalo, who found out he was Babayo in his first life, Dorothy also discovered her ancient Egyptian name – Bentreshyt meaning ‘Harp of Joy’. Unlike Yarima Lalo, who was murdered, she committed suicide in her early coming. Well, Babayo can also be said to have committed suicide by not heeding Indo’s plea to run for his dear life.
All in all, ‘When We Were Fireflies’ is a work that will endure.
My final take: No one is promised a second or third coming. So, make the best of your current life. Give your best so that thousands of years after you are gone, your deeds can still be recalled.