Ebube Anochili's blog

What comes to your mind when you hear the word “memory”? To some, it’s the ability to recall, to others it’s the ability to record. Ok, so I got this definition from a dictionary, permit me to not say the name;         “… the ability of an organism to record information about things           Or events with the facility of recalling them later at will…” Notice the two words in the definition, “record” and “recall”. So, it’s not enough to record these things, if you can’t recall them, whatever you think you have is useless. Growing up, I guess I was blessed with “good” memory. I had the dates of events in my head, I remembered the exact words people. My mum once told me that I got the gift from my dad, she said it was a gift. I was pleased, anything I got from my dad, I cherished. The “good” memory was a blessing in my academics, I always aced my papers and graduated with a wonderful CGPA. My memory isn’t all that eidetic, heck, I don’t have my account number in my head and I ten

She was floating. She couldn’t feel anything solid around her. She couldn’t recognize anything around her. She couldn’t even feel herself. She was floating in air; not water. Then the voices came, some tortured, some happy but all were distant. She didn’t want to be wherever she was alone, so she imagined moving towards the voices, it wasn’t difficult moving, she was part of space now. The first face she saw was her mother’s. “Come to me child, it’s over now, we can be together again”, came the voice from her mother. It sounded like nothing she remembered of how her mother’s voice sounded. But still, she wanted to embrace her so much, it’d been too long since she saw her, since she “died”, she thought. It struck her, her mother was dead, how could she see her? “Daberechi, we’ve been waiting for you.” She spun in the direction of the voice, it came from her father but sounded nothing like him. She longed to be in both their arms, though she thought something wasn’t right. As she mov