Abeke stood by the window, she peeped for the upteempth time through the newly cleaned window panes.

“He said he was coming home,” she muttered to no one in particular.

“I have made his favorite food and cleaned up the house just like he likes it to be,” she continued in her soliloquy.

The china wares rattled as Abeke, who had now moved to the dining table where the table was set, opened the dishes again.

The delicious smell wafting from the sizzling onugbu soup that he loved so much hit her straight in the face.

She smiled, and gently replaced the lid on the beautiful and expensive chinaware that had been her parents’ wedding gift to her some fifteen months ago.

“He will come today as he has said.”

‘Rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat,’ goes knocking at the door.

“Toto is back! Abeke screamed, hopping and running to the door in an unlady-like manner.

“Hello, honey! I am home,” Tochukwu’s thick baritone voice called out from the other side of the door.

Abeke yanks the door open and she immediately collapses into the waiting arms of her husband.

“You are back, Toto,” she whispered as she pulled back and touched his face lovingly.

“Yes, I did say I was coming back home.” Tochukwu said in a voice that never ceases to leave butterflies in her stomach and sends tingles down to her toes.

“Come in, my love. I have the bath ready and your favourite meal of onugbu soup and pounded yam is on the table.” Abeke said, pulling him in.

“I love you, my Abeke, I really do love you so much,” Tochukwu said.

“Yes and I also love you too! Let’s go in” Abeke said.

‘Rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat,’ goes the persistent knock at the door.

Abeke jerks up on the settee she had laid on.

‘Rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat,’ goes the knock again at the door.

Abeke did a small dance in excitement.

“Now, he is back, my dream has come through. The long wait is over,” Abeke said as she sidestepped the baby pram her six weeks old baby laid in.

“Ikemefuna, daddy is back” she whispered to the sleeping baby as she adjusted her beautiful yellow coloured wrap around dress. Tochukwu had always said that the colour yellow suits her complexion. She tenderly patted her newly plaited beautiful Sade Adu hairstyle.

She moved a few more steps towards the door even as the knock increased.

Then suddenly swinging like a masquerade dancing in the village square, she turned and picked up her sleeping baby and whispered to his ears, “Let’s go and welcome daddy home, Ikemefuna.”

“You are finally going to meet the warrior” she said as she laughed at her silliness.

She then moved quickly to the door as she kept talking to the baby, “let’s not keep daddy waiting for too long.”

With eyes shining with love and a smile that made the rays if the sun look dull, she turned the key in the lock, patted her hair again and sniffed her dress to make sure Tochukwu’s favourite perfume that she had sprayed on earlier was still strong.

Abeke proceeded to open the door joyfully.

With a shout, “welcome home, our warrior!”

She staggered backwards and a large hand stretched with the speed of light to quickly snatch Ikemefuna from her before she hit the floor.

“Abeke, Abeke, Abeke,” she heard her name from a distance.

Abeke slowly opened her eyes like a prophetess in a trance, who had the power to see what is unseen by mere eyes.

“You said you are coming home,” she says.

She laughs as she remembers Tochukwu’s video call to her some few days ago.

“You look so good, Abeke. Motherhood suits you,” he had whispered to her. His face broke into the handsome smile that does unexplainable things to her heart.

“Guess what, I am coming home next Tuesday,’’ he said.

“Thank God,” Abeke breathed out the

 A huge sigh.

“I can’t wait!” She had  exclaimed so loudly that Ikemefuna had cried out in fright.

“You see, you made me wake Ikemefuna up,” she whispered as she moved to pick him up with one hand while holding on to the phone with the other.

“Let me see my son.”

“Ikemefuna, the beginning of my strength and might,” Tochukwu said in an emotion laden voice as soon as Abeke put the phone to the baby’s face.

Abeke raised the baby higher to face the camera.

“Ikemefuna, see daddy,” she whispered.

“Ikemefuna, my strength, the one that won’t allow my labour to be in vain.” Tochukwu whispered passionately.

“See daddy, see me, Daddy loves you, Ikemefuna. I am coming home to you, yes Daddy will see you soon.  I will finally carry you in my own arms.” Tochukwu had said as tears tIckled down Abeke’s face like rain droplets.

“Abeke, Abeke,” the voices kept calling her but she wasn’t ready to leave this place – it was her own world – her safe place.

She was alone with the people that mattered most to her in life – Tochukwu and Ikemefuna.

The drop of water on her face made her shake just as Ikemefuna’s cry pierced through her subconscious state.

“Ikemefuna is crying!” She shouted even as she looked around and saw the two soldiers and her friend, Maimunat.

“Tochukwu is coming home” she said decisively even as Maimunat with tears on her face put the crying Ikemefuna into the arms of his mother.

“Are you Mrs. Abeke Maduka?” One of the military men asked as they both stood ramrod straight in their uniforms.

Abeke looked through him as if he wasn’t there while Maimunat, who was sitting beside her with arms wrapped around Abeke nodded.

“The chief of staff of the Nigerian Army has entrusted me to express his deep regret that your husband, Tochukwu Maduka, was killed in action in Dikwa in Borno state, Nigeria on the thirteenth day of May, year 2020.  The chief of staff extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your loss.” One of the soldiers said in the non emotional manner of the military.

“I have made his favourite food for him, Tochukwu Maduka is coming home to eat,” Abeke said as if no one had spoken as she slipped back into a world belonging only to her.

“Can you kindly sign here?” The officer asked, as he produced a letter and pen from the breast pocket of his uniform.  A weeping Maimunat tapped her friend several times. Abeke was unresponsive and Maimumat had to grab the pen and guide Abeke’s hand as she scribbled on the letter.

“Your husband specifically asked that you be given the uniform he wore last in discharging his duty for his beloved nation, Nigeria.” The second officer said as Maimunat tried carrying the crying baby from her friend who held on to him as if her life depended on it.

Shaking her head in agitation, Abeke pointed at the door, “go and tell Tochukwu to come home! He promised me that he would come home. I don’t want his uniform, I want Tochukwu to come home,” she yelled amidst hysterical wailing.

Maimunat was able to finally collect Ikemefuna from the mum as the two soldiers saluted the framed picture of Tochukwu hung on one of the walls before turning around and walking away.

Abeke coiled up into a ball wailing for the love of her life. Her life felt empty.

“If anything ever happens to me, Abeke, I will want you to always remember me not just as your husband but as the man who ensured that my nation, Nigeria was secured “ The conversation Tochukwu had with her when they newly wedded came back to her as she wailed.

She has rejected it then but Toto seemed to have had prophetic gift that she never knew.

Suddenly, she stood up gallantly, looked around the sitting area as if searching for something. She walked as if in a daymare to her husband’s framed picture where he wore his military uniform.

“Arise, O compatriots, Nigeria’s call obey

To serve our fatherland

With love and strength and faith

The labour of our heroes past

Shall never be in vain

To serve with heart and might

One nation bound in freedom, peace and unity.

Oh God of creation, direct our noble cause

Guide our leader’s right

Help our youth the truth to know

In love and honesty to grow

And living just and true

Great lofty heights attain

To build a nation where peace and justice shall reign.

This fictitious work of the writer is dedicated to our heroes fighting to ensure the unity of our great nation, Nigeria. And also to their loved ones who stay awake through the night in prayers for them, and to those who have lost brave sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, fathers and mothers. May their labours never be in vain!

© ‘Wunmi Izuagie