A cold case
Project info

A cold case
My best memory with my dad was when he bought a new motorcycle ”Yamaha 175” and was washing it over and over again. He invited everyone on our street for a party and everyone got beer even young people that were not surposed to drink beer. Dad loved music, Ogene high life music.

I and dad used to take long trips every sunday while my mother and little brothers and sisters were in the church praying. My father was a man who did what he wanted to. He did not stop for the trafic light and did not obey the poliseman that wanted bribe. My dad loved speed.

When I close my eyes I could to see my father drinking coca cola and beer. He sits in his favourite chair in the room and bend his head like a stuborn child angry with his mom. I left my country because things were falling apart. My father did not want me to go but I had to. And after one year he died. I wanted to go home and bury him but could not. I wanted to tell him that I loved him.

My fathers death rocked my world. I and my dad did not get along and that was because we had too much in common. My dad made so much money selling clothes but lost it again because he wanted to make more. He was never satisfied. My dad hade high blod pressure but did not eat his medications and then stroke tog him, on a fabruary morning.

I was in Sweden when my dad died. I am his first male child and it is my duty to bury him but I did not. I could not forgive myself for that. The pain in my heart was so much that I could not do anything for many years. One day I decided to travel to the northern part of Sweden. It was the coldest place on earth. The landscape was covered with snow and the silent could kill any immigrant. Once I came there I could hear my my dad at the bottom of my heart. I cried out to the wilderness. Dad was by my side the whole week.

I felt closer to him than ever before. He looked at me like he used to and his love was stronger than ever before.

He talked to me. He talked with words and his face was younger than he was. Dad and I again. He told me that he had left his motorcycle for me in Nigeria and that I was free to use it. I felt free again in my heart. I felt complete inside me.