Black Gold

Ife was a lovely ebony, with skin of dark lustre. Smooth, almost as dark as could be. Her existence at some point was my obsession, I envied her, her perfection held me, enthralled me, and for all she was, and what I was not, I loved her dearly. She was so beautiful, holding within her a sort of beauty, one which existed not only in her elegance and intelligence, but in every single pore of her skin, her person. It oozed off of her very existence. Her body, each dip, curve, radiated an effortless, and unflawed beauty. But for all she was, she was imperfection in its purest form. Not in her looks, nor in her laughter, but in her thoughts. She was an expensive vase, filled to its brim with insecurities.

I turned one more time, hoping to sneak a peek. I felt the motion of my muscles, my eyebrows knitting, my confusion lay, open for anyone to see. Just to be safe, I sidled to the left, crossed my legs, and tried to get another peek from the new angle. I could feel my insides churning, and within it all, the confusion and the unrest, lay a sort of hope, relief, yet sadness lingered. Shaking my head, I picked up the magazine by my side, nah, she's just a lookalike. My mind reassures me, yet deep down, my heart disagrees. So, I stop sneaking looks. I look directly at her, and I observe. She doesn't turn to acknowledge my stare, she ignores me, blatantly. Something Ife would definitely do. Yet this isn't Ife, I can feel it. At least, not the Ife I know. Heaving a breath, I relax into my seat, relief floods my senses. "Ifeyinwa Ozurumba, Mister Cole will see you now." Jesus. I sit up forcefully, staring at her, eyes wide. She, just like Ife would, ignores me. The lady rises from her seat, and suddenly, I'm thrown into the present, for I see Ife, yet not Ife, not the Ife I know. This one is worlds apart from the one I grew up with. Her clothes are shorter, and her skin, not evenly toned, not ebony. Yet you can tell that she once left an impression with her glowing skin, for traces of her past marr her skin. For her skin had gone from being black, to the color of roasted white corn. Unevenly toned, and adorned with dark splotches. " Oh my God. Ife, is that you?" I watch her turn, her gaze moves over me, finally resting on a woman seated 5 seats away from me. I actually thought I was the one who said that. I watch the urgency originally stitched in Ife's face fade into anger. Then, "Mtchwww" I almost giggled, at least some things never change.

"Oh my God, do you remember her, we attended uni with her. How did she get lighter? Ahn ahn, is aunty that desperate. See how her skin is just looking burnt " I didn't have to look back to know who said that. But then, I heard, "Asin eh, when we were in elementary school, she was so dark, so so black. But she was very pretty." I felt my chest tighten, for I did remember. She was once a glowing black.