I sit dazed at what I just heard as myraids of thoughts come unfiltered into my head. I keep asking myself if it could be true, how possible this is. Denial tells me that I am dreaming. Yes I think I am dreaming and my body will soon awaken to reality, because this cannot happen in real life. Ewa cannot be dead.
I clearly remember the day that I first talked to Ewa in class. We were in the second semester of our second year in the University. Though we were departmental mates, I had noticed her only from a distance. On that day, I came late to class and all the seats had been taken except the one beside Ewa which was at the rear of the classroom. Usually, I sat with two friends who I had formed a clique with, but that day, due to my tardiness, we couldn’t sit together. So, I walked into class, greeted the lecturer who didn’t acknowledge me and walked to sit beside Ewa. I greeted her, but she didn’t reply.
As I settled down, I tried to understand what the lecturer was saying but I couldn’t so i asked Ewa. All she did was slide her notebook towards me. It was only half a page full so I started copying it. Her hand writing was neat and artistic just like Ewa herself. She was dark in complexion with big doll like eyes, long lashes, high cheek bones and a pointed nose. She wore a jean trouser and a lilac chiffon gown top. She was beautiful.
I returned her notebook and tried to pay attention to the lecturer. When the class ended, i thanked Ewa again for lending me her note book. She just nodded and walked off.
‘She really is snobbish’ I thought. Though she hadn’t paid any attention to me, I had taken a weird liking to her. At subsequent classes I sat beside her though only few words were exchanged.
I sudden shout pulls me out of my reverie, and I watch as my classmates who are settled in clusters exchange opinions about what could have killed Ewa. I hear words like ‘pregnant’, ‘abortion’, ‘Aristo’, ‘accident’ but i can’t place complete phrases. I am sitting at the same place I sat on the first day I talked with Ewa. Her absence feels to surreal so I draw up another memory of her. It was of the day I got her contact.
She’d missed an impromptu test that held the previous day, because she was absent from class. I’d been worried about her, but when I asked my classmates for her contact, nobody had it except the class representative. This really got me thinking about how weird it was that she didn’t have a friend in the class.
‘Is she really unfriendly’ I’d thought. I concluded that day that because she kept to herself, nobody had reached out to her, and there I decided that I would become friends with her. The next day, I asked for her contact. She’d looked surprised, but she gave it to me. From then, I texted her at least every two days and sat by her in class. Bit by bit she started talking with me and I was amazed at how fun she was as a person.
I’m again pulled away from my thoughts when I look up to see my two best friends walk into class. They scan the class till their eyes settle on me and they slowly make their way towards me. I really do not want company right now especially not from them. Finally they reach me and look at me with something akin to pity. They’ve just left the HODs office and have heard the full account of what happened to Ewa. I listen as they take turns narrating the story.
I’m filled with guilt and regret, because Ewa had tried to talk to me but I didn’t listen, yet I was supposed to be her friend. My friends had raised eyebrows at my sudden association with Ewa when they’d noticed us getting close. They’d had stories to tell about her attitude and exploits with men and were ashamed so to speak of me who had a good girl image being associated with her. At first I didn’t listen to them because I had found out that Ewa had a humble background and had sought the way of ‘Aristo’ to cater for herself and her family. Although her parents had no idea where her money was coming from, they were proud that they had a child in the university. It was a miracle seeing as the first two children of her family were secondary school drop outs.
All had been well till the first semester of our third year. Rumours started flying around that Ewa was pregnant. I didn’t believe this and she carried on like nothing was wrong, so, I didn’t ask her. Before long my friends started pressuring me to withdraw from her. I was tagged stubborn because I refused to heed them. I continued acting normal till the day that Ewa told me she was indeed pregnant. I was visiting at her house off campus and we had been joking and talking generally till she started talking seriously and told me amidst tears that she had taken in. I was shocked. Yes, I knew she was seeing men, although we hardly ever talked about it, because I was to shy to ask. I always assumed the indifferent position that it wasn’t my business.
‘She could handle herself as she’s been doing before she met me’.
But on that day, she spoke freely with me about her struggles, about how she wished she could talk to someone her pain. That day I let her pour her heart out and though I didn’t know what words would sooth her, I encouraged her as best as I could. Did I ask her what she wanted to do next? No I didn’t. Instead, I told my friends all about it and all I heard from them was about how right they had been all along. She was bad for me. A really terrible influence, and if I wasn’t careful, rumours will be spread about me too. They were so convincing that I believed them. The next few times Ewa and I saw, I admit I was cold and withdrawn and each time she looked at me, pain shone from her eyes, but I couldn’t be bothered.
My friends wouldn’t understand if I explain to them how guilty I feel. No one else but Ewa and I would know that on the morning of the day she died, she called me and I ignored her. Little did I know that Ewa was on her way to have her baby removed. Now I wish I laid pride aside and adorned love, compassion and understanding. Now, I battle guilt and condemnation. Oh! How I wish that I listened to the voice within me telling me not to think of myself as better but rather as privileged. Ewa might still be here if I did. I thought of her as a snob when I first met her, but now my finger points back at me as being worse.
I have received love all of my life. Struggle or lack are not concepts I am familiar with. I hear stories of hurt and disgrace, but I have never known them intimately. Yet, I refused to extend the same gifts I have received to a friend in need. I am a Christian who has been given immeasurable gifts by a loving father. Leading a friend to the place that I stand is not a big deal. But, on second thoughts, it is a big deal. My refusal to do that has cost a dear friend her life. I rise dejectedly from my seat and murmur goodbye to my friends.
As I walk out of my classroom, my heart is heavy, and with sorrow I talk to my father pleading for forgiveness and the same compassion I denied my friend. I pray for strength and provision for Ewa’s family. Never in my life have I felt this subdued. Yes, indeed this is a hard lesson. But I resolve never to repeat this mistake.
If Jesus could accept the worship of publicly scorned woman and could dine with society rejects, who am I to exalt myself? I dare not forget that it is by His precious sacrifice that I am where I am today. I thought I was better than Ewa. I forgot that without Christ, I am nothing; a sacrifice that was made for all who are willing to receive. Yes! It was He who drew me near, washed away my filth and made me new.
At this thought, my sorrow gives way to strong resolve. Ewa may be gone, and the knowledge of my mistake buried with her, but I would tow a new path. This message of Christ’s reconciliation will I spread without fear of ridicule because I know how precious this gift is. It is free and available to all.
Signed -by Ewa’s Christian friend
Simi Joel 
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