Remembering Zara

ThaHoodScholar Teecube
@tersootsafa488152
25 days ago

Remembering Zara Galangi

Throughout my years as a writer, I have sought to capture the experiences of others, not just my own. I've tried to illuminate stories that people struggle with in darkness, and in doing so, I've discovered how deeply interconnected we all are.

If we truly shared our stories, we would find common ground where our diverse experiences converge. As humans, we face certain universal challenges, such as finding love, facing rejection, heartbreak, pain, trauma and eventually death. These experiences may vary in their details, but they follow similar paths across all our lives. No one is immune to the human condition.

Years ago, I wrote a poem titled "I'm Sick." In it, I tried to capture the anguish of someone battling a degenerative disease, the kind that defies medication and erodes hope. I wasn't sick when I wrote it; I was attempting to inhabit the emotional path of suffering, to offer solidarity to anyone who might recognize their struggle in my words. I wanted them to know they weren't alone, that somewhere, someone understood their predicament.

When I shared the piece, as I always do, it found its way to someone I never expected.

Zara Galangi and I knew each other from our university days at ABU Zaria. I studied Industrial Design while she pursued Fine Arts. We shared the same building, exchanging pleasantries when our paths crossed. Years later, we connected on Facebook after graduation and started one of those distant but warm friendships that social media sustains.

Her message caught me completely off guard. She told me she had been quietly following my writings, and that "I'm Sick" had deeply resonated with her. The poem, she said, felt as though I had written it specifically for her condition. Her words were explicit in their vulnerability. She was living the reality I had only imagined and depicted in words.

I was both humbled and shaken by her revelation. While I've always gravitated toward melancholic themes as a writer, I had hoped my words might offer some glimmer of hope rather than just reflecting darkness. Out of respect for her privacy, I didn't probe deeper into her illness or how closely my words mirrored her experience. But I could sense the weight of what she was sharing, and I found myself praying for her recovery from whatever was breaking her body and spirit.

Our conversation continued, and she asked me to keep sharing my stories with her. She was a devoted reader, she said, though she preferred to follow silently without likes or comments.

Not long after our conversation, I logged into Facebook to find a mutual friend had posted Zara's photograph with a simple caption: RIP. The shock rendered me numb. At that moment, the full weight of our previous exchange crystallized with devastating clarity.

Zara was a creative soul who told her stories through brushstrokes and colour. As a painter, she found her language of expression, one that will continue to speak through the canvases she left behind for those who knew and loved her.

Today, on what would have been her birthday, her memory surfaces in my thoughts. I think of the pain she endured while managing to maintain her presence in our shared digital space, never letting anyone know that she was battling sickle cell anaemia. To me, she never appeared "sick" not until it was too late to know. She was a warrior in the truest sense, facing her condition with remarkable grace and resilience.

She lived a life worth celebrating, pursuing and achieving her dream of becoming a painter. She leaves behind a family who surely misses her deeply, and friends who were touched by her quiet strength.

Her story reminds me why I write; to bridge the spaces between us, to let others know they are not alone in their struggles. Through my poem, Zara and I found each other across the divide of suffering, and for a brief moment, neither of us was alone.

May her gentle soul rest in peace, and may her memory continue to inspire all those whose lives she graced.

Happy birthday, Zara. Your story lives on and thank you for letting me know my words resonated with you.

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