WHEN A FRIEND DIES

Barbara was that friend I could go months without seeing, yet when we finally saw each other, it was like no time had passed. We would pick up from right where we left off. She never asked me where I had been or why I had not called her. I never asked her why we had not hanged out. Instead, we just talked about plans. What would we like to do?  Our favorite thing to do was to watch Nigerian movies together. I cannot watch a Nigerian movie now without thinking about her. Our favorite Nigerian movie was ‘Beyonce’.  We watched Beyonce 1 and Beyonce 2 and awaited eagerly for Beyonce 3, even though it may never have existed. We both “awed” when a woman was wooed by the ideal guy and clicked our tongues in disgust when a character was being evil. Nigerian movies are long, but we enjoyed every minute of it.  The movie ‘Beyonce’ had a happy ending. We celebrated together. This was our bonding time. Sometimes Barbara’s mother would join us. She was not too fond of the witchcraft in the Nigerian movies. She said it gave her nightmares. Barbara and I laughed about it. We laughed about the fact that she was affected by fictitious events in a movie. We loved the edge of the seat suspense in the movies, the punishment of the wicked and the reward of the righteous.

It was a time in my life when I was single and somewhat lonely. I lived by myself and barely had any friends. I always remembered her kindness. She was the only friend who showed me unconditional love, even when I was at my lowest.  I visited her once and she was so hospitable. She asked me if I was hungry. Her mother was not home She offered her home and kitchen to me as though I was her own sister. She would encourage me to fix anything I wanted. We would fix sandwiches. A few times she would excitedly tell me that her mother had made Chapatis. A delicious Kenyan delicacy. She would offer them to me, and I would happily oblige. We sat on the couch at the apartment where Barbara and her mother lived in Homewood, Alabama. We would cozy in with tea and Chapati, put on a Nigerian movie and watch for three hours. This was my friend Barbara; I remember with such fondness. The good times we had together.

One day, Barbara invited me to attend the Basement with her. I wondered what it was. It sounded like something Barbara would never do. She was not the clubbing or partying girl. She was very spiritual, religious, Christian… but she lived by it. She was the epitome of Jesus. Loving, kind and dedicated to her beliefs. I hopped in her car, excited to see what the basement was. We arrived at the Church of the Highlands location on Grants Mill Road, off I459 in Birmingham, Alabama. As we walked into the large chapel, I remember being mesmerized by the club feel in the building. It looked like a huge concert. A guy named Matt Pitt was on the stage getting the crowd excited. He was preaching but it was so unconventional that one would have thought that he was getting ready to invite a famous artist on stage. An artist called Jesus Christ. It was the best “clean” fun I had in my life, by Christian standards. This became our Tuesday routine for a while. This was 2012.

In 2014, I was releasing my album, and it was the most stressful day of my life. The Kenyan church where I had booked a venue had made changes and I did not have the same room I was going to have. They did not want non-members using their chapel. I took it very personally, back then. Now, I probably would not care, but back then I felt like I was being treated like an outsider. A heathen. I took comfort in the fact that Jesus was treated the same way. On the day of the album release, Barbara shows up. She followed me around, which was very comforting. She asked me how I was. I told her I was stressed and nervous. She was surprised that I was nervous. She made me feel like I could do anything. She stayed close to me the whole time. Helped me change clothes and get ready. She laughed and distracted me and reassured me that my last set was great and that I would be fine. Is it a wonder that I miss her so much? I never had anyone treat me with such unprejudiced neutral love and believe in me so much. She never complained if I asked her for help. She never judged me.

The first time I met Barbara, it was at a Kenyan gathering in Birmingham, Alabama, over twenty years ago, in 1999. The first thing she said to me was, “Lisa, we were neighbors in Buru Buru, Nairobi, Kenya, and we went to the same Primary School”. I could not remember any of that, but I liked her personality, so we bonded right away. The last time I saw Barbara was about a year before she died. Early 2019. She invited me to attend one of her functions. She had been creating and hosting Worship concerts and wanted me to be a part of one of them. I was honored because is had been over a couple of years since the release of my album. I had sort of given up on the music and taken a break before I could begin recording my next one. I had felt alienated by the Kenyan Christian community in Birmingham and had thrown myself into work while I waited for my next inspiration. She contacted me, encouraged me to come, sent me the songs to practice and checked on me every day till the day of the concert. At the concert, she was sweet and supportive. She even helped me out with a song I was not confident about. I had a great time. After the event, which was in Pelham we stood outside with a couple of other friends and talked. I really enjoyed her company as we caught up on our life events. We parted ways happily, promising to do more projects together. I did not know that this would be the last time I saw her.

 The last time we communicated, I was in Kenya in early 2020, literally less than a couple of weeks before she died. She wrote me on Instagram after seeing my pictures of my trip to Kenya. “Did you move back to Kenya?” She asked. I replied, “I wish. Lol. Lol.” In my mind, I was going to see her when I got back to Birmingham and we would catch up while I tell her all about my trip back home. Less than two weeks later, on the same day that news of Kobe Bryant’s death was exploding, my cousin Joy messages me asking if it was true what she was reading about Barbara on Facebook. Barbara had died. My life was turned upside down. I told my mother about it and then for three days I could not even talk about it. It was the most gut wrenching feeling I had ever had. I would never see Barbara again, and I could not understand why. I felt sad and angry at the same time.  Angry at God for taking such a sweet soul away so early.

A few days later I finally came to terms with it and said something on Facebook. When I got back to Birmingham, Alabama, the first thing I had to do was attend her funeral. I was informed that I was to sing. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life because when I went anywhere to sing, Barbara was always there cheering me on. Helping me not to feel nervous. Who was going to sit with me now? Who was going to tell me that I could do it? I tried to give a speech, but the sight of her red casket took my breathe away. Watching her mother frail with grief broke my heart. I have had long talks with God since then. I found out that her mother had cancer when Barbara died. Barbara was her only baby. I still do not understand why this amazing lady had to lose her only daughter during the most challenging time of her life. I have heard that everything happens for a reason, or maybe for no reason at all. This is one experience which will stay on my mind forever.

Sometimes when I least expect it, I hear Barbara’s voice, ridiculing me for being nervous before a performance, telling me a story about some guy she likes, exclaiming during a Nigerian movie, offering me something to eat, and asking me to come and sit with her during a concert. “Are you ready?” she said. That last time I sang with her. I was still practicing right before she called me up to sing. I have dreams about her sometimes. In the dreams, it is like she never died. I tell her what has been going on my life, she laughs. She died at 37, so she will always look young. In my dreams, she is always happy. Nothing has changed about her. When I wake up, I know that I talked to her. I know that I connected with her. I do not know what my readers believe about life and death. Honestly, I do not even know what I believe about life and death. I know though that whenever I have wondered how she is doing, I have had dreams about her, where she is happy and radiant, and I am the one talking to her about my troubles. She always smiles reassuringly. It is like she never left me.

Barbara was my friend. She still is in my heart. She was never perfect. None of us is perfect, but she had a good heart, great intentions. Like all of us, she had dreams and aspirations. She was there for me at a time when I felt so alone in America, with my family in Kenya. I looked forward to our trips to the Basement, and our Nigerian movie sessions. She loved me without expecting me to be anyone else. Just the way I am. I believe this is called unconditional love. I love her the same way. She will forever remain alive in my memory and my heart. I always hope that wherever she is, she is happy and at peace.