Girls Who Dreamt of Castles

Chapter Fourty

"From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached."
                           - Kafka.

When Adira didn't know how to count to a hundred, her uncle Solomon, died.

It was a sad and year for everyone and a boring one for Adira. She almost did not know how to live her life without him around. He was always around, always. And when he stopped coming, life for her became very slow and extremely quiet.

She was confused as a little child. She knew what death was but she didn't know how it did or should happen.

Did people know they were going to die before they did? Was death like a real person that came knocking on your door? What about the people who didn't die in their houses? Could you see death or was death like air?

Her father had said: "Some questions are better left unanswered. Because if you truly, really searched for it, you might find it all by yourself."

One afternoon when Adira's aunties were in the parlour deciding on which Ankara material was best for the burial, she walked in and sat on the floor. She looked up to them with her bright eyes and asked. "Why did uncle Solo die?"

Aunty Mbang, her mother's elder sister pressed her lips together and stared at her with pity.

Then, Aunty Affiong smiled. "His lungs failed him," she said.

That made Adira more confused. How did something inside of you fail you? How did it happen? Her uncle was a good man. He never did anything wrong to anyone. So why would something, something that personal to him fail him?

"Questions, questions, questions," her uncle had sung to her.

One night when everybody had gone to bed, she went outside to meet him because she wanted to ask him a question.

She had found him resting on a stool, and though he looked peaceful, his face was contoured with worry. He blew smoke out from his nostrils and studded the remaining cigarette in an ashtray.

Adira loved seeing the free part of him. There was a kind of aura that came on whenever he smoked. There was so much passion to it.

She went closer and asked her question.

"You ask so many questions, Adira," he answered, catching her attention.

"Is it bad?" she questioned and sat on a bench next to him.

"No, of course not. So isn't, too is."

He gave her his best uncle smile and reached for his pocket, taking out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Slowly, he brought out a stick and lit it up with the fire from the igniter.

Adira covered her face as if she was embarrassed.

"Ah, uncle!" she exclaimed. "That's the tenth stick today."

"Don't tell me you've been counting."

"How many have you taken throughout your life?"

"A lot."

"Could you be more specific?"

"Specific!" there was no hidden surprise in his tone. He shook his head as if making a mental count. "More than a hundred."