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I was eighteen or less but by that age, I already had read a whole lot of books I could get my hands on from my Uncle's bookstore plus more he would recommend for me on days I could not make a choice. That was exactly what made him my favourite uncle.
It was like an adventure to me. Reading through words and having a clear picture of what the writer is trying to paint with mere words. Sometimes it felt like I was seeing a movie untold before me but Inside the pages of a book.
So I kept frequenting my uncle's store. Picking out new fantasies each day, and new horror the next day. And loomy days it was more of motivational books. But in all, I made sure to touch each genre or theme at that very young age.
Day after day, month after month. I closed different chapters of different books. The more I found reading interesting, the more I read, and the more I closed more chapters.
But that day as I helped pack up those worn-out books from the dusty shelves of the bookstore. The smell of old books sniffing through my nose. It dawned on me that I was not just closing chapters of books but chapters of memories too. I was closing memories of my childhood days that I spent sometimes curled up in the small store, reading and helping my uncle attend to his customers. And also I was closing memories of days I argued about books and who was our favourite with my uncle.
And when I read Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Adichie. And wished I might be able to meet my imaginary favourite character in the book, Kambili. I even learnt to read newspapers, and with the little knowledge gained from it about the political world, I would argue politics with my uncle.
Turning to him I smiled "But Uncle why are you closing down the shop?" I asked.
He looked at me and smiled. "My dear, everyone has gone digital now. Business is not booming as usual, besides my eyes can't even grab the words in a book anymore. It's time to close this chapter" he looked around. I'm sure he was going to miss his little store.
I was going to miss the store too. Everything about it. I wished I could take over but what I longed for in life was outside the shores of my hometown. And I was ready to go get it.
"So Uncle, what is next for you now?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"Mmmmh, I have lived my life reading the white man's books and histories. I think it is time to go home to understand my roots and dine with my ancestors." He replied. His eyes were so hopeful. "Maybe write a book too about our lineage"
"I would love to be your first reader. And already, I am a big fan," I said.
We laughed about it and continued unpacking the store.
Awwn that’s so sad. The rate in which we’re not valuing our culturally made assets are alarming. I was reading a book by chimeka garricks the other day and was widely describing the beauty of the book to a few of my colleagues, when one said who’s the author and I explained, he’s a Nigerian. The next thing that came out of her mouth was, I don’t read Nigerian books, and I said and you’re a Nigerian shame on you.
You gave her a good reply because what happened to Nigerian writers. We have a long way to go with that mindset
Times and seasons 👌
While in the previous chapter, your uncle had a great impact on you and some others (although weren't mentioned) , I love how he chose to evolve. That's growth. Impact at every stage 👏👏
I'm sad that your uncle's bookstore was closed, and I like his positivity of the part of being a bookstore owner was over in his life, but he will have a new beginning with his new plans in life.
i have always known him as a man that hardly gives up.he will bounce back as a writer.
How sweet! That's life. Things ends and another chapter opens and that's why we should never let those memories of them fade.
memories are what makes it all beautiful. Nice having you around.
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STOPVery interesting story. Happy day to you
Thank you.