My friend Aisha died a month to my ninth birthday.

Aisha was my friend, neighbour and granddaughter of our landlord, Paa Amadu.
She was one of those kids who no one really paid attention to.
Her mother wasn’t in the picture and her dad was young and still in school.
Her dad’s nickname was ‘young man’, he was funny, outgoing and he was very much liked by everyone.
His daughter on the other hand was a bit like me; shy, quiet, moody and a little weird.

Sometimes she’d just follow me around and we didn’t even have to speak.
She was younger and looked small for her seven and the half years.

What I remember most about Aisha is her laughter; she had a loud shrill laugh that sounded like a cry.

Aisha was also devoted friend.

She’d be there when I got home from school and stay on most days after we’ve had dinner and watched a movie, and then my mom would make her go home.

I wasn’t always a good friend to Aisha, I was mean to her sometimes.
I’d ditch her to go play with the older kids, occasionally I’d ask her to leave me alone or intentionally pick a fight with her just so I can get in with the older kids.
My dad saw me do this once; he marched up to me and said;

“Do you know how lucky you are to have someone who adores you? Now, go upstairs and play with your friend!”

One sad day in May, Aisha suddenly fell sick, she died while being rushed to the hospital.
When I got home from school, my mom told me with succinct indifference that Aisha had died.
I could never understand to this day why she was so unaffected by it, and we’ve never spoken of her since then.
My dad was angry, he said she had died from an easily preventable disease.

He called it a senseless death!
I barely slept that night; I stayed up trying to make sense of it all.

The next day I got back from school just in time to see Aisha’s coffin procession make its way from the mosque.

It passed right in front on our house, I stood on our veranda and watched.

That same veranda we had played on many times, we used to do cartwheels on that veranda… Aisha and I.
Aisha could do twenty-one cartwheels from one end to the other, and I twenty.
In Aisha, I’ve learned not to take people for granted.