Whispers of the Lantern

Story-time

Let me share my story, one I’ve come to treasure over time. It begins in the heart of Nkata Ozi, a small Igbo village tucked between the hills and the Ukwuoma River. Years ago, I thought my world had ended. I thought I knew love. His name was Uchenna, and at one point, I believed we were written in the stars. We shared everything—dreams of building a life together, late-night talks under the mango tree, shared roasted maize at the market and even promises we couldn’t keep. I thought he was my everything. But life, as I’ve learned, has a way of unraveling even the strongest ties.

When things fell apart, it wasn’t dramatic, no shouting or throwing things. It was quieter, like watching sand slip through your fingers no matter how tightly you clench them. We grew apart. Our dreams didn’t match anymore. Uchenna dreamed of the bustling city of Enugu, of business deals and modern success. I, on the other hand, felt the pull of our village, its quiet rhythms and the stories whispered by the elders under the udala tree.. Eventually, we ended it. Or, perhaps, life ended it for us.

Tonight, I saw Uchenna again for the first time in three years. I was walking back from Afor market evening sales, carrying a basket filled with fresh okra and bitter leaves, when I spotted him. He was riding a bicycle, his laughter ringing out as clear as the church bell on a Sunday morning. And sitting behind him was a girl—a beautiful girl with a wide smile and laughter that seemed to light up the dark street. They were so at ease, so alive, as though the entire world existed just for their joy.

I froze for a moment, standing there in my wrapper and slippers, watching them as they pedaled past. He looked happy, freer than I’d ever seen him. The girl looked so carefree, throwing her head back and laughing at something he said. It was a sight that should’ve stung, but instead, I felt...peaceful.

You see, I never liked bicycles. Riding in the chilly harmattan night, the cold nipping at your skin? Never for me. I’ve always preferred the warmth of a crackling fire and the safety of familiar paths. But watching them, I understood something that changed everything: life is wise. It always finds a way to put us where we truly belong.

Let me explain.

After Uchenna and I broke up, I spent months feeling like a shell of myself. It wasn’t just about losing him; it was about losing the version of me I thought I had to be to keep him. But Nkata Ozi is a place that has a way of healing you. The people, the market chatter, the sound of pounding yam in the evenings—they remind you that life keeps moving, no matter what.

One night, during one of my long, aimless walks, I wandered aimlessly beyond the village, past the yam farms and into the edge of the forest. I don’t know what drew me there, but as I stood at the entrance, I heard a voice behind me.

There, under the fading light, I saw her—Nne Mma, the old storyteller. She was seated by a small fire, her hands clasped around a wooden lantern that glowed faintly. She looked up as I approached, her wrinkled face breaking into a knowing smile.

“Ifunaya,” she said softly, calling me by name. “Are you running from your pain or seeking your path? Why do you carry this weight alone? Do you not know that life moves like a river? Let it flow.”

“I don’t know how,” I admitted, tears I didn’t know I’d been holding back spilling down my cheeks.

She smiled and held out the lantern. “This will guide you. The path is dark, but it leads to clarity. This light will show you what your heart already knows, but only if you walk without looking back. There is more waiting for you than you can imagine.”

I didn’t understand her words then, but something about her felt safe. So, I took the lantern and stepped onto the path. With her words echoing in my mind, I ventured into the forest. The lantern’s soft glow lit a path through the thick underbrush. With each step, memories of Uchenna, of us, of what we could have been, played in my mind. The good, the bad, the heartbreak—it all felt so vivid, like I was walking through the pages of my own story. They came and went like shadows, fading into the trees.

The path twisted and turned, leading me deeper until I reached a clearing I’d never seen before. At its center stood a large mirror, its surface shimmering like water in the moonlight. I stepped closer, hesitant but drawn to it.

And there I was—standing tall, my reflection clearer than I’d ever seen it. But it wasn’t just me. The woman in the mirror looked stronger, lighter, freer. Her face was softened by forgiveness—not just for Uchenna, but for herself. She didn’t carry the burden of what-ifs or regrets.

In that moment, I realized what Nne Mma’s lantern had been showing me all along: I didn’t need anyone else to complete me. I didn’t need to be saved or fixed. Everything I needed had been within me the entire time.

That night, as I walked back to the village, I left behind the girl who thought her worth was tied to someone else’s love. I returned as a woman who understood her own strength, her own light.

So tonight, as I watched Uchenna and his girlfriend disappear into the night, I smiled—not out of regret, but gratitude. He’s found his happiness, and I’ve found mine.

Life is wise, my friends. It knows what it’s doing, even when we don’t. It’s like the lantern of Nne Mma. It doesn’t erase the darkness, but it shows you the way through it.

Sometimes, the most important journey is the one that leads you back to yourself. It takes the broken pieces and rearranges them into something even better.

And you? Don’t be afraid of the dark. Trust the path. Let life flow. What’s waiting for you is more beautiful than you can imagine.

Did you enjoy this story? Did you learn something? Share your thought with me in the comment.

Thanks for reading.

Love,

Fayvourebirth