We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.
From: Tumininu, a woman missing her larger-than-life friend
To: Toluwalopemi, her friend in Amrika
I wanted you to read this before you travelled, but you got to read it way earlier than planned. I loved how much you love this letter. Regardless, I’d like everyone else to read this too.
When we met for the first time in Unilag, I remember my first impression of you was, “Oh damn, she looks like DJ Cuppy.” Some of our mates said it was your braids, but everyone eventually saw the resemblance.
I can’t really paint a clear picture of you prior to when you became my sister, but I do remember you liked complimenting my breasts a lot. Yeah, you’re just weird like that. It was such a strange thing at first. But when I saw you gave random compliments like that to other people, I stopped feeling awkward. Part of my discomfort with it came from never really being able to take praise.
You became friends with my friends, and somehow, life dumped us in the same disgusting hostel the next year.
I know a lot of people tell you this, but you really are larger than life, Tolu. Before you, I never talked much. I was always in this invisible shell, but you came and literally dragged me out of that shell. I started laughing more. I danced more. I have videos of our silly dances, bless Nofi’s soul for being there to capture the moments. I can’t help but laugh at the sight of our goofiness and utter foolishness.
I was really sad when you told me you had to travel this year (2022). I felt special about being the first out of our friends to know, but it hurt to know you’d be so far away. I miss hugging you, going to eat shawarma down the road with you. I miss walking with you, and I’ll miss going to Shop 10 together when school resumes.
I’ll miss your presence in our room. When we became close, I was going through a rough time but spending time with you made me feel better and happier. I’ll also miss your food. Please, how will I be eating in school? How am I going to tell Mummy Aliya that Dj Cuppy has left me to go to Amrika and won’t be washing plates with her anymore?
I loved talking to you until the plane took off. I really don’t know what the rest of uni would be like without you, and I’m not ready to process that. But I wish you the very best as you start a new life. At least, you get to be with your best friend in America and eat oyinbo food.
Thank you for giving me one of the best times of my life and being my sister.
This isn’t goodbye.