Chapter 5 - EKONG | When Love Is A Silent Song

When the boy raised his head, Ekong saw the most adorable boy he had ever seen. That was even before he could see the flamboyant way the boy expressed himself.

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Content Warning: This chapter contains depictions of bullying, which some readers may find triggering.

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The ExCeL London buzzes with activity, as people move about, wearing their yellow and blue GloPhaCon lanyards around their necks and excitement on their faces. A low hum of pre-conference chatter fills the air. It is the annual Global Pharma Connect 2025 weekend, and over 2,000 pharmacy professionals, researchers, and healthcare innovators from around the world have gathered for a 3-day conference exploring the latest advancements in clinical pharmacy, pharmaceutical ethics, digital health tools, and personalised medicine, among other topics.

Ekong navigates through the crowd towards the entrance of the main auditorium where the day's first presentation is scheduled. He moves with the determination and agility of a man on a mission. He wants to secure a front-row seat to see everything, hear everything, and contemplate questions in his mind when the time comes. Ekong is here for the fireworks and—if he will admit to himself—the pleasure of being away from home. To have personal time alone. He loves Eleanor, but these little getaways seem to help from time to time. And so the first thing he did when he arrived in London yesterday was check into his hotel room, freshen up and head out to find out what London had in store for him. He had promised himself fun, and he was going to do just that.

His fun night in London didn’t go as planned. Instead, he found himself perched at the corner of a pub, two bottles of beer in front of him and completely overcome by an overwhelming feeling of guilt. From that corner, Ekong looked like a baby bird who had just fallen into a river and needed warmth. Why was he avoiding Ade? It had been a week since Ade’s sudden message. And a week since he left it unanswered. What was he to do? Sometimes, when you get used to the way things work and have every routine of life well mapped out, any disruption in that flow tends to hit you hard. You mostly grapple with what to do or how to handle it. Change in any paradigm he is used to always makes Ekong uncomfortable.

Now, in the brightly lit conference hall, Ekong sits straighter, arms crossed like a barricade, eyes fixed on the podium..

The big screen in front of them flickers to life.

Welcome to Day One of the Global Pharma Connect 2025.

The lights dim, and the first speaker walks up to the podium. Ekong straightens his spine. The slide behind the speaker reads: AI & Automation in Prescription Handling: The Future of Clinical Efficiency.

Dr. Amina Daley, Head of Clinical Pharmacy at Oxford Health NHS Trust, begins, her voice crisp. She starts her presentation, highlighting how AI and automation are transforming prescription handling.

‘From minimising human error to optimising workflow in overwhelmed healthcare systems. We are no longer asking if AI belongs in pharmacy. We are now asking how much and how soon,’ she continues, but Ekong’s mind wanders. He knows he should focus. He wants to, but his mind chooses its path. He drifts further and farther.

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Becoming friends with Ade was one of the best things that happened to Ekong after he moved to Lagos. When his father told them that they had to relocate from Kano because it was becoming increasingly unsafe, Ekong didn’t like the sound of that. Granted, he agreed and understood the reason behind his father’s decision, but moving to start fresh in a new place comes with its challenges. It meant a new community, a new school, and the effort to make new friends, which Ekong wasn’t particularly good at. That night, he went to bed significantly worried, dreading the kind of life that awaited him in Lagos.

On the first day of school, a few days after they had fully moved into their new home in Ojodu-Berger, he met Ade. Ekong had arrived early—his mother’s insistence—and was still trembling from the uncertainty of his new life and surroundings.

The school compound smelled of wet earth from the night’s rain, and the trees, heavy with dew, swayed gently under the morning sun. It was an average state-owned school with little to offer, only classroom blocks in need of renovations. Their aluminium roofing sheets and whitewashed walls bore the wear and tear of age. The environment provided a certain greenery you wouldn’t expect from a public school- well-manicured lawns, likely maintained by recalcitrant students as punishment for one bad deed or another. The flower beds appeared to be in good shape, standing erect with beautifully coloured flowers, most of which Ekong didn’t know the names of. He could only identify the purple hibiscus. That sight was a welcome change from the dread that lingered in the air of the old school complex.

Ekong spent about an hour gallivanting, occasionally saying ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’ to other early comers and teachers he ran into, before the school bell rang for the morning assembly. The assembly was quick, unlike his old school. It began with a recital of the Lord’s prayer. Followed by an incoherent singing of the national anthem. The head teacher, a five-foot pot-bellied man, gave the day’s announcements in an overblown monotone voice, his speech full of superfluous English words. The head prefects joined the show with their rehearsed caution about sanitation in the school and the penalty obtainable if anyone was caught littering. They were dismissed, and Ekong headed to class.

It was a cramped JSS 2 classroom, the ceiling fans too slow to matter, and the walls like the outside of the building, in need of repainting. The chairs were packed too close together, with two students sharing one desk. Ekong took a deep breath and began scanning through the class.

That morning, while standing at the doorway of his new class, Ekong made a quick and thorough assessment. In those few seconds, Ekong figured out who was who and what. He was that perceptive. He knew the tall—if not the tallest—boy (if he qualified as that, since he looked more like a man) at the back of the class, with a Motorola RAZR V3 in his hand, clearly going against the regulations about bringing phones to class, was the king. He had to stay away from him. He knew the other boys who sat close to him were in some sort of clique with him. A gang, if you want. And he could tell, by the proximity they each sat close to the King, who had the highest rank in the gang.

Ekong saw the girls who loved to be in class, and the ones who were there because they had to be. He noticed the ones who had boyfriends in the class by the amount of lip shine on their intentionally pouted lips and the powdered makeup on their faces. He could tell those who didn’t bother opening their bags after they went home from the previous class, and so were just rushing through the homework.

Then there was the boy whose face he couldn’t see because he had it buried deep in a book. This boy, who seemed unaffected by the racket happening in the class and just kept flipping through his pages. Who was this boy? Curiosity held Ekong's hand and dragged him to the boy’s table.

‘Is anyone sitting here?’ Ekong asked, and when the boy raised his head, Ekong saw the most adorable boy he had ever seen. That was even before he could see the flamboyant way the boy expressed himself.

Later, after he sat down and had a brief introduction, and the boy, whose name he had learnt was Ade, had gone back to his reading, Ekong did something he had never done before. He initiated a conversation.

‘What is that about?’

Ade looked at Ekong as if he had asked the most absurd question, as if he should know what that book was.

‘Oliver Twist. Who doesn’t know what Oliver Twist is about?’ Ade asked, the surprise on his face hard to miss.

‘The boy who just asked you what it is about. That is who,’ Ekong replied. Ade laughed. Ekong liked the magniloquent way Ade laughed.

‘Oliver Twist always asks for more,’ Ade said, watching confusion creep onto Ekong’s face.

‘Errr…is that supposed to mean something?’

‘Oluwa mi o. Anyway, Oliver Twist is…’ Ade spoke at length about the book, recounting the story of how he first heard of it, why he had spent months reading it. While he did, Ekong studied how he spoke. His body movements were graceful and fluid, an unusual trait in a boy. Ekong watched the way Ade’s lips curved around each word, the way his eyes lit up as he described the harsh streets of London through Dickens’ lens, as though he had walked those very streets himself. There was something hypnotic about his voice. Soft, precise, yet full of quiet conviction.

That morning, something in Ekong changed. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt it. Then there was the fact that he felt drawn to Ade. It was strange but refreshing, like finally having cold water after a long trek under the sweltering sun. Ekong wanted nothing more than to hear Ade ramble on about more books, to see those eyes light up with passion. Ekong wanted to ask for more.

And so when the last school bell rang for the day, and Ekong asked Ade where he lived, he hoped Ade lived close to his house or at least walked on the same route. It was the latter. Adde lived about thirty minutes away from Ekong but used the same road.

‘Not far from me then. Do you want to go together?’ Ekong asked.

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After that day, Ekong went to school in the morning with Ade and left in the afternoon with him. They went out during breaks to get food at the Bukka together. They started eating the same food. When Ekong opted for Eba and Egushi, Ade went for the same. When Ade felt like eating Ewa Agoyin, Ekong opted for that. Ekong changed his mind about the fish on the rice and would rather have ponmo? The bukka lady had to do the same for Ade. They studied together and did their assignments together. Ade convinced Ekong to read more, especially novels Ade loved—Pride and Prejudice, Things Fall Apart, Purple Hibiscus, Flowers in the Attic. It was always the two of them together. Ade and Ekong. Everyone in school and at home saw their friendship and envied it, or admired it. Ekong and Ade.

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The Day Ekong saved Ade, they had been seatmates for about a month. Ade had gone to the boys’ bathroom and met Ozeba there. Ozeba was on his way out of one of the makeshift stalls housing the always-messy toilets. The smell of weed wafted violently in there, masking the overpowering stench of stale urine and the sour tang of unflashed waste that always cruised in there. The atmosphere was dense with smoke. Houseflies drifted through the smoke. Ade began to cough as he entered, covering his nose with a handkerchief. Then he bumped into someone. Ade looked up, and it was Ozeba.

‘Wetin you dey do for here?’ Ozeba asked, his mastery in pidgin fluttering around with tact.

Ade, stunned by the question, stayed silent.

“Na you I dey follow talk. Why be say na here you dey, no be toilet for woman you suppose dey?’

‘What?’ Ade asked. His palms began sweating.

‘ I say comot for here!’

Ade stood still, wondering what all that was about, unsure where Ozeba was going with that.

Ozeba, adding the buckle to his belt and making sure it was tight, held Ade by the collar and dragged him out to the field, which led to the girls’ bathroom. Ade knew better than to resist. He just followed, Ozeba’s weight pulling him along like a docile goat being led to the slaughterhouse.

Ekong was walking toward the other end of the field, probably heading to the urinal as well, when he caught sight of Ade, held up, hanging mid-air, his feet barely touching the ground like a puppet in the hands of a puppeteer. He swiftly ran to them, standing in Ozeba’s way, his eyes housing a question, a dare. Ozeba caught on. Perhaps, he wasn’t as dim-witted as he seemed. Or he had seen the scene before—the bravery from young fools who challenged him, thinking they could win him in a faceoff. Ozeba smiled as he let go of Ade’s collar. Ade fell to the ground with a thud. Ozeba advanced ferociously towards Ekong, a Cheshire grin marking his face. His eyes screamed: I accept your dare.

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A thunderstorm of claps erupts suddenly, pulling Ekong out of his thoughts. Dr. Amina Daley is done with her presentation. Ekong didn’t hear any of it, but from the clapping and smiles on people’s faces, he can tell he missed a lot. Hesitantly, he joins the sea of claps.

‘Now, we will open the floor for questions,’ the presenter says when the clapping ends.

Ekong jerks up and makes his way out of the row, signalling to the person next to him that he wants to pass. They shift a bit back, creating enough space for him to squeeze through.

He enters the bathroom, has a quick piss and while standing in front of the washbasin, he looks at himself in the mirror. Undoubtedly, he is affected by the new presence in his life. He has pretended long enough that he doesn’t feel the change. What is worse, the constant tug-of-war he is going through with himself, trying to strike a balance—or more accurately, a win—between the part of him that wants this to be a dream, a worst nightmare and the part of him that wants to admit that he missed his old friend. The part that wants to find out what Ade has been up to all these years.

Ekong digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He unlocks it and opens Facebook Messenger, finding his way into Ade’s DM.

He stares at the message and begins to type.

Heyyy, Ade! Yes, it has been forever. You dey ok?

He sends it and feels a wave of relief wash over him. Maybe it will not be as bad as he thought.

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