‘Hope you are doing fine. If so, doxology’. My classmate, Yetunde, had this as her favourite introductory line when writing a letter. Not until then, I never knew the meaning of doxology. I recently reminiscence about the past with a friend; in the course of that discussion we talked about our past and memories we have trapped there. At some point the issue of letter writing came to fore. It made the discussion grow wings. We both sounded animated and my friend promised to bring her letters the next time we meet. One of my beloved pastime as a teenager was writing letters. The uncomplicated act of putting pen to paper for me then was beyond depiction. I did not need to be shy. Nobody’s eyes penetrated my body in a way that made me shivers. I had unlimited access to my heart and I did not have to bother about being tongue tied. It was the easiest thing to do when I wanted to let someone know exactly how I felt. In turn when someone wrote me a letter, I looked forward to reading it and of course the person’s handwriting was also something that mattered. If it was a beautiful handwriting then it meant that the letter would mean much more. If the paper on which the letter was written was colourful then the letter even gets magical with this.
I poured through the content of the letters and it was funny to see some, according to her, say things they naturally would not say to her face-to-face. Letter writing gives a pseudo feeling of anonymity. Of course, some of the letters were love notes penned to unlock emotions. A good number of hers was from a female friend whom she admired and had approached and they had become pen pals. I accused her of being in love with the friend, one relatively older than her without her knowing it. She kept some of her drafts and they had both used affections to colour the content of the letter. We laughed over my claim and her denial.
One of the first set of letters I remember writing was to a female acquaintance and I had looked forward to her response. Truth is, the letter took me hours, in my attempt to make sure my heart was entirely expressed there. Guess it turned out to be a wrong move. I was stepping out of the evening tutorial centre, our common ground and saw her and her friends (5 of them) across the road reading and laughing. My heart skipped. I ran back to the classroom and my eyes were wet. That’s a story for another day. While pouring through my friend’s letters, I notice that even at that age, the language was clean and the sentences well constructed. She also confirmed the fact that letters helped make her grip on the Queen’s Language firmer. My dad then would write me while I was on campus and I would write back. He’ll tell me about happenings at home and why I needed to keep dreaming. That was 2000/2001 before the age of digital and mobile communication fully caught up with us. I also remember a friend whom we agreed to be indebted to each other every week. A letter spiced with a poem was the debt. And we both gladly paid. Emails are fast, phone calls are faster but they never hold that personal touch. Seeing hers, I’m sad I binned some of mine at some point. They could have served as anti-depressants occasionally!
Now, I currently loathe having to hold the pen for long. I am not a fan of exams for this reason. Why can’t we type the answers, I always catch myself asking. The keyboard stroke does it for me and I feel more comfortable. Besides, they are no more called letters when it’s informal, it just a mail or an attachment. That sweet age is gone. One minus for the social media! The language is being pummelled, spellings are altered at will. Mails are done in a hurry but most probably a letter isn’t because you are not sure of when the next one would come or the opportunity to write another. I hate it more when it’s referred to as snail mail. Argh! Then the touch of a letter in the hand is worth much. If it’s one with good news, holding it to the chest even makes the cockle of the heart warm. If and when I get a pen pal friend, I think I’ll love the splendour of writing again!
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‘Sola Fagorusi is a youth development advocate, freelance writer, accomplished debater cum coach and blogger. The Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife graduate volunteered with various non-profits at different times as an adolescent. His interest in social entrepreneurship straddles leadership, good governance cum anti-corruption and adolescent reproductive health and rights. The Leap Africa alumnus is also a trained peer educator and a DESPLAY alumnus/co-facilitator. He was technical consultant and lead judge at the Plateau Inter-Faith Peace Youth TV Debate Project and has anchored various television and radio programmes in Kaduna, Lagos and Port-Harcourt. He profoundly perceives writing and oratory as key tools for development. ‘Sola blogs at www.kadunaboy.com and is about completing studies for a Masters degree in development communication.
