She was not old.

Sometime in 2013, actually the most challenging period in my life. I met a lot of people, many of them young, very few of them old. This was some months after I had a near death accident on Kudirat Abiola Way, Ikeja. I was a reborn, avoiding sins as much as I can.

November 2013, in the NYSC Orientation Camp at Iyana-Ipaja, Lagos. The atmosphere was cool in the beginning but it suddenly started getting hot, and the temperature was tending towards HELL. This is the time I have been waiting for, that time I need to withdraw from the community of educated but morally sick youths.

I spent most of my time in seclusion, but didn't stop meeting people (but this time, well vetted people). I wouldn't want to recount all that happened, so, I'll take you straight to my meeting with that girl who was not old.

She was arguably one of the most pretty ladies in camp, I wouldn't want to give details of her body, because she is no more. She has such a good heart that immediately I approached her, she initiated the friendship by insisting that I eat from the potato chips she was eating and she later gave me the whole pack.

Below was our conversation over two separate meetings on the same day.

Me: Hello sis, good afternoon

Her: Good afternoon

Me: I am Mubarak Imam, a graduate of University of Ilorin. You?

Her: Omolola (not real name), al-Hikmah University, Ilorin.

Me: That's great, we were neighbors, I have a friend who also graduated from your school, His name is "Maimasa".

Her: I think I know him.

Me: Okay. But wait, which part of Nigeria are you from?

Her: Ilorin.

Me: What, are you kidding me, where in Ilorin?

Her: Adifa.

Me: Subhanallah, that's close to our Emir's Palace. How come you're Omolola, you should have a more beautiful name.

Her: Okay, Raheemah (not real name).

Me: I have always wanted an opportunity to chat with you, and I think this is the right time.

Her: I just hope I can give you that time.

Me: You definitely will, In sha Allah. How come I have never for once see you at the Masjid.

Her: I hope God can forgive me, as you can see my brother, I have very long braids, and I don't have an hijab that can cover it completely.

Me: Abeg, that's no excuse. There are more than enough big hijabs in the mosque that you can use during prayers and return when you're down.

Her: May God just forgive me. The truth is, I am not really used to it (Salaah).

Me: I really hope you can have a change of mind, and just start praying. Technically, you've not observed even ONE SUJUD in the last 21days.

Her: I'll implore you to help me ask God to forgive me. I hope I will change.

Me: Sincerely, you've gat no choice. You just have to.

Her: Thank you.

Me: Don't mention. It's really nice talking to you. I pray Allah makes the deen easy for the us.

Her: Ameen.

That was my conversation with the young woman, and some months after this meeting, at an NYSC event in University of Lagos, I learnt that this damsel died during the first week of January 2014. May Allah forgive her. Aamin.

I said immediately, "Inna lillahi wa inna ilaehi raajihun". But many questions raced through my mind.

• How did she live after our meeting?
• Did she live up to her promise of change?
• How will she face her next journey?

I could not get answers from her, but the answers to the first two questions provides a clue of the third answer. I sincerely hope she lived a meaningful life after after that conversation, I really wished she change, and the third answer will be a pleasant one.

But, wait;

• What if she never acted on the conclusions of the discussion?
• What if she continued with her normal life?

I would like to stop here, because I am not a Mufti, neither I am one of Jabata's student, but in this little piece is a reminder about the reality and dynamics of death.

SHE WAS NOT OLD, YET SHE DIED.