Short story – 21stcenturybelle

The Dice #43

Operation Desert Storm

02:25 – Leave with the rescued.
The message blinked on Segal’s phone. It was from MI Bello—the team they had collaborated with.

“We have 55 minutes to get any rescues out of the area.”

Segal barked the update to his men as they made their way, dropping into the dark night from the helicopter crouching in the shadows, their forms melting into the dark night like leopards stalking prey. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth. The oppressive silence was only broken by the soft rustle of leaves and distant calls of nocturnal birds.

Sambisa was nothing like the media had described—a dense jungle, impenetrable and mysterious. In reality, it was a harsh, raw land littered with makeshift tents cobbled together from cut trees and dry leaves. The widely circulated tale of a mangrove forest, rivers winding like silver serpents, and wild animals prowling in the underbrush was a myth—this was no Colombian Amazon jungle. There were no meandering waters or echoing caves here—just hilly terrain and tall trees, spaced wide enough to reveal a dark, visible sky.

The first raindrops hitting their skin, soft as whispers. Then came the deluge—a torrential downpour that masked the distant thrum of the helicopter blades as it touched down ten miles from the settlement. Rain mixed with the earth, the night was deadly still, yet heavy with expectation and the rush of adrenalin in anticipation of the rescue mission.

The team would walk the rest of the way. The women were close.
Thanks to two embedded informants inside Boko Haram, the rescuers had a flow of intel—risky, erratic, but crucial. The weather had made surveillance harder, but the women had arrived recently, and they couldn’t afford to wait.

Inside one of the ragged tents, the women huddled together, frightened and despondent, with hope ebbing away with each passing moment. The air was sour with sweat, fear, and unwashed bodies. Muddy rainwater crept in, soaking their already threadbare clothes. Some of the women looked barely alive—dehydrated lips cracked open, skin dull and stretched over bones, the light in their eyes long extinguished.

They had overheard enough to know there would be no negotiations. The government had taken a hardline stance, vowing to rescue them, but days had passed, and no one had come.

Dunni stared blankly ahead. Since they had left Lana’s body behind, she hadn’t spoken, eaten, or blinked. The others tried to coax her, their voices cracking with desperation. But she looked through them, eyes wide open, dry, and unblinking.

She was the first to sense the shift—a rustle, a shadow. Then the men emerged like ghosts, signalling silence. Dunni didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge them, as they rounded up the women, gently nudging those barely awake. Some eyes sparked with hope.
Dunni’s remained lifeless.

The extraction took fifteen minutes. Then they vanished into the forest, boots silent on the soggy ground, as if the rescue had never happened.

For Moses, time froze. Rain pummeled him, cold and stinging, but all he saw was Dunni—a ghost of the woman he once knew. She was alive. That was enough for now. He would get her the best care: emotional, physical, and mental. Although he had no claim on her and months had passed with no contact, their friendship-or—or whatever it could have been—was buried beneath silence and time. But none of that mattered now. He was here to ensure she made it home safely.

What he hadn’t prepared for was the void in her eyes as she passed him without even a flicker of recognition.

The team hustled the women into the helicopter with an urgency that left Moses perplexed but made sense a few minutes after when a huge explosion ripped the ground below a few minutes into the sky rocking the helicopter. Moses looked below at the flames and smoke bellowing up.

“What was that?” he shouted at Segal.

“They bombed the place. That’s why we had 55 minutes.”

Moses shuddered. What if they hadn’t made it tonight? Would any of the women still be alive?

Inside the rented chopper, he wrapped Dunni in a blanket, holding her close. His tears mingled with the rain still clinging to his face. She didn’t look at him, but her body eased slightly, her eyes fluttering closed for the first time.

“She lost her friend,” said a woman beside them quietly. “Since then, she hasn’t spoken, eaten, or even slept. Your wife will need you now.”

Moses gave a bittersweet smile at the word wife. If only…

He wished he could rewind time to the beginning, when they first became friends. When he should’ve told her she was his future. The thought of what she had endured crushed his heart.

“How are you?” he asked gently.

“I’ll be fine,” she shrugged. “We saw hell. Minute to minute, we didn’t know if we’d live. I’m leaving this country. Going to my family abroad. I’m done.”

He didn’t blame her.

The government had refused to negotiate. Their “rescue mission” had barely begun many days after the kidnapping, and they hadn’t even located Sambisa.

Segal, ever professional, contacted MI Bello to have ambulances waiting.

As the chopper landed, medical teams from Tade’s hospital were already in position.

Tade was there. He ran to them, eyes locking on Dunni. Moses refused to let her go, her head tucked under his chin, still unresponsive.

“She’s been like this since we picked them up,” Moses said. “She’s in shock.”

Tade’s voice trembled, though he forced calm into it. “Let’s get her to the hospital.”

He stretched his hand toward her. Dunni flinched, retreating deeper into Moses’s arms.

That should’ve made Moses feel something like joy. But all he felt was grief.

She wasn’t here—not really.

“Will she be okay?” Moses asked with uncertainty.

Tade met his eyes, his own filling with sorrow.

“She’ll get help. Therapy, trauma care, and any care required. She’ll come back. She’s strong. Soon we’ll have the no-nonsense fireball back.”

He tried a smile. Moses managed a weak one in return.

He would give anything to see her whole again.
To wipe away every memory of the horror she endured.

To bring Dunni—not this hollow shell—back from the dark.

The Dice #41

The last light of the sun bled into the horizon, staining the sky in hues of orange and deep purple. The air was thick, carrying the dry scent of dust and sweat, mingling with the distant smoke that curled in ominous tendrils. Each breath Dunni took felt heavier than the last, her limbs screaming in protest. She had been the strong one, the one whispering words of courage to Lana, forcing a smile when despair threatened to choke her. But now, her strength was slipping away like sand through clenched fingers.

She turned to check on Lana, and the sight froze her blood.

“Lana,” she whispered, her voice barely above the whisper of the evening breeze. “Lana?” Her fingers trembled as she reached out, tapping her friend’s arm. No response.

A cold wave of dread swept through her, sinking deep into her bones. “Lana, wake up!” she pleaded, her voice rising with each desperate call. Her hands shook as she grasped Lana’s shoulders and shook her gently, then violently.

Two men rushed toward her, their faces shadowed in the dim light. One reached out to check for a pulse, the other bent to lift Lana’s body. But Dunni flung herself over her friend, clutching her with a strength she didn’t know she had.

“No! Get back!” she screamed, her voice raw with anguish.

More hands came, rough and unyielding, prying her away. She fought, kicked, thrashed, her cries splitting the silence of the night like a shattered mirror.

“She’s just sleeping,” she muttered, her breath hitching. “She’ll wake up soon. She just needs to wake up.”

She rocked herself, hugging her knees, her eyes wide and unfocused. Around her, the other women stood in silence, their faces carved with sorrow and fear. They had all learned to speak without words—through glances, through the weight of shared suffering. But Lana had been her anchor, the only voice that had kept her sane in this madness. Now, that voice was gone.

The men started rounding them up. A shadow loomed over her, his face set in hard lines.

“Tashi mu wuce.” His voice was like a hammer striking cold steel.

Dunni barely heard him. She was drowning in a haze, floating outside herself, her body refusing to move. The man barked again, his tone sharper. When she didn’t respond, a pair of hands seized her, yanking her up. She flailed, her screams cutting through the heavy night air.

Then she caught a whiff of the man holding her—an unbearable stench of unwashed flesh and dried blood. Her stomach turned, and a wave of nausea drained the fight from her. Her body slumped, her strength leaving her as quickly as Lana had. Satisfied, the man set her down roughly and walked away. She staggered forward, joining the line of women who marched onward, their feet dragging through the dust, their silence heavier than the darkness that surrounded them.

Three days had passed. Three days of hell.

Tade stood in his office, his phone pressed to his ear, his body thrumming with restless energy.

“What’s the update?” he demanded, his voice clipped. His chief security officer’s voice came through, laced with tension.

“It’s all over the news. The women were taken by Boko Haram. They’re being held in Sambisa Forest. The president has vowed action, but you know how these things go.”

Tade clenched his jaw, flipping through news channels. The flickering screen showed sensationalised reports, shaky footage, talking heads spewing government promises. It was all noise, all propaganda. None of it had hastened the rescue of Dunni and the rest of the high-profile women.

A different kind of war was raging beneath the surface.

Information was surfacing about lithium and gold buried beneath the Sambisa Forest. Molade Thomas, the richest woman in Africa, had already set her sights on the land. She had partnered with Senator Isiaku Balla, a man whose interests were as murky as the waters he waded in. To the world, they spoke of conservation, a grand plan to turn the forest into a game reserve. But Tade knew better.

Molade had an instinct for wealth, an almost supernatural ability to sniff out opportunities before anyone else. And if she was interested in Sambisa, it wasn’t for the wildlife.

She had been working her way into Borno for months, weaving a web of influence, waiting for the perfect moment. Now, with the hostage crisis unfolding, she had the perfect excuse to move in. Her trucks, loaded with aid for displaced civilians, were a front. She had already reached out to the army, the police, an independent security agency—offering ‘assistance’ in the rescue mission.

But Tade had heard whispers of another plan. One that would erase Sambisa Forest from existence.

Bello’s voice cut through his thoughts. “We move in tomorrow at midnight. If the hostages aren’t out by then, we bring them out ourselves.”

Tade exhaled slowly, his hands clenching into fists. “Twenty-four hours, MI Bello. Bring her back.”

The Dice#38

Dunni and Lana have been holding their hands during the bus ride. They journeyed all day, stopping at intervals for the women to pee. Some were brave enough and escaped in the bushes, but one lady was not too successful, and for the second time in the same day, they encountered another lady shot in cold blood. “anyone who tries escape again will be killed,” he locked his gun, and they shuddered with fear.
The bus came to a stop, and they were asleep to file out, being stripped of every form of jewellery they had on them and led into the bush. As they walked, most women had to take off their heeled shoes as it was almost impossible to walk in the forest with them.
A cold chill washed over Dunni when the jewellery with the tracking device was taken off her. She hoped the guy taking the jewelries off them stayed with the group, they would be fine. Her hopes were dashed when he returned to the bus, and they watched the bus drive off, killing every hope of being found.
“I need to take my diabetes shot,” she heard Lana talking to one of the guys who looked at her blankly. She pointed to her bag, removing the injection and gesturing to her upper left arm. Another guy was screaming to keep moving, but Lana stood her ground and repeated what she said earlier. He nodded. She rolled her sleeve upwards, hitting her arm and administered the dose. “When is the next one, Dunni asked worriedly.
“Tomorrow, same time. How many do you have with you? 7 days’ worth. I always carry it in my bag. Dunni did know the obvious show of relief on her face. “We’ll be out before you know it.” She encouraged her friend as they resumed walking, rushed by the guy with them to join the others.
Dunni was struggling to remain optimistic. Every iota of hope diminished by every step into the forest.

They had walked for the better part of the day, they were not allowed to rest, Dunni could see the exhaustion on the other womens face giving her a glimpse of what hers looked like. The perfectly made face of some of the women all disappeared beneath a cake of brown powder smeared with sweat, others had trickles of black kohl forming a path below their eyes, nose and disappearing to their chin. Just about that time, Dunni felt she could no longer go on. One of the guys leading them backed the order to stop. They were approaching a settlement, and another town dog hope was rising. This could be their deliverance of escape; instead, everyone did their duties as if they had not noticed the strange entourage arriving, and the women almost dropped due to exhaustion. He gestured with his guns that they should sit, looking around at the bare floor of red sand with no chairs. He backed, “ ku zauna” gesticulating with his gun. The women all sat down while a middle-aged woman from nowhere came up to them with a clay pot of water that she passed to the women, who took sips and passed it to the next, an untold understanding that the water was all they would have and the importance that everyone had some to get their strength back. Dunni looked into the woman’s eyes, wondering whether they could get any help from her. She skirted her eyes above them, looking everywhere but hers. While she was still trying to take in the environment, looking for landmarks to know where they were, another of the men was barking at others to stand up. Dunni wondered what was happening back at home, whether her mum or siblings had heard, she could not entertain the idea that she would not make it back home and choose to keep her hope alive that not matter what they would be found and rescued.

Dunni and Lana held hands tightly during the endless bus ride, their palms slick with sweat but refusing to let go. The bus was packed with fear and silence, interrupted only by the occasional sobs of women who couldn’t mask their despair. The journey stretched through the day, punctuated by hurried stops where the women were ushered out to relieve themselves. Some, driven by desperation and bravery, attempted to slip into the surrounding bushes, hoping for freedom. But freedom came at a cruel price.

The first attempt ended with a gunshot that echoed through the trees. Now, for the second time that day, Dunni saw another woman fall. Her lifeless body crumpled into the dirt as the rest of the women stood frozen in terror.

“Anyone who tries to escape again will be killed,” the man with the gun barked in surprisingly impeccable English, his voice devoid of emotion as he locked the weapon. The metallic click sent a shiver through the group. No one dared to look directly at him, but every head nodded in terrified compliance.

As the bus finally halted again, the women were rudely awakened and ordered to file out. Bleary-eyed and stumbling, they were stripped of their jewellery—rings, necklaces, bracelets—anything that glinted. Dunni felt a cold dread seep into her bones as her bracelet and necklace with the hidden tracking device were taken. Her heart clung to a desperate hope that the man collecting the items would stay with them. But her hope crumbled when he returned to the bus, taking their last tether to the outside world. The bus roared to life and drove off, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and despair.

“I need to take my diabetes shot,” Lana’s voice was soft yet firm, addressing one of the armed men. He stared at her blankly, his dark eyes narrowing in confusion. She pointed to her bag and mimed injecting her upper arm. Another man yelled for them to move, but Lana stood her ground. Her unwavering defiance drew a nod of reluctant approval, and she quickly retrieved the syringe, rolling up her sleeve.

Dunni watched as Lana administered the dose, her movements steady despite the palpable tension. “When is the next one?” Dunni whispered, her voice trembling with worry.

“Same time tomorrow,” Lana replied, stuffing the syringe back into her bag. “I have seven days’ worth. I always carry it with me.”

Dunni exhaled, the relief on her face impossible to hide. She squeezed Lana’s hand. “We’ll be out of here before you know it,” she said, her tone resolute even though her heart wavered. Lana nodded, but neither woman fully believed it.

The group was hurried along again, their captors shouting and waving their guns. The forest swallowed them as they trudged forward. For hours, they marched through the unforgiving terrain. The ground was uneven, roots and branches snagging at their feet. Many women abandoned their heeled shoes, walking barefoot despite the sharp stones and thorny underbrush.

Dunni’s legs burned with every step. Exhaustion weighed on her like an anchor, but she forced herself to move. Around her, faces that had been carefully made up now bore streaks of sweat and grime. Tears carved paths through smudged eyeliner, and the forest air clung to them, heavy and oppressive.

Just when she thought she could go no further, a barked order from the front halted their progress. They stumbled to a stop, gasping for breath. Ahead, a small settlement came into view. Hope flickered faintly in Dunni’s chest. Perhaps this was a village where they could be helped or at least noticed.

But as they entered the settlement, her heart sank. The villagers moved about their tasks as though the group didn’t exist. Women hauling water pots and men tending to livestock avoided eye contact, their faces carefully blank.

“Ku zauna!” one of the armed men commanded, gesturing with his gun. The women obeyed, sinking onto the bare, sunbaked earth. The red sand clung to their damp skin.

A middle-aged woman emerged from one of the huts, carrying a clay pot of water. She moved silently, passing the pot from one woman to the next. Each woman took a small sip, the unspoken understanding of scarcity preventing anyone from taking more than their share. When the pot reached Dunni, she hesitated, meeting the woman’s eyes. There was something there—sympathy, perhaps—but the woman quickly looked away, her expression hardening.

Dunni’s mind raced as she scanned the settlement. Were there any landmarks or signs showing where they might be? Her thoughts drifted to home—her mother and her siblings. Had they noticed her absence? Had they sounded the alarm? She couldn’t let herself think otherwise.

“Stand up!” a voice barked, dragging her back to the present. The group rose shakily, their bodies protesting every movement. As they were herded further into the forest, Dunni clung to one thought: they would be found. They had to be.

The Dice #36

Dunni feels a profound connection with Lana at the leadership conference until chaos erupts from an explosion. They face terrifying uncertainty as masked men take them away, leading to fear and despair.

It was Day 2 of the 21st Century Belle Leadership Conference, and though Dunni had given her presentation on Day 1, she was already counting down the days until she could return home.

The sessions were engaging, and every speaker brought something fresh, real, and relatable, weaving in stories from their own lives that hit home for Dunni. Yet, despite enjoying every moment, she missed the familiar rhythms of Lagos—the sounds, the streets, the comfort of her own space. The conference was thoughtful, with breaks that let her stretch her legs and chat with others, a welcome change from the typical back-to-back presentations that drained you more than they inspired. This one felt human.

She had found an unexpected friend in Lana, a strikingly beautiful woman from Lagos who, like her, had left a young child behind to attend. Lana was magnetic, the kind of woman whose beauty stopped people in their tracks—effortless, commanding attention wherever she went. But it wasn’t her looks that bonded them; it was the immediate sense of kinship, the ease of their connection like they had known each other for years.

As Dunni entered the conference hall, she spotted Lana waving her over, a seat saved with a warm smile. It brought back memories of school days when saving a seat for a friend felt like an unspoken promise of loyalty. She waved back, feeling the comforting embrace of sisterhood. They were in their early thirties now, their lives busy and complicated, but here, in this moment, the connection felt as pure as those simpler days.

Just as Dunni settled into her seat beside Lana, an ear-splitting blast ripped through the hall, shattering the tranquil hum of conversation. The noise was deafening, a sudden explosion of sound that rattled the walls and sent glass raining down like jagged shards of terror. Screams tore through the air, blending with the harsh shatter of windows as the hall erupted into chaos. Dunni’s breath caught in her throat, her heart seizing as a thick cloud of dust surged from the east entrance, swallowing the space where Lana had stood just minutes before.

Time seemed to slow as her mind struggled to process the nightmare unfolding before her. The dust was suffocating, its gritty taste filling her lungs. The cries of the wounded echoed, mingling with desperate shouts for help. She locked eyes with Lana, their shared terror flashing like lightning. They reached for each other, but their hands never met in the madness.

Then, through the choking fog, a group of men stormed in. They moved with a chilling precision, their bodies clad in military camouflage, faces hidden behind masks. The glint of guns in their hands made Dunni’s blood run cold. The panic was overwhelming, a thick, palpable fear that hung like smoke. The men’s voices, calm yet commanding, cut through the cacophony. They ordered the women to stand and leave the hall. They claimed it was for their safety that they were being taken to a safer part of the city.

But Dunni’s gut twisted with doubt. Their tone was too calm, too rehearsed, like a predator lulling its prey. Covered in dust and trembling, she followed Lana as they were herded into a shiny, new 50-seater bus. The metallic scent of blood lingered in the air, mixed with the smell of dust and sweat. The rest of the women—those still able to walk—stumbled behind them, the fear etched deep into their faces.

Dunni’s heart raced as the bus doors slammed shut behind them, the sound final, like a trap closing. The distant screams from the hall echoed in her mind, growing faint as the bus pulled away. Her mind spun with a thousand questions. Was this a rescue, or were they walking straight into something far worse? She could feel Lana’s hand brushing against hers, a silent plea for reassurance, but Dunni had none to give. They were now locked in a fate neither could control, hurtling toward the unknown.

As soon as the bus rumbled to life, a tense silence fell over the passengers, broken only by the soft hum of the engine. Then, piercing through the stillness, one of the masked men barked an order, his voice sharp as a whip. “Submit your phones!” The demand echoed through the bus, leaving confusion and fear etched on the faces of the women. A murmur of disbelief rippled among them, their wide eyes darting in uncertainty.

One woman hesitated, her hand trembling over her phone. The man’s impatience snapped—without warning, a gunshot rang out, deafening and brutal, slicing through the air like a violent scream. The metallic scent of gunpowder mixed with the acrid stench of sweat and fear. The woman slumped forward, and suddenly, the cold reality crashed down on Dunni with the weight of a thousand stones. This wasn’t a rescue team. They were being kidnapped.

Seated at the very back, Dunni’s pulse pounded in her ears, her heartbeat deafening in the thickening tension. Her hands moved quickly, almost on instinct. Before she could second-guess herself, she sent the emergency code to Ola and Moses, her fingers flying across the screen. The code they had devised for life-or-death situations was simple, but she had never imagined she would need to use it. Yet, despite the terror freezing her bones, she was surprised at how clearly it came to her. A number to press on repeat.

Her fingers shook as she reached for her necklace, feeling its familiar coolness against her skin. It was still there. Relief washed over her, but only for a moment. Her bracelet—she felt for it next. Intact. She turned to Lana, sitting on her left, her eyes wide with fear. Without a word, Dunni slipped the bracelet from her wrist and fastened it onto Lana’s right wrist. Lana stared at her, puzzled, but Dunni’s voice was barely a whisper as she leaned in close.

“For whatever it is worth, don’t take it off until you are safely home.”

Before Lana could respond, the masked man loomed over them. His presence was suffocating, his gaze cold. Without hesitation, he ripped the phones from their hands, his rough touch burning like fire against Dunni’s skin.

As he moved on, Lana’s tears began to fall, slow at first, then unstoppable. Her chest tightened, her breath shaky as her mind spiralled.

“My son…” Her voice cracked, barely a whisper beneath the suffocating weight of despair that hung in the air. “He didn’t want me to come.”

Dunni reached out, gently clasping her trembling hands. No words were needed between them. Yesterday, their world had been filled with light—talking, laughing, full of life and possibilities. But now, the silence between them was heavy, thick with fear.

“You will see your son again and hold him in your arms,” she reassured her new friends, even though their grim reality suggested otherwise

The Dice#2

Dunni smiled out of her reverie as she was tugged at by one of her young charges. It was hilarious to see her mum struggling with trying so hard not to mention the issue of marriage. Mrs Adesida had received a call from one of their distant cousins to inform her he was getting married and would be bringing his fiancée to see her. As soon as she dropped the phone, she sighed. “That was Moji’s son he is twenty-six and is getting married.”
Dunni scowled ready to put up as much resistance she could muster should her mother go into her usual “marriage talk” again. However, she shrugged noncommittally. “Good for him.”

“ Is that all you are going to say?” Mrs Adesida asked with a huge disappointment evident on her face.
“Mother what do you want me to say?” Dunni asked exasperatedly.
Mrs Adesida sighed again, heaved and broke into a song and dance as she gave Dunni a hug. “Your visit means a lot to me. I won’t overshadow our time with a quarrel. However, do know that not talking about it does not make it go away.”

Another tug and this time she could hear from a far away distance “Auntie Dunni Auntie Dunni, see my drawing” the young child announced proudly.

Dunni gathered her thoughts together and chided herself was woolgathering while working.

Dunni Adesida volunteered with a young achiever club in the city where she took the ages 7-10 drawing lessons for one hour every Wednesday.
The time with the children was one of the things she looked forward to every week. They were all a delight to work. She never seemed to be more amazed at the kind of work they turned it. Raw talents that need direction and guidance and the world would not know what hit them when the next Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci resurfaces.

Once all the kids had left, Dunni spent the few minutes she had to arrange the room used and out away all the pencils, paintbrushes used .she was so engrossed that she did not hear when her colleague came behind her.
She squealed in fright. ” I did not hear you come in.”
“Sorry I scared you,” Amanda apologised and went on in one breath.
“I came by to let you know that Tooni lost her mum to cancer .”
Tooni was a seven-year-old girl in her class.
“Aww, that is so sad,” said Dunni trying to imagine what her life would have been should she had lost her mother. But she had lost her father at a tender age. She remembered the heaviness and loss that hung around the family like a cloak. She could not wish a loss of a loved one on her enemies, but this was one of the harsh realities of life that even children could not be shielded.

“I never noticed. Tooni has carried on with the same demeanour as she always has. Very excited and enthusiastic about her drawings and the class. She is so friendly with all the other children,” Dunni shared her observation with her colleague.

However, Amanda had a different reason for sharing the loss of the girl’s mother.
“what I am trying to say to you is that you might need to speak a few words of condolence to her dad.”

“ Why?” asked Dunni puzzled. “I rarely see the parents when they come to pick children. You should inform them at the reception.”

“I was thinking it would be a good avenue for you to meet the man. He is a widower, and this might be an opportunity.”
Dunni’s eyes went round as this bizarre scene playing before her. She closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side. Trying to calm the seething anger welling inside of her.

“How callous can you be. Should I be dumb enough to go with your advice, would it to a man who is mourning the loss of his dear wife? Or do I look like someone on a manhunt, husband hunt or whatever hunt you all think I should embark?”

“No Dunni, you do not look like it, but your life oozes it even if you think you hide it well.”

Dunni did not think she heard Amanda well.

“Amanda, what you have said is not only mean, but it shows that you have never been and cannot be my friend. I am on no manhunt, that I am not married is not a design of mine, that I hope to be married someday might be my mothers wish, but mine is to live my life and enjoy it married or not. So if you think my life oozes manhunt. You have better check again as you sure are receiving wrong signals which might be a reflection of what you are feeling. I thought you were my friend. But now I know better”

“I am your friend Dunni, which is the reason I am concerned. I might be approaching it in a wrong manner and that I apologise”

“I have not asked for your help and please stay away from me,” Dunni responed angrily.

“I am sorry,” Amanda raised her hand in mock defence as Dunni walked away from her without a backward glance.

*****
The birds were chirping away a lovely soprano on a beautiful sunny Saturday morning. Dunni sat out in the garden enjoying the morning sunshine just lazing with a book. How to meet date and marry a guy in 21 days. She bought the book out of curiosity and found the book not only hilarious but crazy.

She still would not accept she was on a manhunt, but sometimes she could not deny the thought of what her life would be like if she were married and had a family.

“I was not going to push any buttons like go look for any man, but there might be some information that could be helpful in this book,” she reasoned.

“Good morning Madam,” Sule the security man cum gardener called out.

Sule has been with Dunni ever since she moved into the area. He joined her as a single man, got married and went on to have five children that often left Dunni in wonder how he coped with living expenses on his meager salary.

Good morning Sule,” Dunni responded, curious about the smile on his face.
“Sule you look so happy today, what can I do for you?”

“Ha Madam, I been happy wai! I get Amarya coming to me. He responded in his poor English mixed with his local Hausa language.
‘Amarya,” Dunni called out, with a questioning look and a frown on her brows and eyes mirroring her confusion.
“Yes Oga Madam, Amarya. My second wife.”
The book Toke was holding felt from her hands as she gazed at the man in bewilderment.
“Sule, you are getting married again?” she croaked in disbelief.

“Yes, Oga madam. My Amarya is a beautiful young girl and from my village. She would come and help Uwargida with all the housework and children.”

“But Sule, you have five children, and you are barely coping financially. Another wife means more children. How do you intend to take care of them?”

Sule smiled so stupidly, Dunni felt like slapping the smile off his face. What illiteracy could do to a man transcends beyond his generation? He was building a village without any means of giving those children a means to prepare for the future

“Allah will take care of the children. Oga madam. Do not worry.”

Too dumbfounded for words, Dunni went back to reading her book but the sanctity of the moment had been broken. She found herself on the same page for ten minutes as her mind kept processing what Sule had told her.

She was shocked when she looked up, and he was still there.
“Sule?”
“Oga Madam I’d been wan tell you that our neighbour,” he paused pointing to the walled house on her right.

Dunni recalled the walls were not always this high when she first moved in ten years ago. You could literally have a conversation with your number over the fence but as the years when by, the walls got taller and taller. You had neighbours, you had no clue what they looked like even if you met in the shopping mall.
Lowering his voice as if he was aware of someone one on the other side was listening to their conversation.
“His wife have died.“
“His wife died,” Dunni corrected wondering why she bothered.
“His wife died,” he repeated proudly.

She shook her head. The man never ceases to amaze her. Somedays, he would speak impeccable English, and some other days she would cringe as he mixed both present and past tenses interjecting the wrong verbs or adjectives.
“I been say you suppose to greet him. As his wife died, if he wants to marry, he go marry you.”
She cursed on her breath with the little Hausa words she had been able to garner from her security “shege danbanza dan buro uba,”

“Oga Madam,” Dunni was shocked he still dared to stand there looking complete lost. If it was in the office, the man was as good as fired. She fumed under her breath.
“Sule, Please leave now before I do what both of us would regret,” she gritted her teeth as she picked her glass cup of orange juice, book and walked back to the house leaving behind a shattered serenity. Her world is being thrown into a topsy-turvy.

The one moment her mother was struggling to stop the pressure, her friends and gardener took over the baton. She did not know which was worse but that of the gardener sucked more.

Omowashe Omorishe #36

It’s so surreal that I am leaving Naija this evening. You know the feeling you get when you are stepping out into the unknown. It’s both trepidation and excitement.

Peju organised a surprised send forth this afternoon. I was surprised to see most of my friends at work. How did they get off work to come?

We shared and laughed off our heads as my friends shared funny moments at work. Peju recalled the visit we made to the Kiri Kiri prisons at the start of our career. How I was dressed to the nines on that fateful day only to meet inmates who cared less how I looked but when they would one day be free like me.

I wiped away the tears that fell freely. I was leaving valuable friendships and family behind. At this moment, it was hard to remember why I was going away.

I received quite some gifts and keepsakes.Peju presented a framed office group picture. It was one of the Bank’s award night where we had won the Branch of the year.

“Wow! Where did you get the picture? It is beautiful. See our Manager looking every inch the business guru.”

“Is that all you see?” Peju asked with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Unlike you, I see a guy smitten by you and who is yet to come to terms with what to do, but it is written all over him.”

“I hate to put a snag to your fantasy, Peju. The guy is not available. Please don’t put me in trouble. There is one correct babe around. In these days of jealous girlfriends, jumping around with acid. I don’t want to be a victim.

“You sure Drew is taken?”

“100%, like I know my name.”

Peju looked so comical with the look of disappointment on her face that I lost the battle to stifle my laughter.

“Stop playing cupid Peju. I am fine with or without love. Romance does not define my life. I should not be jumping straight into the arms of any guy who gives me a second of his time. I am not desperate.

Drew and I are good friends who understand each other. We have a great friendship that I would not destroy because I am unable to differentiate between friendship and lust.

“It’s just that the signs are all out there. That guy adores you,” argued Peju.

“He does, I agree but not in the way you are thinking. He adores my work and dedication while we worked together, turned mother hen when I fell ill, and we have fallen into the rhythm of having a platonic friendship.

“Recipe for true love,” remarked Peju.

“I give up,” I muttered, exasperatedly clueless how to make Peju understand her romantic dreams for Andrew and I were never going to happen. The thought alone filled me with sadness, but it was not something I could explain. The logic would be once he gets married, the dynamics of our friendship would change.

“Is Drew aware you are leaving today?” Peju asked undeterred.

“Yes, I went to tell him last night. He was mad. I could not comprehend why he was more upset that the rest of you. You could think he was losing a multi-billion dollar contract. His ranting might be justified, but I do believe it was overboard but all I did was apologise for peace sake rather than aggravate an already bad situation.

But you know what? You all will be okay, and within one week, you would have forgotten whether I am around or not. Moving to the other side of the globe is better than moving to the other side of the universe. A big thanks to technology. We can always communicate with ease.”

“Would my babies be talking to you on the phone?”

“Yep in their gibberish language. I will be cooing blowing the twins kisses. I promise to come in every three months just for them. I do take my Godmother duties seriously,” I assured Peju.

I could see her trying not to tear up, and I did appreciate. I was not sure I could hold off my tears if she started hers.

“I am trying to be strong, and little things like the twins were tearing me apart,” I mumbled incoherently hugging my best friend fiercely.

******

The day went in a blur. I was finally able to catch my breath when I took my seat on my plane. Six hours of sleep was a luxury I was looking forward to with delight.

I had barely settled down to begin my anticipated sleep when an air hostess came over to inform me of a change in my seat from economy to first class

“There must have been a mistake,” I argued knowing what ticket I booked and how much I paid. It was nothing near a first class.

She checked my seat number and name and reconfirmed if I was Lana of which I affirmed. All my explanations that she must have the wrong Lana seem to fall on deaf ears.

“Please, could you identify your hand luggage? I will help you with that while you follow me. We are very sorry for the inconvenience.”

I chucked. How inconvenient is moving from economy to first class?

I was still trying to figure out what was going on but I guess there would be an explanation. I hope the airline does not come back with another mix-up story as I definitely will not go back to the economy class.

Sinking into the plush cream leather seat, I closed my eyes savouring the luxury that engulfed me and like a lullaby lured me to nap.

I must be dreaming.

Why am I seeing Drew? He is seating opposite me on the plane working on his laptop like he was doing last night at his place. I was on a plane and not in his garden.

Rubbing my eyes, trying to distinguish between dreams and reality. I stretched like a shire cat and observed around me.

Shaking my head, in a bid to wipe out the image before me. How could my subconscious be conjuring Drew? Peju had messed up my head with all that talk. Laughing out loud, I assured myself I would be fine.

I picked the bottle of wine before me, reading it to be sure it was non-alcoholic. I needed my sanity to be intact when the air hostess discovered that she made a mistake. Wrinkling my nose with disgust, the mere thought of going back to economy class filled me with distaste. The airline would hear a thing or two from me if it came to that.

I poured out the wine into the wine glass and took a sip enjoying the taste of the grape. No need to worry about the future.

Hey stranger!
I almost dropped my wine glass with fear.Now I needed to visit a psychiatric doctor.I was not only hallucinating Drew being on the plane with me, but it had gotten worse that I could hear his voice.

Meena’s Diary#11

For seven days I roamed the City of Love, another name for Paris, shopping till almost dropped dead. I should be feeling guilty spending our savings on myself, but I was far too gone to care. I was neither remorseful nor calculating our mortgage payment. I was on me and mone alone trip. After all, who knows what waits for me at home. I might be moving out and finding myself on the singles lane again.

The thought sent a shock of pain through my heart. Was that what I wanted? Was this pain ever going to go away? But was it all worth it to throw away twelve years of marriage away.

Why was I going agog on this infidelity thing? If it pained me so much, why, don’t I pay JK back in his coin? We could live together and have separate lives. You do your own thing, and I do mine. We could go out with whoever we wanted to.

I dropped the shopping back on the floor of my hotel room. Turned on the tap to run water. I wanted to soak myself in and wash away all the toxic feelings.

I came to Paris on a whim trying to get as far away as possible from my problem but the whole thing was constantly in my thoughts.

JK sent series of WatsApp message to my phone, and I replied none. He had called me severally, but I did not pick his calls. I still had not confronted him before I left and I was not going to either.

Falling into the soft fresh bed, I reached out for the TV control on the bedside and flipped through channels looking for something interesting to watch but finally settled for an English news channel.

My French was horrible from Bonjour to Cava bien mercie to Oui. I can’t remember where I was when my mates were taking French in high school. I must have been taking one of the three Nigerian languages. And later during the one-year compulsory service after university Alliance francaise was the in thing. I sill was not found on the foreign language zone. I was struggling with professional exams.

Every morning I wake up and hear the bellman’s greerings, I am not sure if he is cursing beyond his “ Bonjour Madam.” But If I am to go by the smile that lights up his face. Then he must be singing blessings on me.I reached out for my phone and scrolled to my Facebook page. I had posted pictures of myself while I was shopping on the streets of Paris today.

I needed something to distract me, or I would go crazy.I still was not ready to talk about my problems to my friends.

“Oga Ju! We can see JK’s hand,” a friend commented. People read what they want. Who was to know that the heart of the smiling face they saw was in turmoil.

“I go love o,” another comment. If only they knew.

“Where is JK in the picture?” Another asked.

“Making the money while his Babe spends it,” yet another friend commented.

“If only Ibrahim can do half of what JK does,” moaned Khadijah.

“You sure do not want him to do a pinch of it. Infidelity sucks!” I muttered to myself.

I closed the Facebook page and checked my twitter account; there would be some serious stuff there.

I checked for updates on work related issues and finally gave up switching off the phone to avoid JK’s calls.

I tossed and tossed in the bed trying to find a comfortable position to sleep. I was tired, but sleep eluded me.

I gave up and went to the balcony of my hotel room, beholding the beautiful city with all the lights in the night. The midnight sky filled with bright tiny stars bore no similarity to my feelings, and I sighed sadly. There was a time in my life when I believed the stars will always shine. Especially those moments when JK cast his gaze upon me. You could see the feeling of adoration and love in those eyes.

We loved looking at the stars then trying to outdo the other person with how much stars you could count and wishes you could make. JK always said he would give me the stars and more. It was for me to ask. I never did ask because I knew he would do everything to get them. I smiled. That was the kind of person he was. I am yet to comprehend what he has become. It was not in JK to cheat on me. I held his heart securely but maybe not enough. Somewhere along the line, I lost his heart and did not realise it until it was too late.

I sighed and walked back inside. It was like a lifetime away. How was I to know that all our dreams will be snatched away by JK himself? That he would take away the stars that made our lives so beautiful for an intruder who was maybe half his age, his age or twice his age.

I went to the kitchen for a glass of water, when I heard the knock on my door. It could not be room service at this hour. I quickly put on my dressing gown over my negligee and opened the door more curious than afraid.

I stood rooted to the spot with shock JK!

Meena’s Diary#8

My eyes flew open while I slowly stretched on the hard seat in the waiting reception of the hospital careful not to wake Hauwau.
The things I heard still rang in my head. To think that I had always thought my friend had her life on a platter of gold and was going through a difficult marriage deeply hid in the false exterior of a fulfilled life. She had opened up to me in the hours that flew while we waited for Sa’a to wake up.

wordle-girlstoys

I gasped when I saw Atiku standing before me. I knew I was not dreaming for my eyes were well wide awake although my addled brain was still trying to process the information.
“You came,” I exclaimed with joy like a little girl who had just received a gift from Santa Claus.
“Where was I supposed to be, when my dear wife is on admission at the hospital? Stay and be working? Oh no! You do not think work is more important than Sa’a?”

I am both confused and shocked simultaneously. What in the first place brought Sa’a to the hospital? I rubbed my eyes tiredly stifling a yawn, and thinking that perhaps I must be dreaming. This was not the attitude of one willing to take on a second wife.
“Atiku, I don’t know what to think.” He did look tired, but this was my chance to broach the subject. Maybe he would have a rethink and the looming calamity over my friends’ home will be averted.
I took a glance where Hauwau lay and was happy she was fast asleep. She would have reprimanded me to let sleeping dogs lie but me in my character of saying what I thought neither paid attention nor gave heed to the warning but for the intervention of providence.

There was no love lost between Hawau and Atiku. How she managed to remain in Sa’as life is still a mystery. One thing Sa’a had not been able to oblige Atiku is forfeiting her friendship with Hawau.
Atiku followed my gaze and his tired face now replaced with a scowl. I could not help but chuckle, and he scowled harder.
“You should get used to her,” I walked ahead to leading the way Sa’as room.

Sa’a was fast asleep. Atiku rushed to her side holding her hand with so much tenderness that tears rolled down my cheek. I hoped what I heard were lies or a misunderstanding. The picture before me did not portray a man planning to bring in a second wife. There definitely must be a mistake. The look of love and anguish that filled his eyes as he watched Sa’a lying almost lifeless on the bed except her slow but laboured breathing.
“What did the Doctor say?” He asked hoarsely, and I felt so sorry for him.
“She tried to commit suicide.”
“What!” He exclaimed shutting his eyes in anguish.
“Why would she do that?”
I could see the look of confusion on his face.
“Why would she want to kill herself?”
“You have no idea?”
He was looking at me like I had a growth or something not in place on my head.
“Meena, please do not torture me further by going in circles. Tell me what I need to know to rectify why she felt the need to try to kill herself.”

A few minutes ago I was ready to give him my opinion and beg him to see reason, but common sense told me to keep shut and let this two work out whatever the issue was.
There was hope for Sa’a. A man heartbroken like what I just saw could not have been the mean guy portrayed in the story Hauwau narrated. Something was not right in the story, but the scene here was looking good.

“