THE VEIL
…Covered
Written and Published by Timi Adigun 1st publishing © 2012 2nd publishing © 2015
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1
Lagos. September 2010
THEONLY SOUNDS that could be heard were the soft ticking of the wall clock and the
occasional sighs that exuded from the lips of the young man that lay on the bed in the center of a posh bedroom. He had taken his time to furnish his house to taste. He had contracted his furnishing to Interios, the world-class interior designer company located in Victoria Island, Lagos. He had taste and could well afford the expenses.
Bolade, staring blankly at his exquisite ceiling, had woken up rather earlier than normal. It was just past three in the morning; about two hours earlier than he usually got up. He tried to remember what it was he had dreamt about that had bolted him back to reality. He had tried for the past five minutes to recollect his dream. His attempts had been futile.
He turned on his side and was about giving up when the images flashed back into his mind and just as fast, his heart responded. His heart literarily slammed against his chest. He sat up, more alive than he had been in the past ten years of his life.
He had seen her in his sleep and it had felt as real as it did at the moment. Bolade wished with all his heart that it had been more than a dream but he knew it was a dream and that was the best it would ever be. He had seen Salewa again. She had looked just as beautiful as he remembered her being but she looked older and even more breath-taking.
God, why are you teasing me? Bolade knew it was a dream too good to be true. He hadn’t spoken with Salewa for ten years. He had thought of her several times over the years but there was something different about the feelings cruising through him
this morning. He wanted to cry. He missed her. He would gladly trade all he had acquired in the past four years of his life if it guaranteed he would be with her again.
He had just turned twenty-six the month before. He was now being so pressured for marriage by practically everyone around him. Marriage seemed the only topic his family members felt they needed to discuss around him. His colleagues at work didn’t make matters better. Worse was his pastor had called him to his office the previous day.
Bolade had been surprised when he heard his name being announced from the lectern as one of the people to see the presiding pastor after the service. He was so sure the pastor wanted to discuss something about the Welfare Department to which he belonged, and was a very active member. He had been shocked, and rather embarrassed, when it turned out to be a marriage-counseling session.
He still remembered Pastor Chidi’s words. “Bro Bolade, God has blessed you with so much already. Your career growth has been rapid, and your commitment to God is commendable. You look ready for the altar and I know many sisters admire you. What is holding you back? Isn’t God speaking?” He had said, and then added, laughing, “Or are our sisters not beautiful enough?”
Bolade had laughed, not because he really found the pastor’s joke funny but rather out of courtesy for the sincere man who wanted the best for all his members.
How could he tell the man that his heart had space for only one woman? How could he explain to the man that he didn’t think he would ever be able to see any other woman the way he saw this one woman.
His thoughts of her had always been with her face as it had been when they were in secondary school. His dream had reminded him that just as he had grown older, so would she. He didn’t have any picture of Salewa, and he really didn’t need one as he hadn’t forgotten what she looked like. But sometimes, he wished he had her
picture. He wished he could look at her face for as long as he pleased without anyone to accuse him of staring.
Bolade inclined sideways and brightened his bed lamp. He checked the time. It was a few minutes to four. He still had some time to spare before his quiet time at five. He couldn’t remember when last he had indulged himself in what he was about to do. He was going to do it and enjoy doing it.
He dimmed his bed lamp, lay face up on his bed and closed his eyes. It didn’t take five seconds before a broad smile lit his face even in the dimly lit room. He was sure he was going to be smiling for some precious minutes. He was going to reminisce on how life had been with Salewa. He was going to remember.
The rhythmic and hard beats coming from his chest now drowned the sound of the ticking clock in his ears. As he drifted into thoughts, there was only one image on his mind. There was only one unspoken name on his sealed lips. He had not just fallen in love with this girl, he had fallen in love with her name.
2
Ibadan. September 2000 “SALEWA!”
Bolade turned. He saw a slim girl in mufti turning and walking towards the woman that called her. Bolade assumed the woman was the girl’s mother. The girl was obviously a transfer student. They had such every year in his school. He wondered how many they would be this year.
He turned and walked towards the Academic Block. He had enjoyed the long vacation but he had been so bored towards the end that he had longed to be back in school and he was glad he was. He greeted several students and staff as he walked on. He was proud of his school and so were most of the other students.
Hilltop College was known for many positive things, especially the academic excellence and sound discipline the school stood for. Though located in the heart of Ibadan, many brought their wards from far and near to enjoy the quality of education offered there.
Bolade climbed the stairs leading to his former class, SS2A. When he got to the door of the class, he looked at the new inscription on the lintel. SS3A. He smiled. He was getting close to becoming a high school graduate. He walked in and discovered there was only one other bag in the class. He was early. That was good as it afforded him the opportunity to make the best choice of seat for the term.
I always envied Victor’s proximity to both the window and the board last term. His seat should do. Bolade walked over to the seat he had in mind and brought out his handkerchief. He would momentarily convert it to a duster. Both table and chair were
covered in dust and cobwebs. The cleaners had probably overlooked them and focused on cleaning the classroom floor.
Bolade was soon done with the cleaning and started unpacking his books. “Not so fast man!”
Bolade knew that voice anywhere. He smiled as he turned and looked up at the approaching boy. “Hey! My man!” The two boys hugged each other.
“You want to steal my seat?” “Guilty!” Bolade said, hands raised.
“Guess you have earned it by coming early.”
“You serious?” Bolade questioned. That was very unlike his friend. “Yes. No qualms.”
“Thanks Victor.” Bolade said, and then suddenly realized they were not alone. He looked at the figure standing at the door. It was the new girl he had seen earlier. Victor had followed his gaze and was looking at her too.
“Hi” she said. “Hi”, they answered. “I was told to come here.”
“This is SS3” Victor said politely, echoing Bolade’s thoughts. The girl looked like she belonged in JS3. She wasn’t short or smallish. She just had a baby-face.
The girl smiled, most likely familiar with such comments. “I know. I am in SS3.” She said, stressing her words. She walked in and Bolade noticed she was trying to take in the setting of her new class.
“Forgive me for my misjudgment.” Victor said. “It’s okay.”
“Let me help you with your seat”, Victor said, taking Bolade’s handkerchief from his friend’s table.
Bolade wasn’t so interested in being a good host. He would have been obliged to do so had she met him alone in the class but he was thankful Victor was around. As he unpacked his books, he tried to remember the name the girl’s mother had called her at the car park but he couldn’t remember it.
He looked at Victor, trying to settle the girl in, and he smiled. His friend had a soft spot for fine girls. He wondered why Victor hadn’t asked the girl for her name. Maybe he had forgotten.
“What’s your name?” Victor asked on cue.
Bolade smiled. He knew his friend way too much. He stopped momentarily to watch the duo. Bolade wanted to see Victor do his girl-magic again.
“Salewa” the girl replied.
“Salewa”, Victor repeated, moving his lips as if tasting the name. “Such a sweet name.”
“Thanks” the girl said but Bolade noticed she didn’t seem so affected by Victor’s flattery.
“I’m Victor.” She simply nodded.
Bolade was about returning to his business but not before the Salewa girl turned and faced him.
“You’ve not told me your name?”
He was so taken aback he couldn’t speak at first. His eyes went to Victor and then back to Salewa. What surprised him was that someone would put Victor on hold to talk to him. It had never happened in his five years of being Victor’s friend. Girls never knew he existed when they talked with Victor even if he was standing right next to him.
Bolade could see the flicker in Victor’s eyes.
“Bolade.”
“Guess you already know my name?” she asked rhetorically and Bolade nodded. “Would you mind if I sit next to you?”
Now Bolade was embarrassed. If he were white, his face would be all red. He was at a loss for words but his friend definitely wasn’t.
“But I just cleaned this chair and table for you” Victor said, not losing his charm.
“A gentleman like you would be able to help me clean the ones right next to Bolade, won’t he?” Salewa replied, with just as much charm and Bolade couldn’t help smiling.
“Then, I would take the seat to your left.” Victor said, not giving up. “That would be nice”, she replied.
As Victor started cleaning the chair and table Salewa wanted, Bolade looked at Salewa and saw she was trying to suppress a smile. She knew how to handle the big boys. Bolade giggled. He had a feeling that the three of them were going to play crucial roles in each other’s lives. He would let time unveil the drama.
THE DINING ROOM was unusually tense. No one said anything for a long time. The
clicking sounds the cutlery made, touching the plate, grated on Bolade’s nerves but he preferred that to having to say anything. He knew he couldn’t do that for long however. He was bound to talk soon.
“I’ve said I’m sorry for picking you up late. Why are you so quiet?” His mother had been trying to get him to talk ever since they arrived back at home but he had refused to say anything. He had been worried sick for her when she hadn’t come to pick him; he had had to fight off several negative thoughts. He had been so
relieved when he saw her car drive into the school car park; he had no more emotional energy to respond to her lateness.
“I’m not upset with you mum”, he finally said. “I just had a stressful day.” He looked up after that for the first time since dinner began and saw the relief on his mother’s face. As she ate her meal, jollof sphagetti, the meal she had made hoping to appease him, he saw something that got him worried. His mother was ageing.
She was still in her early thirties but her frown lines were deepening and Bolade knew exactly why. She had brought him up single handedly as a single mother, a full-time job she had to combine with her demanding job. He loved her and appreciated her. He wished he could do more to ease her pain but he knew the best he could do was love her and make her feel appreciated.
“I love you mum”, he said suddenly.
His mum looked at him, and with glistening eyes, responded. “I love you too son.” As she said that, her face twitched in the way it usually did when she was about to cry. Bolade dropped his cutlery, eased out of his chair and walked across the table. He wrapped his mother in his arms and then she began crying.
He understood her well enough to know he didn’t need to say anything. He just needed to hold her in his arms; that was all the comfort she needed.
Miss T. Benson, as she was fondly called, was his mother and he was proud of her anyday. He felt uncomfortable many times when people looked funny at her whenever she was called ‘Miss’ and they saw she had a grown up son. Their faces always portrayed their unspoken thoughts.
There was a question he had been meaning to ask his mum for many years now. The last time he remembered asking her was when he was five, about ten years back and she had shushed him then. Now, he felt he was going to try again but he was going to wait until he was sure she was fine before he asked her.
It took longer than Bolade expected for his mother to get over whatever made her cry but she finally did. Then, he sat on her lap and hugged her again, a gesture he usually did, not because he wanted to but because he wanted her to always know that no matter how old he got, he would always be her baby.
“Mum, I want to ask you a question. Please I need an answer tonight.”
He couldn’t see her facial expression but the stiffening of her muscles made him know she was not too eager to hear any emotion-demanding question. He would have let it be had it been another day but not today; not on a day his mother looked like she was sad and tired of life.
“When are you going to get married?” Bolade said, sounding serious. He waited for a response but knew he would have to be patient on this one. It was going to take an effort to get his mother talking. It was a forbidden topic; at least, until a few seconds back. He was going to wait.
He refrained from the hug when she sighed. She must have thought things through and was ready to answer him. He stood up and walked back to his seat, giving her room to breathe and think of how best to answer. He tried not to preempt her response.
She looked at him and studied his face. It was either she was trying to see into his reason for asking or she was wondering if he was ready for her answer.
“Are you ready for me to get married?” She was throwing the question back at him. It was then it occurred to Bolade for the first time in his life that he was the reason she hadn’t married. Now, that got him puzzled.
“Has it been because of me?” he asked, knowing she understood what he meant.
She nodded. “I never wanted you to feel unloved or insecure, so I dedicated my youthful life to loving and caring for you, deciding I would give marriage a try
when you were old enough to know that my marrying a man would never affect my love for you in any way.”
Bolade was thoughtful. “And you think I haven’t matured that well enough now for you to move on with your life?”
“I wasn’t sure before now, but I guess now I know”. She smiled but Bolade saw beyond the smile. It was a sad smile; a smile that spoke volumes. His mother obviously regretted the fact that she had become a mother way too early. She had traded a large chunk of her life in the process; time and opportunities she could never recover. The pregnancy and birth had almost ruined her academics if not for her grandmother, his great-grandmother, who had helped. Bolade had heard the story of how it all happened.
His mother had sat him down on his tenth birthday and told him that what she was about to tell him, she would never repeat; he was going to hear it only once. He knew his mother didn’t play with her words. He paid rapt attention. It was then she had told him how she had gotten pregnant for her school teacher when she was in her final class in school, and just sixteen years old.
She told the story amidst tears and sobs. Bolade cried too as he listened. It had been a defining moment in his life. He wished his mother hadn’t gone through all she did; but he wondered if he would have come about otherwise.
He decided to forget the past and think on the present. He had been seeing his mother in recent times talk on the phone for several minutes at different times and he kept hearing her mention a name. He was going to hit the nail on the head.
“You like Dr. Solomon. Don’t you?”
He smiled at her reaction. She actually blushed. She was embarrassed; she looked like a child. It dawned harder on him all his mother had sacrificed for him. She had a heart and she also needed to be loved by a man. He hadn’t meant to deprive her
of that but he had unwittingly done so. He wasn’t going to allow that continue one more day.
“How come you know his name?” Miss Benson asked her son, the look not leaving her face.
“I hear your several phone conversations mum.” She nodded, now smiling.
“So you like him?”
“Yes, I do.” She finally said.
Bolade was going to act as fast as he possibly could. He wanted his mother to be happy. “Can he come over for dinner on Saturday?”
He saw his question caught his mother off guard. She just stared at him, a smile playing across her lips. “Mum?” he prodded.
“I would love that.”
“And so would I.” Bolade said, and saw tears well up in his mother’s eyes. “Come here”, she said, extending her arms and Bolade willingly walked into them as he sat on her lap again. “Thank you”, she said.
“Please don’t thank me. Thank you, mum.” He hugged her tighter. “Thank you!”
SALEWAPUTHER carefully manicured fingers deep into her ears. Not today. She wasn’t
going to hear any of it. Her parents were at it again and this one looked like the type that usually lasted over an hour. Several minutes of angry words, hot tears and sometimes hard knocks at each other. There was no NEPA supply for her to drown off their voices with the TV in her room and her MP3 battery was out. Her fingers in her ears seemed the best remedy.
She had suffered and endured their regular barrage right from the day she knew her name. She wondered if it would ever end. They did not seem like people who were tired of their constant bickering. They seemed rather eager to start new quarrels.
Salewa wondered why they had married each other in the first place. She was the last of three and the only girl. Her elder twin brothers were both in the University of Port Harcourt. She had been surprised when they filled UNIPORT in their JAMB form. They had said then, three years prior, that it was because that university had the best facilities for their course; Electrical Electronics.
She had believed them then but it was on later thoughts that she knew the reason why they had chosen UNIPORT. She had smiled that day as it dawn on her. They were hoping to be as far away as possible from their parents and their everyday fights. In their over two years of being in the university, they had only visited home once, and that was during the Christmas season of their first session in school. They didn’t even bother coming home for the last Christmas. She had been home alone with her parents. The Christmas cakes and chicken had tasted so bland.
Now in September, their quarrels had found a new twist. Her father was upset with her mother for changing Salewa’s school without his approval. She insisted she had told him about the move and he insisted he never gave his consent. Salewa was tired. They were going to make exactly the same statements in a hundred and one ways until several minutes flew past. Most times, they stopped with their tirades only when one party was too tired to speak, or when one of them received a very long phone call or when a guest knocked on their gate. It was simply appalling.
When her brothers went to school and left her at home, she had been happy initially. There was no one to insist on watching Super Sports when she wanted to watch Disney or AMagic. She didn’t have two stuffed up egos asking her to wash their plates or cook their food. She had thought she was free.
Now, she wished they were around. At least she would have people to talk with. She envied them and couldn’t wait to be out of secondary school. Salewa sighed. That was still going to be a long while. She had just started SS3. The seven months to WAEC seemed like an eternity. She would have to endure.
At the thought of school, she remembered how her day had gone. She smiled as she recalled her conversation with Victor and Bolade. Living with boys all her life had given her an edge. She could easily read them as if reading a book, and she knew how to handle the big boys. She had used her brothers for practice. She could put any guy in his place if he began feeling too macho.
She had known Victor’s type immediately. He was the girl-chaser, but also intelligent; a combination many girls found irresistible. Such a boy would almost always be in the top three in his class, and would date at least one girl per session. Boys like Victor didn’t double or triple date, they took their time with their dates but were bound to move to another catch with the start of a new session. Girls felt proud to say of such guys, I am his ex because only three or four girls out of the hundreds in the school would be able to say that.
Salewa shook her head in disgust. How sick. She wondered if some girls suffered from brain disorders. She wondered why a girl would stoop that low to date a guy she knew would tire of her in a year, at the most; if not earlier. She indeed wondered.
Bolade, on the other hand, seemed the type she called Mummy’s boy. He was the intelligent type, who was also a big boy but was a good big boy. He rolled with the mighty but didn’t do all they did. Such boys didn’t condemn what their friends did, because though they didn’t do the bad stuffs, they would have loved to do them. They were most likely either under close supervision of parents or loved their parents too much to dent their family’s image with any scandal in school.
The day had gone by so fast. Shortly after she met them, the bell went for assembly which took a very long time. Salewa had had to ask a girl beside her if the assembly was usually that long but had been told it was because it was the first day of the new session. She had heaved a sigh of relief. She wasn’t a fan of standing for long.
After the assembly, they had classes immediately. During the short break, she was busy drawing the diagrams the Mathematics teacher had drawn for them on the board. He had revised Set Theory with the class. Salewa hated Mathematics with a passion. She had managed to get a C in her JSSCE and that was because she read and studied hard for it. Her best only produced a C.
She wanted to be an Accountant however, so she knew something definite had to happen when it came to Mathematics. I need a miracle. She remembered glancing at Victor and Bolade during the Mathematics class and saw how much they were enjoying the sums. Maybe they would help her. She would consider talking to them about it if they became good friends eventually.
After the break, they had had more classes, then extra-curricular activities. Before Salewa could rest a while, the bell went for closing and she knew she had to carry her bag and run downstairs immediately. Her mother would be waiting. And so she was when Salewa got to the car park.
She hoped the remaining days of the week in school wouldn’t be that busy. She needed space to be able to properly take-in the sights and settings of her new school.
As she was about lying down to sleep, she noticed she wasn’t hearing her parents’ voices anymore. She was relieved. At least she could sleep in quiet. Just then, she heard a crash. She jumped. It seemed some glassware fell.
“Just to get me a cup of water is your problem eh! You had to break the cup!” she heard her father shout.
“Me? Woman?” her father retorted and she could literarily, right from her room, feel the venom rise up in his chest.
They have started again. Salewa lay down back and covered her head with her pillow. She had to sleep. She would leave the two to their bed-time hobby.
3
Ibadan. October 2000
THE TERMWAS in its third week. It was Tuesday morning and Bolade had to hurry. He
hated still having his schoolbag with him at the assembly ground. He preferred getting early enough to school to drop it in his class and settle down before going to the front of the Administrative block for assembly. He forgot his wristwatch at home so he had no clue what the time was, but telling from the time he left home and how traffic had been, he would be very fortunate if the bell hadn’t gone already.
Reaching the school gate and jogging in, he peeped at the wall clock at the security stand. He had made it by barely two minutes. He could still finish up. He picked up his pace and headed for his class. He had just jumped the flight of stairs to his floor when he heard the bell. He entered his class and swung his bag onto the first seat and turned to leave when he heard someone sobbing.
The sound reminded him of the times he had heard such sounds from his mother’s room, years back when she had a depression-fit. That was when her grandmother, who took care of her during pregnancy, died suddenly. Then, Bolade had been so scared whenever he looked at his mother. It seemed she was ready and willing to kill herself if she had to. Her eyes were perpetually swollen and dark on the rims. Bolade was glad those days were far behind them now. Now, his mother was hoping to get married and the glee she felt was palpable in the house.
Bolade looked back into the class and saw it was Salewa but he couldn’t see her face. He walked towards her seat and stood there. She didn’t notice. He didn’t have much time. What should I do? He couldn’t pretend as if he hadn’t seen her but he didn’t want to be punished for being late for the assembly.
“Salewa.” He said softly. No response.
He touched her hand lightly. She jumped and looked up at him. Her eyes were red and swollen. Bolade felt awkward. He had never seen any girl in this state before. He didn’t even have words to say. His eyes spoke what his lips couldn’t. They were wide open.
Then, she lowered her eyes, not out of embarrassment, Bolade noticed, but to let fresh tears run down.
“Guess you can’t make the assembly this morning?” That was all Bolade could manage to say. He felt silly he couldn’t say more but was glad he could say something at all.
She shook her head.
“Ok. I’ll talk to you after. I have to go now.” With that, he dashed out of the class, jumped down the stairs again and started towards the Administrative block. He could see other students jogging towards the same place, from different locations.
Bolade could think of nothing else than his friend and the state he had left her. In the past three weeks of school, they had talked briefly at different times, shared notes and he had had cause to explain one or two things to her; nothing more. Bolade had noticed that even Victor had not talked at length with Salewa, busy with other girls as usual.
What is eating that girl up? What would make her start her day in tears? Bolade had watched films where he saw girls cry as if they were crying machines; manufactured to shed tears. He had felt the movie producers were very unrealistic but now he truly wondered. He would wait until he spoke with her when he returned to the class to know what the problem was.
But that in itself was a challenge. He hated sticking his nose in other people’s matters. How was he supposed to ask her? Would she even answer him? Bolade kept
turning these questions in his mind, seeking answers until he heard, “The National Anthem!” He was surprised. Thirty minutes of assembly had gone without him hearing a single word of all that had been spoken.
He looked up at the National Flag, swaying with the wind, and almost immediately, it fell to its side and leaned so tight against the pole holding it up when the wind ceased. That sudden contrast from lively to dull reminded him of Salewa. He tried to put two images together; the first day he had met her and she had handled Victor quite well, and now what she looked like a couple of meters away in their class. The pictures didn’t fit. Whatever was ailing that young woman, Bolade wouldn’t rest until he found it out.
IT WAS SHORT-BREAK and Salewa could sense the struggle with Bolade. He wanted to
talk with her but possibly didn’t know what to say or didn’t know if she wanted him to say anything. She couldn’t blame him. She smiled when she remembered what happened immediately after assembly.
Bolade had walked in with a couple of students trailing him. The look on his face when he saw her was one of shock. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She looked so normal; bright in fact. She was sure she had succeeded in confusing the boy. Shortly after he had left for assembly, she had managed to put herself together. She stopped crying.
Then, she reached for her cosmetics bag and went to the toilet, which fortunately had mirrors. She took her time in putting her face, especially her eyes back in order. When she was done, she was impressed with herself. Bolade’s look when he was back was her final satisfaction that she was good.
She didn’t know what got to her in the morning. She had grown used to masking her feelings in public. She only cried in the confines of her room. But today,
she had been really carried away and had lost touch with time when she felt a hand touch her. She had been relieved that it was Bolade and not some other flippant boy. Seeing his shock had brought a fresh wave of tears. She wondered why she had to suffer the things she was going through.
She looked to her right, at Bolade, and saw he was still looking at her, as discreetly as wouldn’t arouse attention from classmates. She decided to help him. She knew he wanted to reach her and help her with her hurts but he was now staring at someone who seemed perfectly okay. She felt his confusion.
She stood and took two steps towards him, and noticed he was standing too. She knew what he was trying to say. I’m the one to be walking to you not you me. “Thank you for this morning” she said.
“I did nothing.” Bolade responded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.” “No probs. I’m fine now.”
“You sure?”
“Yes”, she said, with her practiced smile.
Bolade looked away, paused, and then said, “Why do I think you are lying to me?”
“You should ask yourself.” Salewa said, trying to make light of it but saw Bolade wasn’t smiling and that got at her. He was serious.
“I cannot forget in a hurry the look on your face this morning. That was no joke, Salewa”, Bolade started, saying above a whisper. “Please know that you can trust me. You can talk to me.”
Salewa didn’t say anything then, but noticed that some eyes were beginning to rest on them. “Can we talk immediately after school today?”
“But your mum- ”
“She won’t be coming for me today.”
“She has an appointment at that time.” Salewa lied but felt there was no need to spill all the beans.
“Okay. Talk to you then.”
“Thanks” Salewa said, sincerely glad someone cared to listen.
“My pleasure” Bolade said and waited for her to sit before he took his seat. They were sitting adjacent to each other but the class was so large there was ample space between two seats. It helped in times of tests and examinations.
As he sat down, he could feel the stares from classmates and knew they were bound to start up a gist before the end of the day. He had never entered their gisting topics because he had always stayed out of their reach especially when it came to girls.
But this time was different and he really didn’t care if they talked about him, because somewhere within him he knew he was doing what was right. He was a knight in shining armour helping a damsel in distress.
MANY STUDENTS SAT on opposite sides of the Basketball Court. It was the space
designated for students to sit when waiting for their parents after school. It was close to the car park and was open enough for monitoring. At a corner, not too far away, to avoid suspicion from staff and not too close to others to avoid eavesdroppers were Bolade and Salewa.
Salewa wondered how much she should tell him. She didn’t want to scare him off with too many details; neither did she want him pitying her when she was done. She would have to pick her words carefully.
“Ready?” Salewa asked, knowing Bolade understood what she meant. He nodded.
“What made me cry this morning as made me crying several times in my closet but not in public. I guess I was just overwhelmed.”
She looked at him and saw he was listening. She lowered her gaze and stared at her palms. She was still in control of herself and the prim and proper girl she always was outside. She feared she would tear up immediately she started pouring out the details. She had promised however and she had to finish what she had started.
Salewa, why did you lose control this morning? See what you’ve caused! She didn’t like the fact that she had to tell Bolade the things she was about to. She wished she didn’t have to.
She looked at him again. “Do I have to tell you?” Bolade thought a while. “Not if you don’t want to.”
His answer disarmed her. He wasn’t trying to be nosy; he just wanted to help. She sighed and lowered her head. “I feel like trash. I feel like a piece of dirt that nobody wants.” Salewa felt silly saying those words. They were words she spoke to herself everyday but it was the first time in her life that she had made anyone see how low she thought of herself.
She didn’t bother looking up to know if Bolade was listening to her or not. If he was listening, good for him; he wouldn’t bother trying to remain friends with an unwanted girl like her. If he wasn’t listening, good for her; she would still have some self dignity afterwards.
She continued.
“My parents are sworn enemies. I have known them to be at each other’s necks since the day I knew how to spell my name. They shout at each other, insult themselves, slam doors, break things, and at times, even fight physically; mummy taking more of the blows.”
Salewa could feel the tears building up. She bit her lips and paused, hoping to control them. She succeeded.
“My brothers have escaped to school, leaving me alone to suffer the emotional trauma of seeing the two people I love most in this world tear themselves
apart ever so often. What baffles me most is that whenever they are in this foul mood, they don’t seem to remember I am there. It is like I immediately become invisible. At such times, I go into my room.
“Initially, I used to cry for hours while they fought. As I grew older, I noticed what my brothers used to do and I copied it and I discovered that it helped a bit. I would either turn on the TV in the room or plug my earphones, drowning off their voices. I have endured all these years but I made the mistake of my life yesterday.”
At that Salewa looked up, with glistering eyes, and saw Bolade’s eyes were fixated on her. She didn’t know if to be happy about that or not but it was enough encouragement for her to go on.
“My parents were arguing again yesterday morning. I was about to slip out of the house and go wait for mummy in the car when a thought stopped me in my tracks. Why not talk to them for a change? Before I could think myself out of it, I spoke out.
“I cannot remember all I said but I was crying and the words were pouring from my heart. I begged them to forgive each other and make peace if just for the sake of their children. When I was done, still crying, I looked up at my parents. My mum was crying but I couldn’t decipher the look on my dad’s face. He seemed rather angry.”
The tears now trickled down Salewa’s face and she let them fall. “Next thing I saw; he hissed and walked out on my mum and me. I heard his car start and soon, he was out of the compound. Off to his work that mostly kept him too busy to have time for us. My mum looked at me with pain in her eyes; pain for herself and pain for my hurt but she didn’t say anything.”
Salewa noticed from the side of her eyes that Bolade was rummaging through his bag. I must be boring him. Maybe I should stop-. His gesture stopped her thoughts. He was offering her his face towel. She was speechless. She took it, smiling her thanks
through her tears and put it to her face. She inhaled the perfume fragrance on the towel and it brought some relief with it that she couldn’t explain.
“I’m listening”, Bolade said, knowing there was still more his new friend wanted to say.
Salewa nodded, lowering her head again and folding the wet face towel in her hand.
“I could hardly think straight yesterday throughout school. I hoped against hope that I had not compounded the problem. I literarily ran to the car park immediately after school, eager to see mum again and maybe get the feeling that things were normal again, even if not better. But on getting to the car, I just couldn’t tell. Mummy didn’t speak much.”
Salewa put the towel to her face as the tears started again. “I began feeling so useless; a feeling I had tried to suppress over the years. I had always felt my parents preferred my brothers to me, but I suppressed the feeling and excused it, telling myself I was just plain selfish, wanting all the attention to myself.
“I had always thought my brothers didn’t care much for me either but I always suppressed that too, telling myself they were guys and just didn’t know how to flow well with me. Anytime I looked in the mirror, I saw flaws; I saw mistakes; I saw a girl nobody wanted but I always tried to make myself happy anyway I could. The TV was my usual escape route.
“By the time we got home yesterday, my mum tried to be a little nice, but I could see she wasn’t herself. Things got worse when it seemed like daddy wouldn’t come home. Mummy was all fidgety. And at times when she looked at me, I saw something in her face that scared me to my bones. It was like she was saying see what you caused!
“It was at that moment the worst hours of my life began. I went to my room and the tears just kept coming. Horrible thoughts flooded my mind. Your mum would prefer you dead than losing her husband. You are so worthless, no wonder nobody wants you around.
“I tried blocking out the thoughts but they kept coming and the more they came, the more I cried. Finally, around midnight, my dad drove in and from the silence I heard, he didn’t speak a word to my mother. I cried all night and didn’t even know when I slept off”
Salewa’s attention was drawn to Bolade’s face towel. She had really soiled it and for some reason, it made her cry the more. “I’m so sorry”, she said, pointing at the towel.
“No problem”, he said.
Salewa felt so silly. She wondered how many students were looking at her. She put the towel to her nose and blew. Salewa, you are a mess. She hated to imagine what Bolade would be thinking of her.
“Then, the final straw was laid on the camel’s back this morning”, Salewa said. She dropped the towel on her skirt and held her head in her hands. She shook her head and Bolade could see that she was in so much pain.
“At about five in the morning, I woke up to whispering voices. I had left my door ajar the night before and my room overlooked the sitting room. I tip toed to my door and looked towards the direction of the voices. My parents were talking in the sitting room. I couldn’t see their faces because the lights were off but I could hear their voices.
“It was strange because it had never happened before. I was about returning to bed when I heard my name. Curiosity got the better of me.” Salewa shook her head again. “Now, I wish I had just walked away. Things would have remained the same. But with what I now know, my life can never be the same again. Never.”
Her emphasis on the word never scared Bolade and he could only wonder what had happened. His eyes had filled at different times while listening to her but he had quickly blinked back the tears. He couldn’t afford to join the crying party. He needed to be strong for her. He could see that she was deeply wounded by whatever happened. He wanted to know what it was.
“There was pain in the mum’s voice when she whispered my name to my dad”, Salewa continued. “ ‘Since Salewa was born, you haven’t forgiven me for getting pregnant though I begged you and-’ my mother was saying when daddy said, ‘I forgave you for not telling me you could get pregnant that night before we did it and I forgave you when you told me you were carrying our third child but I insisted that you abort the baby. I told you I wanted only two children.’
“Though he was whispering, I could hear the anger in his voice. ‘Honey, I am so sorry. I have been apologizing for the past fifteen years. When will you forgive me? I wanted one more baby and thought you would indulge me. When she came out as a girl, I even thought you would be pleased but your foul mood in the hospital that day spoke volumes. If I could undo this, I would but I cannot. She is our daughter.’
“Mummy’s words were already eating up all the self worth I had ever managed to gather but the next words daddy spoke swallowed them all alive.” Salewa looked up at Bolade then, wiping her face and all he could see was raw pain. He dreaded what she was about to say.
“My dad said to my mum, ‘Have you noticed that for the past fifteen years, we have remained stagnant financially? Since you disobeyed me and gave birth to that girl, have you noticed that we haven’t added a single block to any of the two houses we had been able to successfully develop before she was born? Can’t you see that your singular act of keeping that girl has brought me bad luck?’
“‘Honey,I think that would be an unfair judgement. It is just a coincidence’ my mother said. ‘It is not a coincidence.’ My dad retorted. ‘Salewa is bad luck. I have wanted to love her like
a father should but every time I connect my lack of progress to her birth, I hate her the more. Since she was born, nothing good has happened to me. I wish she was never born.’”
Salewa suddenly grabbed Bolade’s knee and shook it violently. “My own father wishes I was never born.” She shook her head and dried her tears. She smiled but it was a sad one and Bolade was afraid for her. What she was going through was enough to land her in a psychiatric hospital if she didn’t handle it well.
“I don’t blame him” she said, now laughing softly. “If I wasn’t born, he and mummy would have been happy, they would have never argued, they would have been richer and my brothers would have had loving parents dotting over them. I spoilt it all.”
Bolade wanted to say something; anything. But nothing seemed appropriate enough.
“I should never have been born.” Salewa was saying more to herself now. She had retreated into her own world and Bolade wondered if he could reach her. He now regretted asking her to open up because he desperately wanted to help her but felt so helpless to do so.
“I am glad you were born” was the only thing he could say for a start.
“You are just trying to make me happy. Even in school, I am boring and I cannot even understand simple Set Theory. I am dumb. I didn’t beg to be born. Why do I have to suffer so much rejection?”
Bolade who had just given his life to Christ during a Christian camp over the holidays groped in his mind for a scripture he could quote to her that would make her feel better but he couldn’t lay his hands on one. I need to read the bible more.
He remembered that the words the preacher had spoken at that camp had touched him deeply and healed him of the hurt he had concerning the father he never had. He had come to know God as his father but he was just growing and still made so many blunders daily.
But deep inside his heart, Bolade knew that his own words couldn’t do much to help Salewa. She needed God’s love as much as he did weeks back. Just then, words the preacher said that day began pouring back into Bolade’s mind and he thought he would explode for the excitement he felt inside.
“Salewa, somebody spoke some words to me that changed my life and healed me of some hurts in my life too.” Bolade said and noticed she was listening, even if not too intently. “Can I tell you some of those words?”
Salewa nodded.
“He said they are in the bible though I don’t know where in the bible they are.”
Bolade paused as he allowed the words wash over him again. He was reliving the day he met with God. As he began to speak out the words, the tears he had been holding back began to flow out and he could feel a presence that he last felt at the camp.
“ ‘My father and mother walked out and left me, but GOD took me in.’ I think he said that one is in the book of Psalms”
“I think I like it. Please say it again”, Salewa said.
“My father and mother walked out and left me, but GOD took me in”
“Seems God had me in mind when he put that verse in the bible. Any other?” she asked.
“ ‘So the LORD answers, Can a woman forget her own baby and not love the child she bore? Even if a mother should forget her child, I will never forget you’”
“You mean all these words are inside the bible that those folks carry around. I guess there is a lot I don’t know about God. Please say it again.” Salewa said.
“So the LORD answers, Can a woman forget her own baby and not love the child she bore? Even if a mother should forget her child, I will never forget you”
Bolade looked at her as he said it again and noticed something in her was softening. “I am going to repeat those two verses to you again Salewa and I want you to block out of your mind every pre-conceived idea you’ve ever had about yourself. Please block out what happened between yesterday and today and just focus on the words. These words changed me, let them change you.”
Bolade paused. “Can you do that?” “I’ll try”, she said.
“Here we go. “ ‘My father and mother walked out and left me, but GOD took me in. So the LORD answers, Can a woman forget her own baby and not love the child she bore? Even if a mother should forget her child, I will never forget you’”
Bolade repeated those words over and again, just speaking them out of a sincere heart that believed every word of the verses. He soon noticed that tears were streaming down Salewa’s face but there seemed to be something different about these ones. She was smiling. But she was still crying.
Bolade wished above all things at that moment that Salewa would be fine. He couldn’t explain it but something inside him felt responsible for her. Just then, she looked up and smiled at him through her tears.
“Thank you”, she said.
Bolade hardly heard her as he was shocked at what happened within him when she looked at him. For the first time in his life, looking into a girl’s eyes made his heart flutter. It was as if his heart wanted to escape the confines of his chest and grab Salewa’s, never to ever let go. Is this what it feels like to be in love? If it is, then I think I am in trouble. I have just fallen in love with Salewa!
4
BOLADEDROPPED HIS bag on the rug and sank into the settee. Words couldn’t express
how he was feeling. He literarily didn’t know how he got home. All he thought about on his way home was Salewa. The feelings cruising through him were strange but welcome. He wished school hours were longer or that Salewa was his next door neighbour. He just wanted to be with her.
He remembered how she had cried when she started pouring her heart out to him a few hours back. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her, not once, except when he needed to give her his face towel. He had seen every tear escape her eyes, seen every twitch of her face, and heard every word of her mouth.
As he recalled some of those moments, he wanted to cry. The girl was in so much pain. Bolade had his own fair share of pain; living without a father wasn’t anything but pain. But at least he had a mother that loved and adored him. He wished he could just tap his fingers and all Salewa’s fears and sorrows would vanish. But he couldn’t.
An idea just popped into his head and he smiled. We have a landline at home. Why don’t I call Salewa. We could talk all evening. It was then he remembered he didn’t even ask her for her number.
“Silly me. How could I have missed that!” Bolade said, as he reached for the telephone. And God can just reveal to me Salewa’s phone number o! Abi God! Can’t you?
Bolade smiled. He was clearly beside himself. As he was fiddling with the buttons, he remembered a number he had memorized recently. He tried to put the number to a face. It was then it occurred to him that he got the number memorized at the camp he attended. A youth minister had come to give them a talk he titled, Laws of Attraction.
Bolade had enjoyed the talk. The campers had their fill of laughter that day. Bolade hadn’t asked any questions but many others did and the minister, a young man, had been very understanding of their plight and witty in his responses.
At the end of his session, he had dictated his number to the attendees. Bolade had been too shy to write it down because he didn’t want people around thinking he had girl problems.
Bolade laughed. Now, he indeed had a girl problem; a Salewa problem. He was thankful that he had memorized the number. So, as he recalled it, he punched the buttons and then put the receiver to his ear and waited.
“Hello”, a deep voice said after five rings; the voice had a smile to it. “Good afternoon sir”
“Good afternoon. Please who am I speaking with?”
“I am Bolade. You don’t know me sir. I was in a camp over the holidays when you talked about Laws of attraction”
“Oh! I see. Is it the one that was held at International School, Ibadan?” “Yes sir.”
“Lovely.”
There was a pause, and Bolade didn’t know how to get the question out of his mouth. He felt very silly asking. He wondered if to cut the line before he said anything stupid. Just then, the man spoke up.
“So, how may I be of help to you?”
“What I want to say may sound funny and…”
The man caught in. “Don’t worry. It’s between both of us. Feel free to sound funny”
Bolade could hear the smile in the man’s voice and that gave him some boost.
“I think I have fallen in love with a girl”, Bolade blurted out so fast, he could hardly hear himself. Then all he heard was laughter on the other end of the line.
I have just made a fool of myself “Bolade, right?” the man asked. “Yes, sir. Bolade”
“Good. Please could you say it again? Slowly this time.”
Bolade was sure the man was getting a kick out of this. He was going to indulge him this once. “Sir, I think I…”
The door to the house swung open and Bolade’s mum walked in. He hadn’t even heard the sound of the car. He had come home himself because his mum had said she had a meeting at Premiere Hotel that she thought would end late. It definitely ended sooner than she had envisaged.
His words were stuck in his mouth. He covered the mouth piece of the receiver with his palm and nodded. “Welcome mummy!”
She gave him a curious smile and just stared at him. He could tell what she was thinking. It was unlike him to be on the phone immediately after school, still in his uniform, with his bag at his feet. Moreso, he could tell she could see the uneasiness written all over him.
“Hello!” the man at the other end was saying. Bolade could tell he was a very patient man.
Bolade waved at his mother, asking her to leave. Rather, she decided to sit on the sofa facing him, the smile not leaving her face.
I’m in trouble!
“Hello”, Bolade said, after removing his hand from the mouthpiece. “I have a problem here”
“My mum just walked in and she has refused to go. She is sitting right in front of me.”
Bolade giggled as he heard the man laugh even harder this time.
“What do you suggest I do to get rid of her?” he said, smiling at his mother, who was enjoying the show.
“Maybe you blow her a kiss that would make her disappear”, the man said. Bolade wondered how such a busy youth minister would have time for little chit chats like this with a counselee he was speaking with for the first time.
“Mum, he said I should blow you a kiss that would make you disappear.” Bolade said, not caring to cover the mouth piece this time.
“So, what are you waiting for?” she said.
Bolade couldn’t believe his mother was playing along. He put his fingers to his lips, kissed them, rather loudly, for the pleasure of his counselor on the phone, and then blew it her way.
His mother instantly picked her bag and literarily skipped off to her room. Bolade laughed, his ribs ached; he had the best mother in the world.
“What was that about?” the man asked.
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. My mum just acted the role perfectly.” “You are blessed to have such a mother.”
“I couldn’t agree less.”
“Back to our gist” the man said.
Bolade however had a question to ask. “Are you always this nice and available?”
“Nice, yes. Available, no. You called me at a good time.”
“Ok, sir.” Bolade felt more comfortable with the man and felt himself relaxing. “I think I have fallen in love with a girl”
Just then, his mother peeked from her room and she was grinning from tooth to tooth. She had heard him. “I thought you were supposed to disappear?” Bolade said, smiling.
“Pardon?”
“Oh, not you sir. My mother was eavesdropping.” The man giggled.
“It would be a pleasure to meet your mum. I wish all mothers could be like her.”
“True.”
There was another pause and the words of the youth minister sent Bolade into fantasy world. He wondered what it would be like for the youth minister to marry his mother. But isn’t mummy older than him? And there’s Dr Solomon already. Forget it Bolade!
“Why not tell me about this girl you like?” the man said, bringing them back to the present.
“Her name is Salewa!” Bolade said, and a smile spread all across his face. “Nice name. Tell me how Salewa captured your heart.”
Bolade reclined on the sofa, the receiver to his ear and he told the youth minister all about Salewa.
IT WAS DARK outside. Salewa had been sitting at the back of the house, close to the
laundry tap for over three hours.
She had taken public transport for first time since resuming at Hilltop College three weeks back. Her parents’ conversation she had overheard had assured her that if her mother wanted to keep her marriage, she would do everything to please him, even if it meant abandoning Salewa. Not coming to pick her from school was the first guaranteed move. And Salewa wasn’t disappointed. Her mother had already made her choice.
She got home tired and feeling so sticky. She had met both parents at home. She was surprised but guessed they called in sick at their offices and didn’t have to go to work. They were quick to lies. She had heard them tell countless lies over the phone at different times.
She made a deliberate effort, though hard, to go on both knees to greet them before proceeding to her room. Only her mother replied. Salewa didn’t care. Her heart was already hardening towards them. She got into her room, had a long and cold bath and then proceeded to wash her unmentionables. Those were the only things the washer-woman never washed for her.
She went to the laundry tap and did her washing. When done, she felt no need to go back in, so she stayed outside. She had started her thinking spree again and it seemed it would not end.
Three hours after, she was still lost in thoughts. Her top was considerably soaked already with the steady flow of tears that had made its descent down her face to her dress.
She wasn’t surprised that even though it was past seven, her parents hadn’t come looking for her. What did I do to deserve this? I didn’t beg to be born against my father’s wishes. I knew nothing about the thing for which I am suffering so. Her crying became sobs and she just couldn’t stop the sorrow that engulfed her again.
When her sobs subsided, she remembered her conversation with Bolade and a tiny light was kindled in the darkness of her soul. But it soon died off.
But if this God Bolade talked about is half of what He is, then I shouldn’t be suffering like this! Where is God in all of this? Can’t He do something about this and make my dad change his mind! Isn’t He the Almighty God who they say can do all things?
She was getting so upset with God that she decided He wasn’t worth her thinking time. She decided to turn her thoughts towards the only person that made her smile in the whole day.
Even if Bolade believed in this God, who seemed either powerless or callous, at least Bolade had a heart and he seemed to genuinely care for her. That was something she could think about for the rest of the night.
With Bolade on her mind, she made her way back into the house. As she walked in, she saw her parents, for the first time in her life, sitting together at table and eating from the same plate. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She felt elated and wanted to smile, laugh, jump on her mother or do something to express the joy she felt but one look at her father and all the joy disappeared.
She felt like a washing machine on drain; all the joy that bubbled in her drained off almost immediately. It was then it hit her like a blow right to her stomach.
Dad isn’t angry with mummy again just because she has abandoned me. As far as I am not in the equation, dad would be happy with mum and all will be well.
It was more than Salewa could bear. She rushed to her room, unwilling to spill tears in front of the two lovers. She was sure her dad would be happy if she disappeared or died off.
Salewa felt so lost and unwanted. Her brothers hardly called home, so she didn’t have them to confide in. She cuddled up on her bed and hugged her pillow tight. As she cried, hoping to sleep off, she couldn’t wait for morning to come. She wanted to be out of the house. She wanted to be back in school. She wanted to see Bolade again.
Seeing Bolade again was the only reason she wanted to see the next day. Her joy now depended on him. She turned and felt her hand brush against something soft.
She opened her eyes and looked down at her hand. It was a face towel. She smiled through her tears. She used the towel to wipe her face as she had done hours earlier in school. She didn’t know she had brought it home. The fragrance coming from the face towel was soothing as it was his fragrance.
She drifted off to sleep with his face itched on the curves of her heart. Bolade, my knight!
5
VICTOR WAS STUNNED. He couldn’t imagine how he could have missed the equation.
There was obviously some chemistry between Bolade and Salewa this Wednesday morning that wasn’t there less than twenty-four hours ago. He wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t know better.
They did nothing out of the ordinary but there was something about the way they looked at each other. There was a level of familiarity that seemed to have grown overnight and it baffled Victor.
He had first noticed when he was standing directly behind Bolade on the assembly ground, as the assembly was about to kick off. Just then, Salewa ran towards them, clearly not wanting to be held up with late comers. When she had almost reached them, there was a smile on her face. Victor had thought the smile was for him until she got to them and her eyes were on Bolade.
He looked at Bolade and saw something he thought was fondness in his eyes. When did all this start? He noticed they didn’t talk much as the Chapel Prefect was already saying a prayer.
He had tried to ignore the whole scenario until assembly was over and Bolade offered to carry Salewa’s bag for her and Victor could swear that he saw Salewa blush. Victor had walked behind the duo all the way from the assembly ground to the academic block and it seemed they didn’t even know he existed. That was weird.
Now, they had just reached their class and it was as if both of them were inseparable. Just as Victor’s confusion was increasing, the English teacher walked in to take the first period. Just then did Bolade take his seat and focus on what the woman was trying to say.
Bolade, you would have to clarify this mystery to me. Victor was going to talk to him when the short-break bell went off.
THE WALK FROM the administrative block back to her class seemed like five miles to
Salewa. She had been told to report at the Administrator’s office during short-break to collect her sports wear.
Short-break was just fifteen minutes and the woman, who didn’t seem in any hurry, had just helped her waste ten precious minutes. She just had five minutes left, minus the few she would use to walk back to the class. She had planned on spending all fifteen minutes speaking with Bolade. Now, this! She was miffed. Left to her, she would have run to class but she didn’t want to be out of breath when she saw Bolade.
She had woken up few hours back, at home, with mixed feelings. Sorrow at the way things were at home but excitement that she would soon be in school. When she had arrived at school, almost late, she hadn’t noticed anyone else. She went straight for the person she had been thinking about all night, and morning. And she wasn’t disappointed. It seemed he was waiting for her as well.
She had been so tripped when he offered to carry her bag. She thought her heart would burst with the love she felt there. Daddy, can you see this. Somebody wants me! Bolade, in a few minutes had made her forget all the pain and tears of the night. Now, she just had three minutes more of break, then another four hours of classes.
As she walked into the class, what she saw stopped her in her tracks. Bolade was taking with another girl. Another girl! Salewa wanted to die. Bolade couldn’t see Salewa as he was facing the girl, who was standing to the left of his seat, away from the door.
Salewa quickly recovered from the shock and walked to her seat. She sank into it, trying to suppress the emotions that wanted to engulf her. Salewa, are you being
jealous? She couldn’t answer herself. She wondered if she had a right to be jealous. Bolade was just being nice. He hadn’t made her the exclusive recipient of his kindness.
Absentmindedly, she turned to her right and saw Victor staring at her. She was seated in-between both friends; a decision she now regretted. She could tell he had read her clean through and knew she was reacting to the fact that Bolade was talking to someone else.
She looked away from him but not before she saw a smile tug at his lips. Victor is mocking me! She couldn’t bear the unspoken taunting. Am I not good enough? Am I not good enough for anybody? My dad doesn’t want me. Now, Bolade!
The tears were coming and she knew better than to make a mess of herself two days in a row. Just then, a thought cropped up into her mind. It seems other girls are beginning to see what I saw in Bolade yesterday. She only wondered why their eyes were just opening.
She knew what she would do. Whatever needed to be done, to keep this one human being that cared for her to keep caring, she would do. Even if it meant letting go of her pride.
She would walk over to Bolade’s seat immediately after school and do it. It was a risk she was willing to take.
THELAST PERIOD was almost over and Bolade didn’t hear a word the Yoruba teacher
spoke since the beginning of the class. His thoughts were getting the better of his attention.
The words he had heard from Mr. Raymond Somile, the youth minister, over the phone the previous day had given him a lot to think and pray about. He had forgotten the man’s name but the man wasn’t offended and had reminded him.
Bolade recalled the tail end of the conversation.
“Thanks for reminding me sir.” Bolade had said after the man told him his name. “Mr. Raymond, I have one more question.”
“Go ahead”, he said.
“How do I tell Salewa that?”
“Pray ahead and ask God to give you the right words. He will.” “But…”
“No buts Bolade. Be a man!” he said, giggling and Bolade knew he wasn’t going to help him further. “Call me when you get back home and tell me how it went. Okay?”
“Okay sir.”
They had said a few more things and the phone line went dead. Now, Bolade had to do this on his own, without Mr. Raymond’s help. He had prayed all morning about it, before leaving the house, but he just felt like he hadn’t prayed enough.
When he got to school earlier in the day, he was ready. But with one glance at Salewa as she hurried through the school gate, his resolve melted and he wanted to throw caution to the wind.
Funke had walked over to him during short break to talk about a book she read that she taught he would like. He had wondered why the girl did that. It seemed to him that she just wanted to strike up a conversation with him and he wondered why. Because of her, he had missed a chance to talk with Salewa.
Yoruba period was almost over and the bell was bound to sound soon for end of school. Bolade’s heart beat hard against his chest. He was glad Salewa was not in class presently, as she was offering French, not Yoruba. That gave him some breathing space.
The bell rang and Bolade suddenly noticed that his forehead was wet. He was sweating! He looked at his palms and they were wet. He remained on his seat, his
thoughts practically immobilizing him. He put his head on the table and waited. He didn’t want to have to act up when Salewa walked in; he was better off with his head down.
Not up to a minute, he felt someone seat on his table. His pulse quickened. Whoever it was didn’t say anything. Bolade swallowed. The moment had come.
He lifted up his head. It was Victor. He heaved a sigh of relief. His friend was looking at him funny.
“Why the look?” Bolade asked. “What look?”
Bolade slouched on his chair. “That twisted look on your face”
“I thought we were friends,” Victor was saying. “How did you do it?” He shook his head in wonder. “I mean, what happened?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You understand. Stop playing games. I should have quizzed you during short-break if not for that Funke girl that seems to have caught your charm also. You guys talked all through short break.”
“Is that what this is about? Funke?” Bolade asked, bemused.
“No!” Victor said, “That was just an interesting aside.” He looked around, ensuring the students still in class were far from ear’s reach. “What is happening between you and Salewa?”
Bolade laughed, hoping Victor would not hear the strain in the laughter. “Victor, I am not the ladies’ man. You are! You should be the one telling me how your plans are going.”
“The fact that you are evading my question makes me know something is up.” Victor pulled at his sprouting beard strands. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
“It’s not what?” he asked, wondering at his friend’s sudden pause. Then he knew. Salewa must have entered the class. He turned and there she was, walking towards her seat. And for the first time in over three weeks, Victor saw Salewa in a new way. She was strikingly beautiful!
Victor wondered why he had never noticed it before. He owed that discovery to Bolade. His friend had made him see.
Victor cleared his throat, rather loudly, walked to his seat, took his bag and made for the door. He was singing a self-composed song. I go love o! Me too go love o!
Two others students in the class giggled, leaving Bolade and Salewa pleasantly embarrassed.
Salewa was the first to talk. “Bolade, thanks again for yesterday.” “You’ve thanked me nine times already”, he said, smiling. “I need to tell you something”, she said.
“Same here.”
“Really?” Salewa, said beaming. Salewa, slow down. What if it’s not what you think? “Ok, you go first”
“No, you go first. Ladies first!”
Salewa was still making a mock pouting face when they heard a teacher’s voice.
“What are you guys still doing up here?” The voice wasn’t friendly at all. “You should either be on your way home or at the Basketball Court, waiting for your parents.”
With that, they both packed their bags and started downstairs. “Would you mind if we stroll together?” Bolade asked. “Your mum isn’t coming for you?”
