MY MILITARY BOYFRIEND AND I
CHAPTER THREE
Months had passed since Kemi’s burial, the rites observed with a reverence befitting her memory. My journey which was once defined by the pursuit of education, had shifted in the wake of tragedy. The exams I had missed were now a closed chapter, a bridge to cross when the academic year rolled anew.
Determined to forge a path through the uncertainty, I turned to the entrepreneurial spirit that ran in my veins. With just a gas stand and plate, flour from the market, and corn from my grandmother’s generosity, I opened my small business. Puff puff and beans, a staple of lypenian street food, became my offering to the community—a symbol of resilience and sustenance. It is commonly called Achombo.
My joint, a humble beacon amidst the bustling streets of Ewa, drew all manner of folk. Students and workers, young and old, they all found comfort in the simple pleasure of My delicious Achombo. It was here, amidst the sizzle and steam, that fate would once again steer my course.
I was seating by my stand one fateful evening, frying my puff puff when a sudden male voice spoke.
“Good even, madam.”
“Good Evening!”.
“I want this puff puff and Bins”
From his English you would easily identify him as one of those from the other side of the country. People from the other side were not welcome there at that time. Well, there was a time when some of them were chased out, some kidnapped and others killed at sight. Then again it was common for one to see them around the campus because they came for educational purposes. We had Minister’s Children, some were lecturers in the university.. So at that time I immediately identified him as one of them.
I had no idea he was a military man. In as much as I wanted to bring myself to hate him, I just couldn’t. I wanted to hit him so hard he would feel the pain my little kemi felt but my conscience was fast at work. They were not the people to hold responsible for her death. I would often battle with my thoughts.
From that day onwards Christophe came to my stand to get food. At that time I still wasn’t aware he was a military man, until a certain day when the Areas boys attack our street. And he showed up with his colleagues. It rained bullets that evening. I didn’t have time to park anything as they were few steps away from me shooting, running and hiding. While running I fell on the floor and bruised my leg. I knew my time had come and so I braced myself to remain still and wait for death to come take me. I laid down mumbling prayers I didn’t know I could say until I heard someone shouted. “Get up and run!!” I dared not look up at him for fear of losing a part of my body. I laid straight faced down. He called the second time and I gathered my self got up and ran for my dear life and went straight into an uncompleted building by the road side, where he had directed me to enter. I later heard that many were wounded and short.
The next day I learned that it was that same guy who came to my Stand to get food, who saved my life. I wasn’t sure how I felt because I didn’t expect the same people I hated would to turn out to be the ones to safe me. That was how I got to know that Christophe as he was called, was a uniform man.
From that day we became friends except that he came to my place, dressed as a commoner. For fear that I would be kidnapped and accused of being a black leg if he visited me, putting on his military attire.
TO BE CONTINUED
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