© copywrite 2009
by Yvonne Oshiobugie
check out her blogChapter 7
Blue jeans and a pair of T-shirt. She could not believe she had dressed like this to leave her house, but the ticket had specified the attire with a quirky slogline – ‘it’s a jeans’ affair!’ She was feeling conscious about her age, the last thing she needed was to dress differently and stand out from everyone else. She had worn a pair of sunglasses, at least, no one would recognise her easily with that.
There were a number of people. It was easy to see the crowds that had turned out for the seminar had greatly decreased in number and she was sure they were about twenty people out there. Marina was right – this would be a personal meeting, one that she was sure to bump into Steve almost immediately.
As she got to the stand, where foodstuff was arranged, she saw others dropping old clothes there and other used things. She remembered a couple of old clothes she had stashed in her closet, clothes that were too faded, worn, tight or out of fashion – clothes she would never wear again. If she had known, she might have brought some of them along. She was glad for her sunglasses for though it was eleven o’clock, the sun was hot and she had started to sweat.
She could feel some eyes on her as they paused to identify her, then they looked away once realised they could not. She looked around for Steve. She was not even sure what he looked like and she could not wait to meet him and finally leave.*
Latoye Benson walked in with an armload of toys and books in a carton. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the girl whose car he had bashed. He walked up to her. “Hello, good morning…”
Jane looked up at him, her eyes biting. He had traded his suit for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but he was still the same person. “You’re the attendant that bashed my car…”
“I’m sorry about that,” he began. “I’m really sorry…”
She fell silent, not wanting to upset herself with something that had already happened.
“You drove away and I was hoping to see you again to let you know I would take full responsibility for repairing your car…”
“That will be good,” she did not smile, “because it cost me my hard earned money to get that car…”
“If you can leave your office address, I would like to take care of it…”
She looked at him. An attendant, take care of her car? She smiled. “I am a nice person,” she began. “I do not like to treat people unfairly especially when I know they might not be able to afford it…”
He paused. “Have you ever come for any of our meetings before?” He asked her.
“No.”
“Well, I can brief you about the singles group…”
As boring as the suggestion sounded, Jane knew she needed to while away some time while she sought out Steve. She didn’t reply, but her silence was all the go-ahead Latoye needed.
“It’s being run by Steve Markins…”
“Steve Markins?”
“You know him?”
“No, not really.”
“He’s already at the village…”
“The village?” She asked.
“Yes, we’re walking to a village, just somewhere beneath the bridge.” Latoye picked up his cartons. “I don’t even know your name – I apologise. My name is Latoye Benson.”
“I’m Jane, Jane Nwobodo…”
“Nice to meet you,” as he shook her hand, he could feel her coolness and noticed her firm grip. This was a woman who was so used to being in control, she hardly looked into his eyes, she had this way of looking down on him.
People were taking things and walking with them. Someone dropped a large basked in Jane’s hand. She was about to complain when she realised everyone was carrying something. It was not going to hurt so much, was it?
“Where are we going? What’s this village? I thought we were going to the Third Mainland Bridge”
“Well, we’re going to the people that stay beneath the bridge.” he explained.
Jane blinked. The third mainland bridge was the longest bridge in West Africa, and a monumental pride of Nigeria, but Jane had never given a thought to the people that stayed beneath it.
“These are poor people, homeless people who have no food, not shelter, nor clothes…” he spoke with so much heart and compassion, she wondered about it.
“So, do you come to Triumphant?”
“No,” she began. “This is actually my second time of being here…”
“So, what church do you attend?”
“I’m a Baptist,” she began. She did not add that she only went to church when she had the time, which was not very often.
“Well, I’m in Triumphant and every month the singles go out and do this…”
Every month? It sounded scary. “I’ve never done this before,” she began.
“I guessed as much…”
“So, what do you do?” Jane asked him.
“I’m an architect,” he started.
“You? An architect?”
“Surprised?”
“Well, yes.”
“You thought I was an attendant, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” she began. “You were parking my car the other day…”
“Well, it so turns out that in church, I work as an attendant…”
“You work? You get paid by the church?”
He looked at her in disbelief. “No… I don’t,” he thought it funny but he realised oddly that she was serious. “Members of the church offer their services to the church for its use… the church does not pay, they just do it voluntarily…” he could see she was lost and not really familiar with this area of conversation. The basket was wearing her down, she was not used to hard work of any sort and he offered to help her. “Let me take that from you…”
Her face remained hard, not even a smile as she said the words, “Thank you,” then felt the load eased off her hands.
They had been walking for a distance and as they neared a bush path, Jane retreated.
“It’s okay,” he smiled again. “Don’t be scared, it’s this way…”
She had never bargained for all this. She could see why they had been asked to come in jeans. The large gorge stood before her and while Latoye easily jumped over, she remained on the same spot.
He saw her behind, looking pale and he could not help smiling. “Let me give you a hand…”
“Is there another way?” When was the last time she did something like this? Secondary school, Physical Education, and she had hated the subject because of all the jumping around and sweating that seemed to happen each time her class was out on PE.
Shaking his head, Latoye dropped the basket and stretched out a hand. “Take my hand… you can do this.”
She looked at the hand he was giving her and over the ditch. “No… I mean…”
She had been stubborn, acting like a queen whose feet could not touch the soil but the first time, he saw fright in her eyes and realised she was a little girl who was plain scared.
“Here, take my hand…”
“What if…” She heard chuckles behind her – other people were coming. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene and draw any sort of attention to herself. It was either them or this man’s hand. She made her choice quickly. She took his hand and he pulled her over the side.
She landed on the other side, his grip loosened and she fell to the floor.
Latoye was laughing, as Jane took a tumble.
Jane looked up at him, her face cap had rolled on the floor, she had dirt debris on her clothes and she sat on the mesh of grass. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Not really,” Latoye gave her his hand.
Jane ignored his hand and helped herself up. “I can take care of myself..” Jane looked at him and snorted – the nerve of a man. How dare he laugh at her like this? This was really embarrassing.
“I’m sorry, okay?”
Jane looked away. “How far are we going?” All she felt like doing at that point was retreating and going back to her car.
“Just a little inward…”
Jane had no time for small talk and she wondered why this man was bothering her. He was one of those desperately searching single men who chatted up every new girl that walked through the door; well she was not in the chatting mood.
She looked and overhead was the bridge, cars moved quickly along the stretch of steel, none of them aware of what lay beneath.
A narrow sandy path with large elephant grass blades came to view, Jane could hear the sound of creatures, creepy, and she was sure, maybe a cricket or two. She hated anything that crawled or crept and she hoped there were no snakes. Why did the thought of snakes cross her mind? Now she was sure not to concentrate till they arrived some form of civilisation.
A make-shift building came into view – two sticks over which a tarpaulin had been used as a roof. More of such buildings came into view, then the children. Excited eyes that shone and laughter carried over the fragile appearance of the children. They were looking hungry and miserable, their limbs were thin and their stomachs, swollen by a carbohydrate diet, but from the smiles on their faces, they had the inward joy every child possessed. The sight of them was depressing and Jane wondered why she had even agreed to come.
The sight of other people wearing jeans and t-shirts came to her view and her heart leapt with joy. The sooner she saw Steven, the better for her. She just wanted to get this over with.
“Hey, there’s Steve…” Latoye indicated and Jane followed his direction and saw a tall dark skinned man speaking.
“We are here to share with you the gospel of His truth,”
His loud voice was carried over the wind and a small crowd gathered around him. He was tall, dark skinned with piercing eyes.
“We have brought food, clothes and toys for your children, but we have brought the message of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ to you…”
Marina was right about one thing. He was gorgeous. If this was Steve Markins, then he was worth it many times over. He looked about thirty-six, give and take one year, and he was just perfect. But it was just a wish. Did Marina think she could click her finger and Steve Markins would come running? He was gorgeous, rich and a Christian. She noticed the way other girls from the group stood and watched, no doubt, he had other admirers especially from his church, but she would show them all, she would tell them she was not a beauty queen for nothing. Though they might have age on their side, she had experience and she could settle for nothing less. Navy blue would really do justice to Steve and he would gorgeous in it. Most likely, a tuxedo or something really flashy. They would make a good couple, that she was sure of, with his charisma and her beauty – what a combination!
“Hello? Hello?”
Someone shook her and she knew she had been doing it again. She had drifted again and when she looked, Steve Markins was looking right into her eyes.
by Yvonne Oshiobugie (email: yoshiobugie@yahoo.com)
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