Camp Hope Part 1

in #fiction7 years ago

It was a typical harmattan season in maiduguri, the rough wind carried yellow dried leaves and swirled them around in a dance, the feet of five barely clothed children happily playing football in the field across the tarred road raised so much dust it was a wonder the children could still see. A bird was perched over the rumbles of the gray building which was once the best primary school in central maiduguri. It was a quiet Saturday morning and only few people like Banke were on the street. Banke held on to her large hat with her left hand and balanced her cheap Chanel handbag on her shoulders with her right hand. She checked to see her small hand luggage still resting gingerly on a small rock beside her, wiped the sweat which had began to form on her forehead and tried to fan herself with her palm. Banke had been waiting for a taxi for over two hours and her legs were beginning to wobble.
"Yariya, you need bike. I carry you to anywhere," a scruffy dark teenager with cigarette stained teeth on a bike stopped to ask her grumpily. His uncombed hair and face were brown from the dust and his expression showed that the last place he wanted wanted to be was there.The Camp Hope official she spoke to had warned her to stay away from bike men and take taxis instead but she hadn't seen any taxi since she got down from the bus which brought her from Abuja. She desperately needed to use the restroom and have a long warm bath. She weighed her options and decided to take a chance. After all this journey was about bravery and sacrifice for her.
"Carry me go Camp Hope for Zakari road"
"Na N500 oh madam"
"What? Habamana Oga, the place no far na."
The boy was obviously not in the mood for a bargain and began to turn his keys in the ignition.
"Oya I go pay, help me carry my bag for front." She looked around to see if suspicious boys lurked around and saw none so she gave him her hand luggage, climbed the bike, clutched her handbag tightly to her chest and told him to move.
Five months ago, Banke was a struggling cake designer in Abuja. At the age of thirty-two her mum was mounting pressure on her to find a rich man and settle down but she hadn't met the right man who made more than her loins leap for joy. Despite her tough exterior she was a romantic who believed in forever and wasn't going to settle for anything less but her mother would have none of her explanations. Banke had even begun to avoid her mother's calls as they always degenerated into a sobbing fest. Her mother was resulting to emotional blackmail and Banke was out of options to placate the distressed woman. Frankly she was already resigning herself to a life of perpetual spinsterhood but her mother would not hear it.
Then she met Hakim, a suave Hausa business executive with a big pharmaceutical company, who was introduced to her by her high school best friend, Zainab. Zainab was her best friend and agent and had gone to great lengths to convince Hakim to book Banke's services for his birthday party. Banke was excited at the new prospects this would open and was eager to exceed her client's expectations. Prior to the delivery date, she never met Hakim, her only correspondence was his wife, Miriam, who made all the bookings. From her disposition it was clear that Miriam thought very little of Banke's small cake business. Miriam had friends who owned reputable cake factories in all the major cities in Nigeria so she didn't understand why they had to settle for a third class baker no one knew about but her husband was a wimp in the hands of his cousin, Zainab and the almighty Zainab wanted Banke's Confectionery so there she was making last minute negotiations and product specifications with a baker who had never baked a croissant. It drove her crazy but given the precarious state of her marriage to Hakim, she went along like a dutiful wife and didn't say a negative word about the arrangement. Despite their differences, she loved Hakim deeply and wanted their marriage to work.
The birthday finally arrived and Banke was eager to see her client face to face for the first time and hoped he would be delighted with her work. She was so nervous and changed her outfit thrice before settling for a neon knee length peplum gown and black sandals. Little did she do that that night will change her life forever.

.... To be continued.

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Ejura, how can u just stop here? Oya continue it o

Looool... I will try to complete the story soon

A beautiful read, it was.

Thank you for reading 😁

This lady can write sha. And the way you keep blending your characters and your sense of description is deep I must confess. Keep up the good job my dear!

Thank you so much Laitan. I am glad you enjoyed the story. Please stay tuned for more and check out my previous works if you can. Thank you once again.

I have read this before, but not as fleshed out as this, your writing is phenomenal