YOU NEVER CAN TELL

CHAPTER 3

Ngozi studied harder and she never failed a course. She was determined to come out first class at her final level, at least to make him happy.

Faced with the difficulties of the common Nigerian University, she was never dismayed. There was this guy that never allowed her a breathing

space. He was handsome and heavily built. With his height and build he didn’t find it hard to be in the school Basketball team. He had made a

lot of overtures but he always met a stumbling block in Ngozi. To make the case serious they were in the same department. He would even

make out space for her whenever he comes to class earlier than she could. Ngozi refused to let him know where she lived, but he was smart

enough to find out where she lived; and that she lived alone. “What the hell!” he had exclaimed that day after such an energy exhausting

research. Yet it did not pay off.

She was in the Bus one day, heading towards the market. She had finished the days lecture and headed home immediately. But on getting

home with the intestinal worms hitting her intestinal walls furiously, she had rushed to the pots unsuccessfully. She had opened them one after

the other. They were three to be precise, but the two big ones were shining and as empty as the word empty, “Holy Mary!” she had exclaimed,

as she felt more rumblings in her stomach. She rushed the third pot with alacrity. It was smaller and it contained about six tablespoons of cold

beans that she had left over in the morning. So this is what I left in the morning, she brooded forlornly. It took her an unimaginable speed to

scoop everything into her waiting mouth.

She had checked the room sharply to find out that she needed ground-nut oil, palm- oil and some other ingredients to make a new stew and a

local soup that day. Thus she rushed to the market.

As she made efforts to pay the bus conductor, the conductor _ Ebony black, with afro hair style and well trimmed side boards – looked sharply

at her, shook his head and blurted: “No worry, dem don pay for you.”

Confused, she asked, “Who pay for me?”

And the conductor pointed to her back as the big basketball player smiled wolfishly with a grin. “Your guy don pay for you” he summed up,

extending his collection to the other passengers.

She looked back and discovered her Good Samaritan. “Ben,” she held out her fare, “So you have been here. Thank you, but I have my fare with me.”

“Who says, you don’t. Only a neurotic bumpkin would board a bus without putting into consideration his T-fare (as it’s commonly used by

students) and I don’t believe you’ve made yourself one,” he rapped.

“Thank you all the same,” she looked towards the conductor, “But I insist on paying my T-fare”

“Forget it,” he said. “It means nothing. Maybe I surprised you, but just keep your money and it would make everyone happy. Where are you

going? Your face tells me, it’s somewhere important,” he asked swapping the topic.

“Well, I’m going to the market,” she said as she heaved a sigh of defeat.

“I hope it’s not the one that I’m going to,” he implored. He later found out they were heading towards the same market. Though they were

supposedly bound for different segments of the market, he had initiated the move to go down her lane with her, knowing fully well that she

didn’t need his help. But against all odds, he had followed her.

In spite of all these, Ngozi never change her mind, and all Ben could get from her was: “My dear lover boy, I know how hard you’ve tried, at

least to get a pass mark. I like your wits. To be frank, I have to tell you this,” she had said standing akimbo. “You’ve got the looks, the

idiosyncrasies and all other qualities that would have made me succumb to your advances, but I can’t help it. I have got the best guy who has

no equal in all ramifications of life. There isn’t anything I’ve seen which will separate me from him, not even you. I hope you understand. And I

wish you a nice girl – perhaps better than me _ in your future adventure. So long Ben,” she had rounded off leaving him stoned with his

mouth agape, as he found it hard to believe that a great treasure was fast eluding him. “Kai,” he had fumed a little later, “So I‘ve been chasing

the wind all long.” That was how she was: Hard and determined, even when the risk was touch- and- go.

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Written By

Felix Chika-Sunday

+2348032606847, +2348114735145