Laura stretched as she woke from the four hours of sleep she had. She felt pain all over her body, since she rarely slept on the floor. Though City High School was an all-girls boarding school, they had not had a female service corps from the National Youth Service Scheme in a long time. She’d arrived when the students were on vacation and had to clean up a lodge that had not been used in five years. She preferred it to living outside the school. Apart from the house rent she’d escaped, she was free from the upsurges of religious crisis that easily sparked in this part of the country. Laura had always feared serving in the north, especially after her uncle and his family were burnt in a plateau state. Mama had wanted her to forfeit the service for another year after she was posted to Sokoto, the farthest north. “Ndukaku,nwa m” she’d said, to remind her that life was worth more than riches.
Laura was not ready to answer the unserious questions old women asked after one graduated, particularly when one is yet to be called up for service. Nne Ada, the woman who lived next to them, had already asked when she would be leaving for service. Laura had lied it was the next batch; she knew many people had similar questions in mind, especially now that two batches had been mobilized. She decided to take the risk. “Life’s all about risks,” she’d told Mama.
So here she is, waking up with little strength, she took a bucket of water into the bathroom. Water was not a problem here; she had a tap running in front of her lodge consistently – something she lacked in her own home. It was a cold morning and Laura had no means of boiling water. She’d formed the habit of using warm water, even when it wasn’t too cold. She was not sure she’d be able to pour water on her body; she resolved to wash her face, feet, and hands, hoping to do the bathing later in the day.
*****
She gently knocked on the door. She wanted to see the Vice Principal of Administration. She’d taken almost a minute to admire the door; tinted with brown, the lion’s head design was great with the shiny handle that made it appear like a foreign product and she appreciated the sight before opening the door, though the office itself was a mediocrity. It appeared like the French studio of a girl’s college, her Alma Mata; the old asbestos ceiling had been soaked due to a leaking roof and the cracking walls and the wooden seats could tear one’s cloth if care was not taken.
Mrs. Idris was one of those women that loved to put on eyeglasses even when they had no eye defects; she believed it made her appear educated. She softly pulled her glasses unto her nose as she raised her eyebrows to see who entered her office. “Take a sit,” she bided Laura. Laura sat down and requested to pick a mattress for her room. Mrs. Idris guided her through other formalities she needed as a new service corps. Though Mrs. Idris appeared to be friendly, one could easily tell she was the proud type and loved to pull people’s legs.
“You look so much like my last daughter,” she said to Laura.
“And I am your daughter,” Laura responded, trying to be funny.
“No, she’s more beautiful,” she said.
“I see,” Laura replied, containing her feelings; she was not willing to start on a bad note. Mrs. Idris took her around the administrative block and then sent her to the academic planning unit where she would be assigned a subject.
The male corps members would be resuming next week with the students; she still wondered why there would be more male corps members in an all-girls school, and in a northern state too. It’s a boarding house, she’d thought. Besides, the hostels are too far from the male lodge. There is no cause for alarm she thought, shrugging.
****
Nine weeks have now passed and Laura has gotten used to the system and the environment, including the extreme hotness in the day and the terrible cold at night. She boarded a bus to the market and the passengers conversed as if they’d all known one another; their discussion was an interesting one. She had seen it earlier on an online news forum with the headline: CATHOLIC NUN STUNS IN HIJAB; she would have doubted the whole story if it were not for the pictures and the video interview the nun granted to the press. She was sighted waiting in front of a mosque with Muslims, provoking a number of reactions among people. It soon turned into an argument as the man in the front seat spoke up: “She’s seeking cheap publicity,” he said. The fairly bright lady beside Laura, who could not swallow what he said, raised her voice to say, “She only passed a message across to the rest of us that discriminate people on the basis of their religious background. It’s high time we understood that God is God.”Her speech seemed to divide the passengers into two parties; some supported her while others insisted she was wrong with Laura maintaining her silence. They all ceased talking when the bus screeched and came to a halt.
The driver tried to turn on the ignition to no avail. The topic was quickly diverted: “They come out with a vehicle that is out of order to waste people’s time” and “Just to move from School Avenue to the market, we’ve spent close to an hour”. The driver was so mature that he refused to respond to any of the rattling women. All the passengers alighted to let the driver do some repairs.
“Seems you’re new here?” a lady asked Laura, with a puzzled look on her face.
“Not that new,” Laura replied.
“Okay, you’ve seen what we suffer here,” she said with the familiarity that strangers adopt when they share in the disappointment of a public service.
“Sometimes are like that,” Laura simply said. Soon the driver was through and they all hopped in amidst complaints and murmuring. Laura did not enjoy the song that came from the car radio; it sounded monotonous and lacked pleasance. “I wish I could change this song,” she almost blurted out.
Laura hadn’t much facial beauty, but she was very curvy and fleshy; she easily attracted the attention of many, like a lone neon sign blazing in an unlit street. Recently Boye, her new boyfriend who also served in City High School, confessed: “I don’t know how you’d see this but…”
“What’s that, love?” Laura interrupted.
“It’s crazy how the rhythmic movement of your buttocks stirred my manliness the day I first saw you,” he said, reclining in the chair to avoid looking Laura in the face.
“Naughty boy,” she said, throwing a pillow at him.“So na my back side you want abi?” she said in pidgin, pretending to be mean.
“Not like that, baby,” Boye said. “I just felt like being honest,” he added.
Today he visited as usual. They chatted for a long time, perhaps because it was a Saturday. Boye was not the type that enjoyed Indian telenovella classics, but he put a lot of them on his tablet since he discovered Laura enjoyed them the most; they both watched the movies until they found themselves on the bed wearing their birthday dresses.
When Boye returned to the male’s lodge, the other guys were playing Ludo in front of the house. Emeka had seen him first. “Here comes the lover boy,” Emeka announced. “Ogamee, baba for the girls,” Ekene said, raising his thumbs up like the voice of an old man who had won the lottery for a second time.
“Welcome,” Pius simply said. He was not the jovial type. Besides, he was very churchy and always wanted to avoid such talks which to him were ‘immoral’. He shook hands with Boye and rose to enter inside.
“See am, papa Adeboye,” Ekene snorted.
“No,na Pope Francis,” Emeka said, laughing mockingly.
“May una no dey yab this guy na,” Boye pleaded.
“The guy too dey claim abeg,” Emeka said.
“Anyway, how your babe na?” he asked.
“She just dey oo,”Boye replied.
“Guy you too much oo.That girl make sense die!” Ekene said.
“Na them dey rush oo,” Boye said and they all laughed at the new colloquial language that had recently spread across the country.
“Try not to rush her oo,” Pius shouted from inside.
“Do you want to rush her for him?”Emeka asked.
“You’re on your own, omo Igbo,” Pius said, intending to avert the question.
Ekene Odibia was a graduate of mechanical engineering. He’d come to City High School at a time when he was needed most; they lacked a physics teacher and so many parents withdrew their children. For this reason, he seemed to be the most cherished service corps member. “He’s not replaceable for now,” the academic vice principal had said some time ago. Regardless of his supposed worth, he was a flippant person. He enjoyed dirty talks, and this had endeared him to Boye, who shared similar characteristics.
For Emeka Odunje, the historian, he was loquaciously irresponsible. He was the type that would talk for long without ceasing. In a function that the school attended a few months ago, he’d spoken so loudly and continuously, drawing the attention of other attendees. Mrs. Idris had to intervene. “Have some shame,” she’d said to him, opening her eyes widely to imply seriousness.
Among the students, Boye was ‘corper heavy’, Ekene was ‘corper joker’,and Emeka was ‘corper parrot’ while Pius had M.O.G., an abbreviation for ‘Man of God’. They had yet to give Laura any name, perhaps because she was female and relatively jovial.
******
Boye had now completed his youth service and passed out as well. He’d began five months earlier than Laura. He secured a job as a translator with a foreign embassy, since he studied and spoke French and German. Laura travelled to Abuja to visit him on weekends. Their relationship was taken to another level and she seemed to have forgotten Boye was not yet her husband. They were of different tribes and Laura wondered if Mama would understand. “Well, ‘til then,” she would always say to herself. She lovedBoye and she believed he loves her too, though it was difficult to determine whether they were true lovers or were just satisfying their sexual desires. During one of her visits last month, she’d mustered the courage to ask Boye what his plans were for their relationship. “I know no one in your family, neither do you know anything about my family,” she said to show seriousness.
“I already planned to follow you to your village when you finished serving,” Boye said. It was more like an incomplete response to Laura, but she refrained from demanding more. After all, Boye had not given her any reason to question his intentions, though she was concerned about what happened when she was not with him. Does he see other women? Is he a player? She shook her head vehemently, as if that would clear it of foul thoughts.
She’s been there for two days now and the odour is steadily intensifying. Laura had become too uncomfortable; Boye tried to convince her it was from the suck-away pit, but the smell was not perceived outside the duplex where Boye lived. Mehz’s Estate was a rat-free zone, so a rat could not have died. All the waste bins had been properly disposed, yet the odour persisted. “Don’t you think we should search through the entire house?” Laura suggested.
“C’mon girl, you know I don’t keep wastes,” Boye protested.
“I know, but anything is possible,” she said, trying to insist.
“But I’m late for work already. You’d have to do the work alone,” he concluded.
“I’ll try,” Laura said.
Boye briskly walked out of the parlor and headed for the door. He’d told Laura to bring his tie; she accompanied him to the car. Boye took a call, and it was definitely from one of his clients. “Ce n’est pas problem! J’arrive au jourdui. Trios? Non, cinq.” Laura was already growing impatient. She handed him the tie and with a passionate kiss he drove off for work.
Laura began her search from the living room. She was curious to find something, anything. She’d raised the remote control four times and found nothing under the other items she lifted. She eventually got to the guest room; the odour seemed to be denser there, but there was nothing to be lifted. The wardrobe was locked and the key was taken away. She decided to call Boye’s line, but he didn’t pick up the call. “Perhaps he’s still driving,” she murmured to herself. She gave up the search, hoping to continue when Boye returned from work – a time that was not to come anytime soon.
*****
The noise from the incantations in the movie she was watching woke her up. She raised her face to see the wall clock, gazing at it as if the position had been changed by unknown hands. It was 10:49pm and Boye was not yet home. Her mood switched intermittently between fear and anger, since Boye neither called her nor took her calls. She left the couch where she sat and went to the dining room. The food she served had become cold, so she decided to microwave it, expecting Boye to show up every passing second.
Finally, someone knocked on the door. She heaved a heavy sigh of relief and pulled her blouse while thinking of the best words with which to confront Boye. She was not sure it would be right to speak harsh words; something may have gone wrong. Let me see him first, she thought, hoping to be diplomatic. Laura unlocked and opened the door. Two strange men walked in.
The first man had two tribal marks on his dark face with a dark-rimmed spectacle, he spoke up: “I am inspector Deji and this is Corporal Sadiq,” he said. “We are from the Wuse Area Police Command,” he continued, “and we have a warrant to search this building,” he added, pulling out what appeared to be an official letter. Laura knew she was in trouble; goose bumps were all over her body and she lacked the courage to ask questions. “Why the search?” she managed to let out.
“The tracking device of a car detected the car key to be located around here,” Inspector Deji said.
The police officers searched through the entire house. They demanded the key to the wardrobe in the guest room; when Laura was unable to provide it, they broke the locks. Too many used old dirty clothes were packed together; moulds were already forming on them. The officers searched through the clothes; on raising the green blanket, they found the decaying body of Mrs. Okonu.
*****
No one would have been able to tell that Boye was this barbaric; he was handsome and appeared innocent. Boye had a great body structure that allowed him to have his way with many ladies, though he was good at keeping secrets and he feigned a lot of characters. He was slim with firm muscles in the perfect places. His oblong face was accentuated with a sharply-pointed nose and brown, penetrating eyes. Mrs. Okonu, who had lost her husband in the early years of their marriage, had become a top ‘sugar mummy’ in Abuja. She hooked up with Boye after they met at a work conference. She burnt with so much lust for Boye that they had shamelessly began their journey in a toilet during the recession period at the conference. Boye, who was a regular opportunist, gave into her advances for the good he hoped to make out of it. Perhaps Laura was too blinded by love to observe that Boye’s salary was not enough to get him a duplex and a car in less than a year. It didn’t matter to her; for Laura, the looking comes after leaping as far as living large is concerned.
Recently, a fight ensued between Boye and Mrs. Okonu; Boye duped her and she threatened to arrest him. Boye claimed it was a mistake and promised to return the money the next day. He convinced her seductively to pass the night in his house. It was a difficult thing to do; she had three kids who she left under the care of a house help. However, Mrs. Okonu had the hots for Boye’s body, so she decided to enjoy it one more time. While they shared their bodies, Boye whispered into her ear: “You’ll have more in hell.” He pressed a pillow against her face until she breathed no more. He hid her body in the guest room’s wardrobe, hoping to complete his travel papers before she was declared missing.
So here Laura was, three weeks to her passing out parade; she was still in police detention for a case she knew nothing about. The news was everywhere and the media houses twisted the story to suit their audience. One of the headlines read: FEMALE YOUTH SERVICE CORPS MURDERS A WOMAN OVER ALLEGED BOYFRIEND SNATCHING. Mama had been pronouncing curses on whoever that may be. “Untrained city girls that cannot respect womanhood,” she’d said. “That girl deserves to die in prison,” she’d always add. The grief she felt when she discovered her daughter was the one in the mess almost resulted in a stroke; it’d taken days to revive her to face the challenge.
Mama had to sell the piece of land she cherished most to sponsor Laura’s release. She knew Mama was disappointed, though she tried to pretend anytime she came to visit her at the detention camp. Mama had so much trust in her and hoped she would salvage the entire family from hardship after she’d graduated. Instead, she’d contributed to their poverty. Mama was left with only two children, Laura and her younger brother who just concluded junior secondary school. She’d given birth to him after her husband’s death and her husband’s family refused to accept responsibility of the boy. The poor widow had always hoped that things would be better some day; unfortunately, fate seemed to be blowing an opposite wind.
*****
At the detention camp, Laura suffered sexual exploitations from the officers who took advantage of her. She ended up with Herpes simplex, a condition that made her detention even more painful.
Boye was not found anywhere and Laura was released after two years of detention; she did not complete her youth service, she lost her relationship, and she
bearing a stigma that would not fade anytime soon. Mama’s salvific hope, Laura’s ambitious desire was nipped in the bud.

https://egboemmanuel./2018/11/24/nipped-in-the-bud-a-short-story/

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