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BETROTHED (9)

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The University of Tenja was made up mostly of children from neighbouring villages, with only a handful of students who had travelled in from faraway places. Amena often wondered what would make anyone journey so far from civilisation just to attend the University of Tenja. For people like her, children of the surrounding villages, Gumba Village and Tenja had always been their only access to education. Now that Gumba Village lay in ruins, the younger children had been left without a place to receive even their most basic schooling. She knew her mother would already be searching for solutions, thinking of ways to help the villages secure a place where the children could read, learn, and write. That burden was no small feat, and it made Mama Yola even more recognisable, so recognisable that Amena found it impossible to blend into a school she had hoped to quietly disappear into. Questions followed her everywhere. “You look like Mama Yola. Are you Mama Yola’s daughter?” “Are you from the R...
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BETROTHED (8)

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Mena remembered the exact moment Ziba went stone-cold during Prof. Linda’s History class. T he memory returned as she rubbed face cream into her skin, standing before the mirror, preparing for bed.  Apart from Papa—who she was always on calls with, Ziba was the only second person she truly connected with. Papa used to say, “Choose your friends first before they choose you.” I wish the part where Ziba chooses me comes sooner, she thought. S he wondered why Ziba had reacted that way to a historical event. It had felt personal, or so she thought.  Shrugging off the thought, she reminded herself that she and Ziba were not on that level of friendship to ask such questions. She heaved a sigh, finished her night routine, whispered her prayers, and let the night breeze do its quiet magic. Ziba did not have the luxury of quiet. S he fumed in her room, hurling her textbooks at the wall. She needed somewhere to pour her anger, and for now, her books bore the weight of it. Her phone ...
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BETHROTHED (7)

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 “God is always faithful. I am glad I know He can be trusted,” Felicia smiled, revealing that charming gap tooth that had caught Bro. Wale’s attention from the start. “If Bro. Wale catch that smile, ehen?” Amena laughed, watching Felicia’s cheeks bloom into a bright, warm colour. She always knew how to make her friend shine. “Leave me joor. Will I see you at the next fellowship meeting?” Felicia asked, joy radiating as she held Amena’s hand. “Sure,” Amena replied softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. Felicia beamed, her energy infectious. Amena watched her, quietly fascinated by how the love for fellowship seemed to fill Felicia with life. They were neighbours in what they jokingly called the best off-campus building. Their bond had grown from shared frustrations; no water, flickering lights, the struggle for transport to the university, but more importantly, they were united in their love for God. Amena knew Felicia genuinely believed she was deeply rooted in Christ. What Fe...
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BETHROTHED (6)

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“These texts are brutal. I wonder how you do it,”  she said, her eyes holding a trace of amusement at how her friend calmly worked through the tons of ‘little’ assignments, as Prof. Wale liked to call them. Ziba smiled. “I’m not a bookworm, oh. I just dedicate myself to it, that’s all. It keeps my mind engaged.” She had noticed how Mena had gradually infused herself into her life, too smoothly, too easily. Ziba hated it, yet she did not know how to gently wade her off. Over the next couple of days, she deliberately sat far off in class, but Mena always managed to fish her out. Today was one of those days. “When will you agree to have lunch with me, na? I know a nice buka on campus,” Mena smiled. She was genuinely intrigued by the dedication Ziba gave to her studies, and she knew she needed a fraction of that discipline to ace her grades. Ziba smiled back. “Soon. I will agree soon.” Mena had a sixth sense, she knew she wasn’t entirely welcome in Ziba’s space, but she also wasn’t com...
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BETHROTHED (5)

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ZIBA She saw the smoke before she got to the hut. Papa Sunny rushed past her toward the village square, his face pale with terror. All around, people staggered and screamed, some injured, some bleeding, some already broken. Her heart began to pound violently against her chest as she adjusted the brown cloth filled with plates on her head and quickened her steps. Before she arrived, she already knew. The herdsmen had reached the village. Huts burned fiercely, flames licking the sky. Lifeless bodies lay scattered on the ground. Mothers ran about, screaming their children’s names. Detached body parts lay where life once was. The air was thick with smoke, blood, and anguish. And then she saw it. Her hut. Her hut was on fire. The scream that tore out of her did not feel like her own voice. “Mama!!!” Her tall, athletic frame and dark-chocolate skin reflected briefly in shattered glass as she raced into the half-burnt hut, coughing violently as smoke filled her lungs. “MAMA!!!” The v...
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BETHROTHED (4)

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MENA Her bubbly laughter drifted through the corridor, catching the attention of a few students walking past.  Mena clutched her study bag as she laughed at her father’s remarks, her eyes shining with affection. “Papa, you shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “I will do more,” he replied without hesitation. “The man is hard of hearing. Did I tell him that I cannot take care of my own child? That he is offering support ? We know what that support means, and we do not want it.” She smiled at the we do not want part. “Papa, thank you for choosing me and making sure I go to school.” There was a brief pause, then his voice softened. She knew he was smiling. “My gift from God,” he said. “You will achieve everything—and even more. God’s timing is the best. Remember the daughter of whom you are. God is your Father. I am only a guardian, a middleman in His plans for your life. Do you hear me?” “Yes, Papa,” she replied, smiling. Her father never tired of reminding her who her true Fathe...
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BETHROTHED (3)

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AMENA “As you go to this new school, do not forget the daughter of whom you are,” her aunt’s voice rang loudly through the phone. “Do not follow boys, yes, I said boys,” her uncle added firmly. “Because it is only boys that will distract you. A true man, a Godly man, will let you be excellent.” “Amena, listen well in school,” her brother joined in.  “We are doing our best to make sure you have what you need. Keep away from bad friends. Join a Bible-believing church when you settle in. And call us as soon as you reach your room. Do you hear me?” All three voices blended into one steady stream as Amena dragged her two heavy luggage down the narrow hallway of the off-campus hostel. The one-room space she had paid for was just ahead, yet she still hadn’t seen the University of Tenja everyone in Gumba always talked about so proudly. That would come soon enough. “Yes, Aunty… yes, Uncle… yes, Brother Taye… I’m at the door now. Let me freshen up first, then I’ll call you back.” “Hallelujah...
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