SUNNY WEDNESDAYS: IVIE (I)

                                    

How could she not think on these things?

The Keke napep swerved sharply at the T-junction, its metal frame creaking as the driver maneuvered through the narrow space. Ivie clutched the iron bar at the roof of the tricycle with a white-knuckled grip, her body jolting with every rough turn. The jarring motion threw her against the side, but she steadied herself, holding on tight as the vehicle regained balance. They were back on track, the journey unfolding in the same bumpy, unpredictable rhythm it had started with.

Osaze’s incessant reminders of her past echoed in her mind, and though the words tried to pierce her peace, they couldn't find purchase. How could he still cling to the remnants of the life she’d left behind? His constant reminders of her drinking and smoking habits felt like deliberate attempts to drag her back into the mire. But she wouldn’t fall into it. She had found something better, something that sustained her through moments like these.

“There is therefore now no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh but in Spirit.” Ivie whispered the verse to herself, feeling the comfort of the words sink deep into her soul. 

With each breath, she felt her spirit realign, like a heavy weight lifting off her chest. Her mind drifted from Osaze's accusations and anchored on the unwavering truth of God’s word. Suddenly, a curse from the driver yanked her back to the present. The Keke’s engine sputtered as the driver, irate and visibly fuming, turned his fury toward her.

 "Wetin be this? Why you no tell me sey you no get change?" His words cut through the air like shards of glass. His spit flew in a wide arc, narrowly missing her forehead by mere inches. She instinctively stepped back, and the vile spray landed with a sickening thud on the dusty ground, just between her legs.

Ivie grimaced, disgust bubbling up inside her. She had grown accustomed to this unpleasant side of Lagos, rude drivers, unpredictable behavior, and constant reminders of how little respect some people had for others. But it never got easier.

Hastily, she dug into her purse, fingers fumbling as she searched for a two hundred naira note. She could feel the tension in the air thickening as the driver’s voice grew louder, filled with disdain. As she retrieved the money, she snatched her one thousand naira note from the driver's outstretched hand with surprising speed, careful not to let it slip. His fingers curled as though they wanted to take it back, but she held firm, pulling the note out of his reach before his spit could make its way to her face.

"Na so you people dey do, before you know am, na we dem go dey call problem givers. For early mor mor, na this one thousan you come wan give me? Where I for see change?" His voice was a relentless buzz, droning on as she took several steps back towards the pavement, eager to escape his verbal barrage.

Ivie exhaled deeply, her shoulders sagging as she let out a soft sigh. He was nothing more than a background noise now, a passing inconvenience in her day. She had bigger things on her mind, things that demanded her attention, like the quiet whispers of her soul, reminding her of the strength she had in Christ. The driver’s anger, his insults, were simply a distraction, a fleeting moment that she wouldn’t let steal her peace.

With a final glance toward the Keke, she walked away, her footsteps steady and unbothered, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She was moving forward, one step at a time.

ππππππ

“In order to move a better Human Rights event, we need to be sure of the percentage of persons expected to turn up for the event, the activists who will grace the event, the elites, and the common man,” her boss continued, her voice steady and deliberate. “We also need to know the budget required, cost estimates,at least approximate,and the venue where the event will be held, along with the security intel, food, drinks, and everything else.”

Rita sat at the small, somewhat cramped boardroom table, her eyes focused on her boss, Ivie Thomas, as she moved effortlessly around the space. The room was modest, tucked away in the corner of the office, but it held the weight of something monumental, a new beginning. This was their first major contract since they decided to branch out and start their own business, and every detail mattered. The walls, though bare, seemed to echo with the tension of the early days of a dream being built.

Her boss was pregnant, visibly so, with a belly swollen from carrying triplets, yet Ivie’s movements were fluid and graceful. She paced around the table, her confidence filling the room, exuding an energy that both calmed and inspired.  Ivie was a marvel to Rita, juggling a life that had once been a choice and then became a commitment through marriage, and now, working tirelessly to give her all into this business venture. She did so with a strength that Rita admired and quietly envied. Despite her personal circumstances, Ivie’s drive was unwavering. She moved as though nothing could shake her.

Rita’s thoughts wandered to the past few days, the prayers that she had whispered so often lately. With every prayer, her heart swelled with joy and confirmation of God’s word. It had all come together so clearly as she comforted Ivie, assuring her that she should not let the harsh words of her husband steal her joy. Ivie had been weary from the tension at home, but Rita had reminded her of the strength she drew from within. It was as though God’s hand had gently placed her there to be Ivie’s anchor during these uncertain moments.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp tap on the table. “Earth to Rita,” Ivie’s voice broke through, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

Rita blinked and quickly refocused, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Sorry, just lost in thought,” she apologized, and immediately felt the weight of all eyes on her. The room had quieted, waiting for her response. She gave a sheepish smile before nodding to acknowledge the interruption, and the meeting resumed.

She could feel the heat in her face as she adjusted her slightly rumpled chiffon blouse. It wasn’t that she didn’t try to look presentable, but the power outage earlier that morning had thrown off her routine. The stubborn power grid of PHCN had thwarted her plan to iron her work clothes all at once. She mentally made a note to find time to "police" PHCN, as she always joked with Ivie about, so she could be more prepared for the next day.  She scribbled down the minutes, making sure she captured every detail as accurately as Ivie would expect. The meeting was coming to a close, and she couldn’t help but release a soft sigh of relief when Mark motioned to adjourn it.

Rita rose to her feet, her eyes trailing Ivie’s graceful figure as she moved toward the door. It was hard to ignore how Ivie, despite carrying three babies, moved with a purposeful stride that defied logic.  There was something so effortless about her, something magical in the way she made it all look so easy. Rita was mildly curious how Ivie kept up the pace, with that full, rounded tummy leading the way, yet it was a secret she didn’t need to know.

What mattered more to Rita was the bond they shared, a friendship grounded in faith and love. Ivie had always been one to keep her business and personal life separate, but Rita appreciated how, in her own way, she was able to guide Ivie towards the right path of faith, even if it was from a distance, from a place of gentle support. It was something she cherished deeply, knowing that she could be a part of Ivie’s life in a way that helped her grow.