BETROTHED (9)

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 River Village?”

And then, triumphantly,

“I knew it! Mama Yola’s daughter. Oh, your mother is such a good woman.”

Amena found herself caught in one such moment after fellowship, politely enduring the praises being poured out by an elderly minister who seemed determined to sing her mother’s virtues without end.

“Mama T, thank you so much for the wonderful prayer session today. May I have a word with you?”

The deep, steady voice came from beside her. A fair-skinned man of average height, with firm cheekbones and a light build, Bro. Chima.

He winked at Amena as he gently steered the ever-vibrant Mama T away. He had saved her.

Amena rose from her seat, exchanged a few quick goodbyes, and headed straight for her hostel. She knew better than to walk late at night, but Bible study had closed later than usual, and Felicia, her usual walking partner, had been a no-show. She made a mental note to reach out to her.

Mama T had not helped matters, speaking with the enthusiasm of midday as though the night had no claim on the hour.

“Stop there. Who you be?”

Amena froze.

“Turn around.”

She did. Shock flashed across her face before recognition set in, it was Bro. Chima.

“Haaa! Bro. Chima, that’s so unfair of you,” she exclaimed, dusting off her blue, checkered, ankle-length gown. As she bent slightly, the fabric shifted, revealing a brief stretch of smooth mahogany skin at her ankle, kissed by the glow of the moonlight and speckled with fine grains of sand from her startled movement.

Bro. Chima laughed. “I’m sorry, but how are you comfortable walking at night?”

“I’m not,” she replied honestly. “Felicia didn’t show up today. We usually walk home together.”

“Still not safe for the both of you,” he said. “I’ll walk you home. And tell Felicia that from next fellowship, you’ll both follow me on my bike. It should be repaired by then, by God’s grace.”

Amena smiled. “Thank you so much. I appreciate it.”

They walked in comfortable silence, their footsteps blending with the quiet of the campus.

After a few moments, Bro. Chima chuckled.

Amena nudged him playfully. “What’s so funny?”

“You looked like swollen buns when Mama T was talking to you—like you were about to burst out of there.”

They laughed heartily, the evening breeze carrying their laughter past the hostels they walked by.

Amena wiped a tear from her eye as she tried to steady herself. “It is well. Thank you for saving me. I was so done with that conversation.”

They soon arrived at her hostel gate.

“A proper thank you would be a nice lunch out,” he said.

Bold. Straight to the point.

Amena smiled. Her mother had once tried to talk to her about men when she was heading to Aunty Paulina’s house. Taye had laughed as she attempted to dodge the conversation entirely. While Mama Yola was open and honest about such things, Aunty Paulina was firmly against it, always finding creative ways to warn her to run from boys.

“I’ll get back to you on that, Bro. Chima,” Amena said gently. “Thank you for walking me home,and for the future bike rides.”

Bro. Chima smiled calmly and waved, watching as Amena disappeared into her hostel compound.