Book Review-Broken

A REVIEW OF NGOZI EBUBEDIKE’S ‘BROKEN’- By ABDULWAHEED OLANIYI

Life is full of challenges. Life is full of happiness. It is like the ocean where everyone swims. It takes much courage to avail the ordeal of the waves of the ocean of life, such wave is like the predicament that one faces in the world. The knot in one’s life requires patience. Perhaps when one is not fortunate to get assistance, patience is the only key to success in life, especially during a difficult time. In such a situation, children and women are always vulnerable, people take advantage of them while looking for a swift solution to their quandary in life. If patience is not applied, another problem may come in and one will not have a choice than to accept the fate, either good or bad. This is why Ngozi Ebubedike, in her novel, encourages youths, especially the vulnerable ones, to remain patient and stay with God during a hard time.

Sometime predicament showers like morning dew in one life, when one is desperate to embark on a life journey without a plan, it will lead to one’s chagrin. ‘Broken,’ a factual novel centres on the life of a character called Calista, who is unfortunate to be borne into a poverty-stricken family. She grows up with her parents in the village whose main occupation is farming, an occupation Calista detest with a passion. Her hatred for farming often results in a misunderstanding between her and her parents. One day, after engaging in a war of words with her mother and hurling insults at her father, the mother throws her belongings out. unrepented she picks her things and leaves her parents’ home in the village and heads to Owerri to begin a new ‘independent’ life. Arriving at the motor park in Owerri, She hangs around doing odd jobs to survive until a seemingly good Samaritan, Sunday rescues her and takes her home to his one-room apartment with a promise to help her.
Sunday’s words shower hope in her life. After living together for a month, Sunday begins to take advantage of her and she perseveres the ordeal because she believes there is no other home for her in Owerri. Besides, Sunday is the one feeding her and people believe she is Sunday’s sister. After a few months, she becomes pregnant but Sunday refuses to be the father of the fetus. Although Calista does not agree initially, she aborts the fetus as advised by Sunday. While in the hospital for the abortion, Sunday has packed all her belongings outside his home and flees. Calista is shocked to see this when she gets home. While blood is still coming from her, as a result of the abortion, she sleeps outside for some days to confirm whether Sunday has fled or truly travelled to see his ailing mother in the village. Although she eventually sees him, after threats and counter threats, he gives her some money to take her to Lagos as she requests.

Getting to Lagos, Calista goes straight to her sister’s house, who does not welcome her because of her past wrong against her and her disobedience to their parents. Eventually, she ends up living on the street doing petty trading as a source of income. This goes on for a while until she is robbed and raped while sleeping under the bridge in the night. While she was being raped, there was no one to rescue her or sympathise with her. She was neglected at the time of ugly incidence because everyone fears the hoodlums. After the incident, the only person that shows her sympathy is Kate, a lady who also lives on the street. Kate then introduces her to prostitution.

Calista takes to prostitution with the intent to raise money and go back to her petty trade. But she becomes hooked and settles into the business of harlotry until she coincidentally meets her primary schoolmate, Chioma. Chioma who does not remember her face or name accepts her claim and listens to the story of her life and takes it upon herself to help her live a better life. After serious efforts by Chioma with the support of her husband, Calista becomes a changed person.

The author performs excellently in term of the use of language in the novel. The novel, ‘Broken,’ is written in a simple language, accessible to a common man on the street. The author uses the language to differentiate the characters, the one who is educated and illiterate. While the educated ones speak English fluently, the uneducated ones speak ‘pidgin' English.

However, the author does not maintain gender balance as she creates pity for one sex, female, while the other, male, is seen as the one that creates problems for the former. For instance, Calista's father is seen as a man who is not responsible for the family. Then Sunday who is supposed to be her saviour ends up compounding her problem. Consequently, Chioma is given a good role to be a saviour while her husband is only supportive. Is this the true reflection of reality?

‘Broken' is a didactic novel that everyone has to read especially the youth. It shows that life is full of challenge and patience is the tool to encounter any challenge in life. For instance, if Calista had remained patient with her parents, in the village, she might not have encountered the predicaments she suffered in life.

Before You Lust

A friend walked into my shop one afternoon with a cutie and introduced him as her cousin. He was a hunk of a guy, tall, muscled biceps, dark-skinned, a thrust out chest, full sensual lips and a handsome face to boot. When he spoke, there was a huskiness to his voice that triggered certain hormones in my body. And when he smiled, I was caught, hook, line and sinker. His smile would melt any woman's heart and the guy knew it. I was combusting and melting inside.

He knew I was caught on the allure of his gorgeous body. My friend talked, joked, and we laughed but all along I was lost to lust. I ogled his macho build, his hairy arms sent me to delightful fantasies. I practically undressed him with my eyes and my hands itched to follow my eyes. How my friend never caught the heat that oozed out of me beats me. But the guy knew he got me pant's down. I was willing to explore and experiment; he was too, and we spoke volumes with our eyes over my friend's head.

An hour later they left, and I watched his behind with longing until he disappeared out of sight. I sighed heavily, got up and increased the speed of the ceiling fan, to cool off.

“You're melting for a guy you don't even know.” My head said.

“It doesn't matter, the guy is a lady slayer.” My heart announced.

“I need just one night with him, or rather some time with him whether night or day makes no difference.” My body whispered.

Like I knew he would, he came back alone later in the day. We greeted, I held his hand, trialled my hand down his hairy arm and looked deep into his eyes, my intent clearly pooled in my eyes. The guy smiled, the smile of a spider that had caught a fly in its web.

But then we had to sit and chat, connect and make plans for a suitable rendezvous. I wanted to have him, to quench the fire he had ignited in my body. I fired off a lot of questions, occupation, hobbies and likes. After thirty minutes of talking with him, my lust froze, all my pent-up heat turned cold. He tried to use his smile to still win his way into my heart, but his smile had lost its potency as far as I’m concerned.

What happened? I discovered the guy had nothing upstairs. He wasn't educated, wasn’t the problem, he couldn’t speak fluently or express himself wasn’t why I backed off. These are non-issues, he was just a buffalo, nothing upstairs, that's what pissed me off. He was a bouncer at a club in one African country; I was not surprised, that’s the job I knew he would excel in. we had no meeting point apart from lust. And after we satisfy our lusts, what next? Character-wise, I don’t know how nice he would be when he switched off his charming smile. 

You have to look and look well before you lust after that man. Do not succumb to lust. Make sure the man has values and will add values to your life. Do not allow your body or your arousal to dictate for you. Listen to your head and not always follow your heart or your body.

The packaging might be enticing and beautiful but what's inside should be far better than the ornamental outside. It's not about having a good body, a beautiful/handsome face but building your inside to be as good as your outer wrappings. The guy could have been a total package, if he took time to develop himself, instead of just settling as a bouncer alone.

And don't fall for anybody because of outward appearances alone, except you don't have a standard. Or all you wanted is just FUN. But if you have a standard and love yourself, aspire for more in your relationship.

Women who do not care about whom they fall into bed with may wake up feeling hurt, worthless and used. Meeting a charming and nice man does not guarantee you have met a good man. You may think you are going in for a one-off affair, certain variables may come to play, and you end up with a regret.

Lust is a very transitory emotion, it is more like a reaction to a want not necessarily a need. Lust distort your thinking, it makes you lose control. The emotions of lust if not contained makes you act like an animal in heat.

Be aware; do not allow an inordinate desire for sex or money to push you to blindly act physically on your lust. Lust is a powerful desire, a destructive monster. You deserve so much better. You are worth so much more. 

Fighting Emotion (3)

Chapter 3

Ifeoma suddenly found Fred dogging her heels; it was most likely for him to fall into step with her on her way back from lecture most evenings, or for him to suddenly appear with his own plate of food and sat opposite her in the cafeteria. He became underfoot to the point of annoyance.
The more she tried to dodge him, the more he pursued her. Even when she refused to talk to him, he would keep on talking as if he’s enjoying her stoic silence. It got to an extent her friends started mocking her over his constant presence around her. They christened him her ‘lover boy’.
One evening she came out of the female hostel gate to see him loitering around, waiting for her, incensed, her blood boiled over, and her temper erupted, she walked up to him. "Why are you stalking me?"
He saw the anger brimming in her eyes as always and smiled to douse it. “Actually, I was waiting to see you, since you banned me from coming to your room….” He shrugged. She had almost chewed him raw the day he visited her without invitation, in front of friends and roommates she told him off in a not so pleasant manner. He had to respect her privacy; there should be a limit to his foolishness.

“Now what, can’t you take a no from a girl and push on?”
“That’s not the way to talk to a guy who is trying so hard to court you.”
"Haven't it occur to you that I don't want to be courted, especially by you?" she retorted.

His eyes gazed at her lovingly, a look that drove Ifeoma crazy and chipped at her resistance. Fred watched the play of emotion in her eyes and knew her hostility was thawing; just a matter of time, and his man-hunt or rather his woman-hunt bait would catch its prey. A fleeting wisp of a smile appeared on his face.

He wondered how long she would continue to deny the spark kindling between them. It’s being three months now since they met and he had been going after her. Can a woman be this obstinate?
“How about we go to the student centre for a drink and a talk?”
She shook her head. "I don't think there is anything else you will say that will make me change my mind," she said with thinly disguised anger.

“Probably so, but for the sake of civility just humour me.” A brooding look replaced his smile.
“If I oblige, will you promise to stop stalking me?”
"You will have your wish fulfilled soon because I'm going to be away for a month."

A startled look jumped into her eyes. Fred noticed and tried to arrange his face into a benign expression. She could fight him all she wanted, but he knew she would miss him.

“Where are you going to be for a whole month?”
“Can we sit down and discuss it over some bottles of drink?”
“Okay,” a grudging acceptance as she let down her guard a notch and followed him to the centre.

The moment they sat down, she faced him. "So, you will leave school for one month to do what, what of classwork and assignments?"

“Calm down, I told you over some bottles of drink, and the drinks haven’t arrived yet.”

She flicked her hand in the air impatiently. “I don’t like waiting for information.”

“You have to wait and you have to be friendly and smile to get the information.”

Indignation flared in her eyes, Fred smiled. “So, what will you drink?”
“A soft drink will do.”
He went to the counter and came back with a soft drink and a melt; he uncorked them and handed the soft drink to her. After a few sip, she eyed him wearily.
He beat her to the question. “How hard have you been banging the typewriter and decoding the shorthand?”
Her lips tumbled into an unrestrained smile, “Not easy, but my quiz scores are not bad.”
“I’m happy to hear that, but I will be happier if you smile more when you’re with me and be a little friendlier.”

Anger flickered in her eyes, Fred held up his hand. “Calm down Ify, I just want us to be friends; there is no harm in friendship. It will be more fun for you to relax around me, smile and be cheerful than to be constantly on your guard, I’m not an ogre, just a guy who happens to like you so much and trying so hard to let you know that.”

She raised her eyes to the ceiling in silent exasperation. “Can’t you understand? I don’t want you! I don’t want to be hurt; I don’t want any man trampling on my heart.”

“Why? Something I did or didn’t do or from past experiences?”
He listened as she explained her reasons for not wanting an intimate relationship with any man yet.

“Okay, we can take it one step at a time. I’m not hot on commitment too.”

"Yes, so I have heard through campus grapevine, you're the type of guy I have been warned not to get close to or I will be stung for life."

“You’re too intelligent to judge me based on what you heard about me. Why not keep your biases aside and get to know the real me.”
"Really? You mean there is more to you than the stories flying about campus as the crowned prince of heart breaker."

His mouth lifted in a sexy smile. “I don’t break hearts.”
Ifeoma swallowed and looked away. He looked so dashingly handsome and rakish, her heart and brain cells quivered, a part of her wanted to shred her sanity and be adventurous, go wild and follow her heart desires.

She was melting and didn’t like it, of all guys to fall for; it has to be one with a reputation, one who had left a trail of girls heartbroken. She had fought so hard to keep her distance from him. “Honestly Fred, I like you as a person -", before the smile could completely take over his face, she added quickly. “But I don’t want a relationship with you.”

He looked deeply into her eyes; he could see the fears, the uncertainties, and the struggles. “Ify, what are you afraid of?”
She stared at him, a contemplative look on her face. He leaned toward her a little. “Life is a risk you have to combat with and it requires lots of mobility and dexterity don’t let fear keep you static and steamroll you out of the joy, the happiness and the fun of living and loving. You deserve that much in your life. Give yourself a break and embrace love.”

A smile cracked through her frosty face. “You’re big grammars and psychobabble talk will not melt my heart. I don’t want to be hurt; I don’t want to put my heart in the hand of a Romeo who will make mincemeat of it.”

“Trust me. Give me a chance to prove to you that I’m not really a Satyr as girls made me out to be.” For once his confident smile was replaced by an earnest plea that cut to her heart.

She studied him through narrowed eyes; for how long would she keep fighting her emotion and hiding it behind anger at his audacious pursuit. It would be foolish to keep pretending he didn’t appeal to her. From the first day she laid eyes on him, her heart had never been at rest, and she knew he would never give up. She realised for some time now she had stopped seeing him as simply a man pestering her life, but a possible relationship in bloom.
As the thought rolled through her head, her stomach became a ball of jumbled quivering nerves, lifting her drink she took a sip. "Well, your one-month absence will give me enough time to categorise and analysis my true feelings for you."

The smile that waltzed through his face snuck past her last defence, and she knew she had lost the battle when her cheeks dimpled convulsively into a smile.

“Not before then?”

"Nah, remember, one step at a time."

Decoration of Faith (The story of Hannah)

Blurb

When a woman gets married, everyone expects her to get pregnant immediately. Whereby it doesn't happen the woman goes through ridicule and misery.  This is the story of Hannah and Elkanah in the Bible. 
Decoration of Faith talks about their love, their faith and their quest for a child. After all they went through, God decorated their faith by giving them, Samuel.


Link  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079WGNNGG

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CHAPTER 1

A bray of laughter filtered out from an inner room to the outer court where Elkanah sat, his ear tilted unconsciously towards the direction of the laughter. Out of the cacophony of laughing voices, one ringed out distinctly. The abandonment of the laughter and the bell-like tinkling quality caught his attention. It rang with joy and must have come from a free-spirited maiden.

Obviously, only a maiden with a good heart and uncluttered spirit could easily produce such pleasant sounding laughter.

Elkanah wondered if the maiden who produced such resonant laughter would be pleasant to the eyes as her voice was pleasant to the ears.  He strained his ears to pick out the voice from the chatting voices coming out of the room.

He would love to see the maiden with such a rich voice and sweet laughter, but as tradition goes, he wasn't sure it would be possible soon. He knew his friend Hezron had three younger sisters; he had met two on his previous visit. The third and the eldest went to visit her mother’s sister then.

Having met with the other two, it would be reasonable to conclude the voice belonged to the unknown sister, but then he couldn’t be too sure; there might be some friends with them. So engrossed was he in his musing he failed to hear Hezron speak to him. A poke in the rib jarred him into consciousness.

“Hi champ, where are you?” Hezron's eyes twinkled with amusement.

Elkanah blinked and smiled obligingly at his friend. “My mind is on food.” The lie came effortlessly out of his mouth.

Hezron’s smile broadened. “Like I knew, I was asking if we will stay for dinner and sneak back to camp in the night.” He arched his brow.

Elkanah smiled mischievously. Hezron took it as a yes.

“If we get caught, we dig trench tomorrow,” Hezron said, an equally mischievous grin on his face.

“No, they won’t catch us; Kaba and Boaz are on night watch, we will enter through either of their posts,” Elkanah informed him.

“That’s good news, so dinner is a settled issue, then.”

“Sure.” They exchanged a high five.

Hezron looked at his mother, who was watching them, her knitting suspended. “Ma, how about fixing a feast for us poor starved soldiers of the people?” he smiled ruefully at his mother.

Ma Miriam beamed. “Indeed, it’s going to be a feast, my soldiers eat as ferocious as a lion. At times I wonder if it is only berries and wild honey they feed you in camp.”

“Berries and wild honey,” Elkanah repeated thoughtfully. “In fact Ma, you’re right. That is the appropriate name to call what they give us in camp as food. No wonder, after eating, I look for the food in my stomach.”

Ma Miriam laughed. Of all Hezron’s friends he brought home from time to time, she liked Elkanah more, right from the first day he came home with her son. He was a cheerful and friendly lad with a good sense of humour.

She took her knitting and left. It meant they would have an early dinner, so the boys would get back to camp on time.

Just then Hezron’s father came in from the field. “Welcome, Pa.” The boys stood up to greet Pa Zorah.

“My boys, how is the camp?” He beamed at them.  “Fine, sir.” They answered together.

“Are you home on break or passing through on an errand?”

They exchanged brief glances.

“Actually, Pa, we came for a quick visit, maybe an hour or two, then we will be on our way back,” Hezron answered, avoiding his father’s stare.

“Did you come with the camp commandant’s permission?”

“Not quite, sir,” Elkanah answered.

Hezron butted in. “The thing is, there has been peace and inactivity in the camp for one week now and everybody is told to relax and have a bit of fun.”

Elkanah smiled. Trust Hezron to come up with a perfect answer.

“Hmm, I see.” He eyed the boys shrewdly. He knew his son as a restless lad; it wasn’t out of character he chose to come home over spending the day in camp in idleness. “Where are your sisters?” 

“In their room, they don’t know I’m around yet. We came in a few minutes ago. But I will see them before dinnertime.”

“You’re staying for dinner, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your mother, where is she? Is she aware?”

“Yes, sir, she went towards the kitchen.”

“In that case, the servants are bringing in the grapes from the field, we started harvesting today. Two of you should go to the garner and see to it that the fruits are packed well. I want to go and wash up before I meet the ladies.”

“No problem, sir, we will go right away.” They turned and left.

Fighting Emotion (Young Adult Romance Series 1)

About the book

When a man loves a woman, he will do anything to win her love. Fred is ready to play the fool to get Ifeoma to accept his love for her is genuine.

Ifeoma is afraid to lose her heart to a man with a reputation, one who has left a trail of girls heartbroken. She has to fight her emotion and fight him off to avoid the inevitable.



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Fighting Emotion (2)

Chapter Two

Fred sat on his bed in the male hostel staring off into nothing, his brain muddled with thoughts that escalated
his heartbeat above normal. He had no reason to spend Friday night in his hostel room, he preferred weekends away at a room he shared with a friend in town. Worst still, he had no pressing need or reasonable reason to set up his easel and paint but that’s exactly what his heart was urging him to do.
   Deep in his heart, he knew it was because of her, and he didn't even know her name or department. Who was she and why had she remained fixated on his brain all through the week? Not willing to examine it critically, he got up and got busy, selecting paints and brushes and other art materials he would need for the day, he packed them inside his knapsack and made sure all other items he needed were intact.

    He put on his work clothes, and as the first break of light streaked across the sky, he eased out of the room loaded down with bag, board, and table. He went to the exact location they met a week earlier and set up his easel.
   His body taut with anticipation, he went about his chores, made a selection of brushes, mixed the colours and with less attention he would have put into his work if it was classwork or a client’s work, Fred splashed colours on his board as he tried to capture the trees in the field.
   After thirty minutes of constantly looking behind his shoulder, Fred, berating himself for his stupidity wondered why a mere encounter with an unknown girl should be a source of emotional chaos in his life.
    Suddenly his body tingled and his toes curled excitedly, a sensation he never noticed before. He turned and saw her from a distance in sports gear.

***
   Ifeoma saw the lone figure in the distance and told herself to avert her eyes and walk straight to her hostel, but on the brink of taking the right turn towards her hostel, she looked up to steal a furtive glance, and as their eyes met, a shiver went through her body like an electric jolt.
   She was bent on ignoring him and the reaction of her body when he raised his hand towards her in greeting. Her footsteps faltered, she looked at him and then at her hostel gate, and against her will, her legs decided for her by walking towards him. Feeling betrayed by one of her body parts, her face tightened into a mask of anger. 

***
   Joy like he never experienced before surged through Fred's body as he watched her advancing with bounced determined steps as one walking towards a battlefield. Spitfire, as the word, echoed in his head a huge smile broke over his face. 

***
   Ifeoma sucked in her breath at the transformation, all the sharp angles of his face relaxed with the smile, he stood poised, tall and handsome; a picture of a male model. Heart-breaker, her head cautioned, but already there was a mutiny between her head and her heart, each was determined to go their separate ways. And even her body's treacherous reaction was an indication it wouldn't listen to her brain when it comes to him. 

***
   “Hi, I’m Fred.” He stretched out his right hand. “That’s if you wouldn’t mind having a splotch of colour on your hand.”
   Ifeoma hesitated for a second and thrust out her hand into his. Once again she felt the jolt, stronger and withdrew her hand hastily. He was invading her space consciously or unconsciously, and she was determined to find out why. 

   “You took off quite unexpectedly last week.” The smile on his face appeared stupid against her grim visage.
   “Do you come here every Saturday to paint, because apart from last week, I haven’t seen you here before?”
   The huskiness of her voice stirred Fred the more, her voice had none of the girly and flirtatious undertones of the girls who usually flocked around him. Stifling a smile, he asked. “Do you go for your gymnastic classes every Saturday morning?”
   A wry amusement glinted in her eyes. “You actually believed that?”
   “Do I have reasons to doubt you?” he looked her up suavely.
   She snorted. “Gymnastic, my foot.”
   "But seriously, weird things happen. With your dainty configuration, I wouldn't put it past you, you have the body for it and also an undertone of compact energy.”
   A body, wired like a firework that would go up in flames of passion with just a touch. His lips curved into a smile at his licentious thought.
   “Thanks, maybe I will consider taking it up for real.” She glanced at his canvas. “Last week you were so intense with your painting, today you’re relaxed.”
   He looked at his board, wet his brush, twirled it inside a colour palette and splashed it on the board in geometric strokes."Last week I have an assignment to submit on Monday morning. This week, the only reason I'm here is just to see you."
   Because he wasn’t looking at her, he didn’t see the alarm that jumped into her eyes. “Why are you here to see me?” Eyes narrowed, she waited for his answer.
   “Last week, you took off before we could be properly introduced…” he paused and turned to her. “We have an unfinished introduction to conclude.” He grinned. “I’m Fred Ibe, a part three student of Fine and Applied Art.”
   At her silence, he raised his brow and waited. Reluctantly she caved in. "I'm Ifeoma Jonathan, a first-year student of Secretarial Administration."
   Fresh meat. He hoped no guy had lay claim to her. There's always a mad rush every year by guys to acquire girlfriends from amongst the new students referred to as ‘fresh meat'. He grinned as his look turned to appraisal.
   "Yes, fresh meat," Ifeoma said reading his thought and look accurately.
   His grin widened. “Has any guy been territorial?”
   The appreciative gleam in his eyes made her voice hardened. “I was sent here by my parents to learn how to bang a typewriter and decode shorthand, not to bang guys or decode their lies.”
   His voice rang out in a deep, throaty male laugh. Another word, Feisty, popped into his head. As his thought roamed wild, his eyes roamed over her body, ‘bang’, how apt the comparison.
   His mind wandered into forbidden territory, as he wondered what it would be like to have her beneath him on a bed, his hands roaming over her body, her tight lips melting under his kiss and their bodies joined in a banging sensation. Just imagining the action gave him a hard-on. He shook his head to dispel the lustful picture his mind had conjured. 

   “I guess any guy who makes an attempt at toasting you will have his head roasted, even before the words come out of his mouth.”
   “Precisely! I’m glad you got the message loud and clear before you start scheming lines in your head.” Ifeoma said without a grain of smile on her face.
   His smile never wavered as he stared at her steadily. That’s my girl, his heart sang, he didn’t know where the line came from, right now he looked and thought like a man besotted. No woman had ever made his heart flipped; he had never had a compelling urge to possess a woman like he felt right now.
   Women fell into his laps in doves, and he had always taken his pick, enjoy the short rumble and tumble; short because none have been able to sustain his interest for long. His longest relationship lasted six months, not that he wanted it that way, but he discovered too late that Anastasia had long claws that were hard to unclasp. It took him months to pull her talons out of his life; she was beautiful but emotionally insecure, he got tired of assuaging her ego and breaking loose wasn’t as easy as he thought. He was just recovering from that experience.
   As he watched her walk away, he knew she belongs to him and he would go after her with every arsenal in his possession. His primordial instinct heightened at the thought of the chase ahead, the hunted had turned the hunter. A trickle of excitement ran down his spine. Gosh! Was he ready to make a fool of himself because of a woman? The stupid grin that broke over his face was answer enough. Insanity just knocked at his door and he was ready to go out of his way to embrace it happily and willingly.

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Fighting Emotion (A Novella))

Chapter One

Few meters to the school gate, Ifeoma trotted to a halt. With both hands on her waist, she took a deep breath, bent a little, twisted her waist to the right and to the left a couple of times and then straightened. Flexing both legs and hands outwardly, she started walking leisurely towards the campus gate.
Passing through the side entrance, she threw a cheery good morning to the gateman, who returned her greeting with a jaunty wave. The campus was astir; she could hear the hum and buzz of students though unseen. It was a Saturday; no morning lectures for most and so no early morning bustling activities at the entrance.

The few students she encountered were those coming back from an all-night party or an all-night vigil. As they walked briskly past her, she examined them and could tell from their dressings where each person had been to.

As she bounced forward, every pulse in her body vibrated with the energy gleaned from her morning jog. She wasn’t jogging to lose weight; she had no extra ounce of flesh around her dainty frame.
While a sprinter in her secondary school days, she relished the wheezy feeling and adrenaline rush that comes with running and the sound of air whooshing through her ears, like a lover's whisper, always thrill her body.

Her Saturday jogging exercise was a luxury she cherished so much when she could afford to indulge in it, it inebriated her spirit, eased off pent-up stress and put a spring on her life for the rest of the week.
Approaching the T-junction, leading, one to the hostel and the other to a small field beside the art studio, she spotted a lone figure, facing an easel, not unusual as many art students’ paint in the morning. As she got closer, she couldn’t tear her eyes away, there was something arresting and compelling about the rapid movement of his hand that made her bypassed the route to the female hostel and gravitated towards him. She stood behind him fascinated, as she watched him capture the rising sun on his canvas in rapid strokes of a brush.

“You like it?” His voice boomed out suddenly.
Startled, she asked. "Like what? Oh, your painting?”
Turning his head, he gave her a side glance, his brown eyes cringing at the edge. "What else do we have here?"

It took some seconds for her to recover from the cockiness in his voice to mutter an answer.  “It’s nice.”
"Yeah, I guess it is." His hand continued its rapid movement, while she stood behind him and wondered what on earth brought her there.

She took her eyes off the canvas to assess him. Tall and lanky with a slim waist tucked into a faded and paint-stained jeans trouser, and a small towel casually draped over his shoulder. With what she saw, she grudgingly had to admit there was a natural masculine elegance about him.
She was still gawking at him when he turned sideways to pick a brush from among several brushes scattered on a small foldable table within easy reach of his hand. Apart from brushes, there were paints, watercolours, a straw hat, a dark sunshade, an insulated water-bottle and a small bucket of water.
Angry with her fascination with him, she lifted her leg to leave when he spoke again.  "I can see you're in sports gears, practising for any Olympic competition?"
She could hear laughter in his voice. “Yes.” She answered indignantly.
“Which?” he asked casually.
“Gymnastics.”
His hand halted, slowly he turned, a mocking smile on his face. He started from the legs and looked at her way up. When their eyes met, Ifeoma lifted her brow and looked straight into his eyes audaciously.
***
 “Wow!” slipped out of his mouth and the smile etched stupidly on his face. Stripped of action and words by the fire in her eyes and her cheeky combat-ready stance, he shook his head and turned back to his work. No girl had ever made him hot and stupid before.
He knew the moment she walked away; he felt cold air in place of her warm presence behind him. Turning he watched her retreating back. A word jumped into his head, Spitfire.
***
Ifeoma sulked into her room without any cogent reason for her anger other than his over-confidence and pomposity; by her deduction. But was that enough to provoke an emotional paroxysm in her life? Or was it that his roguish manner and charm touched a chord in her body that has never been stroke before.
When she calmed down and felt normal again, she tried to push him behind her. However, his image and voice stayed within the periphery of her thoughts all through the week.

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