Olivia's hands shook as she opened the bag one more time, half-expecting her eyes to be playing tricks on her. The belongings gazed back at her. Her neatly packed clothes, her favorite footwear, her toiletries - all vanished. In their place, the bag contained harsh, gritty clothes and some anonymous items she couldn't immediately make out.
She sat down on the creaking bed in the small, poorly lit room the school had "readied" for her. The walls were akward looking, the paint on the walls looked pale, plaster peeling off around corners, and one frail light bulb hung from the ceiling, not having been lit for months. A gust of wind seeped through an open window, carrying the damp, rank scent of the nearby village. Somewhere out, a chicken clucked, then the sounds of goats braying at various intervals.
Olivia buried her face in her hands. "God… what have I done to deserve this?" she groaned. The voice was all but overwhelmed by the silence of the room, where only the sound of infestation from the flies disturbed the air.
She tried to collect herself. "Okay," she panted, "deep breath. It's just… a posting. It's just… a village." "its just for sometime". Lagos had educated her in the privileges of electric lighting, clean water, straight streets, and smiling manners. None of them was to be had here.
Her eyes roamed the room. The bed she sat on was dangerously slumped in the center, the mattress lumpy and thin. The small wooden table in the corner creaked precariously as if set to give way under the slightest force. And then, there was the toilet. She stiffened. A small hut on the perimeter of the school grounds, constructed from rough wood and rusty sheets of steel, the door creaking unevenly from broken hinges. The odor was… undeniable. Olivia held herself up while trying desperately not to throw up. "No," she breathed to herself. "This is never going to work."
A sudden knock on the door made her jump.
"Corper?" one timid voice said from the other end. "Na me, sir. I mean… na me, Mr. Eze. I come with your welcome package… and small direction if you need."
She breathed deeply and got up, adjusting her hair when she opened the door. Mr. Eze, the headmaster, was there with an obliging smile, carrying a small plate with some tea and bread.
"Thanks," said Olivia automatically, stretching out to collect the tray. Her stomach rumbled as she sat back down on the bed, gazing at the snack as though she was afraid the plate would evaporate if she blinked.
"Ah, you dey fine now," Mr. Eze said smiling. "No worry, you go like the school. The children are ready to receive you, and tomorrow we go take off properly."
Olivia nodded but was not listening. She took the hot tea, winced. The taste was… unknown. Bitter, earthy, and surprisingly lacking the warm sweetness of Lagos mornings.
She attempted to eat the bread. Halfway, she caught the smell from the "toilet" outdoors seeping into the room. Disgust crossed her face, and she moved the plate away."Oh no," she said to herself. "This is worse than bad. This is. this is village-school-level nightmare."
Hours passed slowly. Olivia explored the room and the small compound outside. The sun was now fully awake, and with it came a clear view of the school grounds. The classrooms were simple, the roofs patched with zinc, the walls covered in faded paint. A few children were sweeping dust with brooms made from dried palm fronds. Chickens and goats moved freely between the classrooms, undeterred by the presence of humans.
She moved around, her bag trailing behind her. Each step was heavier yet. A boy yelled out a hello, and she was able to wring out half a wave. There's no way she would pretend this was a "good experience," one foot toward her NYSC adventure, but each cell of her body protested.
Then she saw someone standing against the wall, watching the new corper with an intent but judging glance. A young man, whose khaki uniform was tidy despite the unforgiving environment, nodded minutely when their gazes crossed.
Olivia's brow furrowed. Another corper? She had not come hunting for company, and the prospect annoyed her that someone else was judging her to be out here a midst this mess. But something in the way the man was positioned, easy but attentive, suggested that this was what he was accustomed to… perhaps even thrived off.
She slung her bag up on her shoulder and went by him, not wishing to appear frightened. "Good morning," she said, voice firmer than she felt.
"Morning," he said quietly. "You're the new corper, yes?" "Yes," replied Olivia, observing the small smile fluctuating around the edge of his lip. "Olivia Amadi. Lagos."
He extended his hand. "Chidera Okeke. Been here for two weeks so far. Welcome to paradise," said the soldier with sarcastic emphasis.
Olivia stared at him, unshaken. "Paradise?" she repeated. Her voice was heavy with skepticism, and he laughed with humor.
"Yes. Paradise," said Chidera, shrugging. "If you enjoy dust, heat, and warm tea, this is the place."
"They work very together. Olivia rolled her eyes, grumbling under her breath. "I'll make it through this… someway."
Walking back up the stairs, bag behind her, shaking her head, she was convinced this placement would try her patience, and her very conception of independence and comfort to the limit. The electricity was sketchy. The hot water was sketchy. The toilets well, she didn't want to dwell upon them much this morning.
He sat down on the creaking bed once more, gazing up at the broken walls, and breathed out a deep, weary sigh. She had withstood the traffic jams of Lagos,the buses, and one disastrous day, but this—this was something else.
Deep down, she knew she was going to need finesse, patience, and maybe… an unexpected supporter.
And Chidera Okeke, mischievous grin and laid-back exterior notwithstanding, was the only one that made her believe this awful post couldn't be totally awful.
Olivia emerged from her room for the second time, pulling the bag behind her. The sun had risen even farther by this time so the school compound was covered in harsh sunlight. Every corner appeared to jeer at her. She looked toward the toilet one last time, winced, but attempted to talk herself into believing that the stink was "part of the real-village adventure.
The grounds hummed with activity. Kids swished the dusty grounds with leaves that appeared decorative rather than functional, while others ran around guffawing, their bare soles kicking up puffy white clouds of red dirt. Several hens strolled by the classrooms, pecking seeds from the ground. Olivia scrunched up her face.
A young woman appeared from one of the classrooms, carrying a small tin of water and some cloths. She wore a simple wrapper and a headscarf tied neatly around her head. "Good morning, ma," she said politely. "Morning," said Olivia. "Uh… do you have any idea where exactly I'm to freshen up around here"
The lady tilted her head, giving a glance down the dropping toilet. "Na that one na wetin dey. You can use am. I'll bring you water small later."
Olivia's mouth had dried. "Get water… small later." She swallowed. "Ah, na so village dey be."
She turned and began walking around the compound, inspecting everything with the precision of a Lagos girl forced to adapt. The classrooms were simple, their walls cracked and the paint peeling in large strips. The blackboards were dusty, and only a few pieces of chalk remained in the trays. The school bell hung crookedly on a wooden post, probably ignored for weeks. Some kids had noticed her and waved hesitantly. Olivia attempted to wave back but felt the movement felt forced. She wasn't accustomed to this much of a raw village existence.
In the corner of her eye, she noticed Chidera standing casually against one wall, forearms crossed. He was studying her half with amusement, the barest hint of smile etched around the edges of his mouth.
"Don't mind him," someone shouted behind her. It was the headmaster, Mr. Eze.
Olivia complained. "Fun… my foot." She made the rounds, pausing to dust now and then or glance into the classes. Each tiny task was a test. There was no electricity, no flushing toilets, and the sun was unforgiving.
By the time she was back in her room, the stomach of Olivia rumbled. She pulled her bag open but the harsh clothes within did little to cheer her. She dropped down onto the bed that creaked, gazing up at the ceiling.
He visited her, with bottles of water. "Hello, Lagos girl," he said, handing one to her. "You need this more than me."
She blinked up at him. "I—thank you."
"No problem," he said smiling. "By the way, don't worry too much about the bathroom. You get adjusted to it… or you learn to hold on."
Olivia frowned at him. "Hold it? You're kidding."
No," he laughed. "But very seriously, Lagos girls always think that staying in the village is an insult to their mode of existence. You will adapt. maybe.
Her face was twisted with rage and embarrassment. "Adjust? I'm getting by, not adjusting. There's a difference."
He shrugged, still grinning. "All right, surviving. That's a good start."
After a while, Olivia walked around the village some, looking for a stall or shop. Every turn took her deeper into dust, goats, and muddy trails. The villagers gazed embarrassingly, their eyes on her on every step and move she made.How had she gone from the crowded streets of Lagos to this… still, untidy little world?.
By the time the sun had slowly set, the weather had cooled by one degree but the mosquitoes came alive. Olivia swiped at them feverishly, cussing silently. Chidera re-entered, holding a small net and laughing at her as she was doing.
"It's all right," he said. "You'll get through this. You'll even come to like things about it… if you'll quit complaining over every single thing."
"I'm not yelling," claimed Olivia, though her voice was tense. "I'm… giving my observations loudly."
He smiled. "observations, eh. Don't forget, though, Lagos girl, patience is key. Gonna need plenty of that out here."
She frowned at him and half-amused. That small grin he had was annoying. There was, however, something within his steady, tormenting nature that made her feel safe.
By the evening, Olivia was in her small room, tired but still frustrated. Sitting on the bed, staring up at the walls, she was aware that this mission was going to test her patience harder. It was going to test her creativity, her staying power, and perhaps her ability to cope with surprises.
And lurking in the corner of her mind, she couldn't help but assume that Chidera, with his quiet confidence, would be a part of all this--whether she like him or not.
The sun continued upward, scorching off the cold of dawn and throwing sharp shadows around the schoolyard. Olivia woke up with her stiff neck. The first night in the village had been… uncomfortable, as one would say. The bed creaked under her body, the slender blanket offered nothing against the cold morning, and the mosquito net available was already torn and made no difference at all. She arose, straightened her uniform, and took a glance out the window. The village was stirring, boys ran to sweep the grounds, some women bore armloads of firewood on their heads. Olivia took a deep breath, attempting to call up patience she was not even sure she possessed.
"Good morning, corper," said a small voice. There was an eight- or nine-year-old girl walking up with the handle of the broom almost her height. She bowed. Olivia smiled quietly.
"Good morning," said Olivia, sitting up. The girl's curiosity was lovely but thoughts were racing through Olivia's head. She had to know her "routine" here fast.
Chidera was already polished and put together despite the weather when he appeared by the gate. "Morning, Lagos girl," he said, mockingly saluting.
Olivia frowned at hik. "Don't call me that," she said.
"You'll be all right… eventually." Chidera said to her.
Her eyebrows raised up. "Fine? Chidera, this is not fine. Last night, the latrine… the water… the mosquitoes…"
He grinned. "That's the plan. You'll make it through the rest. Or complain about it each day, whichever suits you better."
Olivia groaned. "It's my right to complain. It's a human right even in the village." Chidera chuckled, shaking his head. "Keep your rights. Only ensure you also teach the kids today. That most important."
Olivia winced at the reminder.The prospect of giving lessons by room with ill-fitting chairs, bad quality chalk, and even variable lighting made her stomach turn.
By mid-morning, she was before her first class, thirty-odd students ranging from the age of seven to fourteen. Some were barefoot, some wore tattered uniforms, but all gazed up at her with large eyes.
"Good morning, kids," said Olivia hesitantly. "My name is Miss Olivia Amadi. I'm this year's corper."
"Good morning, Miss!" they all said.
Olivia attempted to smile to mask her nervousness. She proceeded cautiously through the desks, observing the pale painted walls, the dusty floor, and the goats roaming around the school compound as she was looking out the open doorway. She cleared her throat.
"Today, we are studying English. Repeat what you hear me say: 'The sun rises in the east.'"
The sun rises to the east," the children repeated together, but some also laughed at her accent.
Olivia paid them no attention and went on, tailoring her lessons to the best she was able. The chalk creaked noisily on the blackboard, the heat making her sweats, but she went on.
By the time she went back to her room to take a quick break, she was seriously sweating, and her uniform was a bit wet. She dropped down on the bed, attempting to compose herself. Chidera re-entered the room with two tiny bottles of water.
"You look like tired, why nau"?
"I feel like a bag of rice," said Olivia, sipping the water.
"Relax. It will only take you some weeks to get adjusted," said he.
Do hope," she grumbled, getting into bed. "Reallllly hope
The afternoon held even greater challenges. Children came by with questions, small chores needed attending to, and the headmaster required assistance from her getting the cleaning materials. Olivia winced but set to work, appreciating this task was anything but for the fainthearted.
By the time the sun had dipped low, she was seated out, tired but oddly getting used to the pace of the village. Chidera slipped up silently, setting before her a small plate piled high with beans and yam.
"You must eat," he said to her.
She took it with a small smile. "Thanks… Chidera." "No problem. Don't get defeated by this place," said this man, eyes locking with hers. "There's something else going on around this village besides dust and sun." Olivia looked at him, not sure if she believed him. But something within the calmness of his steady presence made the turmoil of the day somewhat easier. That evening, reclining on the bed, Olivia was aware that survival through this assignation would require something beyond patience—that she would need resilience, humor, and probably friendships. And for some reason, she felt that Chidera would be the answer to them all.