The morning sun blazed steadily as Olivia stood just outside the school precinct, watching as her pupils practiced prior to the imminent village storytelling competition. Her services had been asked for by the headmaster to enable the children to practice their poems and short plays, which she had found to be a piece of cake. "Okay, kids!" she shouted, lifting both hands to command attention. "Practise properly now. I want all of you guys to focus!"
The children, paused just long enough to resume speaking. Olivia sighed, already knowing that patience was about to be exercised.
Chidera was behind her, "You are planning to fight a lion," he whispered, making no real attempt to conceal his amusement.
Olivia frowned but couldn't help but grin a bit. "A lion would be easier to handle than this class."
He shook his head, his hands buried in his pockets. "You'll see. Country children are bright, inquisitive, and stubborn.""
As the day progressed, Olivia divided the children into groups, drawing lines and duties. She was constantly improvising, teaching in diction, expression, and stagecraft, and dodging the constant distraction of wandering chickens and curious goats. In the midst of chaos, she began to spot mini-successes, children memorizing lines, encouraging each other, and genuinely making efforts to improve. By noon, she wasn't just surviving anymore, she thought; she was beginning to lead, to teach, and to influence that little classroom of unruly, eager learners.
Then Olivia set out with a few of the children to gather props to be used for the storytelling program. The villagers were gracious, teaching the children how to craft inexpensive masks and costumes out of the woven palms and woven cloth.
Chidera returned, carrying a bundle of sticks and cord. "Let me demonstrate," he said, reassuringly demonstrating how to piece the material together to make strong props. Olivia watched,in surprise but admiring his skill and composure.
It comes to you so naturally," she grunted, struggling to maintain pace."It's just that I've been doing it since you were your age," he said . "You'll get there." By late afternoon, Olivia had not just learned prop craftsmanship. She'd learned patience, the value of observation, and how to laugh at own errors. The children loved her for her determination and sense of humor, and even she couldn't help but acknowledge that the village life, despite the trouble here and there was instructing her in resilience that Lagos never could.
As the sky descended on the village, Olivia sat just out of the school compound, tired but satisfied. Chidera sat beside her, holding out a small serving dish, yam, beans, and a slice of roasted plantain.
"You did a good job today," he said.
"I did it," she answered. "And I didn't yell too much. I'd say that's a success, yes?"
He smiled, shaking his head. "You did more than survive. You led, you taught, and you made the children smile. That's a larger victory than you know." Olivia was quite happy. "Thanks… I guess," she murmured, not meeting his gaze.
Village life isn't a walk in the park, Lagos girl. Her cheeks had blushed, but she attempted to conceal it behind her plate. Olivia, finally, grasped that endurance here wasn't merely endurance of pain; it was intimacy—with children, villagers, and, as it was bound to occur, with Chidera.
As evening descended and the first stars twinkled out, Olivia was certain of just one thing, every day in this village would push her, grind her down, and occasionally annoy her to distraction—but it would instruct her in ways that Lagos never could. With Chidera calmly walking beside her, the day became manageable… perhaps even pleasurable.