By Pancy Nancy
“Damn it!” He cursed as he drove carelessly through the ever busy road. The driver was obviously late for something or trying to get away from something. He looks haunted, chased, pissed I must add.
His phones has been beeping for the last one hour, calls from his mum, sister, frank his best friend but never a call from her, ANNA. Her silence haunts him because she hasn’t been the quiet type. Never has, never will, so why start now?
He tried calling her but something keeps stopping him, if she hasn’t reached out, then she really doesn’t care. He just reacted to the situation at the time, but now he wish He can take it all back.
Let me call her, he thought as he reached out to his phone and punched in the digits he knew so well, “its ringing”. He smiled hopeful that she will answer; he doesn’t know what to say to her if she picks but he wants to hear her voice.
Let me try again, he thought to himself as he took his eyes off the road for a second to re-dial, when he looked up, a car was crashing into his, he was oblivious of what just happened but he clutched his phone as hard as possible hoping the person on the other line of the line will just say “hello”.
He was able to hear people shouting and as he slipped into unconsciousness, he could remember himself saying, “She doesn’t deserve what I did”
Too be Continued……..
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Anna was a third year student of University of Nigeria, Nsukka, the prestigious Nigeria University her father had gone to. Even though she grew up in Canada, her dad had insisted all his kids did their tertiary schooling in Nigeria, that way they can mingle with their fellow Nigerians, get a taste of the Nigerian society, and meet a Nigerian spouse that understands his background and culture. He doesn’t want any of his kids getting married to a non Nigerian.
Hello, guys am ANNA, this is my story, my diary, my life, my world. I wanted the narrator to tell my story but no one can tell my story better than me. I will tell my own part of the story, while the narrator or any other person can tell the story of others in my world.
Now a little history about me, shall we?
While I was still a child, my mama used to say I was a tomboy, I will ride my brother’s bicycle, play soccer with the guys, I never went for any sleep overs, or maybe I wasn’t invited for any, who cares, I was busy living in my perfect little world.
My parents moved to Canada when I was 5 and my brother was 13, I was their baby girl, though rebellious at a tender age, they still loved me nonetheless.
I don’t really remember much about growing up, but I know I was very happy. And when it was time for me to be shipped to Nigeria to study Medicine, I was glad. Gosh I missed Nigeria though at that time, I didn’t remember much about the place but I was excited I was returning to my root, Africa.
My first two years in nigeria was crazy fun, I met some great friends lisa and Hauwa. Lisa was a yoruba girl from Osun state, Hauwa was a Moslem girl from Kaduna, and am from imo state, owerri babe and together, we were called the tripod. I was still the tomboy, crazy wild child with jeans and sneakers always, my hair always in a ponytail. I loved my life. I was doing great academically. Everything was perfect, until the day I met him
It was my roommate’s 21st birthday and her on and off boyfriend who happened to be on at that moment flew in from calabar to surprise her with a birthday.
I was dominating an argument about who our next president should be, whether it should be Buhari or GEJ, I am never really a fan of either of them but out of the two, I rather just have Buhari lead us for a change. During my introduction, I forgot to add that I have been obsessed with nigerian government system since I could remember. Mom always said I was supposed to be a boy but God changed his mind the last minute and decided to make me a girl.
Back to the present, it was a pool party with yellow and white color them but trust me not to comply, I was with some group of people trying to convince them why they should vote for buhari, I hadn’t seen him walk in, I was busy talking, arguing, trying to keep my voice from being drown by the loud music from the speakers.
To Be Continue Next Week. Drop a comment:
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