Some persons were born with a mind of their own while others had to live with a framed or nurtured mind-set.
I’m Rosie Tako, a simple girl with simple dreams. Jos my home blossomed and strived in the untainted peace it had, only to be broken by the outburst of terrorism fostered and nurtured by the notorious Boko Haram. That was in 2001 as I recall with utter clarity the newscaster from PRTV echoing the broken peace. I and Aunt Leah flee and in time found a new home in the beautiful city of Abuja.
Everything seemed to be calm and peaceful, and as years passed by, I grew up into a fine young damsel. Average height, slim and with legs that could pass for a model, I commanded attention with ease. Almost everything was at my beck and call, yet I carried a burden so heavy such that anyone could see it through my eyes.
All through my stay in Abuja, I had crave for a weather that was totally different and my aunt strived to see that I got the best university experience in one of Canada’s finest. I knew I was made for chill weather, and as my crave for snow and autumn leaves grew, I had no choice but to settle for the scenery of Jos as that was the educational destination my aunt could afford at that time due to her dwindling financial strength. Not the best of my choices but it was the surest. I had to convince myself believing I could love everything about that place.
Wounds can heal but scars don’t just disappear. I could feel the cold piercing through my skin as I stared at the vast heritage of the Plateau. The rocks, hills, valleys and the cold weather saddled with rich vegetables, the tales of the vast heritage, I could recall the Riyom rock, the Keran Spring water famously bottled and known as swan bottled water, the kura falls, the luftus potatoes made into French fries to mention but a few. I couldn’t phantom the twinkling feeling I had, I didn’t know if it was out of fear, doubt or joy, but this was the path I had to take and I made up my mind to embrace my journey.
On arriving school, there was a lot of hustle and bustle, people of different age grade all seen to be in a rush, some looking like they had no place of destination. With minimal direction, I found myself at the academic office. Did a few clearances and was shown my hostel, “Farin Gada”. I had made a promise to myself not to get attached to anyone. My parents’ death, I blamed myself and carried the guilt for years. This was the cause of my reserved nature and nothing more.
As I walked down the main campus, I stared at my department and gave it a nod. I heard someone giggling behind me and as I turned, he was a sight to behold but was too irritated to notice his features. So I gave him a shady look and he quietly passed by. I headed straight to my hostel, exchanged pleasantries with my room mates and arranged the few luggage I had. I was hopeful, excited and worried as to how my days would transcend into years in Jos.
I expected nothing out of the ordinary as I had planned to scale through school unnoticed.
One fateful day, I was on queue for my departmental registration; law precisely. We were much and the scorching sun wasn’t in our favour that day: unusual I must say, it was definitely not like every other day in the cold city of Jos.
It was finally my turn and to my embarrassment, my documents were flipped right to my face. I was perplexed, shocked and confused as to what my wrong was. In the process of getting my stuffs together, I noticed I was helped by a complete stranger. So I thought but to my amazement, I recall it was the same young man weeks back. This time, I took out time to access his features. Bad or good habit you say, but I couldn’t help noticing his crackly voice, his long jaw, his well aligned beard that sits so well on his oval face. Gush! This dude is fine as heaven. So I said to myself. I don’t have to make emphases on how broad his chest was or how I did bend over my neck to have eye contact with him. Perfect! Oh my love for tall guys. I was lost in thoughts until his charming voice brought me back. I remember his words vividly, “Hey damsel, this is how you should arrange your documents. Don’t pay attention to the lady, she is rude, sorry, bitter one… if there is a phrase as such”.
We both laughed and he winked at me and left. I have never felt this way before; I noticed a cold running through my spine. I said to myself, “Rosie, what is wrong with you. Come off it”. I smiled sheepishly with the thought of not getting his name and as I walked right back to the queue, I explained my plight, they quickly acknowledged while letting me stay in front. I was able to carry out my clearance for the day. As I walked back to my hostel, I couldn’t help but wallow in thought about my Mr Charming. I kept battling with this pleasing thought and a bitter thought of not getting attached to anyone. I could virtually hear my own thoughts out loud and so I resulted to music. My head phones became my first love after the demise of my parents. This restored calmness to my being as I subconsciously hoped for the day I will once again bump into him and plant a passionate kiss on those nice lips of his. You may say that is too forward but at that time and now, l really don’t give a damn.
Days into weeks, weeks into months, and months ran into years, I never stopped hoping and praying for the day I meet my Mr Charming. The thought of him alone saw me through school.
I graduated with a resounding performance. Got back to Abuja, did my law school and became a certified Barrister. I secured a job with the EFCC and I gradually got lifts in my career within few years. Thus I became one of the best young female lawyers to reckon with in the country. This was fulfilling, my life seemed to be perfect but deep down I longed to see him. Somehow, I was able to convince myself into believing we were soul mate. So I never got involved with anyone because I had a feeling we were going to meet in future and everything will happen as planned.
On this blooming day, here I was, staring at a case file, and seemingly the picture of the man, “my dream man”. What a dilemma. From all sources and indication, he is guilty. A story they say has two sides and mostly, everyone stands on the truth judging from their own perspective. I am faced with the options to choose between my country or my man. Should I confront him or carry out the job I swore to do. I’m still fidgeting.