Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 3
- Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 1
- Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 3
- Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 4
- Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 5
- Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 6
- Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 7
- Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 2
- Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 8
- Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 10
- Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 11
Last Updated on June 10, 2018 by Memorila
When Bashir, a corper serving in Benue state, employed tricks to ensnare a female colleague, Khadija, he ended up being the one that was trapped. Hunted has lessons to be learnt and anecdotes to be connected with. The story shows Gwa Doohemba at his best: suspense
I was beginning to develop a crush on Khadija Muhammad Orduen, the only female corper. It is a confirmation of what I was feeling because from the first moment I set my eyes on her, we had stared at each other for a long time before she looked away and I want to believe that there is a kind of connection that we share. I am taking note of her attributes and there are a lot of them that I find appealing; she speaks convincingly and in all manner of respect. She is jovial and seldom turns down a request; she is always willing to assist other lazy staff in marking their students’ note books.
My table is opposite hers in the staff room. I was looking intently at her as I tried to tell myself that this is a lady that has a fiancé waiting for her at home and shouldn’t try to nurture any possibility of ever having the ‘us’ relationship but my mind refused to pay any attention to the warning.
Today, she was putting on an ash after wear that hugged her skin tightly. On her head was an improvised veil she made with her scarf. Her pointed nose and oval face could be her assets. Her fair skin made me think she is a descendant of the people from the west. She has a dimple that reveals itself even if she isn’t smiling and when she laughs, it transforms her face into an angelic countenance that makes me wish I could live the rest of my life gazing at it, if not for anything but for my pleasure.
Khadija is not an Ustaziyya per say but she is a woman that holds firmly to the teachings of Islam. I recalled the very words she ended her welcome speech when those of us who were Muslims serving across the Benue River decided to meet together;
I fear misguidance, so I walk on the path of Muhammad (SAW)
I have seen what the world leads up to, so I left what I desire for the sake of what I fear.
I thought about this world and life in it and I found that all worldly things expire.
I passed by the graves and I didn’t recognize the slave from the master.
I don’t see a more certain thing than death, and when it comes, everything else will be a phantom. So I walk on the path of Muhammad (SAW).
I call on you to follow my lead for this is the path to glory, guidance and certain outcome. I pray that Allah Azzawa Jal will make it easy for us all.
The applause was like the clap of thunder. I remember I gave a standing ovation until she took her seat. Thinking about it now, I couldn’t tell if I should approach her for a relationship. Would she be disappointed that a brother in Islam should conceive such thought? But certainly a brother needs a wife and she of all people should understand that. And if she does, would she turn me down? And if she does will I have the heart to seat across her in the staff room again?
She must have known I was staring at her for she turned and caught me off guard. She released a short smile that made me sprang to my feet and walked towards her in confident steps. The only thought on my mind was so positive that I reached a conclusion that I would put her on my buttonhole to take her anywhere I go; literally I mean.
“My name is Bashir Abdulrazak Bashir,” I introduced extending my hand to her.
She stared at my hand for what seems like eternity. The only thing that kept me glued to the spot was the smile that never left her lips even for a second. Standing so close to her and looking into her eyes made me become aware of how crystal they were shinning in beauty. This is a lady that when she steps into a room, she would command attention.
“I know your name,” she said calmly in a voice that was as soft as falling dew.
I stood transfixed, her aura of charm making me lose focuses of my surrounding. When I knew we were not the only ones in the room was when the sound of laughter reached my ears. I turned to see the other staff laughing their heart out. I felt enmeshed in an adhesive shame that would be glued to my skin until forever comes.
I walked back to my table, like a coward who had lived to fight another day; to fight for the love of my boutonniere.