Hunted – The diary of the corper across the Benue River | Episode 7

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

AFTER A LONG SILENCE

November, 20.

I answered Khadija’s call today after a long silence that even to me became annoying. When I picked the call, I did so when I let myself take her place. It wasn’t pleasing and I knew it was the right time to. When I put the receiver to my ears, I expected an outburst of curses but I was a bit disappointed when it was the opposite. Khadija spoke in a calm voice that made me felt guilty. She was outspoken for one thing, she called me a coward and dared me to come face to face with her. She said this in a voice that held no anger, hate or bitterness which succeeded in disarming me completely. And she wanted to know if I planned on taking her breath away by ignoring her calls. It was then I knew it was the right time for us to meet. I didn’t give away my personality. I told her I still wanted it to be a surprise to her. We spoke at length as she pleaded I tell her how I got to be in possession of her number. But I replied it didn’t matter.

When we talked, it felt as though we were sitting arm’s length from each other and not miles away. Sometimes, we would let silence fall between us while we counted our sighs. But what I really wanted to feel at that moment was to feel her heartbeat and pulsate it so they could beat at same pace with mine. How I wished she was feeling the same way but I couldn’t say that to her right away. I wanted it to be a gradual process where I could silently steal my way into her heart but it seems my emotions were out of my control and not what I had wanted; to be in control of my emotions and used them to my own advantage.

“What is the pace of your heartbeat?” I asked breaking the silence that to me seemed it was stretching into hours while the airtime burned to waste.

She didn’t answer pronto. And I respected that about her. The silence we were observing was more than words and as much as I wanted, it was more gratifying than our spoken words.

“At a pace I cannot decipher,” she answered sincerely.

“That is exactly what I am feeling,” I said too quickly. That prompt response enmeshed us in another silence.

There were lots of things I needed to say to her but they were things that I would rather say them to her face rather than over the phone. Because I would want to see her reactions at each word I utter. I would love to see her short smiles when she let them out. I would love to look into her face as she giggles and the twinkle in her eyes with mischief. I would love to look at her when she would confess her love to me… to hear her repeat the same words of mine to her; that she loves me in return with same equality.

Only one thing gave me the will not to tell her right away that I wanted her as a wife; the line went dead. It made me feel at peace because I would have confessed to her words, I myself couldn’t understand at the rate at which they were waging war in my head.

I suspected it was her airtime that was exhausted but I didn’t try to call back, not when it had offered me an escape. But at the back of my mind, I knew she would call when she recharge her phone. I know so because I have noted that I was in control of my emotions more than she was of her own.

Gwa Doohemba

Doohemba Gwa is a young writer. He writes mostly novels and short stories and once in a while dives into poetry. His work has been published in ‘Telling our Stories’, an anthology of new Nigerian short stories published by ANA Kano. He was also published in Daily Stream newspaper as poet of the week on Friday, November 20, 2015 issue.

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