Long journey, that's what I would call it if I was asked to describe it. the place we lodged earlier was far too close to Abidjan compared to the jungle we were riding into in a single file like ants.
"Now, I have to inform you, ma'am," he sounded a little official this time, "That the neighborhood we are heading for is far too remote and somewhat unsafe for strollers because it is the same community that recorded terror attack the other day."
I narrowed my eyes. a part of me was glad to be there, but a part of me was worried already. Places like this are known to have minefields laid up by terrorists, and there were issues of kidnap and mass killing, and we had no good security personnel amongst us.
"We have managed to secure a safe space around there, but that's not guaranteed for anyone who would stroll off announced and unannounced." He continued.
I nodded just to have him shut up and let me enjoy the view of the forest on both sides of the road. I wonder why the government built a long road that connects to those rural areas yet they refused to bring other social amenities to them.
"We will be there in one hour." Said the driver. I wanted to ask him if he was once a pilot. How come he could tell how much longer a trip would take while on the road without a functioning GPS?
"We don't need you bothering us with such announcements, just do your job." The manager countered.
One hour, that's what it took him, and we were in a massive compound with old fallen fences, and too many kids and a few teenagers staring at us by trees and by old wells.
"Is that the place?" I asked while I gestured at the building in the compound.
"Yes, but you will not be among those who would lodge in the old school." Said the manager. "You will lodge behind the school building, that is the teachers' ward."
We alighted and for the first time since we took off, I felt a natural breeze on my skin, the fresh air from trees and shrubs in the forests around, rich with the scent of leaves, the smell of nature.
"So, how many of us would lodge in your so-called teachers' quarters?" I asked.
"The white guys, the top staff, you of course, and the entire volunteer team would take the classrooms." He replied. "You don't have to debate it, miss, it's how it's done."
I didn't argue with him, I didn't have to, because being selfless didn't mean I abhored good space and preferred those classes that looked pretty damaged.
"Come, I'll show you the way, but I will appoint a personal assistant to you so you won't ache your fingers with too much work." He added to all he had said.
None of them was countered. I was merely eager to see the teachers' quarters. We walked over to the school building and took a long walk to the far end of the compound that was crossed with a net as a fence. The buildings in there were stretched-out old bungalows attached.
The roofs are quite old, and there are a couple of persons there, including five-armed security guards who seemed to have arrived very much earlier before we did.
"The welfare team is here already, and the security boys, they will help scare thieves and terrorists away." He uttered as we neared the net-fenced compound.
"Hey, the bosses are here." One of the security men hollered. A group of girls surged out of the compound to come to meet us and grab our luggage. I let them have mine because I had nothing fishy to hide in my bag like sometimes.
"Good morning, miss Kouassi." One of them greeted. She was the one to whom I handed my bag.
"Good morning," I smiled at her, "How are you?"
"Good." She replied.
"She is your new personal assistant," he pointed out with a smile and walked past us, "And if she doesn't do well, a report will end it."
That was quite bossy and harsh, but I said nothing because I could tell that he was merely doing what he thought was safe for me as the top sponsor, though there were lots of loopholes in his attitude.
"You heard him," I said to the girl, "You don't have much to do, and you will be safest if you learn how to cling to my side."
She led me to the space that was reserved for me in the teachers' quarters. A room in the attached bungalow, with a bed, a wooden sofa, a center table which had a flower vase on top, and a big old radio. The curtain was white and less transparent.
The window was barricaded from both inside and outside, to keep thieves away, and it had a space for a mosquito net which I was meant to hand myself, to keep those tiny insects away. The floor was masked with plastic carpet, the sought I detest the most.
"A security guard was assigned to your door." said the lady as she loaded my bag in the wardrobe at the far end of the room.
The wall had faded paint, which alerted me of what the room was, an old piece that was given a carpet and a new white curtain.
"Also, there is no electricity here, but to make things better, electric generators were provided for the main camp, which is this place." She said with the grin of someone lucky because she would probably lodge in the same quarters.
I nodded while I made it to the wall to feel the paint. A touch and the tip of my finger was covered with the remnant of the faded paint.
"Hope you like this room, ma'am, it's the best we could secure for you." She added.
"Very good, I'll need to speak with Ambrose."
***