The sun was hot and unforgiving when Olivia finally determined that it was time to take on her arch-enemy of posting the toilet. Her tummy had been complaining throughout the morning, and she had become increasingly irritated throughout the lessons. She had attempted to just ignore it, that she was able to "hold it," but there was no dodging the reality anymore.
She walked towards the makeshift wooden building near the compound, looking at it as if it was prone to biting. The door was not that steady, it creaked so much she felt it was going to fall of the hinges. Olivia inhaled deeply, preparing for the meeting. She rotated the handle and entered. The odor was unbearable, a strong blend of heat, dust, and something distinctly foul. Her gut roiled some more.
She grasped for the water jug, looking forward to relief, but it was as dry as a bone. She stilled, horror growing. "No… no, no, no!" she breathed drastically. "God, this cannot be happening!"
From behind, a soft voice broke her contemplation. "You need water?"
Olivia's head lifted. Chidera was in the doorway, a little bucket in his hand. "I—I don't believe you're insisting you help," she stammered, and failed to sound angry.
"He didn't volunteer," he said, grinning. "You looked as if you'd faint." She frowned. "I'm not fainting, I'm surviving, you're welcome."
He shrugged, not minding her. "That'll be alright, I'll just get water from the well. You cannot use it dry, Lagos girl."
Reluctantly, Olivia emerged, and she followed him to the neighboring well. It was a dusty and bumpy path, and each step made her remember that comfort from the city had left her. It was Chidera who first got to the well, eased the bucket down skillfully, and pulled a full bucket of water. Olivia couldn't help but be impressed. "You… you really did it?" she asked, half-laughing, half-.
Chidera grinned. "Did what? Survived two months in this place? Carried water?
She shook her head. "I don't believe it."
He smiled thinly, slanting the pail toward her. "Here. Don't be so shocked. Everybody learns to survive someday."
Olivia took the bucket, touching him gently. She was seized by an odd warmth—a combination of gratitude and shyness. "Thanks," she stuttered.
"No problem," he said easily. "Now go face the toilet."
She huffed, pulling the bucket back, grumbling to herself over the injustice of it all. Yet deep inside, a tiny seed of admiring the person that Chidera was had been sown, just as the hard-headed Lagos girl in her couldn't afford to give it a verbal expression.
By the time she, dripping, rosy, and victorious, made it back to her bedroom, she realized that surviving this posting was going to require more than patience. It was going to require humility, humor, and occasionally accepting help from people she presumably hated or admired in secret.
By mid-morning Olivia had regained her composure after her bathroom experience.
She entered the classroom, facing thirty sets of curious, occasionally unruly eyes. Blackboards were covered in chalk brittle and perishable, and desks creaked beneath eager learners.
"Good morning, class," she started, making an effort to sound commanding.
Good morning, Miss!" they chorused.
Olivia clicked her hands. "We are learning simple English sentences today. Repeat after me, I am going to school."
"It's back to school for me!" the children chanted. or, at least, a majority of the children. Others already murmured to their neighbors or attempted to take glances a wandering chicken that strolled out the door.
She inhaled. "All right, still. Eyes on me,
As she chalked from the chalkboard, the single bulb in the classroom flickered and went out, plunging the room in spotty shadows. The children gasped together. Olivia groaned, still holding chalk.
Not again!", she grumbled.
From the door, Chidera leaned against the doorframe, grinning. "Electricity strikes once more," he observed dryly. "You'll get used to it. Sometimes it does the trick, sometimes it doesn't. Country life, remember?" Olivia threw a quick glare his way, but in her heart she couldn't help but be a little bit glad that he was there. "I'll get through it… some how," she muttered to herself, audibly.
The instruction went on, but curiosity and energy among the children soon outstripped her well-rehearsed directions. Some whispered, some snickered, and a tiny lad attempted to scale a desk to peer more effectively at a fly that had buzzed in the door. Olivia attempted to get a grip, but each order just skipped right over the children as if the wall behind the blackboard was absorbing it.
Come and sit down! Sit down!" she shouted, her voice grating.
"Miss, the chicken dey come back!" a young man shouted, waving a finger in the direction of the door. Sure enough, the determined hen had waddled in, scratching the dusty floor. Olivia froze, torn between shooing the bird and holding onto pride.
Chidera's voice called out from the door: "Don't worry about the chicken. Focus on the lesson… and don't lose your mind."
She gave him a stare and immediately looked away. He was in every place, and still, he wasn't offending.
By the time the end-of-lesson bell sounded, Olivia dripped with sweat, chalk dust dripping from her arms and uniform, and her hair stuck to her forehead. She collapsed onto the first desk she saw, gasping a deep, fatigued sigh.
First actual class complete disaster," she complained.
Chidera caught up, and he was lugging a water bottle. "Not a disaster," he said, handing it to her. "Learning comes from chaos every now and then. You handled it, didn't you?"
She took it, swallowing appreciatively. "Just barely," she admitted, surrendering to laugh softly after a while. Humor of the situation, and weariness, allowed her tension to dissipate a little.
"It'll become second nature to you," he replied smoothly, but a small smile tugged his lip. "Just trust me. By next week, it'll be. tolerable."
Olivia gazed into his eyes, and for the first time, she thought maybe he was right. Maybe it wasn't just about patience or enduring pain. Maybe it was how to adjust, how to laugh in the midst of chaos, and every once in a while. to accept help from strangers you did not know you liked.
By the time she went to her bedroom that night, fatigued but surprisingly victorious, Olivia noted something further: surviving this project was a fight, yes—but perhaps the beginning of a highly unlikely quest.
And deep in the back of her mind, she had to grudgingly accept that the peace that was Chidera rendered the day just that little bit more tolerable.