Lami started to pack her bag since the rain had become too heavy—bellowing through the lecture theatre’s windows; she had been the last to leave. She planned to take the boy’s hostel thoroughfare— because it was shorter. She would use it to get to her hostel only that she had to pass through the alley it led to—a lonely marshy stretch. She preferred the park but it was a little too long and there would be too many people to greet. From the window, she looked ahead. The park was filled with people boarding and alighting from the campus shuttle buses—many without umbrellas. Lami smirked, a knowing smirk. All week she had been beaten by the rain; she had decided to remember her umbrella.
‘Hello, may I join you?’ A fellow from behind called out whose white tunic visibly soaked yet its draping not sagged.
‘Sure,’ Lami adjusted to accommodate him. She wondered where he was going to. This path led only to the female hostel and since it was late, visiting hours were over.
‘The weather can be so unpredictable,’ He said after he had greeted.
‘Very. But it’s been raining all week. It’s not that unpredictable.’
‘True.’ He smiled and helped Lami hold the umbrella as she adjusted the position of her bag; rainwater had entered it.
‘You couldn’t predict that, even though, the wind blew from that direction,’ he said as he pointed to his left with his unengaged hand.
Lami laughed and replied, ‘It is life; you can’t predict everything. You can only try.’
‘Maybe not everything but the obvious,’ He handed over the umbrella.
The hostel was in sight now. The words dropped bit by bit till they made meaning—the words from the devotion.
‘And in the morning, ‘It will be stormy today, for the sky is red and threatening.’ You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, but you cannot interpret the signs of the times.’ Matt. 16:7
‘Did you say something?’ Lami asked but he was hundreds of feet away from her, walking into dense darkness—she finally understood why his clothes didn’t sag. A rush of cool air filled her; her feet became too heavy to move, her hands traced her trembling lips.
All she could do was dwell on the experience.
Oyintare Abang
TARE ABANG 