By Lechi Eke
Far away from home, in the University of Leeds, in the United Kingdom, Frances thought she was now free from incessant harassment to attend church. It was the first time she was truly on her own. Her father had travelled with her and helped her in registering and settling into school. Two days later, after her dad left, she twitted – sweet freedom – I’m all alone – phew! She soon got acquainted with her roommate, a girl from India whose hair was down to her hips!
The day after she finished her registration, and as the following day rolled in with its reluctant sunrise, she got up and dressed for the orientation class that was billed for the day. That first orientation was a general orientation for all new students in her faculty, The Faculty of Physical Education.
As she stepped out of her hostel, she began to see signs like stickers, only bigger than normal stickers, announcing that Jesus Christ was returning to earth. Everywhere Frances turned, she saw the sign – “Jesus Christ is coming back again!” Each time she saw it, she averted her eyes.
She went into the convenience of a restaurant and spoke to the ceiling. “Now, how is it my problem? If He wants to come, let Him come!” However, she was very afraid, having heard about the Rapture and the Trumpet Call, and the disappearing of godly people from earth. She used to feel safe in the prayers of her parents, but out there, she was all alone. And she was actually considering doing something with her life; herself, her physical body.
Five years ago when she turned twelve, the need to meet Jesus and make Him the Lord of her life became strong in her, but she stifled it. There were other things to do. She knelt down in her room and pleaded with God not send Jesus yet. She was convinced that since God answered prayers, He must have answered this one. He did. Jesus did not return until she turned 16 and was out of secondary school. She thought she was ready to answer the call then. But she found herself in the awkward state of neighing after boys. Her face often flushed at the sight of this boy on her street. She knew she would die any day the guy spoke to her. Later, she found out that what she felt for the boy was called a crush. It was her mother who put her through. She told her to keep walking and never stopped for such feelings because there would be many others like it before the real one. Was her mother right?
Frances remembered that in primary school, she used to feel shy all over at the staring of a boy in her class. She liked him immensely and thought that he was very cute. In fact, at a point, she was convinced that she would marry him. But she never knew what happened. As primary school rolled by, she forgot this boy.
When she turned eleven, she joined other boys and girls in an exclusive private school at the suburb of her city. The children were very polished, and hardly mingled. It took her time to make friends, but it did not take her anytime to spot Derrick. He was cool with a capital C, and he had a killer smile which he wasn’t frugal with, especially when he saw Frances. Girls in her school adored him. The day he spoke to her in the buttery, her heart stopped beating! She thought she was dead. Then it came back, that was the beating of her heart, at the rate that required a doctor to check it! Yet again mother was right. Derrick passed out of secondary school before Fran and went to Australia to study.
She was depressed at that instant but excited with another excitement the moment school reopened and she laid eyes on Farouk who joined to finish Year 12 in her school, transferred from the north because of the religious unrest. Farouk wasn’t as cute as Derrick but there was something very unusual about him. He was thin and lanky in a way only northerners could be, and he had this very nice caramel complexion. The two of them soon got into a friendship. They talked and pinged and followed each other on Twitter and visited on Facebook. Soon, the year was over and Farouk went to Yemen to study, and Frances went to England.
Frances arrived in her new school, now a university in West Yorkshire, England, with mixed feelings of freedom and fear of being friendless. That day, as they gathered together for their orientation course, someone touched her lightly and said, “Hello! Which country are you from? I’m a Nigerian and I’m lost in this place.”
“I’m a Nigerian, too!” Frances cried. The guy looked nothing like Derrick – this guy was the bomb! It meant that Derrick looked like a joke beside him. His name was Felix and he was in Frances’ university with a scholarship because he could play football. He was going pro, and he had a room to himself, and did not have to figure out the exchange rate of the pounds he was going to spend when he went to the malls.
Kindly join us to finish the story next week. Happy Resurrection!
