Ebube Anochili's blog

  Amara remembered the day she met Ngozi. It had been a long day and meeting a rich brat wasn’t part of how she expected her day to go. She had boarded a bus from Lagos to Nsukka, where the university she attended was located. The University of Nigeria. She was about to begin her second year in the den. Things hadn’t been rosy at home. She had to work as a waitress in a restaurant close to her home to be able to survive the coming semester. Her father could only afford her school fees. Her mother wasn’t doing anything then to help. They had argued that morning before she had left. “Mummy, you used to bake so well. Start baking again and sell the cakes so you can take some of the weight off Daddy’s shoulders.” “Are you drunk, Amara?” Patricia had practically yelled, causing Mr. Kenneth Eze, Amara’s father to come to the living room. “What’s the problem, Pat? It’s still early in the morning, why are you yelling? “Oh, I’m yelling okwaya. You and your daughter have decided to gang up again

  Photo: from Google “Back to work, back to work. Back to grind. Lord, Jesus, take control,” Amara chanted her mantra to herself. It was another Monday and her tasks for the day were laid on her desk. She checked her emails and responded to the ones that required an immediate response. She also sent out emails to some workers in the company concerning their HMO registration. She loved her job because helping people was something she loved doing. Being a Human Resource manager allowed her to do just that. The hours sped by while work went on and soon it was 12noon. Time for her break. She hibernated her system, picked up her phone, and headed for the cafeteria. The cafeteria was on the ground floor, while her office was on the third floor.   It was a three-story building. The journey always made her grumble. Finally, she got to the cafeteria and ordered her lunch of jollof rice and plantain, with beef. She saw her colleague, Olaitan, who was one of the few people she trusted in the off