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CHRISTIAN SHORT STORY: MY DREAM NATION

Heat flooded my face at what the gorgeous man seated before me had casually suggested. 

"Wha-aat?" I stuttered like a child whose mother had just given a hot slap that made him see the milky way galaxy. 

"Don't you understand simple English anymore?" the hot dude in a Armani suit said with an amused smirk on his face. 
He leaned back into the swivel chair and began leisurely swinging to the left and right as he leered at me, his eyes lingering at you-know-where!  

If my heart had been beating as fast as a galloping horse before, now I was sure it was in overdrive mode. My face was was twitching as many emotions coursed through me. Shock. Desperation. Desire.

I should have prepared myself for this. But given the fact that my records were impeccable, I'd thought I wouldn't have to face this nightmare I had only read in stories. 

I, Elizabeth Jesutofunmi Donalds, was a chaste lady by all standards.
In my days at the university, while other girls slept with lecturers to get good grades, I relied on God and my studious nature to earn a first class degree in Internal Relations and Business Studies. 
Everything was as easy as pie until after university. 

After my exciting, yet grueling, service year, I began hopping like a rabbit from one firm to another, seeking employment. The soles of my shoes were crying to heaven for deliverance. 

To heighten my predicament, my mom last month got hospitalized after being diagnosed with severe ulcer. Being an only child of my widowed mother, it was my duty to care for her. 
So, you see why I desperately needed this job. 

It was as if the gates of hell had specially prepared this moulded-in-gold son of Adam to tempt me. Good Lord of Heaven! The man seated before me, Frank Davidson by name, was the CEO of the AV International company. 

My word! He looked like an half-caste and had this sweet British accent. He should have gone for a modelling career instead. He'd have made a huge fortune without stress.  

As the one in charge of the interview, he'd taken one look at my documents, asked few questions and then dropped the bomb: The job was mine as I was the most qualified of all the applicants. All that was left was a final... assessment. It would be dinner at one of the prestigious restaurants in Lagos. 
According to him, it was the policy to get to know his employees on a 'personal level' so as to foster productivity. Even a dumb person could translated the real meaning. 

Why did it have to be a one-on-one interview for Chrissake? Why did he have to be drop-dead handsome? The dude looked as if he just stepped out of melted chocolate.  

Alien voices I never knew were still lurking at the crevices of my mind began playing nasty game of rhetorics. And they were so crafty enough to come masked as my own thoughts.

'Lizzy! Come on, you're not Mary the mother of God. Who would know?'

'Remember you have your mother to worry about. It will be your fault if she dies!'

'What would it hurt to loosen up a bit for once! Ha ha! Just dinner nau! You can't come to unnecessary conclusions, you know? Abi you want to die an old maid? You're not getting any younger and with no suitor in view, what will be your fate?'

I swallowed hard. 

'Flee from all appearances of evil,' the voice of the Holy Spirit breathed in my heart. 
All the whirlwind feelings in my chest seeped out like air out of a punctured rubber balloon. 

Thank you, Jesus! Was I actually considering his offer? Oh, Lord, what came over me?

The next problem was how to politely refuse this man who was still oozing coolness like he was a pro in this business of sniffing out ladies and devouring them.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I will have to decline the invitation," I said, stiffening my back ramrod straight.

He corked his eyebrows as if he thought it unimaginable that any girl would resist his charm. "You can't or you won't?"

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, "I won't sell my birthright for a morsel of porridge."

A flicker of incredulity crossed his face.
With that, I took my file from his table and made to leave. 

"Sweetheart, let me give you a piece of advice," the man said, his saccharine sweet voice halting me. As I looked into his dark eyes, I wondered how many naive girls had fallen into his snare. 

"You see the world outside these walls? It ain't gonna be different, babe. It's either you use what you have to get what you want or you get nothing at all."

I stared at him for less than a minute, stifled a hiss and left without a word.

'God, if you're still here, I'm officially giving up. Nigeria is a big mess. Why should I still wait here when Uncle Issachar has offered to sponsor me to come over to the States?' I thought.

"Be still, daughter. Be strong. All my good things will come in the right time."

The moment I stepped out of the air-conditioned building into the cruel Lagos sun that could melt one's skin, I almost wanted to scream out in rage. Not that anyone would care. It was a dog-eat-dog battle for everyone in this hellhole of a country. 

Sweating bombs under the hot sun, I waited for hours, trying to get a bus home. When one rickety bus chugged by, I had no choice but to jump in. 

I got to my dingy neighborhood and trudged into the apartment I shared with my best friend, Hephzibah, the closest human being to me after my Mom. 

She was sprawled on the bed, typing furiously on her laptop, no doubt searching for more freelance writing opportunities. She looked up when she heard the door slam shut.

"Hey, Liz, how did it go?"

"Horrible!" I groaned as I removed my blazer and plopped on the bed. "It was worse than the gates of hell!"

"Ha, ha! That one strong o! Wetin shele?"

"If you see how that yeye man they call their CEO was hitting on me as if he was a sex-starved dog." I hissed and sat up, suddenly feeling stuffy. "Abeg, shey light no dey ni? This place dey choke," I said, using my palm to fan my face.

"Stop talking like say you be JJC, Liz! When las NEPA show face for here?" 

I stood and went to the kitchen to get a glass of lukewarm water to soothe my dry throat. 

"Liz! The doctor called home again this morning asking for you. They need the full payment before they continue treating your mother."

I rubbed my temple. "What is wrong with these people? They should continue treatment nau. Shebi I promised to pay in installments. In fact, I'm sick and tired of everything in this country."

"Don't give up, sis. One day sha, e go better."

"No! We keep saying that and the corrupt government keeps playing on our intelligence. Everything in this country sucks!" 

"Liz, I know how you feel. I get angry too. Blaming the government will not solve anything. In fact, that is why things get worse. 
"The only thing that we have as a consolation is God's promise. Jesus has gone to prepare a better place for us. That is our dream land, where no sorrow or NEPA wahala exists." 
She chuckled and I joined.

"Lack of job will be no issue."

"No spikes in the cost of living."

Together, we gave a long dreamy sigh. 

"But for now, my sister, it is our responsibility to do our little part to make this country a better place. And don't worry jare, God will heal your Mom, I'm sure."

"Huh, huh! Hephzi Hephzibah. My one and only motivational speaker!" I hailed her. She always knew the right words to say to lift my spirits.

She grinned stupidly. "Yes o! Na me be that. You love me nau." 

She winked and made a funny face that made me laugh so hard and forget the frustrations of the day. 

Tonight, I would dream of a better Nigeria, and my ultimate dream nation—a city not built with human hands.

•••°°°•••

Author's note: Hello everyone!😃 Hope you're feeling good. Here's a short story I wrote once for a contest. It's mainly Nigerian themed and a portrayal of the state of my country. Apologies to my foreign readers who perhaps didn't fully understand the slangs and pidgin I used at some point.🙏
In essence, we should pray for our Jerusalem. God has to help the world again. 💖

Till the next short story, shalom. 😇


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