A Spark Away
That Sunday morning, Dija and her roommate Tera rushed back home from night class, drenched from head to toe by the cold rain that fell on campus in torrents.
They got to their room just as the rain was turning into a drizzle, shaking like leaves in the harmattan wind. Undressing proved difficult for Dija, as her entire body ached and shook violently.
By the time she managed to get her wet clothes off, Tera was comfy in her blanket, wrapped like a burrito on top of the bed.
Dija rushed to the bathroom with a jerk in her steps, eased herself, then dried her body with the towel that hung by the door. She opened the wardrobe and pulled out a large thick cloth that hung at the far end of the rail, then donned the jacket she'd 'borrowed' from her boyfriend two weeks before. She also put on the oversized pyjama pants her mom had gifted her, even though she'd sworn never to wear it. “Who wears pyjamas these days?” she had said to her mom on the phone after she'd found the night wear stuffed in her bag.
When she was done, she went back to the bathroom and took out the wrapper she’d planned to wash the next day with the rest of the dirty laundry in the plastic bucket.
Na condition make crayfish bend. And right now her condition was critical with the sniffles setting in. She wiped her nose with the back of her shaky palm and made her way to join Tera in dream land.
Flashes of lightening partially illuminated the bed, giving her enough light to pick her spot and cocoon under her thin wrapper. It was too weak a defence against the cold, but she was spent shivering with cold and had no strength to get her blanket from under her bag.
The chilly wind rattled the half-open window, seeping through the netting to caress Dija. She lay there listening to the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. The plop of the declining rain on the roof and the somniloquy of her sleeping roommate did nothing to lull her to sleep, and so she stayed awake till it was almost daybreak.
"... some and keep my share till I come back."
Dija recognised the voice of her roommate invading her consciousness, and slowly opened her eyes, only to shut it reflexively when the blinding sunlight filtering through the window met her face. She raised an arm to shield her eyes and turned in the direction of the voice.
“I’ve warmed the soup, so you can make eba and eat. I’m already late for class. I will eat when I’m done with my lecture.” Tera leaned on the wall for support as she put on her shoe.
Dija watched her with half her mind still asleep, but she noticed that her hair still needed combing. The white shirt she wore still had wrinkles and was untucked at the back. The sleeping bags under her eyes told Dija that Tera did not have enough sleep, and the lack of makeup on her face was also an indication that she was late and in a rush.
Dija turned her gaze to the window, squinting at the light. "What time is it?"
"Almost ten-thirty."
Tera slipped on the other shoe, carried her handbag from the reading table and swivelled to the door. "Later."
A yawn escaped her lips as she stretched her arms. She tried to inhale deeply but found her nose blocked. Damn the flu!
The toilet called to her and she got up to answer. She took in a long inhale through her mouth. Her joints still ached and a headache was setting in, but she made it to the bathroom and did her business.
When she was done, she tore off a tissue paper and blew in it. Nothing much was accomplished by this and she ended up making a fantastic trumpe-ty sound.
Her stomach growled in response and only then did she remember she had had nothing since yesterday morning. Taking off the jacket that had kept out most of the cold last night, she went to the kitchen to make breakfast.
The kitchen was poorly lit as the only available window had a view of the narrow corridor and opposite room. She went back for her phone, took it out from her bag and tried turning it on. But the screen glowed a low battery and went dark.
"This people should do and bring light oh." She sniffled and tried to blow her nose again but it just irritated her nasal passage the more turning her nose a bright pink.
She sniffled once more. "Where's this lamp?" Dija muttered under her breath, scanning the room as she stood with hands akimbo. She searched under the bed and raised the clothes that were packed on the chair. No lamp.
Her hand went to her belly as hunger bit at the walls of her stomach. "Fuck this." She said, heading back to the kitchen.
The kitchen was small and compact with a kitchen sink, gas cooker, a cupboard hammered on the wall above her head, a slightly bigger one at the edge of the wall where the plates, spoon and pot took residence.
She brought down the soup from the camp gas, filled the kettle with water from the tap and placed it on the burner.
The matchbox was not in its usual place at the top shelf. She searched for it on the floor, using her legs for the dark corners and edges. She found it on the kitchen windowsill just as she saw Ndule step out from the room opposite hers.
Ndule had her nose up, sniffing the air around like a bloodhound on a hunt. She turned first to the left, took a step, turned back and took three steps and stopped. Then walked back to Dija's door and knocked.
"Oh God," Dija muttered under her breath. "Please go away."
She could almost guess why she was knocking. After Tera had cooked the soup yesterday morning, she’d received a few hearty complaints and compliments too from those around.
"See how your soup is making mouth", "Which kind intimidation be this na? Omo mellow down that aroma", "If I say you cook pass my mama, you go think say na joke", were just a few of them.
Ndule was the worst of the bunch with her nose sensing the dish even before it had started giving off aroma. She had missed the church service that morning because she'd wanted a taste of the soup. Now here she was, knocking at her door and looking to get another taste, Dija assumed.
She took out a stick from the matchbox and just as she was about to strike it; the knock came in again, louder this time.
Infuriated, she dropped the box and marched to the door. The hunger in her belly, the inflammation and congestion in her nose and the pounding headache that had just set in, fuelled her growing anger.
Words and insults jumbled in her mind, fighting to be the first to attack the girl behind the door.
She pushed the handle down and tried to take a deep calming inhale only to be reminded of the congestion in her nose which infuriated her the more.
Pulling the door open, she stood at the entrance with her left hand on her hips.
"What?!"
Ndule kept sniffing in her direction, and it was only then did Dija notice the crease on her forehead and the twitching of her nose in distaste.
"What is it?"
This time the acidity in her tone had been neutralised by Ndule's facial expression and curiosity took its place.
Before she could answer, Iboro– the final year computer engineering student, came out of his room with a look of concern on his face. He sniffed the air too and turned in their direction. "Somebody's gas cylinder is leaking."
Ndule pointed at Dija nodding.
"It's coming from her room." She turned to the confused Dija.
"Can't you perceive it? It's too much sef."
Iboro strode to where they stood then slipped past Dija making his way to her kitchen.
Dija followed him with Ndule bringing up the rear. They both watched as Iboro turned the knob of the gas while cupping his nose with his free hand.
When he was satisfied, he got up and herded both girls out of the room, closing the door behind him.
"Didn't you notice that your gas was turned on? Your room is an air mine right now and just a spark can send it up in flames."
Dija stood with eyes wide open staring at Iboro as he spoke. Everything happening around her seemed like a movie. How else could she explain waking up that morning with a stuffed nose barely able to breathe with her sense of smell nonexistent and then being a second away from striking the matches that would have signalled her doom.
If not for Ndule's irritating keen sense of smell, she would have been one of those sad stories parents share on WhatsApp.
