Hunger

“I am hungry,” Ola stuck her little finger in her ear and twisted it till she felt sweet relief. It was a childhood habit that had survived her mother’s protests, criticism and even spankings. Besides, it was better than thumb-sucking and in her opinion, everyone needed comfort once in a while.

“I said I am hungry,” she repeated.

The recipient of her complaint was lying on her couch shirtless, focused on the game he was playing on his phone with the same intensity that Football stars employed to earn millions. In his case, his focus earned him nada, nothing, zero. He was the love of her life, boyfriend of three years, frequent prayer point and ‘promiser’ of marriage. In addition, he was consumer of her food, non-rent-paying live-in-lover and an expert dispenser of the silent treatment.

Ola was frustrated.

“Babes, do you have cash? I want to buy noodles.”

He didn’t even look up.

“If I talk now, you’ll say I am nagging. You won’t help me in the shop, you won’t lift a finger at home; what you do all day is play games on that phone!” Her voice rose with each sentence: Still, he did not stir.

Exasperated, she snatched the phone from his hands and flung it against the wall. He sat up in shock, staring at his hands as if to ask, “Wasn’t I holding my phone a minute ago?” Her hands flew to her head as the import of her actions dawned on her. She watched him rise to pick up the pieces. He turned and showed them to her. The phone was beyond repair.

He stalked into the bedroom and began to fling clothes into a travel bag. She heard him banging things, cursing furiously, and burst into tears. When he reappeared, luggage in tow, she dropped to her knees.

“Babes, don’t do this. Don’t throw away three years…”

“You threw it away, Olamma! I have endured all sorts of things from you just because I lost my job but this, this is the last straw. I would have said “Don’t call me” but you already made sure of that.” He spat.

“I’m sorry…”

“You’re a Psycho! No man wants to marry a nag like you. Go for deliverance or something! Just stay away from me.”

With that, he stomped out, banging the door loud enough to raise the dead.

“I don’t know what came over me. I hadn’t made any sales all day. Then I got home and saw him lounging on my couch without a care in the world. I think I was mad with hunger. Can I plead insanity by reason of starvation?”

Oreva laughed. “Oliver’s only redeeming quality is his good looks. I say good riddance!”

“Don’t say that! You know how I feel about him,” Ola cautioned.

“Yes I know. That is why I have kept my mouth shut all these years.”

“Omo told me that her pastor is a deliverance pastor. I want to see him next week. This spirit of anger cannot pour sand into my garri.”

“Ola, you want to go for what?”

“Deliverance…Let’s go together. At least I have a boo. You don’t have one.”

“Let me not have. The one you had was a minus.”

“Oreva!”

“Ola!”

Ola glared at her friend who turned to face her food. She was sitting in Oreva’s blue couch, close enough to smash the plate of jollof rice she had been served and make a dramatic exit but she was too hungry. This was her first real meal in two days. Oreva had moved out for Oliver and now shared a one bedroom flat with two girls. Her salary of N80,000 wasn’t much but at least it came monthly. Ola was yet to break even with her human hair and wig business.

Humbly, she dropped her empty plate on a side stool. “I am not getting any younger, you know.” She sighed. “I want to go and beg him but I don’t even know where he is. His friends have been evasive. I went to see TJ yesterday but he claimed Oliver is not living with him.”

“Maybe you should give him some time. He may miss you and come back,” Oreva advised. Under her breath she muttered, “Besides, he may not find another mumu as easily.”

“Pardon?” Ola asked.

“I said he will come back when he doesn’t find another babe as loving and patient as you. Besides, you know you’re a mean cook. Hunger will remind him of the road that leads home.”

Ola burst into laughter.

“That’s better. Cheer up.” Oreva reached out and Ola dove into her arms for a warm hug.


“Do you have curly hair? I want something 16inches long.”

Ola stepped forward. “I’ll show you the latest styles. Do you follow me on instagram? I offer 10% discount to my followers.”

“Guy, God don save you today. She is offering 10% off,” the customer bellowed.

The man she was calling out to walked in. He had been lingering at the doorway, out of sight so Ola had failed to notice him. And there was a lot to notice. Despite being casually dressed in cargo pants and a white Tee, he looked like a million dollars. She was trying to put a finger on what made him so attractive since physically, he was nowhere as handsome as Oliver but couldn’t place it. Involuntarily, her right little finger found its way to her ear, twisting away till she felt sweet relief.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted.

“This is my brother Sanni.”

“Good afternoon,” Ola extended a hand to shake his which had hung in the air for a few seconds unheeded. “Sanni?”

“I know…Kaduna has Christians as well,” he replied with a wink.

“I didn’t mean to…sorry…let me…”

“Not to worry. Aisha here, has made me promise to buy her a new wig just because I lost a game we played at home. Please, finish my money,” he joked.

Ola laughed though perplexed.

“What sort of game?” she wondered. The thought of the games played at the parties Oliver had dragged her to brought a foul taste to her mouth. She had refused to accompany him anymore after he lost a game of Truth or Dare and had to make out with a girl she did not know. “I’ve really strayed,” she thought. “Who would believe I used to sing in the choir, lead home cell fellowship and organize prayer meetings for singles in church? I gave up everything for Oliver just because he said he is a Christian and we can worship God anywhere.”

Her assistant had noticed her distraction and wisely steered Aisha in the direction of the wigs she wanted, leaving Sanni and Ola alone.

“You have a great eye for décor,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” she said, motioning for him to take a seat.

“I’ll only sit if you will. Aisha is enjoying herself.”

She sat opposite him. They got talking or rather, she did most of the talking and he did the listening. He had a way of making one feel at ease and she could tell she wasn’t the only one who sensed it.

It had been three months since she heard from Oliver but this was her first time of relaxing in the presence of another man. When his sister showed up with her purchase, he smiled indulgently and paid.

“Thank you, darling. God will bless your business,” she teased, sticking out a tongue at him.

“Amen! Just know that when you lose the next game, I will make you sell my slippers for one week,” he threatened.

“Ba wahala . Just pass me the car keys. I can see you are very busy.” She winked at Ola who would have blushed if her dark skin permitted it.

“Tut! Tut! Be on your way.” He laughed and tossed her his keys.

“Bye!” Aisha called.

“Thank you. Please call again.” Ola tried to regain control but she was as flustered as a teenager.

When his sister left, Sanni turned and smiled at her. “I don’t mean to be presumptious but I would love for us to continue our conversation. May I have your number?”

She wanted to give it to him so badly that she nearly snatched his phone to type in the digits but the memory of Oliver made her pause. They had met at an event for Singles in church and she had been so taken with him that she pushed all her questions aside. That would have to change.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what game was it that Aisha lost?”

He raised a brow in surprise at the change of topic, then nodded in understanding.

“It’s called Double Edge. Have you heard of it?”

She shook her head.

“Funny thing is I had memorized that verse the last time we played. I don’t know why forgot it.”

She frowned, puzzled.

“It’s a game where you have to quote the scripture on the card your opponent picks. The verse was John 6:35 ‘I am the Bread of life, he who comes to me will not hunger and he who believes in me will never thirst.”

Ola smiled, resisting the urge to let out a whoop and fly into his arms. Taking his phone from him, she typed in her digits in as dignified a manner as she could manage. He left after promising to call. She hoped he did but it didn’t matter if he did not. The visit was a sign from God as far as she was concerned. She now knew what she was hungry and she needed to get the conversation going.

“Omo, I’ll be in my office praying. I don’t want to be disturbed,” she called, rising.

“Praying?” Omo asked.

“Yes, praying. It’s been a while but I am hungry so I need to pray.”

THE END. 

By Nnenna Ochiche

Bio
Nnenna is an author, blogger, online course creator, mom and medical doctor. Her 2nd book "Ginika's Adventures" was long-listed for the 2019 NLNG Prize for Literature awarded for Child fiction. For years she has written Christian fiction on her blog Dr. N's Musings, using it as an outlet for her passion to invite many into the Kingdom of God through storytelling just like Jesus did. She lives in Lagos with Simeon, her husband of 10 years and they have 4 children.