FROM ANCIENT VILLAGE TO LAGOS OVERNIGHT… WHAT SHE DID NEXT SHOCKED EVERYONE! – Ty

Please, where am I? Move away. What kind of place is this? Why are things moving like this? Are you mad? I am not mad. STAY AWAY FROM ME. I only asked for help. Please, I am hungry. GIVE ME FOOD. ; GO AWAY, BEGGAR. ; PLEASE. EVIL SMALL, GET OUT, BEGGAR. MOVE FROM HERE. I am not a beggar. ; GET OUT BEFORE I BEAT YOU.

I will not die of hunger. Forgive me, I’m hungry. More than 500 years ago in a peaceful land called Oba Kingdom, there was a beautiful village surrounded by tall palm trees, thick green forests, and wide red earth roads. The village was simple but lively. Every morning, the sound of roosters crowing woke the people before the sun rose.

Women carried clay pots to the river to fetch water. Men prepared their tools to go to the farm. Children ran around laughing, chasing one another under the shade of mango trees. Life in Oba Kingdom followed the same peaceful rhythm every day. In that village, lived a young maiden named Olamma. Olamma was known by everyone in the village. Some people loved her spirit.

Some people laughed at her. And some elders often shook their heads whenever they saw her. But one thing was certain. Olamma was not like the other girls. Olamma had bright, curious eyes that always looked around as if she was searching for something nobody else could see. Her skin shone like smooth palm oil in the sun.

Her hair was braided neatly with small beads woven into it. Around her neck were beautiful coral beads that moved softly whenever she walked. She wore a simple wrapper tied around her waist and tiny ankle beads that made soft jingling sounds when she walked quickly. The other girls in the village spent most of their time learning the things every young woman needed to know.

They learned how to pound yam properly. They learned how to cook soup without burning it. They learned how to greet elders respectfully. They learned how to behave well so that one day good husbands would marry them. But Olamma’s mind was always wandering somewhere else. Instead of focusing only on housework, she asked too many questions.

One afternoon, the young girls of the village gathered together in a compound to pound yam. The heavy wooden pestles rose and fell rhythmically inside the mortar. Boom. Boom. Boom. Sweat ran down their faces as they worked. But Olamma suddenly stopped pounding. She [snorts] looked toward the tall forest that surrounded the village.

Then she spoke. Have you ever wondered what is inside that forest? The other girls paused and looked at her. One of them laughed loudly. What kind of question is that? Another girl rolled her eyes. The forest is just forest, trees and animals. What else? But Olamma shook her head slowly. I think there is more. The girls stared at her.

Olamma continued speaking with excitement in her voice. What if there are other villages beyond the forest? What if there are people who live differently from us? What if there are things we have never seen before? The girls began laughing. One girl said jokingly, “Olama wants to go and marry a forest spirit.

” Another girl said, “Maybe she wants to become a hunter.” They laughed so much that some of them had to hold their stomachs. Olama sighed and picked up the pestle again. But inside her heart, the curiosity did not disappear. Later that evening, Olama returned home where her mother was sitting outside preparing vegetables for cooking.

Her mother was a hardworking woman with kind but strict eyes. “Olama,” her mother called. “Yes, mother,” Olama answered as she sat beside her. “Where have you been?” “I was pounding yam with the other girls.” Her mother looked at her carefully. “Did you finish your work properly?” “Yes, mother.” Her mother nodded slowly, but then said something serious.

“Olama, you are growing older now. Soon men will start asking about you for marriage. You must learn how to behave like a good woman.” Olama nodded respectfully. “Yes, mother.” But after a moment, she asked another question. “Mother, what is beyond the forests?” Her mother stopped cutting vegetables. She slowly turned and looked at her daughter.

“Why are you asking such questions again?” Olama looked toward the forest in the distance. “I always feel like there is something more out there.” Her mother sighed deeply. “Olama, curiosity can lead a person into trouble.” She pointed toward the dark forest. “That forest is not a place for young girls to wander around asking questions.

Then, she lowered her voice slightly. There are things in that forest that even strong men avoid. Olama leaned forward with interest. Like what? Her mother quickly shook her head. Enough questions. She stood up and carried the vegetables inside. But Olama’s mind continued thinking about the forest. Later that evening, the village square became lively as elders gathered to discuss village matters.

Olama passed by quietly while carrying firewood. She did not mean to listen, but when she heard something interesting, she slowed down. One elder was speaking seriously. The full moon will appear tomorrow night. Another elder nodded. Yes. Everyone must remember the warning. A third elder spoke with a deep voice.

No one should go near the sacred shrine inside the forest. Olama’s ears immediately became alert. Sacred shrine? Another elder continued speaking. The spirits move freely during the full moon. That place is not for human beings during that time. The elders nodded in agreement. One old man said slowly, long ago, people said strange things happened there during the full moon. Another elder leaned closer.

They said sometimes the spirits open doors between worlds. The elders fell silent for a moment. Olama stood there frozen. Doors between worlds? Her heart began beating faster. One elder finally spoke again. That is why no one must go near that shrine tomorrow night. The meeting continued, but Olamma had already stopped listening.

Her mind was now full of curiosity. That night, Olamma lay on her sleeping mat inside her family’s hut. Everyone else soon fell asleep. Her father’s soft snoring filled the room. Her younger siblings slept peacefully, but Olamma’s eyes were wide open. Her mind replayed the words of the elders again and again. The spirits open doors between worlds.

She turned from one side to the other. She tried to sleep, but sleep refused to come. Finally, she slowly sat up. The hut was quiet. She looked at her sleeping family. Then she whispered softly, “I only want to see it.” Carefully, she stood up and tied her wrapper properly around her waist. She placed her coral beads around her neck and waist.

Her ankle beads made a small sound as she stepped outside. She quickly held them so they would not make noise. The night air was cool. Above her, the moon shone brightly in the sky. The entire village was asleep. Olamma looked once more toward her house. Then she began walking toward the forest. The path into the forest was narrow and quiet. Crickets made soft sounds.

Leaves rustled gently in the wind. At first, Olamma walked confidently, but as she went deeper into the forest, the trees became thicker and the shadows darker. Her heart began beating faster. Still, curiosity pushed her forward. Finally, she reached a small clearing. This was the sacred shrine. The shrine was simple, but mysterious.

Old carved stones around the clearing. There were ancient markings on the ground. Even the air felt different there. Ollama stepped carefully into the clearing. Everything was silent. For a moment, she felt foolish. “Maybe nothing is here.” she whispered. Then, suddenly, a strange humming sound filled the air. Ollama froze. The sound grew louder.

It sounded like wind whispering inside a hollow tree. She slowly turned around, and then she saw it. A bright spinning light floating in the middle of the shrine. Ollama gasped loudly. The light was swirling slowly, like water turning inside a bowl. It glowed with strange colors that danced across the ground and trees. Ollama stepped backward in fear.

“What What is this?” The wind suddenly became stronger. Leaves began swirling around her. The light grew brighter. The humming sound became louder. Ollama’s heart pounded inside her chest. “I should go back home.” she whispered nervously. But before she could turn around, the wind rushed toward her. The light pulled her forward.

Ollama screamed. Her feet lifted from the ground. The spinning light swallowed her completely. And in that moment, the entire forest became silent again. Ollama’s scream echoed once. Then, everything went dark. When Ollama opened her eyes, she did not know whether she was alive or dead. For some moments, she could not even move.

Her body felt heavy, as if she had fallen from a great height. Her ears were ringing. Her head hurt. Her chest was rising and falling quickly. She lay flat on something hard and hot, blinking slowly at a bright sky above her. The sun was high. It was not the cool soft light of moon and stars she remembered from the shrine.

It was the harsh hot light of afternoon. Olama frowned in confusion. She had entered the secret place at night. Why was it now daytime? She slowly pushed herself up with shaking hands. The first thing she noticed was the ground. It was not red earth. It was dark, hard, and flat like a giant black stone spread everywhere. It was so smooth and strange that Olama touched it with her fingertips, then quickly pulled her hand back because it was hot.

She looked around. Then she froze. A loud sound exploded beside her. Olama screamed and jumped so hard that she nearly fell again. Huge shining machines rushed past her from both sides, roaring and growling like angry beasts that had swallowed thunder. Some were black, some were white, some were red, some were bigger than hot, some were smaller.

They moved so fast that the wind from them slapped against her face and wrapper. Another terrible sound blasted near her. The road was full of noise. Nothing was quiet. Nothing was still. The strange metal beasts moved in long lines and angry groups. They stopped suddenly. They rushed again. They cried out with horns like mad creatures fighting for space. Olama’s mouth opened.

Her eyes grew round. Her heartbeat became wild. “What kind of kingdom is this?” she whispered. She stood in the middle of a very wide road, and all around her were things her mind could not understand. Tall buildings stretched up into the sky like giant trees made of stone. Their sides were smooth and bright.

Some had shining glass that reflected the sun so strongly that Olanna had to shield her eyes. Others were painted in colors she had never seen on houses before. They stood so high that she could not imagine how any human being could climb them. She turned in one direction, more buildings. She turned in another direction, more buildings.

She turned again, people, so many people. Men and women hurried along the sides of the road in strange clothes. Some wore trousers, some wore skirts, some wore clothes so tight and short that Olanna almost gasped aloud. Some wore dark glasses over their eyes. Many carried bags. Some spoke while walking without talking to anyone near them, and this confused Olanna deeply until she noticed little objects pressed to their ears.

Were they talking to spirits? Were they mad, too? The air smelt different. It did not smell like firewood, leaves, rain, farm soil, or river water. It smelt of smoke, dust, heat, food, sweat, and something sharp and bitter she had never known before. Olanna stood there in her beads and wrapper, her braided hair neat, her waist bead resting against her skin, her neck coral shining in the sun.

To herself, she looked normal. To everyone else, she looked like someone who had escaped from an old story and walked into the wrong world. People began to notice her properly now. A young woman slowed down and stared. Two boys stopped and pointed. One old woman carrying a handbag looked at Olanna from head to toe, hissed through her teeth, and hurried away.

Another man laughed so loudly that others turned. “Who brought masquerade bride to Lagos?” Several people laughed. Another person lifted a small shining device and pointed it at Olanna. “What is that?” Olanna whispered to herself. The person laughed again. “Look at her. She’s even standing in the middle of the road like statue.

” Olanna’s throat became dry. She did not understand the words well, but she understood the laughter. She understood the staring. She understood that she did not belong here. A bus painted yellow rushed by roaring so loudly that she flinched. The side of it was open and men inside were shouting, “Yabba! Yabba! Oshodi! Enter with your change.

” Olanna stared at the moving thing with horror. “Is that house running?” she whispered. Then she saw another thing that almost made her knees weak. A machine with two wheels and a man sitting on top of it flew past like a spirit carrying a person. Olanna stepped back. Then she saw another and another.

One of them swerved close and she screamed, “Spirits!” People nearby burst into laughter. One woman covered her mouth and shook with amusement. “This one is serious.” A small group began gathering near the side of the road just to watch her. Some laughed, some whispered, some looked afraid as if they were not sure whether she was a human being or something else.

Olanna wanted to run. But run to where? Everywhere she looked was strange. Every sound attacked her. The road seemed to shake beneath her feet with all the rushing, roaring, grinding movement around her. Then her fear pushed her to do the wrong thing. She looked to one side, saw a small gap in the moving machines, and hurried forward without understanding what danger she was stepping into.

She had crossed village paths all her life. You looked left, you looked right, you walked. But this was not a village path. This was a river of thunder. She took two fast steps into the road. A black car shot towards her. Its horn blasted. Olama turned her head. The metal beast was coming straight at her.

She screamed and froze. The car screeched so loudly that the sound tore through the air. Screech! ; [screaming] ; The vehicle jerked and stopped with force. Its front so close to Olama that she could see her frightened face reflected in its shining body. People shouted, “Ah! Jesus! See her!” The driver’s door burst open.

A young man jumped out angrily. He was tall, clean, and dressed in modern city clothes Olama had never seen before. He wore trousers, shoes that shone, and a shirt with sleeves rolled slightly up his arms. His face was handsome, but at that moment he looked too angry for Olama to notice that properly. His name was Kingsley.

He slammed the car door and marched towards her. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” he shouted. Olama stared at him breathing hard. His voice sounded sharp and fast. His words were partly clear, partly confusing, but his anger was clear enough. Her eyes filled with fear. “Please,” she said, her voice shaking. “Where am I?” Kingsley stopped for 1 second and looked at her properly.

He looked at her coral beads. He looked at her wrapper. He looked at her braided hair. He looked at her bare feet dusty against the strange black road. Then he looked at her face pale with fear and confusion. His expression changed from anger to irritation mixed with disbelief. He shook his head. “This one is mad.” The people around laughed again.

One man said, “Oga, just leave her. See costume. Maybe they are shooting film.” Another woman replied, “What film? This one is real madness.” Olama took one tiny step towards Kingsley, desperate. “Please,” she said again, “tell me, what place is this? Where are my people?” Kingsley frowned. Perhaps one small part of him saw that she truly looked lost, but another larger part of him saw only trouble.

He threw up one hand in frustration. “Look, I don’t have time for this.” Olanna did not understand all the words, but she heard rejection. She reached out slightly, still trembling. “I do not know this place.” Kingsley sighed, rubbed his forehead, and muttered, “God forbid bad thing.” Then he turned, got back into his car, shut the door, and drove away.

The car moved off into the noisy road and disappeared among the others. Olanna remained there standing, alone. The laughter around her slowly faded as people lost interest and continued with their own lives. The small crowd broke apart. The road kept roaring. The sun kept burning.

The city did not care that one frightened girl had just arrived from another time. For the first time since she woke up, Olanna truly felt fear enter her heart. Not the quick fear of seeing a snake in the bush. Not the sudden fear of thunder in the night. This was deep fear. Fear of being lost. Fear of being alone. Fear of not understanding anything around her.

She slowly moved to the side of the road, her legs weak. She stood near a pole with strange papers pasted to it, and tried to breathe. Around her, the city moved without rest. Vendors shouted from small roadside stands. “Cold water! Gala! Plantain chips! Recharge card!” None of these words helped her. She looked across the road and saw a huge sign board with faces smiling down from it.

The letters meant nothing to her. Below it, shops stood in rows. Some had glass fronts, some had bright colors, some had pictures of food, clothes, shoes, and other things Olanna had no name for. A man carrying a tray on his head passed near her and stopped to stare. Sister, are you okay? Olanna turned to him quickly. At last, someone seemed less cruel.

She spoke with sudden hope. Please, can you tell me what kingdom this is? The man blinked. What? What kingdom is this? She repeated. The man looked at her longer, then laughed nervously. He shifted his tray and hurried away. Olanna’s hope died again. She began walking slowly along the road side because standing still felt dangerous.

The ground was hard under her feet. Her village feet were not used to this hot rough surface. Every few steps, she looked over her shoulder, worried a moving metal beast might somehow climb out of the road and strike her. Everything shocked her. At one point, she passed a shop with a glass front.

She saw moving people inside it, but when she looked again, she realized those were reflections of people outside. She gasped and stepped back anyway. Later, she passed a place where cold air blew out each time the door opened. She stopped in surprise, then stretched out one hand into the doorway. Her eyes widened.

The house is breathing cold wind, she whispered. A security guard standing near the entrance watched her suspiciously. Move, move. Don’t block front.” Olama hurried away. Soon, she saw something even stranger. A giant screen hanging above a shop began showing the face of a woman speaking. Her mouth moved, her hands moved, her eyes blinked.

Then, the scene changed to a man dancing. Then, another face appeared. Olama screamed. People turned. She pointed at the screen. “They trapped people inside the wall.” Some boys laughed so hard they bent over. One of them wiped tears from his eyes. “Auntie, those are television people, not trapped people.” But, Olama had already moved away, her heart racing.

She passed another place where music pounded loudly from big speakers. The beat was strong and strange. Some young men standing outside bobbed their heads to it. One waved at her. “Fine village babe, come and dance.” Olama frowned in confusion and kept walking quickly. Her stomach began to twist with hunger.

She had eaten nothing since Since when? She did not even know how long she had been in this strange place. Morning? Afternoon? Another day? She could not tell. The shock had broken time apart inside her head. She passed a woman frying something golden in oil by the roadside, and the smell hit her so strongly that stopped at once. Food.

At least, that still smelled like life. Not exactly like the food of Oba kingdom, but still food. Her stomach growled loudly. The woman behind the frying pan looked up. “Do you want to buy?” Olama blinked. She did not understand the last word. She only looked at the food. The woman repeated more loudly. “Do you want to buy?” Ollama answered honestly, “I am hungry.

” The woman looked at her, then at her strange dressing. “Huh, hungry is not enough. Bring money.” “Money?” Ollama stared blankly. She had no idea what that meant in this world. The woman hissed, “If you no get money, shift.” Ollama moved slowly away. Her hunger sharper now because the smell had woken it fully.

As she walked, she saw people exchanging flat papers and shiny round things for goods. So, that was how food was obtained here. Not by farm, not by grinding, not by market trade she knew. Here, food had to be bought with things she did not have. Her throat tightened. What will she do? She kept walking. The city became funnier and more terrible with every step.

She saw a man standing beside the road urinating carelessly near a wall, and she almost laughed from shock because even in this strange kingdom, some people still behaved like goats. She saw two women shouting at each other over a parking space and waving their hands like market fighters. She saw a child licking something frozen on a stick and followed him for several steps because she could not understand how cold smoke came from his mouth when he laughed.

She saw a very fashionable woman wearing a wig so large and bright that Ollama almost stopped to ask whether it was a bird sitting on her head. She saw a beggar sleeping under a bridge while the whole roaring world passed him by. She saw a preacher with a microphone shouting, “Repent! The end is near!” Ollama stared at him and thought he may be the only person here speaking sense because surely the end of the world must be near for all this madness to exist.

The sun slowly began to move lower. The heat softened, but Olanna’s fear grew stronger. Daytime at least allowed her to see. What would happen when darkness came? Where would she sleep? What would she eat? Who would help her? She missed home so suddenly that it felt like pain in her chest. She remembered her mother’s voice.

Olanna, curiosity can lead a person into trouble. Tears pricked her eyes. Oh, mother, you are right. But even in her fear, her natural curiosity still rose at strange moments. Near one busy junction, she saw a long moving stair carrying people upward by itself. She stopped dead. Her mouth dropped open. The stairs were alive.

People simply stepped onto them and the stairs swallowed them upward into a building. Olanna backed away in horror. No. No. No. A man behind her laughed. First time seeing escalator? She turned to him helplessly. Why are people allowing the stairs to carry them? The man laughed harder. Then, seeing she might truly panic, he waved one hand dismissively and went on.

Olanna continued backing away until she hit someone behind her. She turned quickly and apologized without waiting for a response. She found a quieter corner near a row of small shops and leaned against the wall. Her feet hurt. Her stomach hurt. Her head still ached from shock. Every now and then, someone stared.

Some smiled mockingly. Some ignored her. Some looked at her with pity that hurt almost as much as laughter. One group of girls walked by and slowed. “See the beads, though. She is fine, though. Maybe she’s from one village festival. Or maybe she’s content creator.” They giggled and moved on. Olamide did not know what a content creator was.

It sounded like someone who created confusion, and perhaps that was correct. As evening deepened, the city changed again. Lights came on. Not torchlights, not fire, not lanterns. Lights sprang from buildings, from poles, from signs, from inside shops, from moving cars. White light, yellow light, blue light, red blinking lights.

It was as if stars had fallen to the ground and been forced to live inside glass. Olamide turned slowly in wonder. Night in Oba kingdom came with darkness, moon, firelight, and silence broken by insects and distant voices. Night here came with more noise, more brightness, more movement. This city did not sleep. That frightened her more than darkness would have.

A bus roared past, spraying dirty water from a pothole over her legs. She gasped and stepped back. Some boys nearby laughed. “Welcome to Lagos.” She had still not found safety. She had still not found food. She had still not found one person who believed she needed help. She began to walk again, slower now, almost dragging her feet.

At one point, she passed an open food place where rice, stew, fried meat, and other hot dishes sat displayed in metal trays. The smell was so rich that her knees felt weak. People stood around eating and talking. Spoons clinked against plates. Steam rose into the evening air. Olama stood at a distance and stared.

She thought of home. She thought of pounded yam, soup, roasted corn, cocoyam, and fresh palm fruit. Then she looked at the food in this new world and felt desperate. A woman behind the food table noticed her. “You want to buy food?” Again, that word, “buy”. Olama swallowed and said softly, “I am hungry.” The woman shook her head.

“Everybody is hungry. Bring money.” Olama took one step closer, eyes fixed on the food. “I have none.” The woman’s face hardened immediately. “Then move from there before I shout for you.” Olama moved away. Her hunger now felt like an animal scratching inside her belly. The night air brought cooler wind, and for the first time since arriving, she began to shiver slightly, not from cold alone, but from helplessness.

She found herself near a small open area by the roadside where a few street children sat together. They looked rough, tired, and alert. One was chewing on something, another held a sachet of water. They looked at Olama’s beads and wrapper, then looked away, as if strange sights no longer surprised them. One group of girls among them, perhaps not much younger than Olama herself, said, “You are new.

” Olama turned quickly. Her face was thin, her eyes sharp. “Yes,” Olanna answered. The girl shrugged. “I can tell.” Olanna hesitated. “Do you know where I can go?” The girl laughed once, but not unkindly. “If I knew a good place to go, would I be sitting here?” Olanna fell silent. The girl looked at her again. “You have family?” “In another place,” Olanna said, and tears rose unexpectedly into her very far.

The girl’s expression softened just a little. “This city no send anybody. If you want to survive, you must open your eyes. Open your eyes.” The words stayed with Olanna. A policeman nearby blew a whistle and waved some boys away from a corner. A generator started somewhere with a loud grumbling vibration.

Music from a bar mixed with traffic noise and human voices until the whole evening felt like one giant pot of confusion boiling over. Olanna looked up at the darkening sky. No stars could be seen clearly because of all the city lights. That hurt her in a way she could not explain. She felt cut off from the sky itself. She drew her wrapper tighter around her body and sat slowly near a wall, hugging her knees.

People passed. Some barely noticed her. Some turned and stared. One drunk man staggered by and said, “Fine village queen, why are you sitting here?” Then he laughed at his own words and kept going. Olanna lowered her face. She really tried, but fear had now become a heavy thing inside her.

She had no idea how to survive in this strange new world. And as night began to fall fully over the city of Sonda, Olamma realized that she was completely, painfully, alone. The next morning came slowly for Olamma. She did not even remember when sleep finally carried her away the previous night. One moment she had been sitting against a rough wall beside the noisy road, hugging her knees and trying to stay awake.

The next moment, her eyes had closed without warning. When she woke up, the sun was already rising over the tall buildings of the strange city. For a few seconds, she forgot where she was. She stretched her arms slowly and blinked at the bright sky above her. She expected to see palm trees swaying gently in the wind.

She expected to hear roosters crowing and women sweeping their compounds with long brooms. Instead, she heard horns, loud horns. Beep. Horn. Bah. The sounds rushed into her ears like angry thunder. Olamma sat up quickly. Her eyes widened as memory returned. The strange city, the roaring machines, the tall buildings, the people who stared at her, the hunger, the loneliness.

Her chest tightened as fear returned again. She looked around slowly. People were already moving up and down the road like ants. Some hurried past her without even noticing her. Others glanced at her and looked away quickly. One small boy passing with his mother pointed at her. “Mommy, look, village woman.” The mother pulled the boy away quickly.

“Face front.” Olamma wrapped her arms around herself and stood up slowly. Her body felt stiff from sleeping outside. Her stomach was already growling loudly again. She had not eaten since the previous afternoon and the small amount of food she had eaten then had long disappeared from her body. Her [snorts] hunger felt like something alive crawling inside her stomach.

She began walking slowly along the roadside again. The city was already loud and busy even though the morning had just begun. Yellow buses rushed past like angry beasts. Street vendors shouted their goods loudly. Bread, tea, hot akara. The smell of frying food floated through the air and tortured Olamma’s empty stomach.

She stopped in front of one small roadside stand where a woman was frying round brown balls inside a large pan of hot oil. The smell was strong and sweet. Olamma stared. The woman noticed. “Ha, you want to buy akara?” Again, that word, “buy”. Olamma already understood that word now. It meant exchanging something called money for food. Something she still did not have.

She shook her head slowly and walked away again. Her stomach growled so loudly that a young man nearby laughed. “Ha, this one is hungry.” But Olamma kept walking. She did not know where she was going. She only knew she had to keep moving. As she walked deeper into the city, she saw more things that confused her.

At one point, she passed a very large building with shining glass walls. People were walking in and out of the entrance carrying bags and pushing strange metal carts filled with goods. Olamma stood at a distance and watched them. Something strange happened. As one man approached the entrance, the glass doors suddenly opened by themselves.

Olamma jumped backward with a scream. The doors closed again. Then, another woman approached. The doors opened again. Olamma’s mouth fell open. “The building is alive.” She whispered. She slowly walked closer, her eyes wide with caution. Another person approached the door. It opened again. Olamma gasped loudly. “Spirits are opening the door.

” People walking nearby turned to look at her. One young woman laughed. “Auntie, it is automatic door.” But Olamma did not understand the words. She only saw a door that moved without hands touching it. Slowly, she stretched her hand toward the glass. The moment she stepped closer, whoosh, the door opened.

Olamma screamed and jumped backwards so violently that she nearly fell down. Several people burst into laughter. One man shook his head. “First time in supermarket.” Another person lifted a phone and began recording her. Olamma’s face burned with embarrassment. She quickly ran away from the strange building before the door could swallow her.

But the city was not finished surprising her. A short distance away, she passed a shop where many people had gathered outside. They were all staring at a large shining screen hanging on the wall. Olamma was curious. She slowly walked closer. When she saw the screen clearly, her heart nearly stopped. Inside the screen were people, real people.

They were talking, moving, laughing. Olamma screamed so loudly that people jumped. “They have trapped human spirit inside a box.” The crowd exploded with laughter. Some people bent over holding their stomachs. One man said, “Madam, they are not trapped.” But Olamma pointed at the screen in horror. “Look at them. They are moving.

They are speaking.” A woman wiped tears from her eyes from laughing too much. “That is television.” Olamma shook her head fiercely. “No, those are people.” The crowd continued laughing. Someone shouted jokingly, “Set them free then.” The laughter grew even louder. Olamma’s face became hot with shame again. She backed away slowly, her eyes still fixed on the television, as if the people inside might suddenly escape and attack her.

When she was far enough away, she turned and hurried down the street, but the day was becoming worse for her. Her hunger was now becoming unbearable. Her stomach twisted painfully. Her legs felt weak. Her head felt light. She had never gone this long without food before. As she walked, she kept noticing food everywhere.

Food in shops, food in street stalls, food carried by people walking past her, food inside glass displays. Every smell made her stomach cry louder. Finally, sometime in the afternoon, Olama reached a small busy street filled with market stalls. There were women selling fruits, men selling shoes, children selling small items, and there, at the corner of the street, stood a small buka.

Large metal trays filled with rice, stew, fried meat, and beans were displayed on a wooden table. The smell was powerful. Olama stopped walking. Her eyes locked onto the food. Her stomach growled again. The woman serving the food was busy talking with another customer. She scooped rice into a plate and poured red stew over it.

The customer paid money and left. Olama stood there breathing slowly. Her mind was fighting with itself. Stealing food was wrong. Her parents had taught her that clearly, but hunger was stronger than shame now. She watched the woman carefully. The woman turned away for a moment to pick something from a pot behind her.

That moment was enough. Olama moved quickly. She grabbed the plate of rice from the table, then she ran. The woman turned back just in time to see her. Thief! Her loud scream filled the street. People turned. Some shouted, “Catch her!” Uloma ran faster. Her ankle beads jingled loudly as she ran through the crowd.

People tried to grab her, but she dodged between them quickly. One man stretched his arm toward her. She slipped past him. Another man tried to block her path. She turned sharply and ran in another direction. The people chasing her shouted and laughed at the same time. But Uloma had grown up running through forests and farms. Her legs were strong. Her feet were fast.

Soon she turned into a narrow path between two buildings. The people chasing her slowed down. “Leave her!” one man shouted. “It is just rice!” The chase stopped. Uloma kept running until she reached the back of a market area. She quickly hid behind a wooden stall stacked with empty baskets. Her chest rose and fell heavily.

She listened carefully. No footsteps. No shouting. She had escaped. Slowly, she looked down at the plate still in her hands. Rice, stew, fried meat. Her eyes filled with relief. Without wasting another second, she sat down behind the stall and began eating quickly. The food was hot and spicy, but it tasted wonderful.

She ate with her fingers, scooping rice into her mouth as fast as she could. She finished everything, even the smallest grain. Then she licked the stew from her fingers. For the first time in many hours, her stomach felt calm. ; ; But the relief did not last long. Shame slowly crept into her heart. She had stolen.

She looked down at the empty plate beside her. “I am sorry,” she whispered softly. She did not know who she was apologizing to. The woman she stole from? Her parents far away in Oba kingdom? Or the ancestors watching from the spirit world. Slowly, she stood up and placed the empty plate carefully beside the stove. Then she walked away quietly.

As evening slowly approached again, the sky began turning orange behind the tall buildings. The city lights started coming on once more. Olama felt tired again. Her feet hurt. Her body ached. She had nowhere to go, no one to help her. She eventually found a quiet corner near the roadside and sat down.

Cars rushed past endlessly. People walked by without stopping. Some stared. Some ignored her. She wrapped her arms around herself as the night air became cooler. Her eyes slowly lifted toward the sky, but the bright city lights hid most of the stars. She could barely see them. A deep sadness filled her chest. She thought about her mother, her father, her village, the peaceful nights in Oba kingdom, the sound of crickets, the smell of firewood.

Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. She whispered softly into the night, “Ancestors, where have you brought me?” Morning came again in the loud city. The sun rose slowly behind the tall buildings, spreading light across the wide roads and busy streets of Lagos. The city did not wake up gently the way villages did.

It woke up with noise, horns, shouting, engines, and footsteps rushing in every direction. For Olama, the night had been long and uncomfortable. She had slept again by the roadside, leaning against a wall with her wrapper wrapped tightly around her body. The ground was hard. The air was full of strange smells. Cars had roared past all night, shaking the ground beneath her.

Every time she closed her eyes, another loud horn woke her again. So, her sleep came in small pieces. When the sun rose, she slowly opened her eyes. Her body felt tired and stiff. Her feet hurt. Her hair had become slightly messy from sleeping outside, but her beads were still around her neck and waist, shining in the morning light.

For a moment, she simply sat there quietly, watching people move up and down the street. Some walked quickly. Some talked loudly. Some carried bags. Some shouted about the things they were selling. The city was alive again. Olama slowly stood up. Her stomach was not empty the way it had been the previous day because of the rice she had eaten, but she still felt weak and tired.

She walked slowly along the roadside again, not knowing where she was going. At this point, walking had become the only thing she knew how to do in this strange world. People still stared at her when they passed. Some laughed softly. Some whispered. Some looked confused. One small boy pointed at her beads and asked his mother loudly, “Mommy, is she going to a festival?” The mother pulled the boy along quickly.

“Do not look too much.” Olama ignored the whispers. She was too tired to care anymore. She kept walking. After some time, she reached a large building with glass walls. Many people were entering and leaving the building carrying bags filled with goods. Olama recognized the strange building. It was the same place she had run away from the previous day when the doors opened by themselves.

She stopped at a distance and watched the doors carefully. They continued opening and closing as people walked through them. She shook her head slowly. This kingdom is full of strange magic, she whispered. Just then, a man walked out of the building carrying two shopping bags. He walked toward the parking area where many cars were parked in neat rows.

The man was Kingsley. He had just finished buying some groceries and was heading back to his car. As he walked toward his vehicle, he suddenly noticed someone sitting near the roadside wall. At first, he did not pay much attention, but then something about the person looked familiar. He looked again. Then he stopped walking.

It was her, the strange bead-wearing girl he had nearly run over the day before. Kingsley sighed deeply and shook his head. Not this mad girl again. Alama was sitting quietly with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her face looked tired, but her eyes were still bright and alert. Then, she saw him. Immediately, she recognized him, the man with the metal beast that almost killed her.

But he had also been the first person she had spoken to in this strange city. Alama slowly stood up. Kingsley was about to turn away and ignore her, but before he could move, she spoke. Please help me. Her voice was soft, respectful, not loud, not angry. Kingsley paused. He turned back slowly. Alama stepped closer.

I beg you, she said. said again, please help me. Kingsley looked at her carefully. Her clothes were still the same, her coral beads, her wrapper, her bare feet, but now he noticed something he had not seen the previous day. Her eyes. They did not look like someone who was mad. They looked confused, lost, and tired.

He frowned slightly. What kind of help? he asked. Olama took a deep breath. “I do not belong here.” Kingsley folded his arms across his chest. “What do you mean you do not belong here?” Olama spoke slowly so he would understand. “This place is not my world.” Kingsley blinked. Then he laughed, a short surprised laugh.

“Not your world?” “Yes.” Kingsley rubbed his forehead. “Okay, this is getting interesting.” A few people walking nearby slowed down slightly, curious about the conversation. Kingsley lowered his voice slightly. “Where are you from?” Olama answered honestly. “Oba kingdom.” Kingsley nodded slowly. “Which state is that?” Olama frowned.

“I do not know what that means.” Kingsley stared at her. Then he asked another question. “How did you get here?” Olama pointed toward the direction of the distant forest beyond the city. “I walked into the sacred shrine during the full moon.” Kingsley’s eyebrows lifted. “And then?” Olama looked around the noisy city again.

“A strange light swallowed me.” Kingsley tried very hard not to laugh again. “And then?” “And then I woke up here.” Kingsley stared at her for a long moment. Then he burst out laughing, a loud laugh this time. “500 years ago.” Olama replied calmly. Kingsley laughed even harder. “500 years?” “Yes.” He wiped his eyes.

“Ah, this story is sweet.” Olama waited patiently for him to finish laughing. Finally, Kingsley stopped. He looked at her again. For a moment, he expected her to smile or laugh with him, but she did not. Her face remained serious. That made him pause. Something about her calm honesty felt strange. She did not behave like someone telling a joke.

She truly believed what she was saying. Kingsley scratched his head slowly. You are telling me you came from 500 years ago. Yes. And you entered some shrine. Yes. And a light swallowed you. Yes. And now you are in Lagos. Yes. Kingsley stared at her again. Then he sighed. Wow. Olamma looked hopeful. So, you believe me? Kingsley quickly shook his head.

No, I do not. Olamma’s shoulders dropped slightly. But, Kingsley continued, “This madness is very interesting. He looked at her beads again, her calm face, her tired eyes. Something about her innocence made him curious. Finally, he sighed deeply. Fine. Olamma looked up. Kingsley pointed toward his car and said, “Let me see this madness myself.

” Olamma followed his hand and looked at the parked car, the same type of metal beast that almost crushed her the previous day. She hesitated. Kingsley walked toward the car and opened the door. “Well, are you coming or not?” Olamma slowly walked toward the vehicle. She bent slightly and looked inside the car carefully.

It looked like a small moving house. There were soft seats, shiny parts, strange buttons. She touched the door carefully. Kingsley was already sitting in the driver seat. “Sit,” he said. Olamma climbed inside slowly and sat stiffly on the passenger seat. She held the edge of the seat tightly. Kingsley shut the door. The sound made her jump.

Then he started the engine. The car vibrated slightly. Olamma gasped. The beast is waking up. Kingsley looked at her and sighed. This girl will give me headache. Then he pressed the pedal. The car began moving. Olamma screamed loudly. The ground spirit is carrying us. She grabbed the seat with both hands as the car rolled forward. Kingsley nearly laughed again.

It is not a spirit. It is a car. But Olamma was too shocked to listen. The city began sliding past them quickly. Buildings moved. Roads moved. People moved. Everything outside the window seemed to rush backward. Olamma’s eyes were wide. Her mouth was open. She leaned forward and looked through the window. Then she screamed again.

The world is running away. Kingsley shook his head slowly. This girl will give me serious headache. The car finally stopped in front of a quiet compound. For Olamma, the short ride had felt like a long and frightening journey. The entire time the car moved, she had held the seat tightly with both hands as if the ground might suddenly disappear beneath her.

Her eyes had remained wide the whole time. She watched everything outside the window rush past like magic. Buildings, people, cars, signs, lights. Everything moved so fast that her mind could barely follow it. When the car finally stopped, she released a long breath she did not realize she had been holding. Kingsley switched off the engine.

The car became quiet. Olamma slowly relaxed her grip on the seat. She looked at Kingsley. “Is the ground spirit tired now?” she asked carefully. Kingsley stared at her for 2 seconds, then he laughed. “No spirit carried us. It is just a car.” Olama looked at the machine again with deep suspicion. “If this is not spirit work,” she said slowly, “then your people have very powerful magic.

” Kingsley shook his head. “Calm down.” He stepped out of the car. Olama slowly opened the door and climbed out carefully, still unsure whether the strange machine might suddenly move again. She stood beside the car and looked around. The compound was neat and quiet. A tall fence surrounded the building. Inside the compound stood a beautiful house painted in soft cream color.

The windows were large and shiny. Small plants grew neatly along the walkway. Olama stared at the building. “This palace is beautiful,” she exclaimed. Kingsley laughed again. “It is not a palace.” Olama ignored him and slowly walked toward the house. She touched the wall carefully. The wall felt smooth and strong. She looked up at the roof.

Then she looked at the windows. “This house is very rich,” she said with admiration. Kingsley opened the door and stepped inside. “Come in.” Olama followed him slowly. The moment she stepped inside the house, her mouth opened wide. The inside was even more surprising than the outside. Everything looked neat, colorful, and strange.

There were soft chairs arranged around a table. There were pictures hanging on the wall. There were curtains covering the windows. There was a shining floor that reflected the light above. Olama turned around slowly, trying to see everything at once. “This place is bigger than the chief’s compound in my village,” she said. Kingsley dropped his shopping bags on the table.

Olamma walked slowly toward the sofa. She touched it carefully. The soft cushions sank under her fingers. Her eyes widened. Why is this chair soft like mashed yam? Kingsley laughed. It is called a sofa. Olamma pressed it again. Then she slowly sat down. Immediately the cushions sank beneath her body. She jumped up quickly in shock.

The chair is swallowing me. Kingsley laughed so hard that he had to hold his stomach. It is not swallowing you. Olamma stared at the sofa with deep suspicion. This chair is alive, she said. Kingsley sat down on it calmly. Look, it is normal. Olamma watched him carefully. When she saw that the chair did not eat him, she slowly sat again.

This time, she stayed seated. But she remained ready to jump up if the chair tried anything strange. As she sat there, she noticed a large black box standing against the wall. She pointed at it. What is that? Kingsley turned on the television. The screen suddenly lit up. Moving pictures appeared.

People began speaking. Olamma screamed loudly. She jumped up and ran behind Kingsley, holding his arm tightly. The wall is talking. Kingsley burst out laughing again. It is just television. But Olamma refused to move. She peeped from behind him. The people inside the screen continued talking and moving. Olamma’s voice trembled.

They trapped people inside the wall. Kingsley laughed even harder. No one is trapped. Olamma shook her head slowly. I saw them moving. They are actors. I do not know what that means.” She replied firmly. Kingsley switched off the television. The screen went dark. Olama slowly stepped away from behind him.

She walked toward the screen carefully. Then she knocked on it gently. “Are you people still inside?” She asked. Kingsley almost fell down laughing. “You are too much.” But Olama was serious. She touched the screen again. Then she looked at Kingsley. “This house is very strange.” Before Kingsley could reply, Olama suddenly began shivering.

She wrapped her arms around herself. “The spirits are blowing cold wind.” Kingsley looked confused for a moment, then he remembered. The air conditioner. Cold air was flowing quietly from the unit on the wall. Kingsley walked to the remote control and switched it off. The cold air stopped. “It is just AC.” He said. Olama stared at the machine suspiciously.

“That thing was breathing cold wind. It cools the house.” Olama shook her head slowly. “Your house is full of witchcraft.” Kingsley laughed again. “No witchcraft.” Olama sat down again, still looking around with wonder. Every object in the house looked new to her. The clock on the wall, the light switches, the refrigerator humming softly in the kitchen.

She pointed at the refrigerator. “What is inside that box?” “Food.” Kingsley answered. Olama’s eyes lit up. “Food?” Kingsley opened the fridge. Cold air rushed out. Olama jumped back again. “The box is breathing.” Kingsley laughed again. “It is a fridge.” She stepped closer and looked inside. Her eyes widened again.

“There is cold food inside.” “Yes.” “How does the food stay cold? The fridge keeps it cold. Alama shook her head slowly. This world is confusing. Later, Kingsley decided to teach her how cooking worked in his house. He led her into the kitchen. The kitchen was full of strange tools. There were pots, plates, spoons, a microwave, and a gas stove.

Kingsley placed a pot on the stove. Alama watched carefully. He turned the knob. A blue flame appeared instantly. Alama screamed loudly. She jumped backwards so fast that she nearly knocked over a chair. The fire comes from inside the metal pot. Kingsley laughed so hard he nearly fell. It’s a gas stove.

Alama pointed at it nervously. That thing is dangerous. It is safe. No, she insisted. It will burn the house. Kingsley continued laughing. You will learn. Over the next few hours, Kingsley tried to explain many things to her. How to turn the tap for water, how to use a spoon, how to open the fridge, how to switch on lights.

But Alama reacted to each thing with surprise. When she saw water come from the tap, she shouted, “The wall is giving water!” When she saw the microwave spin food inside, she nearly ran out of the kitchen. “The box is cooking by itself!” Kingsley laughed so much that tears filled his eyes. “You are something else.” But slowly, very slowly, Alama began learning. She watched carefully.

She listened. She tried again and again. Even though she still believed the house was full of strange magic, she was curious enough to keep learning. And Kingsley, though he had first thought she was mad, now found her fascinating. He had never met anyone like her before. Someone so innocent, so amazed by simple things, so honest.

As evening approached, Alama sat quietly on the sofa again. This time she did not jump when the cushion sank beneath her. She looked around the house slowly. Then she looked at Kingsley. “This world is strange.” She said softly. Kingsley smiled slightly. “You will get used to it.” Olanna was not sure about that, but for the first time since arriving in Lagos, she did not feel completely lost.

At least now she had a roof over her head and someone willing to help her understand this strange world. Several days had passed since Olanna came to stay in Kingsley’s house. Life inside the house had slowly begun to feel less frightening for her. The strange machine still surprised her sometimes, but she was learning.

She no longer screamed when the television turned on. She no longer jumped when the refrigerator door opened. She had even learned how to sit on the sofa without thinking the chair was trying to swallow her. Every day Kingsley taught her something new. He showed her how to sweep the house with a broom made of plastic instead of palm leaves.

He showed her how to wash plates inside the shining metal sink. He showed her how to turn on lights when night came. Sometimes Olanna still made funny mistakes. One morning she tried to wash clothes inside the microwave because she thought it was a small washing pot. Kingsley walked into the kitchen and saw the clothes spinning slowly inside the microwave.

He stared at it for 3 seconds, then he burst out laughing so loudly that he had to sit down. “Olanna!” He shouted between laughter. “That is not for washing clothes.” Olanna looked embarrassed. “But it spins like washing.” Kingsley laughed again. “This girl will finish me.” Even though she still felt confused about many things, Olanna tried her best to learn quickly.

She watched carefully whenever Kingsley explained something. She listened quietly and asked questions. Kingsley began to notice something interesting. Olanna was not stupid. In fact, she was very intelligent. She learned quickly once she understood something. One afternoon, she even surprised him. Kingsley had shown her how to boil rice on the gas stove earlier that day.

Later, when he came back into the kitchen, he saw the pot already boiling properly. He lifted the lid and looked inside. Perfect rice. He turned to Olama with surprise. “You did this?” Olama smiled proudly. “Yes.” Kingsley shook his head with amusement. “You are learning fast.” But, their peaceful routine was about to be disturbed.

One afternoon, Kingsley had just returned home from work. Olama was in the living room sweeping the floor carefully the way he had taught her. She hummed softly to herself while working. Suddenly, bang! The front door opened loudly. Olama jumped and dropped the broom. A tall, beautiful woman stepped into the house.

She wore expensive clothes and shining high-heeled shoes. Her hair was styled perfectly and her makeup was bold and bright. Her name was Noela. Noela had come to visit Kingsley without warning. She had a key to the house because she had been visiting Kingsley for many months before Olama arrived. But, the moment she stepped into the living room, she froze.

Her eyes landed on Olama. Olama was standing there wearing a simple wrapper and beads, holding a broom. The two women stared at each other. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Noela’s face twisted in shock and anger. “Kingsley!” [snorts] she shouted loudly. Kingsley walked out of the bedroom. “What is it?” Noela pointed at Olama with a long, painted finger.

“Who is this bush girl? Olama blinked in confusion. Bush girl? Kingsley sighed quietly. Her name is Olama. Noela laughed in disbelief. Olama? She walked closer and looked Olama up and down slowly. Her eyes moved from Olama’s beads to her wrapper to her bare feet. Noela shook her head slowly. Kingsley, what is this? Kingsley rubbed his forehead.

It is not what you think. Noela folded her arms. Then what should I think? Her voice was sharp. Why is this village girl inside your house? Olama stood quietly. She did not understand everything Noela was saying, but she understood the anger. Kingsley tried to remain calm. She needed help. Noela laughed again. Help? Yes.

Kingsley, this is Lagos, not a charity home. Noela walked closer to Olama and stared at her face. Can you even speak English? Olama answered politely. Yes. Noela was surprised. Then she smirked. Wow, the bush girl speaks. Kingsley frowned. Noela, stop. But Noela was already angry. Stop what? You brought a stranger to live in your house.

She turned back to Olama. Listen carefully. I am Kingsley’s girlfriend. Olama did not know the word girlfriend meant, but she could hear the claim in Noela’s voice. Noela continued speaking loudly. So whatever you are doing here, you better pack your things and leave. Olama remained calm. I have nowhere to go.

Noela rolled her eyes. That is not my problem. Kingsley raised his voice slightly. Noela, that is enough. Noela turned to him. So, you are defending her? I am just saying you should calm down. Noella shook her head in anger. Unbelievable. She grabbed her handbag from the table. This conversation is not finished.

Then she stormed out of the house. The door slammed loudly behind her. The house became quiet again. Olama looked at Kingsley. Did I do something wrong? She asked softly. Kingsley sighed. No. But trouble had only just begun. After that day, Noella began visiting the house often. Each time she came, she behaved the same way.

She insulted Olama. She mocked her clothes. She laughed at the way she spoke. One day, she said loudly, “Kingsley, where did you even find this girl? In the forest?” Another day, she said, “Maybe she escaped from a village festival.” Olama never shouted back. She never argued. She simply watched quietly, carefully.

Noella did not like that. She wanted Olama to react. She wanted Olama to get angry. But Olama remained calm. Soon, Noella decided to try something else. One afternoon, when Kingsley was not at home, Noella came to visit again. She walked into the house and saw Olama cleaning the kitchen. Noella smiled slowly, a strange smile.

Then she quietly placed some money inside the kitchen drawer. Later, when Kingsley returned home, Noella began acting upset. “Kingsley,” she said loudly. “Yes? My money is missing.” Kingsley looked confused. “What money?” “I kept money inside my bag when I came here, and now it is gone.” Kingsley frowned. “What are you trying to say? Noella looked towards the kitchen.

I’m just saying maybe someone took it. Kingsley’s eyes moved slowly towards Olamma. Olamma stood quietly. Then she spoke. The money is in the drawer. Both of them were surprised. Kingsley opened the drawer. The money was there. Noella quickly looked embarrassed. Oh, maybe I forgot where I kept it. But Olamma had already begun watching Noella very carefully.

The insults continued for several days. But Olamma remained silent. Then one afternoon, something happened. Noella visited again. She stayed in the house for some time talking with Kingsley. Later, she said she was leaving. But Olamma noticed something strange. Noella did not walk towards the main road.

Instead, she walked in another direction. Curiosity pushed her to follow her quietly. She kept her distance so Noella would not notice. Noella walked several streets away. Finally, she stopped in front of a large expensive car. A rich older man stepped out of the car. He looked much older than Kingsley. Noella immediately hugged him. Olamma watched carefully from behind a small shop. Then she heard Noella speak.

Did you bring the money? The older man smiled. Of course. He handed her a thick envelope. Noella kissed his cheek. Thank you, darling. Olamma’s eyes widened. So, this woman who claimed to be Kingsley’s girlfriend was secretly meeting another man. Olamma watched them carefully. Then she quietly returned home.

Later that evening, when Kingsley returned from work, Olamma spoke. There is something you should know. Kingsley looked curious. What? Olamma told him everything she had seen. At first, Kingsley refused to believe it, but when he confronted Noela, the truth came out. Noela tried to deny it, but Kingsley had already seen enough.

His face became dark with anger. So, this is what you have been doing? Noela crossed her arms stubbornly. So what? So what? Kingsley shouted. You have been lying to me. Noela shrugged. You were too busy playing hero for your village girl anyway. Kingsley pointed towards the door. Get out. Noela’s eyes widened.

You are chasing me out? Yes. Noela grabbed her bag angrily. This is not the end of this. She turned towards Olamma with a hateful look. You think you won? Then she stormed out of the house. The door slammed loudly behind her. The house became quiet again. Olamma looked at Kingsley quietly. Finally, Kingsley sighed.

Thank you for telling me the truth. And for the first time, the house felt peaceful again. Time began to move quietly inside Kingsley’s house. The days slowly turned into weeks. The weeks slowly turned into months. At first, Olamma had counted every day carefully because she felt like a stranger in a strange land.

But as time passed, the city no longer looked as frightening as it once did. Many things that once made her scream now only made her laugh. She had learned many things. She could now switch on the light without fear. She could open the refrigerator without jumping back. She could even sit comfortably in the car without thinking the ground spirit was carrying her away.

But even though she had learned many things, the modern world still surprised her almost every day. One morning, Kingsley walked into the kitchen and froze. He stared at the microwave. Inside the microwave were three pieces of clothing slowly turning around and around. Kingsley blinked. Then, he looked around. Olamma? From the living room, Olamma answered cheerfully, “Yes?” “Why are my clothes inside the microwave?” Olamma walked into the kitchen proudly.

“I am washing them.” Kingsley stared at her. “For how long?” “I thought the spinning would clean them faster.” Kingsley leaned against the kitchen counter and covered his face. For 2 seconds, he said nothing. Then, he burst out laughing so loudly that his voice filled the house. “Olamma, that is not a washing machine.” Olamma looked confused. “But, it spins.

” “Yes, and washing requires spinning.” Kingsley laughed again. “That spins food, not clothes.” Olamma looked embarrassed. “Oh.” Kingsley continued laughing. “This girl will send me to hospital.” Even though she still made mistakes sometimes, Olamma was learning very quickly. Kingsley had started teaching her how to read and write.

At first, it had seemed impossible. The letters looked like strange drawings. The words looked confusing. But, Olamma was determined to learn. Every evening after dinner, Kingsley sat with her at the small table in the living room. He would place a book in front of her. Then, he would point at the letters. “This one is A.

” “A.” Olamma repeated. “This one is B.” “B.” At first, she struggled. Sometimes, she forgot the letters. Sometimes, she mixed them up. Sometimes, she grew frustrated and pushed the book away. But, Kingsley was patient. “Try again,” he would say calmly, and she would try again. Soon, something surprising happened.

Olamma began learning very fast, much faster than Kingsley expected. Her memory was sharp. Her mind was quick. Within a few weeks, she could recognize many letters. Within 2 months, she could read simple sentences. Kingsley watched her one evening as she slowly read a short line from a book. “The cat is on the table.” She looked up proudly. “I read it.

” Kingsley clapped his hands in excitement. “Yes, you did.” Olamma smiled widely. In her village, she had never imagined that reading would be possible. Now, she felt proud of herself, and Kingsley felt, too. Their friendship grew stronger every day. They talked a lot. They laughed often. They shared many stories.

One evening, they sat together on the sofa after dinner. The television was on, but they were not really watching it. Kingsley turned to Olamma. “Tell me about your village again.” Olamma smiled softly. She liked talking about Oba Kingdom. She began describing everything slowly. “The mornings are quiet there,” she said. “The sun rises slowly behind the palm trees.” Kingsley listened carefully.

“Children wake up and run to the river to fetch water,” she continued. “The women sweep their compound while the men prepare for the farm.” Kingsley nodded. “It sounds peaceful.” “It is.” She looked thoughtful. “At night, the stars are very bright.” Kingsley smiled slightly. “In Lagos, we rarely see stars.” Olamma looked sad for a moment.

“Yes, the lights hide them.” Kingsley watched her quietly. He could see that she missed her home, but she tried to stay strong. Sometimes, they also shared funny moments. One evening, Kingsley tried teaching Olamma how to use a mobile phone. She stared at the screen carefully. “So, this small box can send messages to people far away? Yes.

And they will see it immediately? Yes. Olama shook her head in amazement. This world has too much magic. Kingsley laughed. It is not magic. It feels like magic. He showed her how to type letters. Olama carefully pressed the buttons. After some effort, she managed to type a full sentence. She held the phone proudly.

Look! Kingsley read the message. It said, Hello. This small box is confusing. Kingsley laughed. You are doing well. They both laughed together. As the months passed, something began changing slowly between them. Their friendship grew deeper. They spent more time together. Sometimes they talked late into the night.

Sometimes they sat quietly without speaking, but they felt comfortable with each other. One evening, they were sitting outside the house on two chairs in the compound. The night air was cool. The city was quieter than usual. Kingsley He looked up at the sky. You know something? He said. What? I might be telling the truth.

Olama turned toward him. About what? About coming from another time. Olama stared at him. You believe me now? Kingsley shrugged slowly. At first, I thought you were joking. He paused. Then, I thought you were confused. He looked at her seriously. But you never changed your story. Olama nodded. Because it is the truth. Kingsley continued.

And you did not know anything about this world. That is because it was not my world. Kingsley leaned back in his chair. It still sounds impossible. But you believe it a little. Olama smiled. Maybe a little. Olama smiled softly, too. For a moment, they sat quietly. Neither of them spoke. The night breeze moved gently through the compound.

Then Kingsley asked softly, Do you ever wish to go back? Olama looked up at the sky again. Yes, her voice was gentle. I miss my family. Kingsley nodded slowly. That makes sense. But, Kingsley waited. But I am also grateful. For what? For you. Kingsley felt something warm in his chest. He did not reply immediately, but he smiled.

Their friendship had quietly grown into something deeper. Neither of them had spoken about it yet, but both of them felt it. Then something strange began happening. One night, Olamma woke up suddenly. Her heart was beating fast. She had just seen something in her dream. The shrine. The secret shrine in Oba kingdom.

The same shrine where the strange light had appeared. The glowing light was there again. Bright, powerful, spinning slowly. Olamma sat up in bed. Her breathing was heavy. It was only a dream, she whispered to herself. But the dream returned the next night, and the next. Each time, the light looked brighter.

Each time, the shrine looked clearer. Each time, the dream felt more real. One night, she woke up again with fear in her eyes. She sat on the edge of the bed staring into the darkness. The glowing light was calling her, and deep inside her heart, she felt something troubling. Something was coming. Something that might change everything.

For several nights, Olamma could not sleep peacefully. At first, she tried to ignore the strange dreams. She told herself it was only her mind remembering the past. But every night, the dream returned again. In the dream, she always found herself standing inside the sacred shrine in Oba kingdom. The same shrine she had entered on the night everything changed.

The tall trees surrounded the clearing. The old stones stood quietly in their places. The moon shone above the shrine, and in the center of the clearing floated the same strange light, bright, spinning, alive. The light glowed softly at first, then it grew brighter. The air around it moved slowly like water turning inside a bowl, and every time Olamma looked at it, she felt something deep inside her chest, a pull, a calling, as if the light knew her name, as if the light wanted her to return.

Each time the dream ended the same way. The light would suddenly rush toward her, then she would wake up with her heart beating fast. One night she woke up suddenly and sat upright in her bed. Her breathing was heavy. Her room was dark except for the soft glow of the city lights shining through the window. She placed a hand on her chest.

Her heart was racing. “It was only a dream,” she whispered, but deep inside her heart, she knew it was more than that. The next morning, Kingsley noticed something was wrong. Olamma was sitting quietly at the table staring at a cup of tea. She had not touched it. Kingsley walked into the kitchen and looked at her.

“You look tired.” Olamma slowly lifted her head. “I did not sleep well.” Kingsley sat down across from her. “Why?” Olamma hesitated for a moment, then she spoke. “The dreams have returned.” Kingsley frowned. “What dreams?” “The shrine.” Kingsley listened carefully. Olamma explained everything slowly. She described the glowing light.

She described how the light called her every night. She described the feeling inside her heart. Kingsley tried to stay calm while but the story made him uneasy. He leaned back in his chair. Dreams can be strange sometimes. Olama shook her head slowly. These are not normal dreams. Kingsley looked at her carefully.

What do you mean? The light is calling me. Kingsley forced a small smile. Olama, you’re just remembering where you came from. But Olama was not convinced. The dreams feel real. Kingsley reached across the table and placed his hand gently on hers. Even if they are real, he said softly, I will protect you. Olama looked at him.

Protect me? Yes. Kingsley’s voice was calm but serious. You are not alone anymore. Olama felt warmth spread through her chest. Since coming to this strange world, Kingsley had been the only person who truly cared for her. He had given her shelter. He had taught her many things. He had protected her from the cruelty of others.

Now he was promising to protect her again. Olama smiled slightly. Thank you. Kingsley smiled back. Nothing will take you away. But that promise would soon be tested. That night the air felt strangely heavy. Olama and Kingsley had finished dinner and were sitting in the living room. The television was on but neither of them was paying attention.

Olama felt uneasy. She could not explain why. The room felt different. The air felt strange. Kingsley noticed her discomfort. What is wrong? Olama looked around slowly. I feel something. What kind of something? She shook her head. I do not know. Kingsley tried to reassure her. You are safe here. But suddenly something changed.

The lights in the room flickered. Kingsley frowned. That is strange. The lights flickered again. Then the air inside the room began to move slowly. The curtains by the window began to sway gently even though the window was closed. Olamma stood up slowly. Her heart began beating faster. She knew this feeling. She had felt it once before on the night she entered the shrine.

Olamma, Kingsley said carefully. But Olamma was already turning toward the center of the room. A faint glow appeared in the air. At first it was small, almost like a tiny star. Kingsley squinted. What is that? The glow grew brighter. The light slowly expanded. The air around it moved faster. The room filled with a soft humming sound.

Olamma felt the same pull she had felt in her dreams. The light was calling her again. It is the shrine, she whispered. Kingsley turned to her quickly. What do you mean? It has come to take me back. Kingsley shook his head immediately. No. But Olamma could feel it clearly. The light belonged to her past, to Oba kingdom, to her family.

She slowly stepped closer to it. Kingsley grabbed her arm. Do not go. Olamma turned to him. Tears were already forming in her eyes. I have to. No. Kingsley’s voice was louder now. You cannot leave like this. I miss my family. Kingsley’s grip tightened. You can stay here. Olamma shook her head gently.

My mother, my father, they will think I am dead. Kingsley’s heart felt heavy. You are not dead. But they do not know that. The light glowed brighter. The humming sound grew louder. The air in the room spun faster. Olamma felt tears roll down her cheeks. She looked at Kingsley. You were kind to me.

Kingsley’s eyes filled with pain. Then stay. I cannot. Kingsley shook his head again. You do not know what will happen if you step into that thing. Olamma smiled sadly. I stepped into it once already. Kingsley’s voice broke slightly. Olamma. She gently removed his hand from her arm. Thank you for everything. Kingsley stepped forward desperately.

Please do not go. Olamma looked at him one last time. I will never forget you. Then she turned toward the light. Slowly she stepped closer. The glow surrounded her. The air swirled around her body. Kingsley suddenly ran forward. Olamma. But it was too late. The light pulled her inside. Her body disappeared into the glowing center.

The light flashed brightly one final time. Then it vanished. The room became completely silent. Kingsley stood frozen. The place where Olamma had been standing was now empty. For several seconds he could not move. He could not breathe. He could not think. Then the truth hit him. She was gone. Kingsley slowly dropped to his knees. Tears filled his eyes.

Olamma, he whispered. The room remained silent around him. Darkness slowly faded from Olamma’s eyes. At first she could only hear voices. Soft voices. Familiar voices. Someone was crying. Someone else was whispering prayers. Then she heard the voice she knew better than any other voice. Olama, my daughter, open your eyes.

Her mother’s voice trembled with worry. Olama [snorts] tried to move, but her body felt heavy. Her head hurt, and her chest felt tight, as if she had been running for a very long time. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The roof above her was made of dry palm leaves. The walls around her were made of smooth red clay.

The smell of firewood smoke filled the air. For a moment, she did not understand what she was seeing, then realization struck her. She was home. She was lying on a mat inside her family’s hut in Oba Kingdom. Her mother leaned over her with tears shining in her eyes. Her younger siblings sat nearby looking frightened. Her father stood near the doorway with a worried face.

“Olama!” her mother cried happily. “You are awake!” Her mother quickly held her hand. “We thought we had lost you.” Olama blinked slowly. Her throat felt dry. Her mind was still trying to understand what had happened. Her mother continued speaking. “You frightened us so much.” Olama tried to sit up, but her mother gently pushed her back down.

“Rest,” her mother said softly. “You have been sick.” “Sick?” Olama whispered. Her father stepped closer. “Yes,” we found you near the shrine. Olama’s eyes widened. “The shrine?” “Yes,” her father said. “You were lying on the ground there.” Her younger brother spoke quickly. “You were not moving.

” Her mother wiped tears from her face. “You had fever for many days.” Olama frowned. “Many days?” “Yes,” her mother replied. “You were burning like fire.” Olama tried to remember. The glowing light, Kingsley’s house, the modern city, the strange machines, the moving pictures inside the television. Her heart suddenly beat faster.

“Kingsley,” she whispered. Her mother looked confused. “What did you say?” Olama sat up slowly. “Kingsley.” Her siblings looked at each other. Her mother sighed softly. “You have been saying that name for days.” Olama stared at her. “I have?” “Yes,” her father said. “While you were sleeping, you kept calling the name again and again.” Her mother nodded.

“We did not know who Kingsley is.” Olama’s chest tightened. “Kingsley.” The young man who had helped her. The one who had protected her. The one she had left behind. Suddenly, tears filled her eyes. Her mother noticed. “Do not worry,” she said gently. “You only had a bad fever.” Olama shook her head slowly.

“It was not a dream.” Her father frowned. “What do you mean?” Olama looked at all of them. “I was not sick.” Her mother looked concerned. “Olama.” “I traveled.” Her siblings began to whisper. Her father folded his arms. “Traveled where?” Olama took a deep breath. “To another world.” Her family stared at her. She began telling them everything.

She spoke about the shrine. She described the bright spinning light. She explained how the light swallowed her. She told them how she woke up in a strange city filled with giant houses that touched the sky. She told them about the roaring metal beasts that ran on the roads. She told them about the talking boxes called televisions.

She told them about the cold air machines that blew wind inside houses. She told them about Kingsley, the young man who had helped her survive. Her mother listened quietly. Her siblings listened with wide eyes. But when she finished, her father sighed. “Olama,” he said gently, “you were very sick.” “It was not a dream,” Olama insisted.

Her younger sister laughed softly. “You were calling strange names while sleeping.” Her brother smiled. “Maybe the fever spirit were confusing your head.” Her mother touched her forehead. “You are better now.” But, Olama knew what she had experienced. She had lived in that world. She had seen everything with her own eyes.

She had felt everything, and most importantly, Kingsley had been real. But, nobody believed her. The villagers also heard the story. They laughed kindly when she explained what happened. One old woman shook her head. “Fever dreams can be very strong,” another man laughed. “So, now our Olama has traveled to a land of talking walls?” The villagers did not mean to hurt her feelings.

They simply believed she had been sick. Soon, life in the village returned to normal. Olama helped her mother with cooking again. She fetched water from the river. She swept the compound. But, something inside her had changed. Sometimes, she would look at the sky and remember the bright city lights of Lagos. Sometimes, she would hear distant drums and remember the loud horns of the cars.

And sometimes, she would remember Kingsley. She wondered if he was still searching for her, or if he believed she had disappeared forever. Days passed quietly. Then, excitement spread across Oba kingdom. News reached the village. Prince Uzoma was returning home. The prince had spent many years in another kingdom learning the ways of warriors.

Now, he had completed his training. He was returning with honor. The entire kingdom prepared for celebration. Women decorated the kingdom courtyard with colorful cloths. Men beat large drums that echoed across the land. Children ran through the village shouting happily, “The prince is coming.” Even Olamma felt curious.

She had heard many stories about Prince Uzoma, but she had never seen him before. The day of the celebration arrived. The palace courtyard filled with people from every part of the kingdom. Women danced joyfully. Men clapped and sang. Drums thundered loudly. Olamma stood among the crowd with her friends. Her mind was still partly lost in memories of the strange world she had seen, but the joyful celebration helped lift her spirit.

Suddenly, the palace guards blew their long horns. The sound echoed across the courtyard. The prince had arrived. Everyone grew quiet. Then cheering erupted. Prince Uzoma walked proudly into the courtyard. He was tall and strong. His shoulders were broad. His warrior clothing shone in the sunlight. His eyes were confident and calm. The people clapped loudly.

“Welcome, Prince Uzoma.” The prince smiled and raised his hand. He walked slowly through the crowd toward the king, but then something happened. Olamma saw his face. Her heart suddenly stopped. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened. She could not believe what she was seeing. The prince looked exactly like someone she knew, someone she had left behind.

Without thinking, she pushed through the crowd. People turned in surprise. Then she shouted loudly, “Kingsley!” The entire courtyard became silent. Everyone turned to look at her. The prince stopped walking. He turned slowly toward her. Their eyes met. For a moment, neither of them moved. The prince stared at her as if he had seen a ghost. His eyes widened.

Something inside him recognized her. Slowly, recognition appeared on his face. He stepped forward. His voice was soft. “Ola.” The crowd gasped loudly. People began to whisper. How does the prince know her? What is happening? The king looked confused. The elders exchanged worried looks, but Prince Uzoma was no longer paying attention to anyone else.

He walked straight toward Olamma. His eyes never left her face and Olamma stared back at him in shock. She knew that face. She had seen it many times before. Not in this time, not in this world. She had seen it in the future. She had seen it in Lagos. She had seen it as Kingsley. The same eyes, the same face, the same voice, the same man.

And in that moment, both of them realized something unbelievable. They had met before, but in another time. The entire village stood in stunned silence. Nobody understood what was happening, but everyone could see that something impossible had just begun. Only a few moments earlier, the place had been full of drums, singing, laughter, and dancing.

Villagers had gathered from every corner of the Oba kingdom to welcome their prince home after many years of warrior training. But now the music had stopped. The drums were silent. The dancers had frozen. Hundreds of eyes stared at only two people standing in the center of the courtyard. Olamma and Prince Uzoma.

The prince stood tall in his warrior clothing, but his face was filled with confusion and wonder. Olamma stood before him with tears shining in her eyes. Around them stood the king, the elders, the palace guards, and villagers of every age. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Everyone was waiting. Finally, the king stepped forward slowly.

His voice was calm, but serious. “Olamma,” he said. “Yes, my king,” she replied respectfully. “What is happening here?” Olama swallowed nervously. She could feel the eyes of the entire kingdom watching her. Her heart beat loudly in her chest, but she knew she had to speak the truth. She slowly lifted her head and looked at the king.

“My king.” She began softly. “What I am about to say may sound strange.” The elders leaned closer to listen. The villagers whispered among themselves, but the king raised his hand and the courtyard became quiet again. “Speak.” The king said. Olama took a deep breath. Then she began telling her story.

She spoke slowly so everyone could understand. “My king, many days ago I entered the sacred shrine during the full moon.” The elders immediately exchanged worried looks. The shrine was known to be a powerful place. Olama continued. “There was a strange light inside the shrine.” Some villagers gasped quietly. “I had never seen anything like it before.

” She paused for a moment as the memory returned clearly in her mind. “The light was bright and spinning in the air.” The people listened with growing curiosity. “It pulled me inside it.” Mama spread through the crowd. “Then I woke up in another world.” Some villagers shook their heads in disbelief, but Olama continued bravely.

“That world was very different from ours.” She began describing everything she had seen. She spoke about the giant buildings that touched the sky. She spoke about the wide black roads filled with roaring metal beasts called cars. She spoke about the loud horns that sounded like thunder. She spoke about the strange machines that made life easier for people.

“The houses there had cold wind blowing inside them.” She explained. The villagers looked confused. Cold wind? Someone whispered. “Well, Olanna nodded. Yes, machines that blow cold air. Some villagers laughed quietly, but others listened carefully. She continued describing the strange world. There were talking boxes on the walls.

The boxes showed people moving and speaking inside them. More laughter spread through the crowd, but Olanna remained serious. It is called television. The word sounded strange in the village air. Then her voice softened. And in that strange world, I met someone. The villagers leaned closer. A young man, she paused.

He helped me when I was lost. The courtyard was silent again. He gave me food. He protected me. He taught me many things about that world. Olanna looked toward Prince Uzoma. Her voice trembled slightly. His name was Kingsley. The prince’s eyes widened. The villagers began whispering again. Olanna continued.

I lived in that world for many months. She explained how Kingsley had taught her to read and write. She explained how he had protected her from danger. She explained how they had become close friends. Then her voice grew sad. One night, the strange light returned. She swallowed. The light took me away from that world. She looked around the courtyard.

And when I woke up again, I was back here. The villagers murmured with confusion. Some believed her story. Some did not. Some looked frightened. Others looked amazed. The king remained quiet, thinking deeply. Then something surprising happened. Prince Uzoma stepped forward. His voice was calm, but strong. My father, he said to the king.

Yes, the king replied. There’s something I must say. Everyone turned to look at him. The prince slowly faced the crowd. For many months during my warrior training in another kingdom, he paused. I had the same dream every night. The villagers looked curious. In the dream, I was not in any kingdom I knew.

He continued speaking slowly. I was in a strange city, a city with giant houses that touched the sky. The crowd began whispering loudly. A city filled with loud metal beasts that ran on wide roads. Olamma’s eyes widened. She knew exactly what he was describing. The prince continued. There were bright lights everywhere.

Machines that moved, boxes that showed people speaking inside them. The villagers gasped again. Then Prince Omar looked directly at Olamma. And in that strange world, I met someone. He walked closer to her. A young woman. The courtyard was completely silent. She was brave. She was curious. She asked many questions. His voice softened.

I told her about my village. I told her about my family. I told her about Oba Kingdom. The villagers stared in shock. Then the prince said quietly, “Her name was Olamma.” A loud gasp spread across the courtyard. Olamma felt her heart pounding inside her chest. The prince continued speaking. “She showed me kindness. She made me laugh.

She helped me understand the strange world in my dream.” The villagers could hardly believe what they were hearing. Both of them had seen the same world. Both of them had met each other there, but not in this time. The elders began whispering nervously. “This is strange. This is powerful. This is not ordinary.” Finally, one elder stepped forward.

“My king,” he said respectfully. “Yes,” the king replied. “This matter is beyond ordinary understanding.” The elder looked around the courtyard. “We must call the dibia. The king nodded slowly. Yes. A messenger quickly ran to summon the village spiritual priest. Soon, the dibia arrived. He was an old man with wise eyes.

In his hand, he carried his sacred staff and a small bag of cowries. The courtyard remained silent as he stepped forward. The king spoke first. Dibia, something strange has happened. The dibia nodded calmly. I can feel it. The king explained everything that had been said. The dibia listened quietly. Then he turned toward Olamma.

Tell me your story. Olamma repeated everything carefully. Then the dibia turned to Prince Uzoma. And you? Prince Uzoma repeated his own story about the dreams. When both of them finished, the dibia sat down slowly. He opened his small bag. He removed the cowries and placed them carefully on the ground. The villagers watched nervously.

The dibia closed his eyes. Then he cast the cowries on the ground. They scattered across the sand. The dibia studied them carefully. The courtyard was so quiet that even the wind could be heard. After a long moment, the dibia slowly lifted his head. His voice was serious. This is not a dream.

The villagers held their breath. The spirits have shown me something powerful. Everyone leaned forward. These two young people are tied by destiny. The villagers murmured. Their souls found each other across time. Shock spread across the crowd. The dibia continued speaking. What they saw was not madness. It was a bridge between worlds.

He pointed gently toward Olamma and the prince. They are meant to walk the same path in this life. The king slowly nodded. The elders nodded. Then Prince Uzoma stepped closer to Olamma. Without hesitation, he gently held her hand. Neither of them spoke. They did not need to. They had already found each other across time.

The king raised his hand. “Let it be known,” he declared, “that the prince will marry Olamma.” Cheers erupted across the courtyard. The drums began beating again. Women began dancing. The celebration continued for many days. Soon, the wedding of Prince Uzoma and Olamma became the greatest celebration our kingdom had ever seen.

Years later, their home was filled with beautiful children. Children who carried both courage and curiosity. And the villagers would always tell the story. The story of the maiden who walked through time and the prince who found her in dreams. A love that traveled across centuries and still found its way home.

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