AS THE WHITE GRAND Cherokee Jeep reeled down the narrow, steep road surrounded by scary-looking hills, out of Ekiti State’s capital city, Ado-Ekiti, Farida clutched Kurt’s right hand in her left.
He tossed a grin at her, white teeth shining, dimples denting his cheeks. “We’ll be there soon.”
“The sooner the better.” She muttered but then, a smile graced her lips. The journey here had been very comfortable. This Saturday morning, they’d flown into Akure airport in Ondo State from Lagos, just the two of them, apart from the flight attendants, on a Zik’s Air plane. She’d eaten a delicious breakfast on the plane: pancakes with honey, flawless slices of toast smeared with unsalted butter and blackberry jam, plus a cup of cappuccino. On disembarking from the plane, there had been a driver and
