Assumptions
709 Words
📖 Chapter 10
Assumptions
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Fieldwork always sounded simple when lecturers described it.
“Just collect responses,” Professor Okoye had said.
As if students naturally enjoyed walking up to strangers and asking structured questions on cooperative participation levels.
Tina disagreed strongly.
“I regret everything,” she announced dramatically as she stared at the clipboard in her hand. “I should have chosen a different course.”
“You say that every semester,” Chike replied calmly.
“This time I mean it.”
“You meant it last semester.”
“This semester feels more serious.”
Amara smiled slightly as she adjusted the stack of questionnaires in her folder.
The faculty courtyard was already busy with students moving between lectures, study groups, and hostel routes. It was the perfect place to begin interviews.
Daniel stepped beside her.
“We’ll start near the staircase entrance,” he said. “Higher traffic there.”
She nodded.
“Good idea.”
Tina watched them both suspiciously.
“You two always agree very quickly,” she said.
“That’s called planning,” Daniel replied.
“That’s called suspicious teamwork.”
“That’s called efficiency,” Chike added.
“I am surrounded by serious people,” Tina said sadly.
The first few interviews went better than expected.
Chike handled responses confidently, explaining questions clearly and adjusting tone depending on who he spoke with.
Tina tried.
Truly tried.
But halfway through her third questionnaire, she returned dramatically.
“One respondent asked me what cooperative development means,” she said. “I panicked.”
“You study Cooperative Economics,” Amara reminded her.
“I panicked academically.”
Daniel tried not to laugh.
“You’re doing fine,” he said.
“I am surviving,” Tina corrected.
“That counts,” Chike replied.
Across the courtyard, a familiar voice called Daniel’s name.
He turned.
Ify approached with two friends beside her.
“You’re really doing fieldwork yourself?” she asked, smiling slightly.
“Yes,” he said simply.
She glanced toward Amara.
Then toward the questionnaires in Daniel’s hand.
“You could have delegated,” she said.
“We’re working as a group.”
Amara noticed the way Ify said delegated.
Like Daniel normally didn’t do things like this himself.
Like this was unusual.
Ify looked back at him again.
“You’re coming for the planning meeting later?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll save you a seat.”
Daniel nodded politely.
“Thanks.”
She left just as smoothly as she arrived.
Tina leaned closer immediately.
“I have questions,” she whispered.
“You always do,” Amara replied.
“I mean important questions.”
“Later,” Daniel said.
“Yes,” Tina agreed quickly. “Later.”
By the time they reached their tenth respondent, the group had settled into a rhythm.
Chike explained the questions.
Amara recorded responses efficiently.
Daniel coordinated movement between locations.
Tina handled introductions with unexpected confidence once she stopped overthinking.
“You see?” Daniel said quietly beside Amara. “Effective teamwork.”
“You planned it well,” she replied.
“We planned it well,” he corrected.
She didn’t argue this time.
Because he was right.
Near the faculty staircase, a second-year student approached them hesitantly.
“Excuse me,” she said, looking between Amara and Daniel. “Are you the ones conducting the cooperative participation survey?”
“Yes,” Amara replied.
“I already filled one earlier,” the student said. “Your boyfriend explained it.”
Silence.
Tina froze.
Chike stopped writing.
Daniel blinked once.
Amara nearly dropped her pen.
“My—?”
The student pointed casually at Daniel.
“He was standing near the entrance earlier.”
“Oh,” Amara said quickly. “He’s not—”
“We’re working together,” Daniel said at the same time.
The student smiled.
“That’s nice.”
Then walked away.
Tina turned slowly.
Very slowly.
“I said,” she whispered dramatically, “I had questions.”
Chike nodded once.
“I also have questions.”
Daniel returned to organizing the questionnaire stack like nothing unusual had happened.
But Amara noticed something.
He hadn’t corrected the assumption.
Not directly.
And somehow—
Neither had she.
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