Chapter 5: The Base
1288 Words
The morning after Lisa’s fried rice, Ada woke up feeling full for the first time in weeks. But the fullness didn’t last.
By Wednesday, the garri was gone again. Her roommates had gone home for mid-semester break. Room 12 was empty and hot. The only sound was the ceiling fan clicking like a countdown.
Click. Click. Hungry.
Ada tried to read BIO 111. Mitosis: prophase, metaphase, anaphase… The words kept swimming. Her head hurt. Her stomach hurt more.
There was a knock. Lisa stood there in a silk bonnet and short leggings. She held two takeaway packs.
“You ate yesterday?” Lisa asked.
Ada shook her head. She was too tired to lie.
Lisa dropped the food on the locker. “Eat. Then we need to talk.”
The food was jollof rice and chicken. Ada finished it in five minutes. When she looked up, Lisa was watching her with an expression Ada couldn’t read. Pity? Understanding? Something else?
“You can’t keep doing this,” Lisa said. “Soaking garri. Walking under sun. Failing tests because you’re hungry.”
“I’m managing,” Ada said. It was what everyone said at ABSU. I'm managing. Even when they weren’t.
“You’re not managing. You’re dying small-small.” Lisa sat on the bed. “Ada, how much did your dad give you for the semester?”
“Twenty thousand.”
Lisa laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “Twenty thousand? That’s not even my wig money.”
Ada felt her face get hot. “Not everyone is like you.”
“Exactly.” Lisa leaned forward. “That’s why I’m here. To show you how to be like me.”
She pulled out her phone and showed Ada a picture. Lisa in a red dress, standing next to a black Lexus. A man’s arm was around her waist. His face was cut off, but his wristwatch looked expensive.
“That’s my sponsor,” Lisa said. “He pays my rent. My school fees. My hair. Everything.”
Ada’s church brain froze. Sponsor. Aristo. Hookup.
All the words her mother warned her about.
“I’m not doing that,” Ada said fast. “I’m not ashawo.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Who called you ashawo? Calm down. I’m not telling you to sleep with anybody.”
She stood up and opened her wardrobe. It was full. Dresses. Heels. Bags with gold chains. Things Ada had only seen in Nollywood movies.
“Look,” Lisa said. “ABSU is hard. For girls like us without backup, it’s harder. But there are options. Men who like to help. Rich men. Politicians. Businessmen. They don’t want s*x, Ada. They want company. A young, smart girl to talk to. To show off. To make them feel young again.”
Ada didn’t believe her. “And they pay you for talking?”
“They pay me for my time. My energy. My vibe.” Lisa picked up a perfume bottle and sprayed it. The room smelled like money. “Last week, I went to Umuahia with Uncle T. We ate at Kilimanjaro. He gave me 80k for ‘transport.’ I didn’t even touch him.”
80k.
Ada’s father made 20k a month as a secondary school teacher.
“Just come out with me tonight,” Lisa said. “One night. You’ll see. If you don’t like it, you walk away. No force. I promise.”
Ada wanted to say no. She wanted to say _I’m a Medicine student. I’m a virgin. I’m a pastor’s daughter._
But her stomach growled. Loud.
Lisa heard it. She didn’t laugh. She just nodded like she understood.
“7pm,” Lisa said. “Wear something nice. If you don’t have, I’ll borrow you.”
She left.
Ada sat on her bed for one hour. She opened her Bible. Psalm 23: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
But she did want. She wanted food. She wanted to pass BIO 111. She wanted to not be the “village girl” anymore.
At 6:30pm, Lisa came back with a red dress.
“It’s tight,” Ada said, holding it up. The dress would show her knees. Her shoulders. Everything.
“It’s supposed to be,” Lisa said. “Tonight, you’re not Sister Ada from the village. You’re just Ada. A fine girl.”
Ada put it on. The girl in the mirror wasn’t her. This girl had legs. A waist. Eyes that looked hungry for something else, not just food.
Who is that? Ada thought.
The place was called The Base. It was behind the school gate, past the mama put stands. Music was so loud the ground shook. Boys wore chains and shouted into phones. Girls in short skirts danced on chairs.
Ada had never been anywhere like this. Church was the loudest place she knew. And they only clapped.
A man walked up to them. Tall. Gold chain. Pink lip balm. He kissed Lisa’s cheek like he owned her.
“Lizzy baby,” he said. “You came through.” Then he saw Ada. His eyes did a slow walk from her head to her toes. “And you brought a friend. Fresh meat.”
Ada stepped back. “I’m Ada. I’m in Medicine and"
“She’s new,” Lisa cut in fast. “Be nice, Desmond.”
Desmond smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m always nice to beautiful girls.” He snapped his fingers and a waiter brought a dark bottle. Hennessy.
“Drink,” Desmond said, pouring three glasses. “It helps with the nerves.”
“I don’t drink,” Ada said.
Lisa and Desmond laughed like she was a child.
“One sip,” Lisa said. “For courage. ABSU needs courage.”
The liquid burned Ada’s throat. Her eyes watered. But after that, the music wasn’t so scary. The men weren’t so loud.
Desmond talked. About his cars. His houses. His “connections.”
“Lisa told me you’re struggling,” he said to Ada. “School fees. Feeding. Handouts. I can help with all that.”
“How?” Ada’s voice was small.
“I have friends,” Desmond said. “Big men. They’re lonely. They like smart girls. You go out with them. Dinner. Hotel. Gist. Make them laugh. They give you money. 50k. 100k. For one night of your time.”
One night.
Ada thought of her mother’s wrapper. The one with the hole she kept sewing. She thought of her father borrowing money from the cooperative to pay her acceptance fee.
100k.
She could pay her fees. Buy textbooks. Eat chicken every day. Send money home.
“Think about it,” Lisa whispered. “No more hunger. No more ‘mumu.’ You can be a doctor and be comfortable.”
Ada stood up. The chair fell behind her. “I have to go.”
“Ada” Lisa started.
“No!” Ada ran out of The Base. She ran past the Keke drivers. Past the boys calling “fine girl.” She ran until her lungs burned and the red dress was sticking to her skin.
She didn’t stop until she got to Room 12. She locked the door. She tore the dress off like it was fire. She scrubbed her mouth in the bathroom like she could wash away the taste of Hennessy and shame.
Her phone beeped. Unknown number.
"U looked good in red. My offer stands. 100k for one night. No stress. D”
Ada deleted it. Then she blocked the number. Then she cried.
Not because she was hungry.
But because for three seconds in that bar, when Desmond said 100k, she had imagined saying yes.
And God was watching.
- Writer
