Bitch

Episode 28

It must have taken Zainab over thirty
minutes before she could understand the
way the contents of the file were
arranged.

The file was a collection of four set of
different coloured sheets of paper; yellow,
blue, green and of course, the normal
white.

The white sheet of papers which were ten
in number, they contained things that
weren’t that pressing and she could do
anytime she felt like. The yellow sheets
contained things she was supposed to do
before the end of the day; they were
fifteen. The blue contained things that
were supposed to be done during the day
time, after the lunch break to be specific;
they were six sheets. And the green sheets
contained things she was to do right
away; just three green sheets.

“These people are pretty organised!”
Zainab though out loud.

She separated the three green sheets from
the file and pushed the file away as she
started going through the sheet’s contents.
The green sheets contained the summary
of a thirty minutes sport program she was
supposed to go and direct right away since
it was being shot in the studio which was
at the northern wing of the same
building.

She had expected something totally
different. She had thought it would be one
project at a time and probably she could
start from learning from the old director
to know how things were meant to be
done, but here she was, reading files on
sports even though she never really had
any interest in sit and she could bet the
crew were already waiting for her.
In no time, she got the basic idea and
stood up from her seat, picked up the few
green sheets of paper and headed to the
northern wing.

“Here goes nothing!” She sighed.

---

She finally got to the right studio after
missing her several times, she had
assumed there would be only one studio
in the building, but she was wrong. There
were four studios in all and so she had to
ask for directions. Just as she had guessed,
the crew were already waiting for her.
Most of them had heard that the old
director had been transferred to their
new branch in Ghana so they expected a
new director today.

Zainab stood at the door for a few
minutes, staring at the whole room filled
with people, cameras and a stage which
had been set already.
Then she walked in, “hello everyone.” She
said hoping to get their attention.
No one replied at first because her voice
was really low and they were busy trying
to put things in order for the supposed
new director.

“Hello everyone!” She said with a louder
tone.
Everyone paused and turned to her, she
felt shy and unsure for a minute but
quickly cleared her mind.
“Is this studio two?” She asked. She had
seen the number “2” at the front of the
door but just needed to be sure first.
“Yes, it is.” A fair, chubby man with a
“pot belle” replied. He had one of those
kind of face that were always smiling, just
like a permanent smile, Zainab could bet
he had never frowned in his life.
“Oh! Good. So I’m guess this is the
sporting crew?” Zainab asked.
“You are right. But may I ask, who are
you?” The chubby man replied.
Zainab shrugged, “oh, I’m Zainab An,” she
wanted to say “Anderson” but realised she
wasn’t really an Anderson anymore since
she was divorced, but was she going to
keep the surname or change back to her
former surname? She asked herself.
She suddenly realised the chubby man
and about eighty percent of the people in
the room were still staring at her, waiting
for a proper introduction.

“I’m the new overall director, you can
call me Zainab,” she finally replied,
expertly avoiding the surname issue.
The chubby man face brightened, “oh!
Nice to meet you Zainab, we have been
expecting you. I’m Mr Awoyinka, I’m the
assistant sport director.” He offered his
hand to Zainab and she shook him.
“We go live on-air in ten minutes, so I’m
guess we had better start preparing.” Mr
Awoyinka replied.

“Oh!” Zainab exclaimed in shock, “as in
this is a life show? Not recording and
broadcast later on?” She asked. She had
never done a live show, as an actress, the
movies were filmed and then released to
the public after all the error had been
corrected, so this was a new thing to her,
she knew no mistakes would be tolerated.
“Yes! Its a live show.” Mr Awoyinka
replied grinning, he had an idea about
what was going on in her head.

---

Jummy could have sworn her day
couldn’t get a worse after the whole
Stephen drama early that morning.
She locked her self in her office all
morning, swarmed in office work all
because she didn’t want to think much
about the trip.
She just couldn’t believed it. Two weeks
without John who she had grown very
fond of and two weeks with Stephen who
she despised, all alone in a strange land.
Life is a b1tch, she thought.
She noticed she was already thinking
about it once more and immediately
focused on her work, just then, the
intercom when live.

Without check which office the call was
from, she picked it.
“Hello,” she said.
“Come to my office now.” Was the
response she got and the caller hung up.
Jummy didn’t need to check who called,
only one person could speak to her that
way in the office and she knew it. But
judging from the tone of the call, she
could sense trouble.

She tapped some buttons on her computer
and put it to sleep, she stood up and
headed to Mrs Ogbanaya office.
Jummy got there and knocked, without
waiting for a response, she walked in to
the office.

“You sent for me ma,” she said as she
noticed Mrs Ogbonaya didn’t even look up
at her.

Mrs Ogbonaya didn’t reply.
Jummy was wondering why Mrs
Ogbonaya always had to play the
hardcore boss, can’t she just free herself
and be friendly for once?
Mrs Ogbonaya kept on doing what she was
doing and Jummy kept on staring at the
woman, not sure about how she was
supposed to react.

After about two minutes of silence, the
only noise that was made was from the
keyboard as Mrs Ogbonaya typed
something.

Mrs Ogbonaya looked up at Jummy and
asked a question which nearly threw her
of her balance.

“I’m going to ask you this just once and it
would be in your own interest to answer
with the truth.” Mrs Ogbanaya started
and stopped typing, she looked up to
Jummy and asked, “What is going on
between you and Stephen?”

---

•B•

The stage was set, the cameras were
rolling and the presenters were good to
go.

On the stage, was the presenter who was
to anchor the show and ask the questions,
and two invited guests.
They were all clad in sleek black
designers suit that would make even
James Bond blush. Someone who probably
saw them when they were leaving their
houses that morning would have thought
they were going to a very important
meeting with the president of the United
States of America.

The main presenter was a well built man
of roughly twenty six, he was dark in
complexion and of average height. The
guests were both retired famous
footballers.
“Good morning viewers, you are tuned in
to ‘Thirty Minutes Of Football with Osi’.
What we do is break down and analyse
everything that’s been happenning in the
world of football in thirty minutes. Today
I have to special guests who don’t need
much introductions, on my left we have
retired Manchester United FC forward,
Musa Adamu and on my right we have
two times africa best player, Iheanacho
Kelechi.” Osi kept quiet for a micro
second and continued, “so let’s get down
to business, we start with topics making
round here in our country Nigeria. Before
we do that let’s go for a short commercial
break.”

Zainab didn’t need to yell cut before an
advert was put on play, Zainab watched
in silence, not because she was scared of
things going wrong but because she had
never been a fan of sports, let alone
football, she hated football as a matter of
fact and here she was, directing a football
show. How ironic, she thought.
The advert ended and the cameras started
rolling once again, “So Musa,” Osi – the
presenter started, referring to one of the
guests, “what’s your take on the current
Nigerian football scene, do you think we
are doing better compared to your days in
the national team?”
Without much hesitations, Musa cleared
his throat and replied. “You don’t
compare two generations in football so I
can’t give you a direct answer to that
question.” His accent was a mixture of
the ideal Hausa accent where “FA” and
“Ps” are mixed up and a slight British
accept which he adopted during his years
of playing for Arsenal in North-London.

He continued, “take for example, Lionel
Messi and Christaino Ronaldo have both
collectively broken almost all the football
records the likes of Pele and Maradona set
back in those days, would you now say
that Messi is better than Pele?” Musa
asked and waited for a answer but got
non, so he continued, “no! You can’t, and
the reason is simple, the rules of the game
has changed, the training facilities has
changed, the stake and bars have been
raised so comparing isn’t really going to
be fair. All I can say is, the super eagles,
the super eaglets, the super falcons and
all other national team are currently
doing very well. Just this year, the senior
male team won the CAF and the U-17
team won the World cup.”

The presented was frustrated by the
answer, he had hope for a simple yes or
no reply but instead he was being asked if
Pele is better than Messi.

What has that got to do with my
question? He silently wondered.

He smile at Musa and turned to his other
guest, “Iheanacho, during your time, you
were nominated twice for the world best
player, ever since then, no other Nigerian
player has been nominated let alone win
the prestigious award, does this mean
that the standard of football in the
country is falling?”

Iheanacho gave a enigmatic smile which
made the presenter wonder what was
behind the smile. “I don’t think its falling,
rather, like Musa said, the bars and
stakes has been raised.” He replied, and
the presenter now knew what was behind
the smile.

He wanted to ask more about it but
something in him advised against it, so he
moved on.

He turned to the front camera and he saw
Mr Awoyinka who stood behind the
camera, signalling him to move on to
another topic and leave the Nigerian
football scene.

“We are going to quickly move on to the
foreign scene, the biggest matches we
have this weekend are without any doubt,
Arsenal versus Manchester United, Napoli
versus Juventus and the almighty el
classico, Real Madrid versus Barcelona.”
Osi turned to Musa, “Musa, what are your
predictions?”

“You can’t be hundred percent correct
when predicting football, but! I think the
winners this weekend would be Arsenal
because they are in top form and are
having a wonderful season so far and on
the top of their league table, Napoli, and
of course, I expect Real Madrid to take the
el classico win because they are in pretty
good form and Barcelona is short of
Messi, I think we all know what that
means.”

“Nice analyses Musa, how about you
Iheanacho, what’s your prediction?”
“Well I think Man-U would win the
match against Arsenal because its Old
trafford and then there is Rooney and Van
Persie who as far as history is correct are
dangerous to Arsenal, I gave the seria A
match to Napoli and I give the el clasico
to Barcelona.”

Osi checked the timer and he saw it was
already almost thirty minutes, he need to
end the show.

“Okay viewers, that’s all we have for you
today, if you have any suggestions or
questions, you can send an Email to the
email address showing on the screen at
the moment. Have a splendid week.”

“And cut!” Mr Awoyinka said in a low
tone.

He turned to Zainab who looked bored as
hell, “you did pretty well for a first day,”
he teased.

Zainab just smiled and walked out of the
studio, she made a mental note to either
bring a bed to the studio next week or
leave everything related to the program in
the hands of Mr Awoyinka.

So much for a first day, Zainab thought.

She had expected her day one on the job
would be fun, but so far, it had been
everything but fun.

---

Jummy stood in silence for close to a
minute, trying to really understand what
was happening. How did Mrs Ogbonaya
get the hint that something was going on
between her and Stephen? She had
thought the little stunt he had pulled
which earned her the promotion had
shookd her of the woman’s radar.

“Miss Olukoya, I asked you a question,”
Mrs Ogbonaya snapped Jummy out of her
thoughts.

“Err… Huh? You what?” Jummy stuttered.

Mrs Ogbonaya looked at Jummy plainly
and repeated the question, “what’s going
on between you and Stephen?”
Jummy decided to go with the risky
answer, “nothing ma,” she replied and
kept quiet, waiting for the worse to
happen.

“Are you sure?”
Jummy briefly thought about her answer
and affirmed it.

To Jummy’s greatest surprise, Mrs
Ogbonaya smiled and said, “Okay, if you
say so. I’m aware you are both going on a
trip soon, if he starts acting wierd or you
have any complaint about him, don’t
hesitate to report him to me, I know how
to handle him.”

Jummy raised and eyebrow and then
closed her mouth, she didn’t even know
when she opened it, “okay ma.” She
replied, it sounded more like a question.

“You may return to your work, you are
doing pretty well by the way.” Mrs
Ogbonaya smiled once again and waved
Jummy off.

In all her years of working at GNP,
Jummy she had never seen Mrs Ogbonaya
smile at all, let alone smile to her. Jummy
knew there was something fishy about
this whole set up,
But what was behind this Mrs Ogbonaya
smile? Jummy asked herself as she walked
back to her office deep in thoughts.
She got to her office and checked the date
of departure and saw it was two days
from now.

She took a deep breath, picked up her
phone and dialled John’s number.

---

John wasn’t having the best of days
neither. Two of his massive weaving
machines which would take nothing less
than a week to repair had crashed and he
had just signed a contract to deliver a
huge amount of materials in two days
time to a new Federal School who wanted
to have a uniquely different school
uniform that couldn’t be bought just
anywhere.

And the thing with contract works was
that a percentage of the final pay is
deducted for each day the package is
delivered, and with out those two
machines, there was no possible way he
could meet up with the deep line, he had
to improvise otherwise, he would be so
screwed.

He paced the length and breadth of his
office, deep in thoughts, trying to think of
a solution.

He could hear the voice of his dad in his
head saying, “I trust you would make me
proud, so I’m going to give you veto
authority of my textile company. You
would solely manage it for a while till
you have proved that you can take over
the entire branch of ADE companies.”
That was about five years ago.

So far, he hadn’t been doing a good job,
just months ago he lost a multi-billion
contract with a foreign based designer
company and now this? His dad would
definitely be highly disappointed and
there was no guessing how his dad might
react.

Just then, his cell phone in his pocket
went live, he hurriedly picked it up
hoping it was the engineer with a good
news on to see it was Jummy.

He smiled and for a split second, he forgot
about all the problems he had in his life,
he never really understood why Jummy
presence of any sort made him react that
way.

He picked up the call.

“Hello Jummiana ,” he said excitedly.

Jummy chuckled, ever since they both
heard a song which went like: ‘Juliana,
come take your medicine, o my God, you
are my medicine.” He had turned Jummy
name to Jumiana to rhyme with Juliana.

“Hello John, I have something I need to
tell you.” Jummy said with all
seriousness.

“Am all ears, you are my medicine so I
think I really can’t say no.”

“I’m travelling to China in two days
time.” Jummy replied and waited for a
response but she got non, rather, the call
went dead as John hung up.

He had never hung up on her.