Chapter 16:In the Heart of Kebbe
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Chapter Sixteen : In the Heart of Kebbe
The first few weeks in Kebbe felt like a punishment Celine hadn't earned. But as the months passed, something strange happened—she stopped counting the days.
The things she once feared began to feel… familiar. Even comforting.
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At first, she'd struggled with the language barrier. Most of the students barely understood English. In her early classes, they stared blankly at her while she explained basic grammar rules. It left her frustrated, sometimes in tears.
But Celine was not one to give up.
She began to learn basic Hausa phrases, writing them in her diary and practicing with the younger children in the compound.
"Ina kwana?" she would greet.
"Lafiya lau," they would reply, giggling.
She smiled at their shy laughter. Little by little, they began to open up. And slowly, she grew from being the "English corper" to "Mallama Celine"—the kind-hearted, light-skinned teacher with a ponytail who always smiled and tried to help.
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She taught with passion, even though her resources were few. Sometimes she used sticks to draw diagrams in the dirt. Other times, she paid for exercise books for the students who had none.
The principal, once skeptical of her emotional strength, called her into the office after a school debate program and said:
"You are a gift to this place. You came reluctantly, but you've left a mark."
Celine smiled with tears in her eyes. "Thank you, sir."
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And through it all, Nathan remained her heartbeat.
Every month without fail, he made the long journey from Lagos to Sokoto—by air and road—to see her.
His visits were short, sometimes just for a weekend, but they were sacred. He always came with a care package: toiletries, snacks, a fresh bottle of perfume, and handwritten notes tucked into her books.
"For the strongest woman I know," he wrote in one.
"I'm counting the days with you."
They'd sit under the tree behind the staff quarters, holding hands, talking about their future—wedding ideas, career plans, how many children they each wanted.
Celine always walked him to the bus park after each visit, holding back tears.
"Don't cry, baby," he'd whisper. "Next month, I'll be right back."
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Her friends were scattered across the country, but they kept in touch faithfully.
Titi in Oyo had started teaching Fine Arts and had fallen in love with her PPA supervisor.
Naomi in Rivers had joined a dance fellowship and was planning to settle there afterward.
Grace in Kwara was battling with village power cuts and sent hilarious voice notes about using lanterns like a movie scene.
Their chats were filled with banter, complaints, dreams, and encouragement.
Titi: "You still in desert land, Celine?"
Celine: "Yes o. Kebbe princess reporting live."
Naomi: "Our bride-to-be, how's Nathan?"
Celine: "Still perfect. Still patient."
The bond they shared across distances became one of her lifelines.
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As the end of service year approached, a strange mix of emotions settled in her chest.
NYSC was finally coming to an end.
The official Passing-Out Parade (POP) was just two weeks away. The khaki uniform that once felt foreign now felt like part of her. The students who once stared at her like a stranger now hugged her after every lesson.
The school had already begun talking about organizing a small farewell for her. Some students cried when she mentioned she'd be leaving soon.
"Mallama, who will teach us how to write letter again?"
"Who will give us extra chalk?"
She promised them she'd visit if she ever found her way back to the north.
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One afternoon, Nathan surprised her with a video call and said, "We're almost there, baby. One more step."
Celine nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. "It feels like I'm leaving a whole new family behind."
"You gave your heart to them, and they gave it back to you," he said. "But now it's time to come home."
She smiled, staring at her engagement ring. "And build our home."
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Later that night, as the generator hummed faintly and her mattress squeaked under her shifting weight, she opened her diary again.
Eleven months gone. One more to go.
I came to Kebbe broken, afraid, uncertain. But I'm leaving stronger.
I learned a new language, I taught children who didn't know what verbs were, and I found pieces of myself I didn't know were missing.
Love didn't leave me—it waited for me.
Nathan waited for me.
And now I'm ready.
Ready for whatever's next.