Crown and Counsel

ZAREWA CALIPHATE, NIGERIA. Nigeria. I could say I hate this country, but hate feels too strong a word. So I'll settle for something milder and less rude: dislike. Even that still feels off, but it'll have to do for now. I know better than to go around announcing how much I resent this foreign country. Then again, I'm the foreigner here, so saying that aloud would end badly for me, which I don't care about, but still. I'm trying to stay practical. Under ordinary circumstances, I would've cared; right now, I don't. I have bigger problems to deal with. Gripping my suitcase tighter, I hauled it past the security guards who had checked me. My attention wasn't really on them, yet I vaguely noticed them staring. Why? I have no idea. It can't simply be because I'm foreign. It's not as if my country is tattooed across my skin. Don't misunderstand me. I have nothing against Nigerians or even the country itself; I just carry bad memories tied to it. Certain memories spoil things for you. In my case, they killed the affection I once felt for this place. What remains now is pure distaste. If my life wasn't in its current mess, nothing could make me set foot in this country. Ever. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I forced my legs to move faster, desperate to leave the airport as quickly as possible. Maa said the driver was here; I seriously hope he is and isn't somewhere on the streets of Zarewa State doing Allah knows what. I can't afford to lose time like this. The situation in front of me makes me want to reach my destination as soon as I can. My phone pinged.