A Complicated Affair - A Tale of First Love. Part 1

by M D Zigo
(Copenhagen, Denmark)

Part 1.
In the previous month, my life took an unexpected turn when I received a life-altering phone call. Initially, I hesitated to answer, but upon realizing that it was from my oldest friend on Facebook, I picked up the call.

Sixteen years ago, in 2008, I received an invitation to join Facebook from an individual. After finally signing up, we became friends. For a significant period, we were the sole friends on each other's list until I began adding more people. However, throughout those sixteen years, we never actually interacted with each other. I even attempted to send a message, but it went unread and unanswered. Their profile remained inactive, with a static profile picture of a red rose throughout all those years.

When I answered the call, a delightful voice greeted me, introducing herself as Rosa. Initially, I struggled to recall the name, but then it dawned on me - Miss Rosaline. She expressed a desire to speak privately and proposed a meeting at the Botanic Garden in Limbe, near the Atlantic Beach Hotel, on Saturday at 5pm. Nostalgia overwhelmed me, and I agreed, feeling a sense of youthful excitement.

After the call ended, I settled onto my living room sofa, and a flood of memories washed over me. I was born in 1983 in Douala, the economic hub of Cameroon. My parents hailed from a small village called Njentse in the Fontem region. We resided in the Bonaberi neighborhood until 1994 when I endured a severe accident that resulted in a broken left hand and leg. Consequently, I had to take a break from school to undergo medical treatment.

Although my hand eventually healed, my leg did not. The doctors were unable to provide an explanation, prompting my parents to send me to the village for traditional treatment from a bone specialist. Upon arriving in Njentse, I received a warm welcome from the villagers. An elderly herbalist with a white beard diligently treated me with herbs and other remedies on a daily basis. Slowly but surely, my leg began to heal.

Life in the village was distinct but enjoyable. I was relieved of any chores and received care from my family. However, the thought of missing another year of school weighed heavily on my mind. Acting upon the herbalist's advice, I enrolled in the only Catholic primary school nearby. Since I had missed the previous year's exams, I could only join class six. Despite feeling slightly behind, I swiftly caught up and gained a reputation as "The Genius."

While school proved to be fascinating, I also grappled with the changes of adolescence. During my time away from school, I had grown taller and gained weight. I was no longer the lanky boy who had arrived in the village. Additionally, there were older students and even young women in my class, which added to the challenges of teenagehood.

One fateful day, during the second term of the school year, the headmaster made two announcements during the assembly. One teacher would not be returning due to illness, but they had found a replacement - Miss Rosaline. As she stepped out of the office, her presence captivated me. It felt as though the world had paused, leaving just the two of us. Little did I know that another surprise awaited me.

The headmaster called me forward and declared that I would be promoted to class seven. He commended my academic abilities and even remarked that my French surpassed his own. This sparked laughter among the other students, and I experienced a mix of pride and embarrassment. With that, we were dismissed to our respective classes, marking the beginning of a new chapter in my life.
With the headmaster's instructions, we proceeded to class seven, which was a new experience for me. It was also Miss Rosaline's first time teaching in a professional capacity after completing her training. The first day of class went smoothly, with the children, especially the

boys, being excited but also slightly apprehensive about the type of teacher Miss Rosaline would be. Class seven had previously been taught by an elderly man, so having a young, vibrant, and beautiful woman as their new teacher was a notable change. Fortunately, she turned out to be a gem, displaying a genuine love for her profession, a jovial demeanor, and extensive knowledge.

As someone who had never experienced love before, I found myself developing strong feelings for Miss Rosaline. I had a deep affection for her and often daydreamed about a romantic relationship and plans for the future. However, I constantly reminded myself that such thoughts were unrealistic and based on infatuation since she was out of my league. Despite my heart fluttering every time I was near her, I convinced myself that being with her was an impossible dream.

A week after taking over class seven, Miss Rosaline proposed that the class elect a class monitor, separate from the class prefect. I was her preferred candidate, and the class overwhelmingly voted in favor. As the class monitor, my primary responsibility was to assist her personally by distributing and collecting books, papers, and other materials from the classroom to the main office, as well as any other tasks she assigned to me. This close working relationship allowed me to become even more acquainted with her. There were occasions when the headmaster was away, and she entrusted me to teach classes five and six under her supervision.

The months of January and February flew by as Miss Rosaline worked tirelessly to complete the syllabus. Her aim was to finish as soon as possible so that during the third term, we could focus on revision and preparation for the final examinations. By mid-March, she had achieved this objective. In the third week of March, she decided to test our knowledge with a "mock" exam organized by herself. Eager to know the results, she planned to work over the weekend. On Friday, before the weekend began, she asked me to meet her in the office after everyone else had left.

"The headmaster is away again, and he has assigned me to supervise classes five and six in his absence. It means I'll be responsible for classes five, six, and seven. The issue is, I have scripts from the mock exams to correct. I've already marked your script, and you have a perfect score in all subjects. I would like you to assist me in correcting the other scripts this weekend, here in the office. We'll work together. Can you do that? Let's meet here at noon tomorrow."

"Of course. I would be delighted to help you, Miss."

"Good. Thank you. See you tomorrow. Have a happy weekend."

"Happy weekend, Miss Rosaline."

I was thrilled to hear her request. It would be the first time working alone with her for an extended period. Apart from a few children playing football in the pitch, the school was typically deserted on weekends. I eagerly anticipated the opportunity.

I shared the news with my grandma, who was ecstatic. She woke up early in the morning and prepared a special meal for Miss Rosaline, whom she affectionately referred to as "MISSUS."

At noon, I was ready. I had taken a bath, dressed neatly, and packed a bag. I had some special cookies and fruit juice that my mom had recently sent, which were rare treats in our village. Grandma had prepared a meal of egusi and yam for Missus. I also packed some bottled water.

Just as I was about to leave, a thunderous sound echoed, and a torrential downpour accompanied by thunderstorms began. It was the first rain of the year. I watched as a woman, completely caught off guard, sought shelter along the tracks. She hesitated, turned back, and then ran towards the campus, getting drenched in the process. Concerned for her well-being, I realized it was Miss Rosaline.

An idea struck me instantly...