Episode 2- Little General
SOTERIA
Amara was still laughing when she drove through the gates. She was actually laughing. The nerve.
Her black Jeep rolled past the armed guards at our estate entrance and curved smoothly into the long driveway of ‘Idorenyin Villa’. The fountain in the center sprayed in dignified rhythm, as if nothing humiliating had happened in the last thirty minutes of my life.
Meanwhile, I was in the passenger seat, crying. I was so upset
“I cannot believe you’re crying,” Amara said between giggles as she parked.
“Soteria, it was just—”
“Don’t,” I snapped.
She raised both hands in surrender but she was still smiling.
“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. But why are you embarrassed like this?”
I turned to her slowly.
“Because,” I said through clenched teeth, “a tall, broad, very observant military officer saw me my bumbum. He saw me defecating in public.”
She pressed her lips together but she failed and exploded into laughter again.
“Oh my God,” she wheezed. “When you say it like that—”
“How else should I say it?” I cried. “Should I say I was contributing to agricultural development?”
She leaned back against her seat, shaking.
“You were not contributing—”
“I was exposed, Amara! Exposed!”
“It was an emergency na!” She wheezed
“In front of a soldier!”
She wiped her eyes. “I am sure he’ll forget it soon.”
“He won’t,” I said immediately. “Men like that don’t forget.”
She tilted her head. “How do you know?”
I glared at her and opened the car door.
The guards straightened as I stepped out. The house loomed ahead of me — tall pillars, cream walls, symmetrical balconies, dark-tinted windows reflecting the late afternoon sun.
But imagine the daughter of this noble household had disgraced herself by the roadside like a goat.
Amara followed me out, still smiling.
“If it wasn’t for your yeye boyfriend and his stupid food, I would not have purged !” I snapped suddenly.
She paused.
“My boyfriend?”
“Yes! Who told you to date a broke man that doesn’t even know how to cook or afford a cook? The least he could have done was buy food from any 5 star restaurant” I hissed
Her face changed.
“Soteria.”
“What?” I continued, my embarrassment morphing into irritation. “You’re dating a man that cannot even afford a decent me and now I have suffered public humiliation because of it.”
She stepped back slightly.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what? Say the truth?”
Her jaw tightened. “What you just said was unnecessary. My man is not useless”
I waved dismissively. “Oh please. You know I don’t mean it like that.”
She handed me my handbag from the Jeep.
“Get down. I need to go.”
I blinked. “Go where?”
“Home.”
I stared at her, confused. “Why?”
She looked at me like I had just proven her point.
“Do you even hear yourself?”
“Hear what?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Soteria, you insulted him. You called my man broke. Like that’s all he is.”
I folded my arms. “He is broke.”
She inhaled slowly.
“That was insensitive. Jimmy is doing well for himself. Just because he doesn’t have ‘our’ kind of wealth, doesn’t make him broke.”
I shrugged. “You’re overreacting.”
Her eyes flashed. “No. You just don’t know when you hurt people.”
The words landed harder than I expected. I opened my mouth to defend myself but I closed it.
I knew she was right. Amara is one friend that tells me when I cross boundaries.
She turned her car toward the gate. Something in my chest twisted.
“Amara,” I called. She didn’t stop so I hurried after her.
“Wait.” She stopped reluctantly.
“I’m sorry,” I said, softer this time.
She studied my face.
“I was embarrassed,” I continued. “And angry then you were laughing so I lashed out. That was wrong of me. I am sorry.”
Then she sighed.
“You always do this.”
“I am sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“You think because you don’t mean it, it doesn’t hurt.”
“I know,” I repeated.
She stared at me a few more seconds then shook her head.
“You’re lucky I love you.”
“I love you too, big head.” i muttered.
She laughed and swatted my head.
“Come joor,” I said. “Let’s go inside before my mother starts interrogating the security about why her daughter looks like she lost a war.”
The double doors opened into the main foyer.
If my life were a country, this house would be its capital.
High ceilings edged with gold detailing. A grand staircase curving upward like something from an old British estate. Marble floors polished to a mirror finish. Portraits of my father in uniform lining one wall medals, commendations, photographs with presidents and generals.
Everything about Idorenyin Villa whispers legacy. My dad being a full blooded Akwa Ibom man named our mansion after his Father— Late Professor Idoreyin Asuquo.
My parents have been married for 35 years. They married when they were very young as high school sweethearts.
Mum was twenty and Dad was twenty-five.
Three years later, they had my brother- Asuquo (named after my grand father) then Effiom and Ubong.
Effiom being my favorite sibling ever.
And then, 5 years after Ubong, they had me.
The only girl. According to my mom, I brought light into their life so they named me “Unwana” meaning “Light” in Efik.
They loved us equally but I was pampered differently. Growing up was beautiful. I had so much love from my siblings, parents, grandparents and even distant relatives.
My mother wanted me near her. So when my brothers were sent to boarding schools and later abroad, I stayed in Nigeria longer. She said she needed “one girl energy” in the house.
If I wanted something, I got it.
Piano lessons, Horse riding, Summer trips, Shoes flown in from Milan.
My father, Major General Idorenyin, commanded troops and men of different calibers.
But with me, he melted.
He called me “Little General.”
And now…
Little General had disgraced herself by the roadside.
We walked through the living room, beige leather sofas arranged in perfect symmetry, crystal centerpieces and heavy curtains.
Upstairs were our rooms. Mine still looked like a princess lived there. Because one did. At 23, I still stayed with my parents. My father would not let me out of his sight till he thinks I’m ready to move.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Amara said.
The kitchen was enormous. Industrial-sized refrigerator. Granite island. Polished cabinets. A separate chef’s section.
But despite having staff, chefs, assistants and domestic workers, my mother always cooked for my father herself.
She said no one else should prepare her husband’s meals.
“It is my joy,” she always said.
We found her at the island, stirring something gently.
She looked up.
“Unwana,” she smiled warmly. “You’re back.”
I walked into her arms automatically.
There is something about my mom. Her hugs keep me warm and automatically makes me feel better .
“And Amara!” she added brightly. “My favorite child that is not mine.”
Amara grinned. “Mumci, please adopt me.”
“I have tried,” my mother replied. “But this one refuses to share.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Na so,” I smiled.
“Mumci, you won’t believe what your daughter did today.”
I froze.
“Mummy, ignore her.”
My mother looked concerned instantly. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
Amara gasped dramatically. “She defecated on the roadside and a soldier saw her.”
“Amara!” I shouted.
My mother’s eyes widened. “Unwana?”
“It was an emergency!” I cried. “And I ate something bad!”
She rushed toward me. “Baby, are you fine? Did it upset your stomach? Why didn’t you wait till you got home?”
Amara was laughing again.
“I couldn’t wait na!” I stomped my feet
My mother cupped my face. “Oh my poor girl.”
“Mummy, please stop making it bigger than it is.”
Amara leaned against the counter. “Mumci leave her, she’s traumatised.”
“I am not traumatised,” I muttered.
My mother smiled at Amara with affection. Amongst all my friends, she likes Amara the most.
And I have many friends… Because I am social. I belive it’s best to be surrounded by a lot of people.
But Mum says Amara is genuine and kind.
“She is your true friend,” she once told me. “Hold her tightly.”
They continued talking, almost like conspirators.
I groaned and covered my face.
“Please can this day end?”
My mother laughed softly.
“Baby, laugh about it. Life is too short to hold shame.”
Easy for her to say. She didn’t have a tall, intimidating, devastatingly fine officer watching her in horror.
Later that night, after Amara left and dinner was over, I went upstairs.
My room welcomed me with familiar luxury soft cream walls, canopy bed, vanity table lined with perfumes, framed childhood photos.
I lay down and close my eyes. And there he was.
Tall, annoying handsome with broad shoulders stretching against his olive-green uniform.
The insignia on his chest polished and sharp.
Dark skin, smooth and striking under the sun.
A jaw carved like it had been sculpted deliberately.
And those eyes.
“Urghhhhh…” I groaned and buried my face in my pillow.
“Why am I still seeing him?”
This is so embarrassing.
I rolled over dramatically.
“Oh my God.”
AKLAHYEL
As I drove toward the airport, I was dwelling on the foolishness of that lady.
The steering wheel of my Prado felt firm under my palms. Abuja traffic was thinning. The sky was bruised orange, evening settling in like a warning.
And yet my mind kept replaying her.
That audacity.
Who behaves like that?
I tightened my jaw.
She lacked disciplined
And after embarrassing herself publicly, she had the nerve to look me in the eye and say:
“Do you know who my father is?”
I almost laughed. Almost…
As if that changes biology. As if shame disappears because of rank.
But something about the way she said it irritated me more. She was such a spoilt brat.
I pulled into the airport parking lot harder than necessary.
I do not like disorder. I do not like entitlement. And I definitely do not like women who hide behind their father’s shadow.
When the sliding doors opened and passengers began to pour out, I scanned the crowd.
Then I saw her.
Hyelnaya Gaya. My baby sister
Twenty-one, reserved but very aware of the effect she has on people.
She walked out in fitted trousers and a structured blazer, minimal makeup, hair sleek and controlled. She did not try to attract attention, it always found her.
Three men approached her within seconds.
“Hi, excuse me—”
She smiled politely but coldly.
“I’m waiting for someone.”
Another tried.
She shifted her stance subtly then her eyes locked on me and her face softened immediately.
“Aklahyel!” she called, ignoring the men mid-sentence.
She ran toward me.
I braced for the impact cause at the age of 21, my baby sister had the body size of a 27 year old lady.
She hugged me tightly, pressing her face briefly into my chest and pecking my cheek.
I don’t like unnecessary affection in public but I let her.
She is mine to protect.
And she is the only person alive who can pull warmth out of me without effort.
“You look annoyed,” she said immediately, stepping back to inspect me.
“I always look like this.”
“I know you, Akila. This is different.” She’s the only person permitted to shorten my name.
No one dares call me Akila. Before it even leaves your lips, just a glance in my direction, you’ll call the full name. It’s Akilahyel or nothing.
I picked up her luggage.
“Let’s go.”
My family name- ‘Gaya’ is not small. In Hong, Adamawa State, among the Kilba — Huba people, it carries weight.
Kwagwandi my direct older sister who we call Wandi is a twin who survived alone when her other half didn’t. Strong in ways no one understands.
Kwaala is our first-born sister. Graceful and responsible. She is the family pillar.
Hyelnaya — the last born. “God is with me.”
And me.
Akilahyel Gaya.
Ah-kee-lah-YELL.
Among the Kilba people of Hong in Adamawa State, my name means “God’s own” or “From God”
Gaya is not just a surname. It is a legacy.
We are one of the ruling houses. Leadership is inherited before it is learned.
My father understood that until he was killed not because he offended anyone but because lawlessness does not care who you are.
That day changed everything.
I entered the military for revenge because I refuse to live in a country where men like that breathe freely.
The Nigerian Defence Academy broke me down and rebuilt me.
Years of discipline, precision, obedience and control .
So when I see chaos it offends and irritates me.
Inside the car, Hyelnaya turned fully toward me.
“Talk.” She commanded
“I am driving.” I scoffed
“Talk while driving.”
“There is nothing to say.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You actually look very upset. Talk to me, please”
Then she said quietly, “Did someone disrespect you?” “I know that’s one thing that gets you very upset.”
I exhaled.
“Someone just irritated me…. It’s nothing ”
She blinked. “Why is it hard for you to explain yourself always?”
Naya leaned her head against the seat and looked at me carefully. “What did the person do?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. It doesn’t concern me.”
“Hmmmmm!’”
“So you’re now keeping gists from me. It’s me oo… Your favorite Naya.”
“Okay… Okay..” I knew she won’t let this go without hearing what happened.
“I caught a lady defecating on a major road.”
“What???” She froze.
Then covered her mouth. “You’re joking.”
“I am not.” I replied
“In public?” I nodded
She stared at me and laughed once.
Then stopped when she saw I was serious.
“That’s… bad.”
“It is beyond bad.”
“Maybe she had no choice.”
“There is always a choice, Naya.”
“She might have been sick.” She defended
“And so?? Does that mean she should also be arrogant?”
Hyelnaya’s eyebrows rose slightly.
“Arrogant again?”
“She tried to act bold afterward. She even asked if I know who her father is.”
Hyelnaya leaned back slowly.
“Oh” She studied me carefully now.
“She must have been panicking.”
“She was not. She was very proud.”
I increased the speed slightly. Conversation closed. I was not ready to talk about it further cause it got me more agitated.
The gates of Abacha Barracks opened after the third security check. That is the thing about living here.
Nothing moves without being observed. Soldiers were always at attention.
My two-bedroom apartment sits on the second floor of a modest block painted in fading cream. Functional. Clean. No nonsense. The corridor always smells faintly of detergent and ironed uniforms.
Inside, everything is exactly where I left it.
Grey couch. Wooden center table. Television mounted without decorative ambition. The walls are bare except for one framed photograph of my mother and my sisters.
Naya dropped her handbag on my couch like she had paid rent.
She turned slowly, inspecting the place with exaggerated suspicion.
“Yaro!! You cleaned.”
“I always clean.” I shot her a look.
“You deep cleaned ko”
I removed my boots without answering.
I headed for the kitchen.
She followed.
I opened the fridge.
She closed it.
I stared at her.
She stared back.
“Leave me alone, this girl.”
She gasped dramatically. “You have not seen me in months and this is how you’re behaving? Wow. Wow, Akila. Wow.”
I walked past her toward the living room.
She clung to my arm.
“Naya.”
“What??.”
“Let go.”
“No.”
I tried to shake her off gently. She tightened her grip like a stubborn child.
“I grumbled under my breath. “You’re exhausting.”
“I know.”
“I feel for that lady, tho,” Naya said, wiping her eyes.
I stared at her in disbelief.
“You feel for her?”
“Yes! Imagine how embarrassed she must have been!”
I hissed. “So you don’t feel bad for me? I had to endure that smell.”
She laughed again.
“Oh my God.”
“It was terrible,” I muttered. “Absolutely terrible.”
“You’re traumatised.”
“I am.”
She crawled closer and nudged my arm. “Poor baby soldier.”
“Stop.”
“You’re grumpy because a girl had a bad day.”
“She ruined my day.”
“She probably ruined hers more.”
“There it is,” she grinned. “So you’re human enough to smile?”
I shook my head and walked toward the dining table.
“Go and wash your hands,” I ordered. “Food is ready.”
Her eyes lit up. “You cooked?”
“I bought food when you said you were coming.”
She froze for a second, her expression softening in that quiet way she only shows me.
Then she grinned again to ruin the moment.
“See? Soft.”
“Wash your hands, Hyelnaya.”
“Yes, Ah-kee-lah-YELL,” she teased.
Minutes later we sat at my small dining table, eating the jollof rice and grilled chicken I had prepared earlier.
She hummed dramatically with every bite.
“This is why you cannot marry yet,” she said. “You cook too well. Your wife will suffer competition.”
“I am not discussing marriage with you.”
She smirked and I gave her a warning look. She laughed and leaned back in her chair.
The apartment felt warmer with her in it.
For a moment, the irritation of the day faded into something almost amusing.
“Have you started going to church frequently?” I asked but she kept quiet.
As we sat down to eat, she watched me with calculated curiosity.
“You asked if I’m going to church again,” she said suddenly.
“Yes.”
She didn’t say anything.
Then I looked at her directly.
“Your walk with God must be steady,” I said. “Because life will test it. You cannot be a half-baked christian oo, Naya.”
She studied me but still kept quiet. I stood up and cleared the plates.
It was going to be a long week..
My babiessssss….
I hope we run the numbers on this one😍😍😍
Sorry I didn’t drop it since. I’ve been busy with work.
We are still in the introductory part. The main drama starts soon🤭🤭
I was still contemplating on either asking you for the pronunciation of these names, and where they are from, or going to Google, and boom! You helped out with that! Thank you.
Now, let's see how this funny story goes. 😂
😂😂😂Drama will soon start😂!!! Let the show begin
But I have laughed a good one!!