In the university, I shared a hostel room with the kind of girl every girl’s mom would warn her about. She had a tattoo around her waist and pierced navel. The first red flag. She wore anklets and walked around in skimpy clothes. She wore teeth braces and had a big bag that contained makeup stuff. She could spend hours in front of the mirror and go for lectures very late or miss lectures.

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We didn’t talk much. We were not enemies. It was just that we didn’t have much in common. Our first disagreement was about how long her boyfriend spent in our room and the fact that he wouldn’t leave even when I had to change. I said, “Mandy, can you not bring your boyfriend here every day?”

She smiled and said OK, but the guy came around anyway and left at ungodly hours. We had a fasting period in church, so I would wake up at dawn and pray. One dawn, I was kneeling and praying out loud when she tapped my shoulder: “Can you go out and pray if you have to do it when I’m sleeping? It disturbs my sleep.”

I pleaded with other ladies to change rooms with me, but they all said no. The two of us were so different we couldn’t talk about anything when left alone.

During exam week, I went to campus to study and was coming to the hostel very late when a group of guys surrounded me and took everything from me; my phone, my laptop, my bag that contained my purse, money, IDs, and keys. Like everything was taken away from me. I couldn’t shout as they got on their motorbikes and ran away.

I sat on the floor and wept bitterly. What was I going to eat with? My phone and laptop were gone. How was I going to go through school without these gadgets? I sauntered to the hostel, sat on my bed, and cried while shivering. Mandy was in bed sleeping, but she woke up, saw how miserable I looked, and asked, “Are you crying, as in crying, or are those tears from prayers?”

I kept shaking and crying. She came to me and asked what the problem was. I couldn’t talk. I kept crying and shivering and drooling from my nose. She hugged me and said, “I don’t know what it is, but you’ll be fine, trust me.”

She asked again; “Boyfriend issues?”
“Death of a loved one?”
“You’ve been molested?”

Words just couldn’t come, but she sat next to me for a while before telling me, “Maybe you should pray about it. You can be loud; I don’t mind.”

Finally, I opened up to her and she was devastated. “Thank God they didn’t hurt you. This is very terrible. I’m so sorry, dear. I’m glad they didn’t touch you.”

The next day, she cooked for me. She gave me money and said I could ask for more if I needed it. Her boyfriend came to visit in the evening, and guess what? He came with a new phone and a laptop for me. They were even better than the ones the guys took from me. I looked at them. I couldn’t even stretch my hands to collect them. Amanda was like, “Go ahead. It’s yours. You deserve them.”

I thought she hated me because she felt judged by the way I treated her. She didn’t. She told me she had always admired me but also respected the fact that I needed my space. I’d never felt loved the way Amanda treated me that day. I’m older than her, but she treated me like a little sister who was bruised and needed all the care in the world.

She Would Introduce Me To Rich Men Who’ll Give Me Money

We became very close and still respected each other’s boundaries. We could watch movies together. We could share a lot of things, even shoes and slippers. When we completed school and we were leaving, we cried in each other’s arms, thinking it was going to be the end of our friendship. Guess what? We are currently working in the same firm. She brought me here.
#MomentYouFeltLoved

—Audrey

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