The Hands I Trusted [Episode 1]

My name is Amara Okafor. 26. I do content and social media for brands in Lagos.

I met Tunde Balogun in 300L at UNILAG. Mechanical Engineering. Always in overalls, with grease on his hands and music from his phone speaker.

Tunde had hands you could trust.

Hands that could fix a generator during exam week and then use those same hands to braid my hair in Akoka hostel.

I never feared Tunde.

I feared JAMB. I feared graduating into Nigeria with no job. I feared my dad’s spare parts shop in Oyingbo shutting down.

But never him.

“Amara hold torch for me,” he’d call from under a car in Yaba.

“Amara, it’s 10pm, let me walk you. Lagos is not safe.”

“Your hands are cold. Come.”

We planned a whole life.

After NYSC: his uncle’s garage in Ikeja, my branding agency. “T&B Autos”

We even made a moodboard on Pinterest.

Nkechi, my roommate, would say “This boy is serious about you. The way he looks at you during dinner...”

I took him to Ibadan. My mom made pounded yam and egusi. After, she pulled me: “He has good eyes. Does he pray?”

“Yes ma.”

I thought I knew him.

I thought hands that could fix an engine could fix anything.

I was wrong.