Story 1: Across the Mecca Bridge

It was a rich white sky laced with blue that looked down on the earth that morning. It had rained the previous night and the streets were strewn with leaves and dead branches. The fragrance of earth, leaves, roses, soil diffused into one, filled the air.

The grass still held morning dew, forming cute little droplets on the surfaces of the leaves. There was no wind, no sunshine. It was all serene, peaceful.

Egyabemaa’s face matched the spirit of the morning. As usual, it was radiant with joy. She sang as she descended the stairs, a song she had been singing from the bathroom.

When peace like a river
Attended my way
When sorrows like sweet billows roll

She went through the great doors opposite the P-Lodge and into the street. Her heart was gay and she was at peace. It felt good to be alive!

Whatever my lot
Thou has taught me to say
It is well, it is well
With my soul

Others on their way to lectures passed her. Some waved and hurried on. She preferred to pass through Redemption Hall. The path under the trees was part of her route. As she went down the hilly plain towards the roundabout, Adwoa bypassed her. Her room-mate was always in a hurry. Egyabemaa looked at her wrist watch, and realised she had enough time to move on at her normal pace. She was over the Mecca bridge now.

It is well, it is well
With my soul, with my soul
It is well, it is well
With my soul

Many others were crossing over the bridge. She gave no attention to anyone and none gave her any tangible notice. She sang on as she crossed the street at the Agric Junction. The lectures were due to begin in five minutes.

Carl woke up with a start, the alarm clock’s high pitch notes piercing his eardrums. He really had to hurry up, if he was to see that lovely lady he had been stealing glances at across the Mecca Bridge for the good part of the previous couple of weeks.

He had found out through observational investigation that if he got to the Bridge around 7.10 am on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, he was bound to catch a glimpse of her and hear her sing one of those songs that sounded like heavenly angelic tunes in his ears.

It was clear she had seven-fifteen lectures on these days. He had been following and admiring her those past weeks but had not been able to say even “Hi”.

His room-mate had teased that Carl had an almost zero rating on the ‘Confidometer’, the confidence scale.

Carl was also described by his friends as one who saw ladies as trees and honestly he had no feelings towards them. But now, this mysteriously lovely lady, this singing nightingale, had captured his heart and the feeling he was experiencing was a little short of alien to him and he really wanted to see her again.

But he was late today. it was 7.50 am and by now the lady must have passed the Mecca Bridge already. He rushed to take his bath, and dressed up in record time. He had a lecture at 8.15am. Quickly he set out for Mecca. By then it was 8.30am.

As he approached the Mecca Bridge, he saw her. It was her, and she must have closed from her morning lecture. She was standing on one side of the bridge, reading a notice that had been chalked on the street, right on the bridge.

He approached the bridge on the other side, and stole a glance. Their eyes met, and locked for a couple of seconds. Then, she smiled. ‘Hi’, she said. ‘Hi…hi…hi’, he stuttered.

She asked him what Akataslopsa stood for; that group was to meet at Majesty Hall, the notice read. After his explanation, she expressed her thanks, gave him a smile that warmed his whole being and walked away, singing.

He was so elated at being able to talk with her, that it was minutes later that he realised he hadn’t even asked her name! “One day at a time, sweet Jesus”, he sang to himself, as he walked up to his lecture which was almost over by then.

It took Carl yet another two weeks of glancing to resolve to finally break the ice, and become friends with her. One morning he got to the Admin Block before 7am and sat under the shed, waiting and watching.

When he saw her walking towards the bridge, he crossed over to her and with anxiety written all over him in block letters, asked her name and room number. She just smiled. That was the starter he needed.

Their friendship evolved into close association, from strength to strength it grew. When in the following semester he proposed to her and she said “yeah!”, his joy knew no bounds. And guess where he made the proposal. Across the Mecca Bridge.