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Naomi and I quickened our steps to the village primary school. Our breathing increased frantically with the pace of our legs. We felt like two soldiers heading to the gallows to execute a criminal.
“Hope you carried the cards,” Naomi asked, lifting a sweaty palm to her forehead. The sweat on her face shimmered under the rays of the sun and there were sweat patches under her arms. I nodded enthusiastically, feeling excited about what we were about to do for the first time, even though I felt quite uncomfortable with the heat of the sun on the back of my neck.
We reached the end of the long tarred road and could see the primary school across the street. But what we couldn't see was the long line of people that usually accompanied voting centers on a day like this. We walked across the street and went in through the huge black gate that barricaded the entrance of the school. We soon stopped in our tracks by the time we got to the middle of the school field. There was absolutely no soul there.
“This is surely another closed polling station, " I said to Naomi. “It was announced in the news yesterday as one of the polling stations in our community,” I added. “Yet it's closed, and it's not the only one in our village.”
Naomi shook her head and said, “So much for wanting to vote for the first time and for the so-called free and fair election our politicians preach.” she made the quotation marks with her fingers. We both laughed and cleaned the sweats that were dripping down our faces with our T-shirts. “Let's go home, Temi,” she said, and I nodded and turned on my heels.
Later that evening, a new polling station was announced to replace the primary school. But we didn't care, we didn't want to vote anymore.