In the city of Abuja, Diary Farm Estate, stood as a magnificent testament to centuries of elegance and opulenmce. This sprawling estate was a harmonious blend of architectural grandeur and natural beauty. The entrance to the estate was marked by towering wrought-iron gates adorned with intricate, gold-leaf filigree. Beyond them lay a winding driveway, lined with centuries-old oak trees, their sprawling branches forming a majestic canopy overhead.
The security in the estate was top-notch, a network of surveillance cameras was strategically placed throughout the estate, including the gardens, entrances, and key interior areas. These cameras provided real-time video feeds to a centralized security control room. Access to the estate was tightly controlled. Only approved personnel and guests with pre-issued biometric access cards or codes were permitted entry.
*
One sunny afternoon, Amanda strolled in the park, where the vibrant green of the grass met the soothing blue of a meandering river, a place she would love to visit a thousand times. She sat down on a weathered bench to read a book, she was an avid reader with a penchant for classic literature, her nose buried in a well-worn copy of "War and Love." but her attention was drawn to a young teenage boy who would probably be of her age, she marveled at the stunt he was performing it made her cringe, just similar to the ones she watched in Chinese movies. With an audience of none but the whispering breeze and the glistening river, Sam executed a gravity-defying backflip that left him momentarily suspended in the air. As he landed gracefully on the grass, his gaze swept across the riverbank, and there, beneath the oak tree, he spotted Amanda engrossed in her book and she waved at him, unknowingly to him she has been watching him. That day was the genesis of their friendship.
One evening, as the setting sun bathed the park in a golden glow, Amanda and Sam found themselves on their favorite bench, their laughter mingling with the melodious chirping of birds. Sam had been practicing some new parkour moves, and Amanda had just finished reading a particularly moving passage from her book. As they enjoyed the tranquil atmosphere, a voice, pure and melodious, soared through the air. It was a voice that seemed to resonate with the very soul of the park itself. They looked around, their curiosity piqued, and spotted a young girl sitting on a nearby bench, strumming a guitar and singing a heartfelt song. They exchange pleasantries and became friends forming a perfect triangular friendship.
*
Ring the bell! whispered Amanda, ok sure, replied Jane. ”Hold on I’m coming”, a voice responded. Hey pals, I’m happy to see you, Sam welcomed them in a soft tune. Welcome to my humble abode, Sam said warmly, exquisite Amanda complimented. She observed the sitting room carefully. The walls were adorned in soft, neutral tones like or light gray, creating a soothing backdrop that allows the room's other elements to shine. A subtle, pastel accent wall added a touch of personality and warmth. An exquisite, handwoven area rug in muted hues of blues tied the room together and offers a plush surface for her toes to sink into. A plush, overstuffed sofa takes center stage, adorned with an array of throw pillows in complementary colors and patterns. On either side of the sofa, there were elegantly crafted end tables with sleek, brushed-metal lamps that cast a warm and inviting glow.
The walls were adorned with a tasteful selection of art pieces—a mix of framed paintings, abstract sculptures, and family photographs in elegant frames. Floating shelves showcase a collection of decorative items, from antique vases to intricately carved wooden figurines. A crystal chandelier dangles gracefully from the ceiling, casting a soft, shimmering light throughout the room. Wall sconces and floor lamps with dimmer switches offer additional lighting options to set the desired mood. A flat-screen television mounted discreetly on the wall, blending seamlessly with the room's design. A well-stocked bookshelf nearby, houses a curated collection of novels, reference books, and personal mementos.
The plan for the day was simple yet delightful—a shared cooking adventure and a cozy lunch together. Sam it seems your parent are not home? Jane asked, Yes they went out. Alright, Amanda responded. Let get the lunch ready guys, Sam said happily. The kitchen, adorned with hanging pots and pans, boasted an array of colorful spices and neatly organized ingredients. As the trio donned aprons, the ambiance was charged with the excitement of their collaborative endeavor.
"So, what's on the menu today, Chef Sam?" Amanda asked with a mischievous grin. Sam, the designated chef for the day, held up a recipe book, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "We're making homemade pasta from scratch! It's going to be a masterpiece." Wonderful Jane and Amanda exclaimed.
Jane, the musical spirit of the group, couldn't help but add a playful note, "As long as there's a good soundtrack to accompany our cooking, I'm all in!"
With music playing softly in the background, they gathered around the kitchen island, ready to unleash their culinary prowess. The first task was to create the pasta dough—a mixture of flour, eggs, and a dash of olive oil. The friends took turns kneading the dough, each contributing their unique flair to the process. Pots simmered on the stove, the chopping board was busy with vibrant vegetables, and the aroma of spices filled the air. As Sam deftly sliced through a bell pepper, his friends marveled at his culinary skills. "Sam, you've got quite the talent in the kitchen!" exclaimed Emily, admiring his knife skills. Unbeknownst to him, he accidentally nicked his finger with the knife. Oblivious to the minor injury, he continued, However, keen-eyed Amanda noticed a drop of blood on the cutting board. Concern etched on her face, she gently touched Sam’s shoulder, drawing his attention. "Sam, are you okay?" she inquired.
Sam, still unaware of the slight cut on his finger, looked at her with a smile. "Oh, I'm fine. Just a small mishap happens in the kitchen."
Jane, glanced at the cutting board. "But there's blood here, Sam," she pointed out, her voice filled with concern.
Sam examined his finger and noticed the small cut. However, there was no accompanying pain to alert him. "Oh, I didn't even feel that," he remarked, realizing the extent to which his CIP condition played a role in his day-to-day life.
Amanda, ever the adventurer, quirked an eyebrow. "So, you really don't feel pain at all?" Sam nodded, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Nope. It has its challenges, but I've learned to be cautious in my own way." Leaning forward, Sam began to speak, "You know, there's something about me that I haven't really talked about much. I've lived my life as a CIP patient." I was diagnosed with CIP when I was 6 years old. His friends, curious and attentive, exchanged glances, their faces reflecting a mix of surprise and intrigue. Amanda was the first to respond, "CIP? What's that?"
"CIP stands for Congenital Insensitivity to Pain," Sam explained. "It means I don't feel physical pain like most people do. It's a rare genetic condition." As he shared his story, Sam opened up about the challenges he faced growing up without the natural instinct to avoid harm. He recounted instances from his childhood when simple injuries went unnoticed, leading to a series of adaptations and precautions. Sam please tell us how your parent found out you had this condition, Amanda requested. Alright, As I grew, my parents noticed something peculiar—I rarely cried when I fell or bumped into things. A skinned knee or a scraped elbow, typical sources of childhood tears, seemed to elicit no reaction from their son. Initially, they attributed as a resilient nature, thinking I was simply a brave and stoic little boy.
However, as time went on, subtle signs began to accumulate. I would touch hot surfaces without flinching, unaware of the danger. I displayed an unusually high tolerance for physical discomfort, a trait that sparked a growing concern in my parents' hearts.
A visit to the pediatrician marked the beginning of a journey into the unknown. After a series of tests and consultations with specialists, I was diagnosed with Congenital Insensitivity to Pain (CIP), a rare condition that rendered me unable to feel physical pain. "I had to learn to be cautious in ways that might seem a bit different. Like, I've burned my hand while cooking and didn't even realize it until I saw the mark later," he chuckled, revealing the lighter side of his experiences. "So, no pain at all? That sounds like a superpower!" Jane was still stuned. Sam grinned, acknowledging the sentiment. "Well, it has its perks, but it also means I have to be extra vigilant. Imagine not feeling a broken bone or an infection. It's a different way of navigating the world."
Amanda, with her nurturing spirit, asked, "How do you handle injuries then, if you don't feel the pain?"
Sam explained the importance of visual cues and constant vigilance. "I've learned to rely on signs like swelling, discoloration, or just being hyper-aware of my body. And, of course, having friends and family who keep an eye out helps a lot."
Is that why you practice stunt, Jane asked, Probably!! he replied. Thanks for sharing this with us Sam, ”You don’t have to go through this alone. We’ll be more cautious together. And we’ll watch out for you, no matter what.” They embraced each other.
Ok guys, let finish up the cooking…..
