Picking Up the Pieces 2

8/8/2019 Picking Up the Pieces 2

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CHAPTER ONE

The day I was called to the bar was one of the happiest in my life. It was the day I

grasped the real meaning of patience and perseverance.

In my gown and barrister's wig, i hadlooked at myself in the mirror and felt

accomplished. I was now independent,

and independence, as everyone knows,

is a very comfortable feeling. I might

stop worrying about life now.

I also discovered that I had no cause to continue to bemoan the way life treated me

anymore. I could not be permanently unhappy because it would be logically

impossible in the circumstances.In the past I saw the the world as chaotic, and that achieving a successful life was

not easy, but could be possible if one knew the rules of the game. It's like polo,

one learns the rules and tries to reach one's goal.

Often i used to think of my life as I was heading towards that goal, but one thing or

the other distracted me. I reckoned that life was like that, one could not live it

without making sacrifices.

'The patient is always satisfied,' so goes the saying. As my life became increasingly

complex it soothed me to be reminded daily of that simple, straightforward,

realistic adage. The saying, which was written in Arabic, had given me my first

lesson in life. Whenever I got fearful i remembered those words.

Soon I discovered that life required more than just waiting, that it was those who

sought that found. I gathered courage and survived my fears. I used to have a list of

fears, big fears, little fears, real fears and imaginary fears. I always examined those

fears. My worst fear was of homelessness. I found it difficult to conceive a world

without a home, where I could feel secure. I knew I would have no stability

without a home.

Even then I didn't know that my first home would be broken.

As it is, nothing is forever. Everything changes eventually. It is those who adapt

that survive.

So I wasn't too surprised when my life took a different turn when I least expected.

At the beginning there were my parents. My father was a businessman who dealt

in farm produce. He had a farm in his village, Igabi.


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He belonged to the middle class. A Hausa-Fulani born in Igabi and bred in

Kaduna, he was a disciplined man who despised inefficiency, hypocrisy, disloyalty

and crime. He also believed that the Fulani were the best tribe in the world.

He even insisted on marrying my mother, a Fulani woman, to prove his point.

Father always encouraged me to be proud of myself. I remember saying to him oneday that I would like to grow up to be like him.

"Abdul," he said, patting my head. "What is important is to be yourself. Being

somebody else is unhealthy and requires much effort, which could be so unsettling

psychologically." My mother, on the other hand, was better connected than my

father. She was from the ruling class of Maru

. Even so, I never heard her make any bragging remark about the number of cows

she owned in her village and how important her father was. She told us children

stories about her family and her past, giving us a clear picture of how comfortablelife was when she was little.

Together they once had plenty of money but my father, being a generous man,

spent freely and so when he died there wasn't much left in the bank. He had gone

to Mecca on pilgrimage before the fasting period and he never came back. He was

survived by mother, my sister, who was eight years, and I at sixteen.

We were one happy family before he died. Mother, who was classified as too

conventional to show enough affection to us, quite loved in her own way. She

didn't call us by our names because it was the tradition then to hide the names of

the first and second children.

She called me HIM and Nafisa HER We used to laugh over that with Nafisa but

most times we didn't find it funny. We used to think it was unflattering.

Father was not a demonstrative man either. But he was charming. We all had a

very special place in their heart, nevertheless.

When I was in my teens I never enjoyed my freedom much. I usually went to the

Arabic school soon after I came back from the western-type school, except on

Thursday and Friday evenings.

Whenever I got the chance I usually stayed in my room watching video films or

reading. I had asked father to buy a video CD player for me and he promised to

buy me one only if I passed my exams next year.

Another reason why I couldn't enjoy myself much was because I used to be very

shy.


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When I was fourteen i used to imagine how romantic it would be to meet a girl

and fall in love and marry, but what's the use? I asked myself

Being with girls was something good boys didn't do, so I kept my thought to

myself. I always fantasized about a Juliet while I was the Romeo. Romeo and

Juliet were quite heroic lovers.I admired their guts. I remembered the words: "0 Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art

thou now? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or it then will not, be sworn my

love. And I'll no longer be a Capulet." Shakespeare's description suited my young

mind. I had loved that line because it simply meant that a name did not make a

person.I didn't think so. It was a person that made his or her name.

Even though I heard much about the concept of love and appreciated it, my young

mind was more interested in reading. Girls were a mystery to me.

Sometimes i wondered about the different ways of behavior they display. I didn'tdislike them, it was just that I was always nervous in their presence. They

intimidated me. I had discovered then that I could only wish for a girl's company

only if i knew she wouldnt love me.

When I was thirteen i got invited to a neighbour's little girl party. I had wanted to

run back home when it was time for taking photographs because the girl's mother

had insisted I took a photo with the girl, whom she called my 'wife'. I didn't find

that funny at all. I was brought back. As I stood beside the girl, dazed with

embarrassment amidst the laughter and teasing, I felt terribly queasy that i lost

control. As I tried to adjust my position to a farther place, I knocked one of the

tumblers and drinks upon the side table. Before i knew it the bottles had tipped. I

feverishly tried to grab them but missed, and they all broke. What a pity.


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CHAPTER TWO

Uncle Shehu visited us six months after my father's death. Uncle, who was my

father's elder brother was a serious minded person, whom father seemed to have

been closest to. Although charming, he seemed cold to me. All the same he calledNafisa and i told us about what he and other relations had decided during a family

meeting.

"I have explained everything to your mother and she understood." He said with a

sigh. He urged me to try and become a more decent chap than I ever was now that i

have experienced the other side of life. He told Nafisa that she could go with

mother to Maru while I stayed to live with him.

How could they? I wondered. He said, particularly looking at me, that the presence

of adequate 'fatherly attention' was what I needed. "Maybe that is what hadcontributed to your antisocial behaviour, Abdul," he had finished.

Mother, whom I loved so much, was considered too conventional to help me

achieve what I ought to achieve in life. I tried to explain to him that I would prefer

to follow my mother to her village.

"She ought to get married again, Abdul. We can't let you go." When I insisted, he

backed away and yelled, "Hajiya!" then dashed to my mother's room to talk to her

as if we had turned to monsters and were about to attack him. I stood there

wondering what it was that made him to look irritated at my plea. He must have

explained much to mother.

Later in the night mother came to my room and, for the first time,

we had a heart to heart discussion about our future. She explained how very

important it was for me to stay where I belonged-my father's side of the family.

When we finished talking about her going back to her parents' in Maru with Nafisa

and leaving me behind, I felt like crying. Instead I sighed. and made show of acting

like a man. After she had said goodnight and left, I cried a little and let myself pass

out.thinking.

Remembering what she said about her regret at not seeing me grow by her side and

her prayers for me to be a good boy so that God would see me through. I had

watched her then as she bowed her head, crying on that day. As she spoke, tears

had filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. "I've lost everything that made

life meaningful to me," she had concluded.


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That night I learnt that nothing lasted forever everything changed eventually. That

was the hard reality.

After two weeks my mother and sister were ready to leave. As they sat with their

possessions in the pick-up van I managed to wave goodbye to them. As the car

began to move I rushed forward and told my mother that I shall miss them and thatI would go to see them the following week.

"No, Abdul, you shouldn't visit us so soon but do always write and tell me how you

are coping and if you should need anything, I have some money saved for you. Just

write!" she yelled, as the van began to make a turn.

"Yes, mother." They drove away. It was in such circumstance that I went to live

with Uncle Shehu.

My uncle's house was a large, four-bedroom mansion in a reserved area called

Unguwar Rimi. It was shaped like an L. It also had three rooms in the 'boys'

quarters,' a small structure at the back of the mansion meant for the house help, and

a large garden full of paw-paw, orange and neem trees. As soon as he and I arrived

his house, he called Aunty A'i, his wife, and told her, "Here is Abdul, your adopted

son." She frowned and then suddenly changed to a smile. "Welcome, Abdul," she

said.

She shouted the houseboy's name and asked him to take me to one of the rooms at

the 'boys' quarters'. Soon I was in my room tidying up and unpacking.

Later in the day I sighted my cousin Hassan and went over to shake hands.

"Welcome Abdul. Pleased you have arrived," he said as he gave me a pat on the

shoulder. "Why didn't Hussaina tell me? Stupid girl," he said about his sister, who

had been present when I arrived.

The twins, Hassan and Hussaina, were the only product of uncle and auntie's

marriage. They were two years younger than me. I had been friendly with Hassan

for long. He occasionally visited our house and we played football together when

my father was alive. Hussaina, on the other hand, had been shy and retiring.

"If you need anything just tell me," Hassan told me and went into the house. I went

back to my room. Suddenly I felt lonely.

Anyway, I soon settled to my new life as an adopted nephew to my uncle. And

soon I started going to school. Whenever I got back from school I would collect


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my food from the kitchen to eat in my room. Sometimes I slept off after my

prayers, thinking about and missing my immediate family so much.

I hardly saw uncle because he travelled a lot. I can do everything for you, I

remember him saying as I saw him going out the first day I arrived, but I expect

from you absolute obedience, total loyalty to my wife and hard work in school. Itold him I would do my best. He said curtly, "Fine," and drove away.

Since I knew that the reward of hard work was sweet i promised to do my best. I

also promised myself not to seek much but give as much as I could in the

circumstance. I concluded that since they had given me a roof over my head, I

should be grateful. I accepted my situation as it was. I helped with minor jobs and

errands around the house since Aunty A'i wanted me to, even though they had a

houseboy.

"Abdul," aunty had said sternly, "you know it is your moral duty to contribute tothe upkeep of this house if possible with your money and, if not, with your

strength. Do you understand?" "Yes aunty."

"Well, as from now on, make sure you water the plants before going to school and

after you came back help with the ironing at least. " "Yes aunty." Sometimes

Hassan kept me company as I ironed and told me guiltily that one day I would

become independent and rich enough not to have to stay in anybody's care.

He and Hussaina attended a private school while I had my school changed to a

less expensive one. How I missed my old friends.

My twin cousins were not identical in behaviour but only in looks. Hassan seemed

more arrogant towards me while Hussaina showed more compassion. Whenever

something special was cooked she made sure I had a share of it when nobody

was looking, she would bring it to the 'boys' quarters' for me, saying, "Abdul, here

is a bit what you missed." She always said while handing me whatever it was she

had brought.

Sometimes it would be pepperd chicken, yam balls, or salad. She would shyly

hand it over to me and leave. I felt honoured and touched by her kind gestures.

Sometimes when I tried to thank her she would frown and say there was no need

for that. The mornings gave me the opportunity to go to school and I enjoyed

school better than home. It was in school that I was my real self at home am


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usually somebody else. I made some friends in school. Since I usually took a kabu-

kabu motorcycle to school uncle gave me an allowance of one hundred naira every

day, fifty naira for food and fifty for my takes. In the days when I didn't have much

to do, I would stay in my room and read or sometimes i go to the main house to

watch the cable television.I had been discouraged at my effort to feel free in the house but I still made it a

point of duty not to act too sensitive by boycotting the big family sitting room due

to auntie's offhand treatment. Once she warned me not to sit on the settee at all.

"The carpet is enough seat for you," she had told me. "If you can't manage that, I

am afraid, you can't come into the parlour." I tried to control my tears.

'Do you understand?" she cried.

"Yes," I said, my head bowed.

Hussaina, who witnessed all grimaced feeling obviously embarrassed and left theparlour.

I then believed in my heart of hearts that aunty never wanted or accepted me in the

house and she never would.

Feeling immensely disturbed i walked away to my room. But I didn't stop going to

watch the television altogether. So I sat on the carpet or stood if I was not staying

long.

So as the days became nights and nights became months, I survived beautifully in

the house. Well, almost.


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CHAPTER THREE

Aunty A'i was trouble personified. She was a buxom and unattractive woman.

Accepting her at face value, I never made any effort to know her better. The little I

knew about her before was that she used to be quite friendly to my mother. Laterwhen I got to know her better, I realized she had an impossible trait of being

unable to see anyone else's point of view but her own. This often created

difficulties for people that fell victim to her assumptions. In short she was

inconsiderate in nature.

One day Hassan told me that he was going to spend his holidays at his elder sister's

house in Minna. I was surprised to know that his mum was once married to another

man and that this was her second marriage. That was the little I knew about aunty,

as i gradually became the most despised person in her house. After a while Idecided I didn't like the house at all.

It was too cold and formal for my liking. So quiet and lifeless. I was used to noise,

mess, and laughter. It looked like nobody laughed enough here. I felt trapped like a

canary in the comfort of a silver cage. I tried to shut my misery by thinking of all

the good times I used to have with my own family. Instead of being happy my

misery increased. I cried instead. I got fond of crying.

Children are influenced by parents, so it's the parents's absolute duty to do what is

right. Now that I was not with mine I wondered what else I might turn out to be.

No wonder I had already developed an inferiority complex, which I found difficult

to shake off. I had written to my mother from school and got a reply, which I

cherished. She had pleaded with me to be a man and bear it all.

She had added that one day it would all be history.

She was disappointed to know the state I was in and advised that I shouldn't be too

sensitive and that I had a special position in the family because I was a nephew, I

was one of the family and so on. It made me feel better even though I knew it

wasn't what I was experiencing.

Sometimes I sat at the gate and watched people and cars pass by.

I felt shattered beyond description. I wondered if one day I would be as free-

spirited as they seemed to be. Sometimes I stayed till evening when I would enter

my room to pray. Praying lessened my unhappiness. Thank God.

I was glad when I passed my exams. I met uncle and aunty as they were about to

go out and showed the result to uncle first. After he had read the results aloud, he


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pushed his spectacles right to the bridge of his nose and stared at me through his

lens.

"Abdul, well done! I must say I am proud of you! Here, A'i, have a look at the

boy's efforts," he said, handing her the paper.

"I have seen," she responded irritably and handed the result back to him after just aglance.

Soon they were on their way out of the gate in uncle's V -booth Mercedes Benz. As

I walked back to my room to keep the paper i thought different thoughts. I

believed that certain things should be banned by the law, such as letting people like

aunty A'i being given children to foster.

She had shown me only the worst side to her personality ever since I arrived the

house, she never even smiled at me or thanked me for whatever i did to please her.

On Saturday she called me to her room and said she wanted to send me to themarket to buy some fish for her. She was obviously talking business with one of

her friends. There were little boxes containing sets of gold and the two women

seemed to be counting money.

As she handed me the money for the fish, her friend inquired if I was a cousin to

Hassan because she saw some resemblance between us. Aunty frowned and kept

quiet.

The woman asked again.

"Yes, he is," aunty retorted, then fumed, "Nincompoop! He will never grow up

properly, never! And he smells of murk." That did it.

I was so blinded by remorse that I lost my way and headed to the bathroom on my

way out.

"Where on earth are you going to?" she yelled "Sorry," I said and rushed back,

completely devastated.

I couldn't go on holidays to Maru because my mother had written and asked me to

stay and get used to being with my guardians. So i just made up my mind to stay

until I finished my school in a year's time. I changed my expectations, too. Since I

had never thought of myself as being worried ever, I was always surprised

whenever Hussaina tried to be friendly and sympathetic towards me.

I reckoned that if I had been as emotionally stable as I ought to have been, I would

have fallen in love with her. I found it difficult her resist her loving nature. Even

then my young mind was aching to love and be loved so she offered me the chance

to feel loved and cared for once again. But then I was only a boy of seventeen with


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a very low self-esteem. So I decided to face my books. I would fall in love later, I

told myself. At that time I would have obtained my degree at the university.

I had speculated fruitlessly at Hussaina's true feelings. Was it sympathy, mere

kindness or much more? If she could ever have had the guts to say to me, "I love

you," I would have believed her because I had a hunch she did.I waited daily for the chance to go back to school because that was the only place I

could be myself. It wasn't that I was trying to be unnecessarily worried over my

misfortunes; it was just that a boy like me knew that getting in trouble with elders

was not the right thing to do at all.

I couldn't stop myself getting into trouble with Aunty A'i no matter how hard I

tried. Any time she ordered me to wash her toilet or clean her palour, a series of

questions followed about whether I had seen her money or jewelry.

Sometimes I wondered what her house helps got paid for. I got used to borrowingmoney from my friends at school to buy detergent and soap for washing and

pomade cream because aunty stopped giving me allowances for these.

So i borrowed with the promise of paying if and when my mother sent the money.

Even though I knew that I never had the desire to rebel against her, I just found

myself anxious to win her liking and approval.

I remember the day I got down with malaria she didn't allow me to be taken to the

hospital. She said she wasn't sure it was serious enough to waste their money like

that. She had given me a sachet of paracetemol tablets and asked me to go to the

'boy's quarters' and rest. As I turned to go, I overheard her telling Hussaina that I

had fallen sick on pretex just to get sympathy and run away from housework.

"Why should he feign sickness just like that?" asked Hussaina.

"Abdul is capable of anything," came the reply.

"Why do you despise Abdul so?" accused Hussaina in a soft tone.

I slipped away unnoticed.

Desperate to win some sympathetic understanding, I decided to tell Goggo (my

father's elder sister) about my predicament. Goggo and my father were of the same

father. After her husband died she had gone back to our homestead in Igabi. I liked

her and she on her part had been good to me. She was tall, debonair, with a

friendly smile. I had often wondered why she hadn't remarried because she wasn't

too old to do so.

She often told me that I was her responsibility, too, even though I ought to stay

with Uncle Shehu. I visited her whenever I was free on weekends. She asked about


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my school and gave me money. I never hesitated to take whatever she gave me

because she was quite comfortable as she had a daughter who was married to a rich

businessman in Jos.

That Friday I was getting ready for my visit to aunty. I dressed up in my jeans and

shirt. Victim, I said to my reflection in the mirror, since it had been ten monthssince i came to stay with my uncle. I never thought it was too early to complain

about the kind of life i was living in. So in my naivety i thought talking to her

would help my situation. What pained me most was the hypocrisy of it all.

If Aunty A'i had sent me packing from the house i wouldn't have minded, but to

hear her always say that I was their responsibility and there was nothing they could

do but accept me made me furious.

When I arrived at Goggo's place she led me to her room, smiling her welcome. She

went inside and returned after a minute with a mat, which she spread for me on thefloor. After helping myself with the delicious Pate dish she served me, she sat not

far from me and we greeted. She asked after my uncle and the rest of the family

members and I told her we were all well.

"So what is it? You look disturbed," she said, after having noticed my fidgeting.

Brushing the worrying thoughts of whether she was going to believe me or not I

told her all I could about my situation.

She sat there listening, checking the door with her eyes to make sure someone

wasn't eavesdropping. She advised me to exercise more patience and be the good

boy she knew me to be.

"I shall check things in my own way. I won't even refer to you complaining, do you

hear me?" she said in a low voice.

"Yes, Goggo," I answered, wondering if she felt pity for or angry at me by the tone

of her voice.

She further advised me on the need to be more respectful and humble in auntie's

presence. I lowered my eyes on the mat, which was filled with tears. After she had

finished her lecture, she asked in a stem voice: "Did i make myself clear?" I

nodded.

"You should know that it can't be the same as your father's house," she added.

Unhappily I nodded again.When one is young and helpless, no one helps but God.

So I left everything to Him. Soon I was on the bus back to town after Goggo had

given me the usual N200.


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I always spent time day-dreaming about Hussaina, mother, Nafisa and father. I

talked to them as if they were there to ward off my loneliness. I told them in my

daydream I wanted to be a lawyer when I finished school.

Why i had always opted for law, I don't really know, but one thing I found

interesting about being a lawyer was the way the lawyers brought about one'sthoughts and protect one's stand. I respected the concept of law, about doing unto

others as you would want to be done unto you.

Soon I was fortunate enough to have met Uncle Shehu and aunty in a good mood,

with aunty watching T.V. I greeted them and sat meekly on the carpet. Uncle asked

me what I wanted to become 17

When I finished school.

"A lawyer," I answered with my head bowed.

"Lawyers are said to be liars." "I don't think so, uncle." "Why don't you think so?""Because lawyers defend people's rights, and that's a fair occupation, isn't it?

"Yeah, you have defended yourself quite well," he said, smiling, obviously proud

of me.

Aunty sat up.

"Darling, imagine this boy has the courage to talk to you like that," she said. "He

should have kept quiet and let you say what you wanted to say." "A'i, I don't see

anything wrong with answering questions I asked him," said uncle, irritated and

getting up to go to his section of the house.

"Ah, children of nowadays! I always remember what a quiet, shy girl I was," she

murmured, as if talking to herself.

Daintily I got up and excused myself. I had just realized that I shouldn't be

expected to even defend myself in any circumstance.

This was a recipe for stress. Since i realized and accepted that i was different

(though related) from her children I never expected anything other than the fool I

had been made to feel, as if I were an intruder in some way. I believed that when

one was fatherless, one would become helpless. I thanked God for my own

situation, hard as it was, because there were more unfortunate boys than I was, they

were there on the street, begging or trying to earn a living anyhow. So I must be

grateful for small mercies even if they came in form of Uncle Shehu and Aunty

A'i. I must try and survive the situation. Survival was football, books, keeping a

tight lip and forgetting aunty's dislike. I must control my emotions.


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It was in that circumstance that I met Sani, whom i called my friend. We bumped

into each other at a football match in the Kawo area of the city, shook hands and

liked each other right away. I was happy to know that he lived in Unguwar Rimi

with his parents too.

Because his parents were well off, he had travelled abroad so manyTimes.

I visit sani more than he did me.

I told my mother about sani in my letter. She prayed he was a good friend and

hoped he wouldnt introduce me to bad habits.

mothers! They always think their son is the better one. Little did she know that I

had even started smoking an my own.

She revealed that she was getting married again the last time she wrote. I wished

her luck.She gave me another good news, as she informed me about the multiplication of

my goats and increase on the number of my cows, assuring me that she was saving

the money got from the dairy products for when i shall need it.

I tore up the letter and threw it intot he dustbin lest someone picked it up. I had no.

privacy any more. Mostly when i came back late from Sani's house i always met

my roam scattered. I always locked it securely with my key, someone must have

had a spare, I thought.

When I told Aunty A'i about it she insisted that nobody should tamper with their

keys so musnt change the lock, and that was it.

So in my situation, it became important for me more than ever not let any hint of

trouble prevent me from finishing my studies. I must bear things up to the time

when I would finish my secoundary school then i could invest on going back to

my mother to sort myself out.

When i asked uncle for the umpteenth time that year if I could go to see my

mother and he said I should be a man enough to wait. I gave up. They wouldn't let

me go. What irked me most was the way he didn't want me to believe the fact that

Aunty A'i's dislike for me was real.

Every time I visited Goggo my anger calmed dawn but i still haboured questions

that needed answers. I would eat and sleep, wrapped up in my loneliness

If indeed i was going to be a success, I had to be patient, so my mind always told

me. I noticed Hassan,s indifference towards me which again added to my low self

esteem i had thought we would be closer now that we stay in the same house but i


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was wrong in my thinking. Hussaina? I could read the looks she gave me time to

time. No, i mustn't think so. I would keep believing she was good only because she

pitied me.

I reckoned that her sympathy had helped me survive my ordeal somewhat. I highly

suspected her of being personally or rather romantically interested in me. No. Imust stop thinking that way, even though such indulgence revived my spirits.

Whatever reason Aunty A'i hated me far I ought to know. I deserved an

explanation if i had done something wrong. What had I done?

I asked myself that question severally. I thought I was everything a good boy

should be.

"There are three things a good boy should be." My mother once told me. "One is to

be obedient, two, be neat and, three, be truthful."

I had never aspired to be treated by my foster parents like their own child, but atleast I deserved a little care. Everyone wanted acceptance.

I tried in my childish way to deserve that but in vain.

No matter how hard i tried aunty never showed any change in her attitude.

"Here is some soap and pomade for you," Hussaina's voice interrupted my

thoughts. She handed me something in a paper bag and smiled. I smiled back. I

couldn't allow her to see my confusion.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked, turning to go.

"No. I am okay thanks Hussaina." She walked away with her head bowed. She

spoke softly i must confess it was impossible to resist loving her. That day she

wore a green boubou gown which suited the colour of her skin wonderfully.

I realized that I was feeling strange and quickly tried to wipe that emerging

infatuation from my mind. I could not afford that.

After some time Danladi came and told me that aunty said I should come and take

her washing.

I leaned my confused head against the wall outside my room. As the world grew

dim in my eyes, I grieved for my father. Tears flowed on my cheeks.

I asked unanswerable questions of thousands who suffered this way. Why, oh,

why did people throw away sympathy because they refuse to put their victims in

their position?

Why were people heartless? What did I do to deserve this? Was there anything I

could have done to make it otherwise? Suddenly, I felt the helplessness of people


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in circumstances beyond their control. I finally gathered myself, went and did

aunty's washing. I wished I could relax after that as I always tried to.

I went back inside my room, lay down and slept with a book in my hands. When I

woke up around 4:30 that afternoon I decided to go and see Sani. I knocked at his

door and he opened it. His eyes were bloodshot."Hello," he smiled.

"How are you?"

"Fine thanks."

We shook hands.

What,s wrong sani, I can see you are not yourself today.


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Much later as I was about to open my door, the guard came running towards me,

yelling that Oga wanted to see me. My heart skipped a beat, because I immediately

suspected that this call was not going to be in my favour.

I went into the main house Uncle and aunty were sitting at the dining table. As

soon as she saw me, she got up, went into a room and presently came back, holdinga GSM phone head.

Uncle asked me to sit down. I knelt down on the floor since there was neither a

chair nor a rug to sit on. I felt intimidated by the presence of the two of them.

Many people would write off aunty as tiring and uncle as victim. I didn't see that as

true. Truly they looked incompatible in character but they seemed devoted to each

other. It was a queer attraction of opposites.

"You must speak to this boy," aunty started, pointing at me with the phone handset.

"Mhm," he sighed heavily."You must censor him because I observed he spends money the way he wishes.

Where do you get money from, eh?" she shouted at me accusingly.

There was no trying to hide my surprise.

I looked at both of them in askance.

"No, don't label him yet. Hear him first," said uncle.

She frowned.

"I didn't call him a thief. I only said you should check him." Suddenly. It occurred

to me that my room had been frisked in my absence because I recognized that it

was Sani's phone set in her hand.

"That's Sani's GSM. It isn't mine," I blurted out.

"You are lying!" she cried. "No wonder my five thousand naira got missing and-"

"I can call him to testify," I explained.

I could see that uncle had no idea of what to say to me but he didn't seem ready to

disagree with his wife. "Get up and go," he.

ordered.

I was on the verge of tears, but that only made me feel worse.

Later the guard told me that it was Hassan that usually checked my room on his

mother's orders.

I had kept Sani's GSM set because i would repair it for him after reading the

brochure. A minor fault in the message centre number had made it impossible for

him to use the text messaging facility. I had wanted to return it to him but I forgot.


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He, on his part, was probably too depressed or drunk to even ask. Later, Sani came

and claimed his phone with the help of his SIM pack and receipt for the handset.

Much later I lay in the darkness of my room and thought hard. What pained me

most was Hassan's attitude. Why should he betray me so? I promised to talk to him

the following day and tell him how bad his attitude was. Yet he might be rude, hemight be physical, so I decided to let him be and endure the unpleasantness for my

own good. Talking to him might bring more trouble because the information might

be sought. Besides I wouldn't want Danladi to be in trouble for what they would

call gossip.

My thought on waking up was like my last before falling asleep. I couldn't go to

school even though it was a monday. I just lay in bed, thinking, and then fell asleep

again.

A knock sounded on the door. I got up wearily, put on my shirt and opened thedoor to see who it was.

It was Hussaina. She had come to see what was wrong, saying she didn't see me go

to school. I told her I had finished my exams and felt a need to rest since there

would be nothing to do, while we waited for holidays.

"Don't linger in sadness because of what anyone does to you.

Leave them to God, who would deal with them more efficiently than you could,"

she said, paused, then asked, "What actually happened between you and mother

yesterday?" I was too ashamed to tell her how completely humiliated I was.

"Nothing," I said. Looking at my feet.

"What do you mean- nothing?" "Forget about everything, I am okay, Hussaina.

Thank you." "May I give you a word of advice? Please, Abdul, don't take things

personally. Since Hassan's role was not proved beyond reasonable doubt just

remain cautious and see how true it is, then take action."

"Thanks for your concern," I said, looking to see if someone was eavesdropping.

"Abdul, please don't hold a grudge. Treat Hassan as a brother

and a friend. Let me get you some bread and tea," she said, walkmg away.

I went quickly to the bathroom and showered. I picked up a striped shirt and black

trousers to wear, some hand-me-downs from uncle.

She came in as I was combing my hair.

"Thank you, Hussaina," I smiled at her.


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"Don't mention, Abdul. I love caring for you." She assembled the bread and a hot

cup of tea on the floor near my mattress. I started to eat. After some minutes she

got up to go, saying she was expecting a friend to come by so that they could go to

the market to buy clothing material for a certain wedding.

Just as i raised my head to say goodbye, i heard a voice calling, "Hussaina,Hussaina!" It was Aunty A'i. Panic seized me.

"Go quickly, go!" I urged.

"Why are you scared? We are just talking, aren't we?" Hussaina said coolly, with a

stubbornness that left me cold. Hussaina was indeed a brave girl, I thought. A girl

of character.

Before I could utter a word again aunty barged in and stiffened.

She started looking around the room, sniffing.

"Hmn! I smell cigarette. You have been smoking, you rascal!" she cried."Sorry but..." "And what is Hussaina doing in this room?" I recognized this

dangerous statement was not an enquiry but an attack.

"She just brought me some food "Sharrap! Is she your house girl? I don't believe

you. I can't believe you at all!" she yelled.

"I am not to blame and."

"You are! Listen, keep off my daughter," she said coolly.

"I warn you!" she shouted aloud and disappeared quickly, dragging Hussaina

along.

I shuddered and covered my eyes with my hands. Then I went back inside the

room and resumed eating, thinking this situation had indeed been embarrassing. I

promised to ask Hussaina to lessen her demonstration of kindness towards me as it

might well be misconstructed. Meanwhile, I wouldn't even tell my mother about

aunty's accusation. I would keep my mouth shut till the day of judgment.

Twenty minutes later I was summoned to my uncle's room.

As soon as the door closed, uncle turned to face me from beside his wardrobe.

"I am embarrassed about you, Abdul, very embarrassed!" he began.

"Let me explain, uncle" "Why did you call Hussaina to your room?" "I didn't do

such thing, you can ask her." "And why were you not in school?" I was paralysed

with fear..

"You have a motive, Abdul. I know how boys your age are especially nowadays. I

had been a boy once." I was increasingly panicky

"I swear to God I was sitting in my room when


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Shut up!" "Please, sir, let me explain..." He raised his hand.

"I am up to the neck with your misbehaviour and you leave me with no choice but

to punish you." "I want to explain."

Suddenly, he seized a belt and started lashing at me with it.

I bolted.Finally in my room, I locked the door securely and started packing my belongings.

When I finished I rubbed the back of my hands across my eyes as if I could wipe

off the reality of the situation. I needed help in believing this was really happening

to me and to this extent.

I had endured all of aunty's unpleasantness, but this last episode wasn't going to be

tolerated. Since Hussaina was my first cousin, and therefor like a sister to me i

should have been given the benefit of doubt as to my intentions towards her. It is

dangerous for anyone to make judgement when one can't or doesn't know all thefacts. And since only God knows all facts, we should only believe it's best to leave

judgement to Him besides, there hasnt been any evidence of molestation in any

way.The big question now was: what should I do?

Here I was at the mercy of those i should love and care for like my own family,

yet they didn't love me quite as i would wish to return. Uncle didn't approve of me

as I was. He said I was too miserable, and that my state of mind could have led me

to misbehave. He further said i had became quieter in the recent past as he had

noticed and he didnt he didn't like my new self. Why should I be studied as if i

were some guinea pig? Aunty, on the other hand, had given me such an inferiority

complex, that already made me feel unworthy and miserable.

Hussaina seemed to understand my circumstance and feel for me, so it was only

natural for me to feel consoled by her attitude and gestures. Her care had made my

suffering somewhat bearable. Why should i be accused of trying to molest her?


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CHAPTER FOUR

If my journey to Maru was hot and tiring, I barely noticed. It was my first

important venture alone. I had seen little only of the true character of my mother's

land. Clearly it was different from the city and had the simplicity of rural area. Thevillage had a walled palace and a long streaming river across it. So many neem

trees had given the place a serene and cool air about it. It was an impressive sight. I

received some wide-eyed stares from the villagers, obviously curious about who i

was and after much study they continued with their businesses. I passed by a

sweet looking girl of about ten years who asked if I wished to buy her gullisuwa-

burnt sugar candy. I shook my head,said no and gave her a smile.

As I walked towards the palace, I began to have a feel of who I was. I felt the

emotional ties that linked me to my maternal forefathers. I felt rescued.Here in Maru, I might realize my hopes. The atmosphere soothed my disturbed

mind, already washing away my complexities and insecurities. I had already made

up my mind that I would prefer to live here than with uncle and aunty.

A ragged old beggar accosted me and gestured with his hands he wanted to

receive alms.

I gave him my change and turned on, clutching my bag. Finally I reached the

palace. I entered through the gate and headed to where some villagers sat. Most

were talking, arguing and laughing in a carefree way. I greeted them. They

answered in chorus. I asked of the only relation I could remember,Mansur my

mother,s cousin.

"Wait, he is with the hakimi."

I stood still, my heart thumping wildly. I didn't see anybody I knew. It was so

because the few times we were in Maru, we never went out independently or did

anything on our own. Besides, it had been three years since I came there.

A window above my head was flung open and someone leaned out, obviously to

check me out. Although I had heard the radio playing faintly in the background i

paid no attention to it.

It was only when the window opened and the volume increased that I recognized

the tune being played. It was Sani Aliyu Dandawo's song about his plea to a prince

of Zazzau not to give him a lean horse instead of a sturdy one.


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I leaned against the wall. The world grew dim for a while. I grieved for my lost

opportunity in Kaduna, of not finishing my school, and my father. I consoled

myself with the notion that every disappointment was a blessing. .

The people would hardly recognize me. If they did so I wouldn't be left there for so

long while they looked for my uncle.Soon my uncle came out.

"Why, it's you, Abdul!" he exclaimed. He instructed a boy to take my bag, and we

went into the palace. Then the people began to realize who i was and became full

of excitement about how I had grown up and how time flew. At the right side of

the palace's main building stood my grandfather's large house as the hakimi of

Maru. A title bestowed on a prince who had missed the opportunity of being a full

fledge emir. A lesser emir infact. That was my grandfather,s title. When the

necessary courtesies were finished, my grandfather said he was pleased I came because he had lately been worried about me. He added that I must be tired so I

should be taken into the main house where my grandmother lived. My granny and

her mates had gone on a trip to Sokoto to condole a bereaved friend of

grandfather's. Still there were people in the house.

I sent a message to my mother about my arrival and told her to expect me. Then I

ate. In the evening I brought out a transistor radio from my bag and lay down to

listen to it. Before the day ended, my grandfather came to my room as I wrestled

with boredom.

"I hope you are comfortable in your room," he said.

"Yes, old man, I am," I laughed.

The room was comfortable enough for me. It had a toilet from the inside,

fortunately. The walls were stripped of its paint from outside, but the inside was

okay except that a slate was missing from the ceiling. I would replace that myself

when I was settled, I told myself. It was the best room in the house apart from my

grandfather's section. The rest of the rooms were occupied by my various uncles,

mother's junior brothers. At seventy years of age, grandfather was still having

children. The house was quieter than I expected because most time my uncles had

either gone to school, farm, or other places of work My grandmother had her own

rooms in the middle of the compound, being the first wife, while three rooms

meant for the other wives encircled it. The servants' quarter was not far from theirs

at the back. One went out of the main house by passing through the guest wing,

near the zaure- an outside room. Where my room was.


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When I told grandfather I wanted to see my mother, he called one of the brothers to

show me the way.

"It is not far from here," he said. "It's just a five-minute walk, that was why I told

you to rest first. She is not going to run away, is she?" he teased. "You kids of

nowadays have no shame. In our own time affection was not usually openlydemonstrated between the first born children and their parents."

My mother was in the kitchen, when we arrived. "You wait in my room," she said

with a smile, obviously happy to see me. "I am coming." She passed me with a tray

and headed to another room near hers.

I glanced vaguely at the large compound and wondered what my mother could

have thought of it all.

A polygamous house. She must have been used to it by now. I noticed she had

added weight but was looking classless, not as before. So that was what the villagedid to her, I thought. In any case, she seemed contented. I could easily see that she

ruled this house.

I knew she was a forceful character, her two mates, who were obviously born and

bred in Maru, couldn't have had an edge over her.

She finally came into the room, bringing with her some dish of allale-bean

pudding. Which was cooked with palm oil and pepper seasoning.

After warmly exchanging greetings, we started chatting while I ate. I told her

everything. I talked on and on and she just listened, nodding and sighing.

A tear wormed down from her left cheek, and she quickly wiped it.

At first I thought she would be angry with me for running away From my uncle,

but she wasn't.

When I finished my narration, she sighed and, wordless, got up, went outside and

returned with a cup of cold water. As she put it down she said I should go to greet

Alhaji, her husband, pointing to a room opposite hers.

"Inside that room? Should I wait outside the door and greet him or just go straight

inside?" I asked. .

"Come on, just make salam and go in. He can't eat you!"

"True," I answered, laughing.

I went.

Alhaji was a heavily built man of about fifty years with specks of greying hair,

which gave him a distinguished look.

I genuflected and greeted him.


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"So, how are you, Abdul?" he asked.

"Fine, sir. And how is the family?" "Everybody is fine," he answered. "Your

mother has always talked about you and worried so much about your welfare.

Well, you have no problem here as you are like my son." "Thank you, sir." "Call

me Baba. What do you wish to do now?'"Anything that would enable me to raise some money to go back to school."

"Haven't you finished?"

"No, I have a year to go.

"Then six months of complete dedication to work would see you through. I would

have sponsored you if i hadn't been bankrupt. I had been mercilessly duped by a

fellow business man

As God would want it I am struggling to come up for air again," he explained.

Then he asked, "Would you like to farm?""Yes, no problem, Baba."

"Okay. I shall pass word around that you are to be trusted, so that you could get

some wheat and re-sell it before you could cultivate yours.

And if you would like to teach as well I shall speak to a friend in the Local

Education Authority to find ajob for you even if it is on part time.

"Thank you." "I shall expect you to be checking to hear of the development."

I went back to my mother's room. I told her about what transpired between her

husband and me. She was happy.

She explained to me that even grandfather was not as better off as he was before

and he had so much responsibility now.

Just then her co-wives came to welcome me.

"Our boy, you are welcome," they chorused.

"I hope I met you well," I responded.

With these three women Alhaji had four wives in number including umma my

mother. He also had twenty-two children but two died. The first wife had no issue,

I learnt later. The last born of the family, a two-year-old girl, stood staring at me

wide eyed, an amount of saliva dripping from her cute mouth.

"Hello!" I said as I stretched my hands and encouraged her to come forward.

She took a few steps and hesitated. She managed three and fell, letting out a

piercing wail. She was picked up and cuddled by her mother.

I thought of Alhaji as I drank water. He seemed a good man. If people could be

like him, the world could be a better place.


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On my way back to grandfather's house, I passed by a group of boys resting by the

shade of a very huge baobab tree. Behind them was the narrow stream that almost

ran to the end of the village. Little boys were bathing naked inside the muddy

water of the stream.

Another group of people were queuing up for bean cakes and sweet potatoes beingfried by a woman. As the woman sweated and shared the rations to her customers

there were cackles of laughter as the people threw jokes at each other. I learnt later

that that was the hottest joint in town, and that hajara, the woman, had a magical

taste in her bean cakes.

What a lively place, I thought as I passed.

"Ka hadu!" shouted some boys at me. That was the popular slogan amongst the

youths when they sighted a well-dressed person.

I turned, and one of them walked towards me and shook my hands. I told him myname.

"Yes, I know. I am Dantala," he said.

I told him I was pleased to meet him and started to walk away.

"Won't you stay for a chat?" he asked, pointing to the other boys who lazed in the

afternoon sun. Some serious boy was even reading an old newspaper.

I said I would return in the evening. We parted and I continued on my way.

A pretty but apparently mindless girl of about fifteen stared blankly

at me as I passed. How was I ever going to see girls of my class and fall in love in

Maru? I wondered.

A week after my arrival, Uncle Shehu came. It might have taken him some time to

pluck up the courage to come and tell my mother what happened, after trying

fruitlessly to find me. He might have guessed my destination.

Mother had been speculating whether uncle and aunty were relieved at my

disappearance. "Don't mind A'i," she had said

"She had been troublesome ever since, but your uncle is the person I can't believe

could go that far.

There were rumours about my having stolen some money from my uncle.

It was circulated that it was my reason for coming back to Maru. Dantala had

informed me after some investigation that it was my grandmother's mates that

started the rumours.

Why weren't people ever too old for jealousy? Especially women.


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There was no need to slander me so in a bid to hurt grandmother but at times one

cannot predict rightly why people do what they do.

"Don't tell them I told you who started it, please," Dantala begged.

"Don't worry. I won't." "You ought to know that people are dangerous and they do

assassinate with their tongues, always saying one thing or the other about otherpeople. It is worse here in the village, you see."

"I shall not be afraid of rumours. Besides, it's great publicity!" I lied. I knew it was

sheer bravado.

We sat in silence, thinking. I had become quite close to Dantala. I felt secure with

him because he didn't display the usual streaks of envy or possessiveness of some

friends and further more he,s a complete gentleman in behavior and speech.

I lit a cigarette in order to provide an excuse for my continuing silence

I was thinking how on earth i was going to make enough money to get away fromthis village to a place where people didn't poke their noses into other people's

affairs.

After some time i was made to realise that slander was everywhere.

I soon learnt that when one had to live with human beings one must be ready for

their worst sides.

"Abdul! Your uncle is here!" Grandma interrupted my thoughts.

I hurried to her room. As soon as I lifted the curtain of the room i saw uncle.


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I came face to face with him. When I noticed his expression, I braced up for the

impending storm.

"Welcome, uncle," I whispered.

He ignored my salutation.

I thought of a dozen things to say but rejected all of them. I was searching for theright words when he blurted out, "Why must you disappear without telling me?" I

couldn't give him an answer. I just kept my head bowed.

My mother came in quietly and sat down.

"I am sorry, uncle, but" I finally began.

"Don't say anything! You have nothing to say," he almost shouted, his temper

rising

"My wife had no fault. She treated you like her own son."

I remained quiet. I had long since known that some elders did tell lies and theyalso did pretend just like us younger beings. But why did we have to be beaten

when we told untruths while our elders did the same at will and got away with it? I

wondered.

"Abdul, you should fear God and stop being mischievous,you had no reason to run

away."

"That's it.." interrupted grandma and threw a piece of kola nut into her mouth.

"You have shamed me and also shamed yourself by your behaviour," he

continued.

My mother cleared her throat while eyeing me and said to him, "Don't worry,

Shehu. We really appreciated what you have done to us all. We shall keep Abdul

and pray for him so that his hooliganism would be arrested on time. You would

from us after, Get out..! You stupid boy."

I got out. I understood mother perfectly. She was behaving like a typical Fulani,

not taking sides with me. She went by the traditional truism that says hate your son

and the world would love him, love him and the world would hate him.

What a world.

Before going back to Kaduna, my uncle called me and, surprisingly, gave me

some money. Still looking disturbed and frowning, he suddenly acquired a serious

expression. "If you didn't want to stay with us, you should have gone to your aunty

in Igabi." "Uncle, I am sorry. It's just that.

"No problem. Your friend had asked of your address. He said he wanted to visit

you."


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"Oh, Sani," I said, scratching my head self-consciously, because I had completely

ignored him in my despair.

"I shall write him."

When uncle he left I wondered which was the best way to live now.

Suppose people believed that I really stole from uncle and that was why hefollowed me? No, how could they?

When I finally got to bed, I dreamt I was a rat being chased with a big stick from

the kitchen because i stole some locust bean cakes. It was funny how the human

mind worked, especially when disturbed indeed that slander was something to be

disturbed about. Or so I thought. I prayed and went back for a better, clearer sleep.

It had been six months now since I left Kaduna. I had settled in the Maru

Secondary School and managed to catch up on my syllabus.

In the evenings two days of the week I gave lessons.I had started thinking of what i should do when I finished my school. I still

haboured the dream of becoming a lawyer. I would try and make my paper so that I

could get direct entry to the Ahmadu Bello University to obtain a diploma in law.

It was a matter of mental ability and will, and I was determined to achieve the

dream. I would try even though I felt too bogged down and my confidence low

because now I was a village boy but then, it was a matter of priority.

I had thought my academic life was gone when I left Kaduna. Dantala had been

encouraging. A lot of people had asked me not to be friends with him.

They related that he was a bastard and could be up to no good. I didnt see that. I

didnt even mind that fact. The only thing I know is that he is good enough to be

friends with and that was it. We had nonetheless become very close and I had no

reason to cut him off. He was better, smarter and wiser than most of the other boys.

What if he were a bastard? Was it due to his fault? Whats people,s business in it?

People!

I had thought that his stepfather was his natural father but he soon explained to me

that his dad was in Niger Republic and that he got angry and left after a big quarrel

with his mother after which she remarried. She was still finding it difficult again

to survive peacefully after the first scandal that gave birth to Dantala.

People didn't show any direct hostility towards the mother or Dantala It was just

that they kept passing the rumours to everyone that came newly to the village.


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People, most times, were not what they ought to be-respectful, sympathetic polite,

loving and God fearing. Instead they were what they were, envious, wicked and

unsympathetic.

Whenever i was with Dantala, i saw him as a person who deserved all the charity

he could get, because he didn't deserve what he was getting. My other friend,Mande, was not sympathetic about Dantala's parentage. He saw him as he was not

what he ought to be, because he was slandered so. In fact, he viewed him as

somebody wanting.

I explained to him that it was wrong to blame his friend's circumstance of birth on

him. "You should see him first as a human being," I begged. We became friends

when his attitude towards me changed from the critical to the patronizing. Since I

couldn't stand his attitude towards our other friend i refused to get close enough to

him. What choice did I have? "Why don't you wear more of kaftans than jeans andT- shirts?" he had advised me once. I noticed he was the kind of friend who wished

to have things only his own way and to even

dictate how a friend should behave.

I said no to his request and he asked why.

"Because I don't want to!"

But why? People respect you when you wear respectable clothing. And

remember, you are a Muslim."

"Men are allowed to wear T-shirts and even pray with them, so what's the fuss?"

Another day he asked. me to go to the School of Agriculture, Sokoto, so that when

I graduated I could become a full time farmer.

"Mande, when I want your advice about how to run my life, I'll ask for it.

Meanwhile cut it out," I rebuffed him.

He was disappointed. Scratching his head, he said, "Well, I only wanted to help!" '.

"Help yourself first," I returned viciously.

Dan-Tala knocked at my door one morning as i was about setting up to go to

school for the last paper of my WAEC exams. I only allowed a few select people to

come to my room. Most stayed outside. He sat down awkwardly on the puff and

remained quiet.

"Well?" I asked. He cleared his throat.

"I am sorry you were involved in my mess.

"No problem, i just thought your stepfather was a bit hard on you. I expected

him to believe me when i said you were innocent, I didn't know he'd become that


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angry and hurl insults at me." "I don't understand this kind of violence. Look, he

has torn my back with his belt.

" Dantala said, showing me his back after lifting up his T-shirt.

"Why can't he stop this abuse?" I asked. "For how long must he do it?"

He wiped the tears from his eyes while clearing his throat and continued."He said he was correcting me and that he wanted to arrest my character before I

strayed farther." I sat watching him as his face hardened.

"Dantala, you must co-operate with me in getting to the bottom of this

Can't you see that if you don't solve this problem it's going to happen over and over

again?" "I am fed up with that." "Let's start with the obvious question.

What is your mother doing about this?" "She just cries over it and tells me what a

decent boy i am who dont deserve what society is giving me. She said I shouldnt

shouldn't mind, that one day it would all come to pass. She is behaving in acowardly manner, which is not the done thing.

"Yet it would pass but it could have a permanent seal." I commented

"He said he wanted me to be like his other children, but how? I never stole, yet i

have been accused so many times."

"Your mother ought to do something about it,"

I said, remembering my own dilemma in the past.

"She said she couldn't stand up to her husband, who is her cousin by relationship,

because of me." "It is her duty to protect your interest. Why should she.

I began but kept quiet. I was about to say 'inadequate' but i had to stop.

Sometimes one had to swallow any words that might seem insulting, especially to

an elder.

"Yes, it is selfish of her. But you see, she must be selfish to survive in this case,"

he explained. "My mother loves me better than anyone else. I also love her very

much, but she drives me crazy by her obsession with her husband. She confesses to

me severely that I must be grateful for his taking me on

He had tried, even though she has two other children for him. She thinks she

understands me, but she doesn't. We are not alike.

She said maybe I took after my father, whom she said is still in Niger. She would

never forgive me if I venture to look for him. One question remains, Why? Why

shouldn't I have the right to know who my father is?

I needed an escape route when life became too intolerable and I know it's a shame

to my self-discipline, but what can I do? I turned to drink."


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I sighed. Dantala had finally opened up to me. One thing led to another. It was

because of this case that I got to know more about his parents. I never asked much,

because I believed that too much curiosity about people was not only fickle

mindedness but also evil.

All I knew was what led to this last episode. Dantala had been in a fight over theissue of money for the five bottles of beer he cleared at a filling station near Maru.

No one sold alcohol in Maru. Dantala, who had been too drunk, had a violent row

with a bar tender in which he gave her a black eye. Now the girl's parents wanted

money for treatment and the remaining money for beer. His mother paid and, as a

result, his uncle gave him the beating of his life and promised to drive him from

the house next time. His mother had told him that she must put her other children's

interest first before his, so he must leave if he misbehaved again.

"You must have the courage to survive by not drinking," I told him."I know, but it doesn't distract me from studying my books." "But it does distract

you from praying to God the way you ought to." "Yes, God's willing I would stop."

He dozed off, leaning against the wall. Later, after we ate, we went to the meeting

point near the baobab to get together.

Two days later Dan-Tala disappeared.


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CHAPTER FIVE

Just as I was getting prepared to go to Zaria to register into the university, I heard

that Dantala had written to his mother. I wasnt surprised when my own letter

arrived as I was about to have a bath and go out. A boy came and handed me anenvelope from my grandfather's room. The letter came via grandfather,s post office

addresss.

Dear Abdul,

Am here writing from the comfort of my small room made from old carton pieces

-laughs-. Anyway I hope to move to my new residence soonest, before the rains

come. A business man named alhaji sani is ready to take me in his service as a

depot manager. It had been tough my friend, but i thank God for his mercy. I have

written to mother and asked her to keep praying for my survival as for uncle, herhusband i shall wait for natural justice to take care of things.Meanwhile I shall

continue to do my best here. I hope you have started school. My regards to

everyone I know over there. Looking forward to hearing from you.

Yours, Dantala

I put the letter aside and sighed. I admired Dantala the more.

He had made up his mind to fight the abuse on him..He went away because he

couldnt stand the injustices anymore. 'Natural' justice, as he called it. Would he

get this justice he wanted? I wondered. Anyway, natural justice existed since there

is God. I guessed Dan-Tala must have been frustrated for so long to achieve this

frame of mind.

Maybe his stepfather would look for him, bring him home and treat him better.

He might have felt guilty by now. Perhaps his mother would make him do

something. They might all be feeling guilty.Maybe.

Those people that act as if they don't know the meaning of guilt arc those that

don't suffer much on account of it. Their guilt is so enormous they can't even bear

to acknowledge it. Dantala was just one of those caught in the web of fate. He had

been heroic enough for surviving those slanderous talks that sprung out from God-

knows-where.

I truly admired his guts in facing the people of Maru regardless of the rumours. He

knew how i admired how tough he had been about his truth, never complaining,

never sinking into self-pity.


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He shared his feelings about the whole circumstance with me. He that emotionally

strong. I respected him as a normal, regular guy with a mind of his own.

One of the things I found disturbing about the duty of parenthood was that as

parents went about doing their duty they cared less whether children were human

beings or not. All they said was that they had a moral duty to protect their childrenfrom the world, to make them behave rightly to save their face and live up to

expectation. True, but they should always bear in mind that children were not

property or objects, they had feelings..

What parents found difficult to agree on was that times had changed and most

parents didn't appear to accept the change or rather wanted the change. Some

parents would say, "When I was your age, I couldn't do this or that and you ought

to get punished for being different. Meaning children should live like in their

parents' times or their grandparents' times. Not fair at all. And it was not possibleeither because in truth times have changed and nothing could be done about it.

It's a fact that parents and grandparents had no choice but to live and let live. In

their own times they had no alternative.

They were victims of their class, culture and times. They had no mind of their own

unless what their parents asked them to do.That was then.

I am not against parental obedience or morality, no, far from it. It's just that if we

got the guts to accept them as they were why couldn't they gather the courage to

accept us as we were?

We were all a bundle of surprises to each other. No one bargained for what kind of

parent or children one was going to have. That was God's gift and must be

accepted with thanks. The gratitude should come in form of unconditional love for

the gift God gave us all.

When learning the facts of life from grandparents, parents, uncles and aunts, we

were told that the only way to be happy was to make your parents happy, mother

who had the burden of carrying one for nine months and experiencing the ordeal of

giving birth and father who took care of the welfare of the whole family providing

everything and worked hard to bring in the money for our daily needs.

All true and proper, but what did those elders tell each other about us children?

Nothing except complaints.

They ought to talk more about believing that the child is a little individual who

needed to be guided and loved more unselfishly and not to be condemned or

irritated at.


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Parents should also guide and love, not for their own sake but for the children's

sake as well. The only signal that always came to a parent was, "What would

people say if my child is this way or that?" Instead they should ask, "Why is my

child like this and how can I help him aright himself?" Unfortunately for children,

all the books were written by adults, who were our parents. ,So all they talkedabout was more to the parents' welfare and favour.

What about the children's rights?

If children could write meaningful books, saying what problems they were going

through due to their parent,s misconceptions , society would be the better for it.

Before the time came when we could communicate better, thereby understanding

each other through a less selfish approach, we children must keep our courage to

survive the stress and tension. We had to play the waiting game. There was no

alternative now, because the alternative was rebellion, which is destructive anduncalled for. Furthermore parents ought to have goodness, not badness. We should

watch, listen and hope that something along the line would make them realize what

their lack of consideration did to us. That 'something' is going to be brought about

by God.

That 'something' would be called 'awareness'.

It was six days before I settled in my room at the university. I had paid some

amount for bed space in a room that I shared with fellow course mates. Ade, who

came from Lagos, was the best among my three roommates. He was neither tall

nor handsome, but it seemed girls noticed him more than any of us.

He helped me brush up my image and most times when he was less busy he

explained to me things I did not understand.

Law was like cooking. One got the ingredients, had an idea of what you wished to

cook and used your senses to make it taste the way you wished. As time went on I

discovered that some of the ingredients of law, which were like salt and pepper in a

soup, was ACTUS RUES and MENS REA- Actions versus Intentions.

Soon I realized that my social life revolved around a few friends only. One group

of guys had attempted to draw me into their gang but I politely backed out.

Socially I guessed I was quite acceptable

My two years in Maru had not taken the class and times out of me. If it had, then,

there was no way I could have got rid of my inferiority complex. So it was in this

circumstance that I had the opportunity of finishing my diploma course without

any hitch. When I earned my diploma I got the chance of continuing with the


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programme for Degree in Law because I made my papers after two years of serious

study.

I settled in school once again I focused so hard that I believed I could even venture

falling in love. Yes, I was old enough to really fall in love. It was alright when one

was in one's mid-twenties. A man or woman must think of the opposite sex to becomplete and normal. Moreover, I planned to get married before I was thirty. At

times I thought I was being too fast about the whole issue of love but I had just

started my mature life. Besides, there was no timetable for love.

Ah, whenever I thought of love, Hussaina came to mind. She had become a

mystery to me. Something spiritual seemed to be between us. I must chase those

impossible thoughts out of my mind. There could be no future between us.Or

could there be? Besides, I heard that she was going to be engaged soon. Yet she

kept creeping into my mind every time I pondered on love. She was my consolingpast.

In the past I only had gratitude but wondered why my feelings for her went

this deep and came this far.

I found it difficult to differentiate between love and admiration. I believed it was

when one tried to turn admiration into love that a crush came to existence. I stilI

remember my first deception of thinking i was in love, the one i had for my

Mathematics teacher, a beautiful lady who wore beautiful cloths, but that

infatuation lasted only long enough to give me sleepless nights as i imagined

myself being married to her and living happily ever after in my fantasy house. I

smiled when I remembered the funny way that love ended with six strokes of the

cane after she caught my friend and i giggling.

Those strokes had brought me back to reality.I didn't feel any love for her

thereafter. How could I ? Crushes came in different forms as i realized after i got

over my Mathematics teacher,s delima.

A certain girl had her own portion. Her name was Baby. My classmate.

Her way of showing interest was by teasing. One day my father came to see me in

school. As soon as Baby sighted us she came over, greeted him and went away.

Father was impressed and asked me who her parents were. Afterwards, when I

asked her why she intruded into on my private talks with my father, she got so rude

and called my father the beareded one. My childish mind took that as an insult

and I beat her up.


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Back at home when I told my father what happened, he called me stupid and

preached to me about being man enough not to be physical with girls.

When I remember all that now i laugh i then understood that people had different

ways of demonstrating their emotions. It wasnt until my second year on the degree

programme that I really fell in love.I met Fati through a course mate. Hadi. She being a first-year dipoma in

accounting student, our paths hardly crossed but I had seen her a few times in the

company of Hadi in the cafeteria. She was rather a quiet girl. I never said more

than hello to her. I had suspected that she and Hadi were lovers but he swore that

there was nothing like that, that they only had a strong family friendship, hence

the closeness.

She is my sister. He explained. Hadi was known to be a habitual liar, one who

had earned himself a secret sobriquet, fantasist from friends, I continued studyingthe situation and, with time, built enough guts and affection to go for her.

It was one afternoon that I felt the reality of my love for her. It had slapped me. I

had seen them sitting in the cafeteria and I joined them. There was one other girl

and another guy, Hadis friened. Hadi had been telling them about a certain trip he

had made to Dubai and how he had the pleasure of visiting a village where most

houses were painted with gold When he noticed their pretended belief in his story,

he added another one about a certain Arab princess who fell so much in love with

him that followed him down to the airport, insisting that if he refused to bring her

back to Nigeria and marry her she was going to kill herself, her father, a certain

Sheik, followed and promised her to let her marry Hadi on his next visit and to

save situation he would travel fulfill his promise. He had assured his listeners.

All the time Hadi was talking I had kept my eyes on Fati and saw that hers were on

mine. That was the closest we were together.

Out love was automatic. There was something about her eyesslanted and right.

They looked very straight and searching. Whenever I looked at her my heart

twirled with boundless affection. By the time we left the restaurant I was already

madly in love; I felt like walking on air.

The world lay at my feet!

That night I wrote a poem about my feelings ,wrote her name drew a heart round

on my palm and then slept off.


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Soon we got emotionally intimate with each other. I began to give her more of my

time and attention. It was on our first outing together that I really believed that my

life would be empty without her.

I had just come back from Maru. Luckily, for me I had more than enough for my

needs. Uncle had sent me twenty thousand naira as bonus.One thing I never believed in was spending money to get love, so I spent

reasonably.

There we were walking to the Zaria dam one evening after a late lunch at the

Shagalinku Restaurant. At the dam we walked down the road leading to the

waterfall. As we walked, Fati stepped on a slippery rock and was about to fall

down. I caught her. We walked further in silence. We reached a comfortable place

under a tree.

We stood against the tree in the watery silence and talked for some time before shelay her scarf on the ground and we sat down and made to each other promises of

love.

An hour or so later we set off again for school. "It's becoming dark," she said with

a titter.I looked at her and she stared shyly at me...Smiling I said to her

"Yes, but when you are in love time doesn't really matter."

Two fishermen with their nets walked past us. One of them smiled to us; we smiled

back. Life was beautiful. When in love I ,had found myself very happy, people

very nice, and everything good, nice and beautiful.

A week later I went to Maru for the weekend. Mande came to our house and

suggested I escorted him to see his girlfriend. I agreed.

I shaved, showered and dressed in my favourite jeans and shirt, I brushed my hair.

I surveyed myself carefully in the mirror. I was perfectly groomed and in perfect

harmony with my looks.

I was happy my nose had been getting smaller with age.

Soon we were at Tabawa's house. Mande did salam from the outer porch and

waited.

"You look fine today, Mande," I complimented after having another good look at

him.

"I have to. I must look good for the girl, who is going to belong to me some day."

Tabawa came out, obviously having changed her dress. Her face was made up with

the usual lipstick, pancake powder and kohl line generously applied on her eyelids

and eyebrows. She had a faint smell of cheap perfume. She looked okay.


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At first I thought she was clever because she had a sense of confidence about her

but after some time I saw a bit of unintelligence by the way she talked.

She said she was in her fourth year in secondary school when I asked her. Judging

by her social stand and insufficient education, it wasn't a surprise. Soon a little boy,

obviously her brother, came and told us that Tabawa's father wished her to go backinto the house.

"Hmm, go in then," said Mande in a calm, disappointed voice.

She said good night and took her leave. .

"I never tire of seeing her, but whenever I stay long her father would send for her,"

Mande explained furiously as we walked home.

"I know what that means." "It's due to his principles and we must respect our

culture, which requires such endless formalities before marriage," I said. "If he

continues that way I shall leave her.""Think straight, there is always a price to pay for getting a wife.

If you don't understand that, then your problem is just beginning." I had just shut

my door three days later when I looked around for something to read before falling

asleep when I sighted a letter on my small writing table. I ignored it and I brought

out the book, Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. I again decided to look again

and see whether the envelope was addressed to me or not. I got up and saw it was

mine. I opened it. To my surprise, Tabawa had written tersely:

I love you please tell me what I should do?

I brought out my cigarette immediately and lit up. I felt she was steering me into

trouble. Why? The letter completely baffled me.

How could I settle this case? Let it pass? I could not let it pass because it might not

pass. Before I slept off wondering what to do.

I said to myself. "Don't go back to that house again:' It is easier for a man to tell a

woman he loves her, but if it's a woman that tells a man that he becomes

suspicious, especially in our culture.

The following morning i remembered that note again. I put a cigarette to my lips

but could not inhale. I was deeply lost again, not knowing what to do. I knew how

much Mande loved that girl and here she was trying to come between us by her

unwelcomed behaviour. Honestly I never escorted Mande with the hope or

thought of snatching his girlfriend.


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I lived by the adage that says, Do unto others as you would want others to do unto

you.' I left the room, closed the door and went to say good morning to grandma

before brushing my mouth, making ablution and praying.

It was six thirty in the morning. After we greeted, grandma asked if I had seen my

letter."From what I asked, wanting to make sure she was talking about Tabawa's letter.

"The one Tabawa's brother brought.

"Which Tabawas I pretended not to know.

"Don't you know her? Malam Isa's daughter that goes to the same school with your

cousin:' "Oh, I have seen it:' I said carelessly and took my leave.

I had one thing in common with all the other boys God created, and its the need to

be admired. But not in this case.

Besides, I was not in the same social class with her. I could not even communicatewith her. Why then should I allow her to waste my time? I stayed awake all night

trying to figure out how to respond tomorrow because Tabawa had sent another

note telling me to reply or meet her tomorrow behind the baobab tree at nine

o'clock to talk over things. A usually quiet place.

So that night I dreamt that I had met her and there was no way we could discuss

because mande was standing, in between us

She was smiling at me but kept her distance, i shouted at her and she seemed not to

have heared.

And then I realized I was afraid of what I might hear, and I realized she too feared

where the conversation was going to end.

Then I woke up. I felt glad I was leaving to school in two day,s time and I

immediately decided to go the following day.

I went back to sleep.


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CHAPTER SIX

Nafisa was about getting married. She had acquired a good husband, or so it

seemed. When I first saw her fianc, the son of a car dealer in Sokoto, I thought he

was alright. "He is a very nice boy," mother had explained to me after he had gone."Yes, he is very nice I bet Nafisa is going to boss him around until he loses his

head." "Men ought to be organized, it's not bossing," said mother.

I believed wholeheartedly that a man should be the boss of his own house. I

strongly detested domineering women that cared only about themselves without

considering their partner's expectations.

Three days before holidays I went back to Maru, just in time for the wedding.

Mother had fixed it so that I would have the opportunity to attend. "After all you

are her father figure. she said.On tha

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