Beverly
Welcome to Kano, a sign reads.
All through the flight which we almost missed, thanks to Zayyad, I felt my stomach knot in a trillion pieces. I've never been so nervous, nor have I done this before—travelling from one state to another, not just on my own, but with a guy who just became my boyfriend last night. The only reason I'm happily doing this is because he was respectful enough to call my mother and tell her we were going to be leaving for Kano, to my surprise, she was very okay with the information and it just gave me this energy I didn't know have.
Zayyad and my mother have a very good relationship and I still wonder where it all came from, it definitely wasn't because they talked and bonded over politics when she came around. There's more to it and I'll force it out of him today.
We are walking towards the exit of the airport, the handle of our medium-sized suitcases in our grasp as we roll it.
"You nervous?" He asks me, entangling our free hands.
"Very,"
"Don't worry, I'm not gonna let go of your hand or leave your sight. Two days and we're back to Abuja, okay?"
"Today and tomorrow, right?"
"Yes, today, and then, we attend the party tomorrow evening, next tomorrow afternoon, we're out of here, okay?" He assures, repeating the same thing he's been saying to calm my anxiety.
"Okay. Are you sure your family would be cool with me?"
"Baby, everything's gonna be alright, trust me," He reassures, raising my hand to his face and kissing the back. "Oh, there's Jubril and Nafisat,"
I look at the people walking towards us and I almost die of anxiety: a man who looks like he's in his late thirties, dressed in a completely black suit, the type given to an exclusive chauffeur, beside him is a girl, she looks my age, resembles me in height, but chubbier with a skin tone a few shades lighter than mine, she's dressed in a simple pair of skinny jeans, a T-shirt that has an image of Fela Kuti with his hand fisted in the air, a pair of white yezzy slides, and a white hijab.
"Big brother!" She squeals, running into Zayyad's arms, he lets go of my hand, engulfs her in a bear hug, lifts her from the ground, and spins her around.
So much for 'I'll never let go of your hand', I internally scoff.
Somebody can not hug his sister again, my subconscious tackles.
"My baby," He cheerily says when he puts her down and playfully pulls her cheeks.
"Zayyad, don't ruin my makeup, please, that's fenty on the skin, I don't play," She tells him, sassily snapping her fingers at him.
"Oh, sorry," He chuckles.
"Also, I'm not a baby anymore, I'm nineteen now," Her voice is soft.
"I don't care, you can turn fifty all you want, you're still my baby,"
"Oh my god, you sound just like Baba,"
I'm focusing on them talking, I don't even pay enough attention when the chauffeur releases my suitcase away from my grip and adds it to the other one in his right hand, with a polite smile on his face.
"Oh, thank you," I quickly say.
"Welcome back home," The man directs at my boyfriend with a brief bow, and to me, he smiles before saying, "Welcome, my dear,"
"Thank you, Jubril," Zayyad acknowledges with a smile, and I do the same.
"And you must be Beverly... hmmm, hello," Nafisat coldly utters, her smile is missing from her face when she looks at me and I don't know why.
"H-hi Nafisat," I reply, keeping a straight face, too, even though I'm really confused and a little bit intimidated.
You see, one thing I learnt from my mother when I used to be a people's pleaser and an ass kisser was: When a person throws one at you, throw three at them. Offer them the energy they offer you. Don't try to make them like you. When they see that two can play, they'll dance to your tune, but the instant you try to please them, the instant they, too, certify that you'll never please them.
So, if Nafisat wants to offer me this negative energy, then I'll tackle it and throw it back at her. I have a degree in madness, she better not beat the drums of trouble, because she'll ha— I don't get to finish my thoughts and plans before she pulls me into a hug, her soft giggles filling my ears. "You should've seen your face!" She says when she releases me from the hug.
What's going on? I'm perplexed and my face breaks out in a sheepish, confused grin.
"Nafisat does that most of the time," Zayyad laughs and she joins him, "she calls it 'the clown effect', I don't where she got that from,"
"I'm so sorry, but your reaction was worth it. You looked like you had a thousand plans in your head," She giggles beautifully. "Welcome to Kano, is it your first time here?" She asks, holding my hand.
Still confused and recovering from that way off energy, I nod, "Y- yeah, it is,"
"You're going to have so much fun here, I guarantee!" She grins, "you're so beautiful. Zayyad, where'd you steal her from? Jupiter?"
"Why do I have to steal her? You do realize I'm a spec on my own," Her brother answers.
"Nah, you stole her, I don't trust you. Beverly, your secret is safe with me, didn't this not-so-handsome guy steal you from whatever kingdom you were ruling?"
I chuckle. "Yes, he stole me, but, I think I like it on earth with him,"
"Nafisat, call me whatever, but not-so-handsome guy, haba, delete that because you know that's not true," He tells her, his nose scrunched in mock irritation.
"You're so cocky, ew. Your sister is giving off pretty girl energy and that doesn't come by every day,"
Nafisat smiles, "See, she gets the drills,"
We begin to walk towards the exit with the driver, Jubril, wheeling our suitcases in front of us. Zayyad entangles his fingers with mine again and gives my hand a small squeeze while Nafisat, holds on to my other hand, going on to talk and talk and talk till we get outside and hop into one of the three executive SUVs here to pick us up.
The tall brass gates open up and the tinted Prado SUV we're sitting in drives through the driveway, following the SUV in front, and leading the other one behind us. The police escorts and the siren alert coming from the very cars made me feel like an important government executive.
My jaw almost drops when I see the compound but I'm quick to compose myself, Nafisat is sat in the front passenger seat, Zayyad and I are at the back, and it's hard to pretend I'm still interested in the conversation about how so many 'criminals' in most Nigerian prisons are innocent people, I'd already zoned out the moment my eyes saw the water fountain that held two horse statues emitting water from their mouths.
There's a long line of palm trees beautifully planted on both sides of the driveway, shading the SUVs from the scorching sun as we drive through. As we near the white villa still in front because of the long driveway, I spot a lot of sport courts, statues of the most random things, outdoor benches positioned at random places on the well-mowed grasses, a garden, and about six peacocks majestically walking in it, and then a mosque... like an actual well-designed mosque.
The SUV begins to slow down and is now up close to the villa, and in this moment I realize that Alhaji Mustapha didn't have the title, billionaire, for nothing.
I watched him in a video YouTube had recommended to me when I was searching for songs to cry to after my first breakup. He is a dark-skinned man who looked like he still pulled women to him even at his age—Wikipedia says he's in his late fifties, I can't remember how old exactly.
I don't know what prompted me to watch a video of a random attractive, potential sugar daddy, talking about how he wanted to make Nigeria a better place for children who are the leaders of tomorrow. Sounded like a stupid lie to me. Nevertheless, I watched the video, not knowing in less than three years, I'll be in his residence, wait, scratch that, I'll be in his community because this place is massive, a village could fit in it.
We alight from the SUV which finally comes to a stop after being parked in the midst of other automobiles that look like they were specially delivered by their respective manufacturing company. What is this place? God's house?
This villa looks like one of those kinds rich people acquire when they get paranoid about having too much money. It's like a fortress, high fences, and surrounded with more uniformed men than a barrack.
"Jubril, please don't go far, I'll need you to take Mariam and I to the mall later, I wanna get a few things, okay?"
"Okay," The chauffeur nods.
"Thank you!" Nafisat cheekily says.
When we walk into the house, Zayyad asks her, "Mariam is around?"
"Yeah, it's Baba's birthday tomorrow evening, of course, the whole family is here." She replies, before she begins to yell a name that's definitely referring to their mother.
The name, Mariam, rings a bell and I immediately remember it from Zayyad's diary, the tone in which he asks his sister the question gives it off that it's the same girl from his diary and I honestly don't understand why he'd ask the question like that. I don't want to think deep of it, so I just bury it.
Nafisat continues to call her mother and my heart continues to race because I'm so anxious to see what Mrs. Danjuma looks like.
The moment I see a woman descending from one part of the spiral stairs with a friendly grin on her face, my heart triumphs. Tall and slender with a golden-brown complexion just like Zayyad's, a classically sculptured oval-shaped face, her eyes shine bright when they land on me, and I can't help but grin back.
She's clothed in a green turtleneck abaya sprinkled with a touch of gold sequins that flows down to her ankle, her hair is wrapped in a olive coloured scarf and her hands, which is the only skin that's exposed, have a beautiful henna design on them.
When she finishes the last stair step, she hastens her steps and outstretches her arms, "Look who we have here," She says, her voice, softer than cotton.
"Sannu mama," Zayyad greets, he steps forward to pull her into a hug but she says, "No no, you'll have to wait, the pretty girl first," and she moves nearer to me and pulls me into a hug.
"ina kwana," I greet, and I hear Zayyad and Nafisat chuckle. [Good day]
"I can tell he..." she briefly looks over at her son, "...thought you that. How are you, my dear?" She asks, placing a hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eye with a beautiful beam that displays her gold tooth. She's a stunning woman.
"I'm fine. How about you, ma?"
"I'm doing alright, Alhamdulillah," She looks over at Zayyad and then back at me, "I hope the flight wasn't stressful, my dear," [praise be to God]
Business-class? Stressful? For where?
"No, it wasn't," I answer.
"Mama, meet my girlfriend." I don't know which is hotter: the way he says the word 'mama' or the fact that he just called me his girlfriend in front of his mother.
"I already know that, Nafisat gave me all the tea last night, isn't that right, Nafi?" She says looking at her daughter with a smirk.
Zayyad chuckles, "I should've known she would, even though I told her not to say a word, her mouth never shuts,"
"Oh please, she's the only one who keeps me company when everyone leaves, of course, she'll tell me." Mrs. Danjuma double pats my shoulder before moving over to Zayyad, "Now, you, come here," She outstretches her hands and he leans over and engulfs her in his embrace. "Have you grown taller?" She asks him.
"I don't think I have,"
They spend seconds in their hug and it's just a sight to watch. Mother and son. Looking at them, I see the resemblance he was telling me about, but Mrs. Danjuma effortlessly steals the spotlight from him, this woman is beautiful. She radiates a vibe that says 'my husband is a billionaire and I can't stress myself'.
"I have missed you so much,"
"Me too," He replies, releasing her from the hug. She's touching his face and feeling every part of his upper body, almost as if she can't believe he's standing in front of her. "Mom, you and this old habit of yours. I'm here now," She smiles and he returns the smile before giving her a peck on her right cheek.
"I thought you weren't gonna make it home,"
"Now why would I do that?"
"You missed your cousin's wedding even after the weekly reminders I gave you,"
"I was very busy but I apologized for my absence and sent him some money for a little bit of compensation,"
She slightly frowns, "Money can never make up for lost time, Modi, make sure you see him,"
"You always say that, and I know. I'll see him tomorrow. He knows I'm sorry. ina baba?" [Where's dad?]
"Conference in Paris, he'll be back tomorrow morning," She answers, leading us to the living room, "Your brother is here with his wife, they're somewhere around the house, probably in the bowling alley... oh, Halima and Zainab are coming in tonight. It's going to be a full house," There's excitement in her voice and I do not know how she's feeling, but having all your grown-up kids in the house must be joyous for a mother. "Take your girlfriend upstairs and have her rest, dinner is going to be by 8:00 pm,"
Zayyad nods.
"Nafisat," She turns to her daughter, "tell Sanusi to bring me the menu for dinner, and call Nabila to take these suitcases upstairs. If you see Hamza on your way out, tell him to call the event planner and ask her what else she'll be needing, I need everything ready for the party today,"
"Okay, mom," Nafisat says, immediately leaving.
"My dear, I didn't get your name yet,"
"My name's Beverly,"
She grins, "You're as beautiful as the view in Beverly Hills," She compliments and I smile, "Have you been there?"
I shake my head negatively.
"He knows the view I'm talking about," She says, briefly pointing at her son, "You should take her there one of these days, and my dear, when you see it, you'll know this one here..." she refers to Zayyad, "...has eyes for beautiful things,"
My face breaks into a grin.
"You're such a beauty, I love your smile,"
"Thank you, ma,"
"If you need anything, anything at all, do not hesitate to let me know. Have Zayyad show you my room, and if he does anything you do not like, come to me, I'll discipline him," She beans, giving my arm a comforting rub.
"Mama, come on," Zayyad chuckles, rolling his eyes playfully.
"Oh, be quiet," She smiles, "You both go get some rest, okay? And be ready for dinner before eight."
——
We have met Mrs Danjuma, sheeeshhhhh! Also, 'modi' is Zayyad's nickname and it means gentleman. Like I said, updates are gonna be slow but trust me, they'll definitely come in.
My birthday's on the 22nd and I'll be MIA in Paris, so clearly I wouldn't be writing throughout my mini celebration, although I'm not excited or anything, I'm just giving y'all an update on my life. Don't forget to leave a birthday message for your favourite author, when I get back, I'll read all of them. You can leave the message on my message board or PM.
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