The El-Muneer Mansion - 21st October, 2018
After dinner, the whole family sat in the living room. Shazia was leaving the next day so they had to make the most out of every moment they had left with her at the time . Shazia jumped and sat on her father's lap, something she hasn't done for months. She was cheerful and it gladdened their hearts.
'Please don't break my husband's legs. Don't you know you are too old for that?'. Hajiya Naima warned, laughing wholeheartedly.
'But he's my father'. Shazia said with a tongue out, giggling mischievously.
'Yes, and you'll forever be my baby'. Alhaji El-Muneer hugged her.
'The father and daughter duo, just like old times. Well, I have my baby with me too'. She motioned Fahad to move closer to her, pulling his cheeks. Fahad sighed, he was too big for that!
'Old baby'. Shazia chuckled. Fahad eyed her uneasily, maintaining a stern expression.
'What time will you be leaving?'. Alhaji El-Muneer directed the question at Fahad.
'At 2:30pm God willing'.
'Are the pilots aware? And why are you leaving in the middle of the day!'
'Yes Abby, I told them to get the Private Jet ready by 2pm. I want us to arrive before 9:00pm God willing so that we can rest well before the next day. We have to go shopping'.
'Shopping with Shazia?' Hajiya Naima asked. 'You are in trouble then'. She chuckled.
'As in Ummy! I already feel sick'. He said, feeling his temperature. Alhaji El-Muneer tried so hard not to burst into fits of laughter but he just couldn't control it. The trio laughed to their hearts' content.
'Not fair!'. Shazia pouted.
'But you know how shopping with you is'. Alhaji El-Muneer opined.
'Abby, whose side are you on?'. She feigned hurt.
'On yours of course, but..'
'No buts Abby, they'll laugh at us'. She whispered to him.
'True'. He whispered back. 'Well Shopping with my baby is fun'. He said aloud.
'Hmm'. Hajiya Naima murmured.
'I am not complaining about the shopping, I'll live'. Fahad said sarcastically. Shazia stuck her tongue out at him. 'You know I can change my mind right?'. He threatened jokingly.
'Sorry Yaya. My big boss!'. She laughed.
'You'll never change'. He commented, pulling her cheeks smilingly.
'Abby.. Time to fulfil your years old promise'. She stood up from his lap and sat next to him, in a very lady-like manner.
'Years old? What promise baby?'
'The El-Muneer story. You promised me years back that you'll tell us when I grow older. I am 20 years old now'. She smiled, feeling proud of herself.
'It's already 8:30pm'. He mentioned, checking his Jaguar special edition gold plated wristwatch.
'Yes, and we have already prayed Isha (Night prayer) and had dinner'. She grinned.
'You have a long trip tomorrow, you have to go to bed early'.
'The trip is at 2pm. I'll still sleep back in the morning if there's any need'.
'But....'
'Abby, please no excuses'.
'Okay. Okay. I was just pulling your legs'. He laughed. 'I'll surely fulfill my promise today God willing. Sit back and relax'. Hajiya Naima was all smiles, obviously remembering the good times. Fahad changed his sitting position on the sofa, making himself more comfortable. This is a story he has also been waiting for for years.
Alhaji El-Muneer cleared his throat and the kids smiled. It's storytime!
The El-Muneer Story....
1982
A 22 year old young man was selling sugarcane at his normal spot on a street in Kaduna which he normally frequents when a Volkswagen Beetle slowly came to a halt just some metres away from him. Raising his head, he immediately recognised the Arab and his teenage daughter at the back seat as his usual customers. He was about to approach the car when the Arab stepped out from the car so he stopped. The Arab selected the sugarcane he wanted, paid and the young man took it to the car for him. As the Arab man was entering the car, he 'mistakenly' dropped his wallet. The young man did not notice the wallet till after the car started moving so he picked up the wallet and chased after them. He ran as fast as he could but he couldn't catch up. The driver of the Beetle noticed him running after the car and informed his boss.
'Drive a little slower. But don't stop till we get home'. The boss ordered.
'Yes Sir'.
Some minutes later, the driver honked at a gate and after it was opened, he drove in and parked. The young man got to where the car was and steadied himself with his hands on his knees for a moment, panting heavily. He tried talking but couldn't.
'Catch your breath first'. The Arab advised, gesturing to his teenage daughter to go into the house.
The young man stood for a few minutes catching his breath. 'Sir you dropped this'. He finally said, handing the wallet back to the Arab. The Arab man nodded, collected it and gestured to the young man to follow him into the house.
The elderly Arab man stepped into a large living room and sat on a comfy sofa. The young man followed behind but instead sat on the rug, supporting himself with a pillow. He had never been to an arabian home but he was sure the setting and scent spelt 'Arab'.
'Please sit on the sofa'. The Arab man offered.
'No, here is okay Sir'.
'Please'. The Arab man insisted and the young man obliged him. 'What is your name?'.
'Tanko Muhammad'. Because the Arab and Tanko both understand English, communicating was easy for them.
'Is that a birth name?' The Arab asked with a confused look.
'Yes Sir'.
'I see! Thank you for returning my wallet to me even though I deliberately dropped it'. He paused. Tanko raised his head to look at the man. Did he just say he dropped it on purpose? 'I wanted to see your reaction after finding it'. The man continued. 'I have been observing how hardworking and dedicated you are for months and I must admit, I am impressed by your honesty'.
'Thank you Sir'. Tanko still wasn't sure of what just happened.
'I am Fahad El-Idris, an Arab from Egypt. I am here in Nigeria on a special assignment'. Tanko nodded.
The teenage daughter who was with Mr. Fahad in the car returned in a white Arabian dress, carrying a glass of water, a teapot and cup on a tray which she dropped on the table beside their guest.
'Thank you'. Tanko said, smiling as the girl sat beside her father.
'Tanko, this is my 16 year old daughter, Naima, the last and only girl of my 4 children. Isma'il and Waleed are both in Egypt and they are happily married with kids while Idris the 3rd child, Naima and their mother are all here with me'. Tanko nodded.
'Abby, min fadhlik. kun ladifan ma'ahu. Ana uhibbuhu (My father, please be kind to him. I love him)'. The teenage daughter informed her father shyly, in Arabic.
'hub (love)?' Mr. Fahad asked with raised brows.
'mithlul akhi (like a brother)'. She responded shyly. Mr. Fahad only nodded, he knew what his daughter meant. He had been observing her reaction whenever they stopped to buy sugarcane from Tanko. Tanko, who understands Arabic, almost burst into fits of laughter listening to the duo's conversation, but he had to pretend he didn't understand a single word they said.
'Uhmm! Uhmm!! Ummy saw a handsome guy'. Shazia interrupted the story, laughing mischievously. Fahad couldn't help laughing too. Hajiya Naima jokingly threw a pillow at Shazia and she dodged, playfully pulling her ears to act like she was sorry. 'Continue please Abby. I want to hear what our lover girl did'. She winked at her mother. This was a side of Shazia they all missed for months so they were all glad.
'Tanko, I want to know about you. Where are your parents? Where are you from? Why do you sell sugarcane?' Mr. Fahad directed the questions to him all at once.
'My parents are dead'. Tanko was emotional. 'My father was a nomadic herdsman who took his family to settle in different places. We left our village in 1962 when I was barely 3 and never went back. My parents died as a result of food poisoning in a village close to Kaduna when I was 10 years old. I was also on the verge of dying when a passerby saw me and rushed me to the hospital. God was so merciful to me He spared my life! My parents never told me the name of our village and because I was too young when we left it, I didn't know, so after I recovered, my relatives couldn't be traced. I was taken to an orphanage here in Kaduna. We had teachers who taught us both western and Islamic/Christian religious studies in the orphanage, depending on one's faith. When I turned 18 as per the orphanage's rules, I had to leave to fend for myself. I sell sugarcane to feed myself and also fund my western and islamic education. I am presently seeking admission to study Arabic at Ahmadu Bello University'. By the time Tanko finished narrating his story, Mr. Fahad and his daughter were in tears.
'I am truly sorry for all you went through'. Mr Fahad uttered after regaining his composure.
'It's okay! Life was never meant to be perfect. Everything happened for the best God willing'. Tanko said with a smile. Mr. Fahad admired him more for his complete faith in God's plans.
'Where is your house?'.
Tanko was quiet for a while before he finally mustered the courage to say 'Under the bridge'.
Mr. Fahad was shocked but he didn't let Tanko see any negative expression on his face. 'How much do you earn in a month?' He asked Tanko in a fatherly manner. He didn't want Tanko to feel like he was poking his nose into his personal life, after all, he was only trying to help him. Tanko informed him of the amount and he nodded. 'Okay Tanko, I'd like to offer you a job as my personal chauffeur pending when you secure your admission into the University and as for your salary, I'll pay you triple the amount you earn in a month. You'll be staying here at the Servants' Quarters'. Tanko couldn't believe what he was hearing, he rubbed his eyes to be sure he wasn't dreaming. 'How can a stranger be so kind?!' He wondered. 'You can start tomorrow if you wish'. Mr. Fahad completed his explanation. Tanko was already in tears.
'Shukran jazeela. La asta'ɗii'u an ukaafi'aka abadan (Thank you so much. I can never repay you)'. Tanko said fluently. Mr. Fahad and Naima exchanged quick glances, they were shocked that Tanko talked fluently in Arabic. It was then Naima realised he heard everything she told her father and she ran out of the living room in shame.
Mr. Fahad only smiled. 'So when will you start? Today or tomorrow?'.
'Tomorrow morning Sir, I want to pack up my things from under the bridge this evening God willing'. Tanko replied.
'Okay, I will ask the chauffeur to take you there'.
'No Sir, please. What you have already done for me is too much sir. I'll take care of that, don't worry'.
Mr. Fahad nodded in understanding 'See you tomorrow then Tanko. Nice to meet you'.
The elderly man walked him out and he left. To return the next morning.
End of Chapter 8
So now we've started hearing Malam Tanko's story.. Can't wait to know how he got the name 'El-Muneer'!!
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