Haleemah, 2023
EVERYONE IS incapable!
The reason why we try so hard to impress is to hide our incapability. Financially, physically, morally—anyone.
And yes, the reason I immerse myself so much in work is neither because I'm passionate about it or because its my calling. It's so I can hide my incapability.
I don't know what defines the life that is Haleemah's. Endless struggle and loneliness or successful career and contentment?
It's so hard to decipher.
But I'm sure at the end of my story, I'll come to realize. And if I never got the chance to, those that live will tell the tales of how I lived.
"Right on cue Journalist" The airing director smiled my way as I stepped in and I nodded politely. Something shinkafi is his name, I don't remember what.
"But that's fine."I mused. "My duty is to fire from that seat," I eyed the seat with BBC wallpaper behind it as I settled in it. "and burn everyone."
Turns out I wasn't the only one thinking the same because I heard a giggle and when I turn, a colleague of mine was telling two interns that they were lucky to see me perform magic live behind the camera.
I'm aware of the sensation that comes with my name these days. I knew when I announced my name as the host, people stop to listen. Whether they think positively or not, my name makes head turn.
Maybe that was my gratification because it gives me the sense that I was capable. Despite my incapability.
It was a mere success in hiding the incapability that is Haleemah.
The cheers, the gifts, the compliments were all a reminder. I'm painfully aware of it.
"Journalist Haleemah" Deejah smiled as she handed me some papers and I'm double checking how I didn't notice her coming towards me until she caught up with me.
"Good Luck today too" She stated before she left.
I was being evaluated today. That is because everyone believed the contrast between Leemah Ali on seat and Leemah Ali off seat.
Because if that's not it, there's no need to doubt that I can pull off the demands of the program I was about to launch.
The demand was simple; Make it fun to draw the attention of the young adults.
Simply put even though it seems like a program, my contestants are the content creators that makes their ways to the screens of young adults in milliseconds. Will I capture their attention as quick as they did or not? That's it.
"Assalamu Alaikum Habib and his Habiba," I began at the green signal. " Assalamu Alaikum Adnan, Baffa, Hafiz, Farouk, Muhammad and every Khalifa. Assalamu Alaikum Daada, Hamma, Yaya, Ummi, Nana, Layla and her Majnun. Every other name not on the list should still answer, it's a salam.
Good Evening Nigerians, I welcome you all to the launch of the long awaited program 'A RECOUNT OF NIGERIAN HISTORY' and I'll bask in all of your attentions as I take us through the tales of what Nigeria was Yesterday, a year ago and even a hundred years ago.
My name is Haleemah 'Aliyy Kamal, and I'm your host.
Before I take a break quickly to invite in our esteemed guest of today, I'll pose a question to everyone.
Do you think the British anticipated independence when they colonized Nigeria? Could the British have actually instigated independence themselves because they foresaw something Nigerians have no idea about?
Did they really come to colonize Nigeria, introduce western education, arm our forefathers with reasons to fight and then flee? Or was there something behind what we know. And is independence worth it?
If so, why? If not, why not?
Brew your answers well before we resume from this quick break"
The crew knew it was time to cut and they waste no time in doing that. But the sounds that followed interrupted my train of thoughts as I was trying to brew the answers myself.
Everyone stood, clapping. In amazement, or excitement or whatever giving a standing ovation to someone feels like.
I nodded in affirmation.
There! Another reminder!
That Haleemah is doing so well in impressing everybody.
•
'Leemah Ali is an icon behind a host's seat.'
'Leemah Ali telling you your history is just as fascinating.'
'Leemah Ali makes a powerful comeback at BBC.'
I dropped my phone in stupefaction at the last headline. Seeing the owner of the headline made it even worse.
I've learnt by the hardest way that the social media is an entire universe on its own, capable of making or breaking.
But in this case it was making me contrary to two years ago.
"Haleemah, breathe!" I told myself as I forced close the door to the abyss of my grief that seems to seize me at times like this.
Soon, I was sending out emails stopping in between to attend to my phone and other miscellaneous stuff when I remembered I needed to let everyone know that my arrival has been rescheduled.
So I paused and sent a concise message to everybody. That's three chats on my WhatsApp precisely. My family WhatsApp group platform, Hajja and Asmaul Husna.
The door to my office creaked open and Umar Nasidi let himself in. Because paranoia is my friend, I had to raise my head to see who was the intruder, a contrast to every office worker that looks cool behind his office seat refusing to look up when anyone found his way in.
"You were so cool today, ma'am" he grinned.
I looked long and hard trying to think of a single reason he needed to step into my office to do that. Everyone already did outside, an hour ago.
Nasidi probably joined BBC six months ago, two months before I started thinking of joining. And save the polite greetings and nods to acknowledge a colleague, I haven't had any intimate interactions with him.
So I restored my professional smile and said, "Thank you, Mr Nasidi."
He frowned. "It's Umar"
And I just knew. You know, the obvious feeling that someone is trying to make themselve welcome when they are actually not.
"Okay. What brings you here?" I asked.
"To congratulate you." He grinned. "personally!"
For all I know, there shouldn't be a next between I and Mr Nasidi. Because what he seems to be looking for is something I can't afford.
For me, what hasn't started shouldn't start at all. I can give nothing other than professionalism.
"Okay, you've done that. Please be on your way." I replied.
He must've found it surprising because he dragged his long legs for a few long seconds before he turned to leave and I decided I wasn't done.
"Mr Nasidi" he turned back. "personal are pointless to me."
Nasidi disappeared behind my doors and my frown followed him.
Maybe I don't like what I just did. And maybe not.
Someone will tell the tale with time.
~
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