Aisha Kabiru
Coming to Kano feels like I never left. Everything seems just as I left it. But then it’s not like I was away for a year or anything. Still, I expected it to feel different, like me.
When we arrive at Naibawa park, I quickly join the driver at the back of the bus to get my bags. Thankfully, I came with only one big box.
Once I get it, another hand holds the bag. I look up and see a bearded man shining teeth as if we know each other.
“Me haka? What is the meaning of this?”
“Haba hajiya, taimakonki zanyi fa. I just want to help you.”
I hiss, “Dan ka ganni helpless ko? Dan Allah.” I yank the bag away.
“Ikon Allah,” a female voice pipes in. Walida appears beside me in a long brown hijab. “Aisha, daga zuwa?”
I hiss, “Toh, did I send him message?”
The man folds his hands, staring at me. “Toh, Allah ya huci zuciyarki.” He raises his hands. “Na barku lafiya.”
“Kayi hakuri, Dan Allah.” Walida apologizes to him. She turns to me, looking fairer and plumper than before. “Ke kuma wuce before I push you. Sai kin nuna halinki. You just had to show yourself.”
I hiss and trek out of the park. I see the red Toyota Camry I’ve been seeing on Walida’s insta posts. I turn to her. “Asshe gaskiya ne. So it’s true.” I laugh.
She raises her hand as if hit me. She unlocks the car and we climb in.
“Gaskiyane kawata.” I hail her, running my hands down the shiny leather seats. I lean back and inhale the sweet car freshener.
She starts to drive, slowly, smoothly.
“This car fits you o.” I say, looking around again like a village girl.
“Yes na, I picked it myself.”
I eye her. “So you and Shamsu are lovers for life, ko? But bana ganinshi a posts dinki. I don’t see him in your posts.”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? He’s out of the country.” She says with a wink.
My eyes widen. “Kice wallahi!” I don’t believe her one bit.
“Just kidding, but he’s out of town sha.”
“Toh, jindadi.” I back the window to face her fully. There’s something running through mind as I scan her face.
Jealousy? Never!
“So what about his boss lady?”
“What about her?” Walida asks, eyes on the road.
“Are they still working together?”
“Yep. Business is booming, Alhamdulillah.”
I watch her, waiting for her to continue, to complain.
She turns to me, smiling, “My marriage keeps getting sweeter and sweeter. Alhamdulillah.”
I eye her, “Zamu gani dai. We shall see.”
Walida laughs but it sounds like mockery. I ignore her and clear my throat. I would soon rub that smug from her face.
We arrive at aunty Ladi’s house. As the gate opens, aunty Ladi stands beside the gateman, smiling.
As I climb out, she quickly hugs me. “I couldn’t believe it when you told me. Even Yaya Ha-“ Her eyes widen, then she clears her throat.
But I smile, “Your brother was around when we talked?”
She nods, “He came to see the boys before leaving. He said he has been calling you but you haven’t called back.”
I scoff, “What for? I have nothing to say to him.”
“But–“
“Nidai I’m tired. I want to rest.” I walk toward the house, Walida and the gateman follow behind.
The minute I enter, I slump on the sofa and close my eyes.
“Toh, let me be going. The boys will be waiting for me. A huta gajiya.” Walida pushes my head, then leaves.
“Nagode, kawata. Sai da safe. Good night.” I shout back.
Sighing, I open my eyes and pull out my phone from my bag. I call mama and inform her of my arrival.
“Your father is not happy you left without his knowledge.”
I click my tongue, “I couldn’t wait for too long mana. Didn’t you explain to him?”
“Hmm ummm, does he ever listen to me?”
That reminds me of his strange phone call two days ago. Should I tell her? “Apart from complaining about my life, did he tell you when he’ll be back?”
“No, he just said he’ll be back soon, and he says he wants you back before him.”
I hiss, “He should not stress himself. I’ll be leaving soon anyways.”
As we finish the call, aunty Ladi appears from behind me. “I thought you’re going to take your bath first?”
“Kai, later. I just want to sleep now.”
“But it’s almost time for Zuhr.”
I hiss, then stand. “Toh, let me bath then so I can pray.”
She leads me to the first room behind the furniture. It has a small bed, a wardrobe, and a dressing table. It looks cute.
I sit on the bed. I run my hands on the smooth yellow bedspread. Perfect.
Aunty Ladi comes out of the bathroom. I smile at her, she smiles forcefully. I frown. “Mene ne?”
She sits beside me. “Aunty A’i,” She looks down, suddenly looking younger than her age.
“Ina jinki. I’m listening.” I tell her.
“It’s Yaya Habib. The reason he has been calling you is because he wants you back. Allah, he has been miserable since you left.”
I smile, not surprised at all, but only that he told her. “Ke,” I poke her thigh. “Divorcing your brother is the second-best decision I’ve ever made in my life.” I clap my hands, “If he’s feeling miserable, then he should marry again.” I wanted to announce my wedding in a grand style, but this seems like the perfect time, especially for my ex-husband. “Just like me.”
Aunty A’i gasps, “Da gaske? Really?”
“Yes, my dear.” But I don’t think I should add any info till the IV comes out. “So,” I stand. “ Don’t bother trying to fight for him.”
“Haba, it’s not fair. Kin manta how much he loved you, how he fought to marry you, the money he spent on you?”
“What of the beatings, hmm? Or do you think that incident was the first time?” I glare down at her. Let her see my pain, my anger.
She looks down, swallowing, “He said he’ll change.”
I look away and laugh. “I’m going to take my bath. Hope there’s food. Dan nasan halinki. I know what you’re capable of.”
She laughs, “People change fa.”
By 03:00 PM, my boys arrive from school. I know because I have been awake. I just wanted Ladi out of the room. Now that I think about it, I don’t think Ladi deserves the ‘aunty’ title, especially with the way she’s supporting her brother despite what I told her.
I hiss loudly and sit up, listening to my boys’ noise in the living room. I stand before the mirror, take a deep breath, and smile. I can’t let Habib and Ladi take my shine.
So, with a wide smile, I run out of the room and scream, “Where are my boys?!”
Their screams are loud enough to bring the roof down, and they’re heavy enough to fall me down. But I don’t mind.
The rest of day goes fast and I wish it’ll last longer. At the end, me and my three boys end up sleeping on my small bed, despite my protest.
Once I manage to get my last born, Salim, asleep, I sigh in relief. Alhaji and I haven’t talked about them, whether they’ll stay with me. But then, I’m not sure if I want them to. Kano has always been their home. Their father’s family are here, taking care of them well. Even Adam, my first born, is turning fifteen soon, and I’ve noticed the seniority in his manners earlier.
It won’t be fair to yank them out and put them in a different environment. One where I’ll be the only one with them. Besides, I need my freedom.
I look down at their haphazard lying positions. Only Adnan, my second born, is lying like a normal human being. Jafar and Salim have thrown themselves in positions I don’t even know.
The door opens and Adam comes in. I smile up at him in the semi- darkness. “Mama? These boys will soon fall. Let me carry them back.”
I smile up at him. “Thank you, my dear.” He nods and picks Jafar first since he’s the lightest. Then he returns for Salim.
“No, leave him here. Carry Adnan.”
He obeys and closes the door behind him. “Good night, mama.”
“Good night.” I wave.
“Then he stops, “I hope you’ll stay with us this time.”
Something sounds in my chest. Guilt? “I wish I could stay too.” I whisper.
But what about my freedom? Then I ask myself a question I haven’t asked before.
Why am I really marrying again?
“Are you serious?” Walida asks, eyes widened.
I shrug, moving my straw around before taking a sip of my iced tea.
We’re seated at an eatery close to my former workplace. I even went in to see my ex-colleagues, mainly to show off my most expensive abaya and bag and shoes. It was either them or a flight to Kano, which would have been a waste. Who will I show it off to?
“Why are you sounding so surprised? You know me more than anyone. I can’t stay single for long.”
Walida frowns. “I don’t understand. You’re a graduate. Why not focus on making something of yourself first, at least?”
I try not to roll my eyes. “Not interested. I just want to be taken care of.”
Walida shakes her head, smiling. “Okay o. Since you’ve already decided. Allah ya sanya alkhairi.”
“Ameen. Now you’re talking. Babbar kawa.”
She laughs and sighs, “So what about the boys? What happens to them?”
My heart skips. But I hide it by picking at my plate of meat pie and egg roll. “I wouldn’t want to just uproot them from here. It won’t be fair.”
“I understand Adam and Adnan, but what about Jafar and Salim? They’re still young.”
I fold my lips. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“Ah, Haba. Aisha, we’re not in Uni anymore where you can easily ignore your problems.”
“My children are not a problem.” I say harshly, eyeing her.
“You know I didn’t mean it that way. Aisha,” she places her hand on mine. “Are you okay?”
I take a bite of my meat pie. “What kind of question is that?”
The glass door across from me opens and a couple walks in with two boys. I watch them pick the red-topped table few meters away from us.
I turn to Walida who’s watching me. I feel something crumbling inside me. I look down, flicking my fingers.
“Like you said, I know you more than anyone. So, I’m sure you haven’t sat down to sort through your feelings since the divorce. You just found something to block it. Something else to look forward to. Like another marriage.”
I glare at her, blinking back tears. “You don’t know anything.”
Walida shakes her head. “True, so tell me, kawata, how are you really doing?”
I look away at the TV attached to the wall, showing an Aljazeera News.
How am I doing? Do I even know?
I shake my head. “I think I’m feeling good since I came here and saw the boys.”
Walida smiles. “That’s good.” She sighs. “But before that fa? How have you been?”
This is Walida. Nobody understands me like her. So I know I’m safe to remove my mask. “Honestly, sad, guilty, angry.”
“Why? Because of Habib?”
I scoff. “Because of me.” I shake my head. “Everything was my fault. I let myself become that woman.”
Walida holds my hand again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I laugh, “So you can make fun of me?”
Walida hisses. “I can never make fun of you. And even if I do, I know you’ll have something to back yourself up.” She sighs, looking serious. “But I could’ve been there for you.”
I watch her, seeing the concern in her eyes. I look away. “I thought I could handle it.”
“What? The abuse?”
“No, th–“ I pinch my nose, trying not to recall it all from the beginning. “What led to it.” I sit up and swallow. I’ve never told anyone this. “Habib is a womanizer.”
Walida sighs, as if she already knows. “So you were protecting him.”
“Of course not. I was protecting me. I, we had a deal. I allow him cheat; he gives me everything money can buy.”
Walida stares at me in amazement. I look away, feeling ashamed all over again. I was lying to myself. I wasn’t protecting myself after all. “I admit, what I did was stupid. But it was better than divorce or sending anonymous messages to Diary of a Northern Woman Instagram group. I wanted to solve my problem my own way.”
“Toh, did it work?”
I shrug. “For a while.”
Walida nods, “I’m surprised and not surprised at the same time. Can I say you’re a brave girl? Hmmm. Selfish?” She nods again. “But I’m trying not to judge you for it. I want to understand you. Aisha. So I can support you in any way I can. Something is telling me that your memory loss claim might be a lie, but I don’t want to go there.”
I swallow and smile. Busted.
“But let’s talk about now. Your marriage. I can’t say if you’re doing the right thing or not. But I just want you, kawata, to please think carefully. Not just about yourself and needs, but your children’s. They need their mother, that feminine shelter that only you can provide. We’re past the age of doing things selfishly. So, whatever you’re doing now, please, for the sake of Allah, don’t leave them behind. And most importantly, don’t leave yourself behind, your real self.”
I stare at Walida. This is also why we’re best friends. Only she can say rubbish about me and get away with it. I smile widely, “I’ve really missed you. Kawata. And I’ve heard you. I’ll think about it.”
Walida nods. “Inkinga dama don’t think, this time, I won’t let you get away with it.”
I laugh. “Toh.” Then I pout. “You didn’t say anything about my abaya.”
Walida laughs, “When I have the exact type in my box.”
“Kice wallahi! Swear to God!”