2 Four years later

At a quarter past midnight, the couple finally managed to pull away from the still strong festivities, and they slowly trudged to their bedroom upstairs, one they had secretly booked in a fake name for privacy. Nabila was fatigued. Her husband freed her skinny frame of the heavy garment, unadorned her of the family heirlooms at her ears, throat, fingers, wrists and ankles and laid her on the bed gently. He kissed her eyelids goodnight, and sprawled beside her fully clothed not caring that her makeup soiled his silk kaftan and they both fell into exhausted sleep.

FOUR YEARS LATER...

It was a hot Wednesday afternoon in Asokoro district but Nabila turned down the air conditioning in her Grand Cherokee; it was so easy for this huge car to turn into an ice box. The stereo played her Usher CD in monotonous annoyance; if it could talk it would beg for variety. She already knew the exact point in 'How do I say' to expect a skip and she adjusted her vocal chords accordingly. She had the most horrible singing voice as she managed to be faster than the record and still miss every note but her stone white jeep and her beloved Usher loved her nonetheless. The mai-guard opened the black metal gates with a gap toothed smile

"Ina mijinki?" he asked like he expected Jamal to be glued to her side

"Ya na aiki" Nabila replied her mood already soured

He waved her in and she drove up to the white mansion that was her family home. Taking up a large chunk of Iro Dan Musa street, the home she had lived in from age 8 still looked as imposing as when her family first moved in from Kano. The capital city of Abuja was merely a town then; and Nabila and her sister cried for days on end missing their old friends and old life. She parked her car and made the leap from her driver's seat to the ground, it was true what was said about petite people in big cars. It is all about compensating. Nabila adjusted her cream abayah and made her way through the marble hallway to her mother's parlour. She became even more annoyed as the sound of her mother's entourage greeted her when she came into view. The loud sound of forced laughter and gossip irked Nabila to no end, especially as she had booked this slot to speak to her mother; she had even called to verify mama would be available. Farida Bello looked up from the woman entertaining her and saw her daughter walk in. That child never had a smile on her face, and her sulk worsened as she took in the women who she should be half way greeting by now.

"Ya Jamal ne?" almost all the women seemed to ask Nabila at once. Ask him yourself she wanted to respond but she nodded and smiled instead.

"Lafia" she answered over and over again.

"Mama I want to speak to you" she turned her direction to her mother