3 Mom I want to talk with you

Mene ne?(what is the problem?)" her mother responded

"Alone" Nabila replied

"La!" the gossipers echoed. Nabila did not budge. Eventually her mother ushered the women out, saying they could reconvene their 'meeting' after lunch. Nabila arranged herself on a large cushion and stared at her mother, the woman had refused to age over the past five years, and it was strange. Nabila canvassed her mother's features and wondered again why she took after her father. It would have been lovely to have a Fulani nose like her sister instead of the Hausa one she got from her father, or the dark complexion, or the gaunt cheeks. The only resemblance she bore to beautiful Mama was her height; they were both 5'5in with size 4 feet. Papa's long frame was bestowed on Rabi.

If she did not love her sister so much she would be incurably jealous of her. Her mother retied her yellow scarf and waited for Nabila to begin, probably with an apology for her curt behaviour but Nabila did not have time for that. Mama was so busy nowadays chairing her Government wives' meetings, running Women Affairs conferences and the like, that she cut straight to the chase...

"I want a divorce from Jamal"

"Astaghfirullah" mama exclaimed letting the scarf fall to her lap

"No child of mine will ever be returned to her father's house" she declared

"I am not being returned. I am leaving" Nabila repeated for emphasis.

"Kiyishuru! Shut up and do not say any more. What is the meaning of this?" Her mother put her hands in her thick plaits and shook her head "Ya yi me? Eh? What did he do, that you want to leave?"

Nabila began to answer as carefully as she could but her mother would not let her. She looked afraid that it was something she would not want to know. "He is not hitting me and I do not think he is cheating on me, although I cannot be sure about that" Nabila responded sadly, she could feel the tears coming on. She looked down and played with the hem of her dress. Mama visibly relaxed, it was not some horrible thought, her child was merely being her child. Jamal had probably not showered Nabila with enough attention and now she was rebelling. Threatening to leave her husband's house was just another tantrum.

"You are no longer in Baba's house. Making wild promises will soon force Jamal to insist you see them through. Do you understand?"

Nabila looked at her mother and knew why she took so long to come to her in the first place, how Mama could think that is all it would take for her to leave her matrimonial home. Nabila could not go through with it. She made to get up without saying the main thing that brought her home. Mama pulled her back down

"If you really feel you are being mistreated talk to Jamal's family, tell them to speak with him"

"I have already done that. Nothing has changed"

"Domme ka ke kuka?" Mama used the back of her scented palm to wipe away Nabila's tears. "What are you crying for?" she asked again. "You are a lucky woman! Allah! The sooner you start to see that the more content you will be, and then..." she patted Nabila's flat tummy "Insha Allah"(by God's grace).

Only mama had the power to make a bad visit even worse, instead of consoling, she reminded her of the one area she had no success in. The herd of women began to clamour outside the large glass bi-fold doors that lead into the North-East wing of the garden, their necks straining for a piece of news.

Nabila wrestled her wrist from her mother's strong grip and excused herself. Her mother did not ask for a hug, they had never been emotionally expressive, she and mama, and never pretended to be so. Nabila made her way through the 7 bedroom, 5 bathroom architecture of her home. The walls lining the stairs were covered in framed pictures of her and Rabi; running free in the garden, bathing their dogs with water hoses, coiled around Mama, with her mother's eyes fixed only on Rabi, her favourite child. Every parent has a favourite and Nabila was her father's; they both felt awkward in social situations and much preferred being alone, with books or music, alone with no one else around to disturb their thoughts. Rabi managed to move between both extremes of their family, tolerating mama's love of the spotlight and consoling Baba out of his study.