Chapter Nine

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"How do you feel now?"

Kudirat holds out a damp towel which I take with shaky fingers and press to my forehead. Its coolness comes as a welcome relief against the volcanic surface which is my forehead.

Aunty repeats her question. I mumble incomprehensible words and slowly back away from the wash hand basin which for the past few minutes, I have been bent over, emptying out the contents of my stomach.

"You can go Kudi. Should we need anything, I'll let you know" says aunty to my help.

"Alright ma"

After one final pitying look my way, she exits the toilet.

I can imagine how I currently look; puffy eyes, flowing nose,a forehead slick with sweat and dry lips. A perfect picture of robust health.

Aunty steps closer to me and as soon as the scent of her perfume hit my nose, another wave of nausea overcomes me. Gagging, I hold on to the basin for support, never letting go of my damp towel.

"Relieve yourself and let it out" she says, still coming even closer. The towel leaves my forehead and finds acceptance on my nose.

"I'm fine aunty" I assure her. She scoffs and leads me out of the toilet once she's sure I'm out of danger of spewing out more intestinal contents.

Several layers of coverings and a nightmare of pills later, she says," Maybe you should have stayed home"

She feels my forehead for my temperature and clicks her tongue, disapprovingly. The sound reminds me of a broken clock.

"If this holds up, you'll have to go to the hospital... but tell me something, what exactly happened?"

What exactly happened?

It's a question even I can't answer. All I can say is that the prayer turned out exactly the way I'd thought it would; a disaster.

There was much crying,a lot of false hopeful consolations. And hugging.

As soon as I stepped out of the car, my mother was there, a hideous pair of sunglasses over her eyes. She was the first in a long line of people to hug me.

"You look so different, my dear. You sure you're feeding fine" she said once she had released me from her choking embrace. That was when I allowed myself to look at her. Like, really look at her.

Her cheekbones were sunken, her complexion pale, her fingers bony and the nails chewed to the nub. A lock of hair which had managed to escape from underneath her hijab was greasy and speckled with what looked to be dirt, like it had been aeons since it last came in contact with anything soap.

In general, her appearance was pathetic. So much so that I felt like crying for her. That's saying something, trust me.

The rest of them did not fare any better and after a while of being surrounded by their depressing presence, I started feeling nauseous and sick.

As soon as aunty arrived, I knew it was time to leave. Not to mention all the looks neighbours kept throwing my way; looks hungry for gossip. I could almost imagine what was running through their minds as they watched me; what could have happened? She used to be good.

"Uhm, Layla?"

"I'm not sure aunty, maybe I ate something that didn't agree with me. Nothing serious, I promise".

She gives me a sad smile and takes both of my hands in hers.

"Hang in there, okay? Time heals even the deepest of wounds".

"But the scars would always be there" I add.

" Only to serve as reminders of what you've survived".

After a tiny squeeze, she withdraws her hands and folds them beneath her chin, watching me, affection and fatigue glazing her eyes.

"You look tired, aunty. Won't you go and rest? "

"I'm fine, child. It's nothing I'm not used to.... How did you feel on getting home?"

Like I just stepped into a dystopian setting. A place where despair and dead dreams hover beneath the forced smiles and hopeful expressions. Where depression and defeat clung to them like a second skin. But I don't say all these to her, all I say instead is this:

" Speechless"

And then I pretend to yawn so that aunty can leave and let me attend to more pressing issues. Issues like getting my sanity back.

Thankfully, she takes the cue and with a parting promise of coming to check on me later, tiredly leaves the room.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, I hop out of bed and take out my writing materials from their hiding spot.

Let's get down to business.

1

Mummy was back to normal by the end of the week. At least she stopped brooding and interacted with us more, even though she still did not reveal what it was that had temporarily sunk her. Like good kids, no one pressed her for answers, not even normally curious me.

It can't be anything new, I reasoned.

Saturday morning found me still in bed by nine. It was an intentional act to try and avoid having to go to the market with mummy. Surprisingly, no one tried waking me up; not Iman, not her mother.

Glad I'd managed to pull it off, I got up to a silent household. A household so silent, it unnerved me.

I made my way stealthily to the kitchen which bore no signs of breakfast. The pots and pans gleamed empty. The plates and cups all sat in their various racks, bearing no sign of use.

Did they truly leave without me? I wondered. In that case, they ought to have informed me. Not to mention, prepare breakfast too.

I was still sulking over this when the back door flew open and a laughing mummy stepped inside.

"..no problem" she was saying to someone over the phone,"till you come, dear". And then, her laughter now a chuckle, she hung up.

"Mummy, are you not going to the market anymore?"

She twisted her mouth in obvious disapproval," Good morning to you too Layla"

I apologized and greeted.

"So, who's coming? You seem happy"

She beamed me a smile as sunny as the weather outside and replied, " Hamza"

And it was like a punch had just been delivered to my gut, leaving me breathless. Anyone but that strict and rigid human.

Hamza is the second after Naja'atu, as fierce as his name suggests and an all round disciplinarian. Pretty much like Iman who was principled and had known what to do with her life, which was probably why they seemed to understand each other.

I,on the other hand, was possibly one of his least favourite people. If so, the feeling was mutual.

I was always on my toes around him and had to be careful what I said and how I behaved around him. So imagine my relief when an opportunity for him to leave home presented itself. We were all over the moon with excitement, me especially.

"Why is he coming back? Why can't he just stay at Abuja, instead?" I grumbled, trepidation already filling my veins.

Thankfully, mummy did not hear that part. And like she hadn't really dealt me enough trauma, added," He's coming today Layla. With one of your..er.. cousins. Be on your best behaviour, okay?"

Huffing, I said," I make no promises"

Then I stomped back the way I'd come, ready to drown in my misery.