Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

-Maya Angelou

Have you ever being a passenger in a new car plying a road with no traffic lights or pot holes, that’s what dating Abdurauf was like. He was caring, loving, responsible, and understanding. The first time he visited my hostel he asked if I would like to change my environment. I knew the outlook of the house didn’t impress him but the building held my history and I felt connected to it. “I don’t want to change where I live” I said and he accepted without questioning my decision. I told Sholape later about his offer, she wasn’t thrilled I turned down the opportunity to take us out of “colours crib” as we mockingly named our hostel, but I don’t see why I needed to relocate to any unknown territory.

I was having the best time of my life, enjoying the ease Abdulrauf brought with him after the turbulent period with Gbenga. My life had witnessed a complete turnaround from boring, tired of life, to hopeful and lively even my academics benefited from his timely revelation. A year and a semester of focus, dedication, and a clear head was all it took me to topple Olaiya Favour who had been the best student since our first year. The only dark patch in our vibrant relationship was his married status. I couldn’t seem to ignore the uncertainty on whether his wife would accept me or not, and it continue to cast a shadow over our relationship.

Time flies so fast when we are happy. My penultimate year in school came to an end in a jiffy and I went to mother’s place to spend my end of session break. The next day I got back was a Sunday and I noticed mother was not in a rush to go out, “are you not going to shop” I asked. Mother smiled. “When you have a son that is making too much money, you don’t need rush in your life again” she said proudly referring to Yusuf. “I only go there to stretch my eyes now”. “Ehen! It’s okay” I said. I knew from past experience mother would not entertain opinion against the means Yusuf acquired his wealth, so I change the conversation. “Mother I saw your friend’s daughter wedding pictures on Facebook, she is still very young to rush into marriage”. “How old is she” she asked. “I don’t know for sure but I remember I was a year ahead of her back in secondary school, she can’t be older than me, can she?” Mother nodded. “You are right. So If she got married and you are claiming to be older, what are you still doing?” she asked in a sarcastic manner. “I’m still in school! She learnt a vocation after secondary school; it is understandable if she got married ahead of me.” I said a bit louder than I intended. She shrugged. “I heard you. Do you remember Suliyat our former neighbour’s daughter?”She asked. I nodded. “Iya Suliyat called me to advise Suliyat to get married when she finished unifasti. I want to do my master program and work with my certificate, I can’t depend on any man to provide for me” mother mimicked. “Suliyat is still looking for husband till now. Do you look at yourself in the mirror? At 23 you are already bigger than me. Don’t say you want to further one education after you have finished o” She said dragging her ear to emphasize. “Okay Ma” I conceded, arguing with mother was like reading a software license agreement, just accept and move on. “Tell me about him”. “Who?” I asked her. “Your boyfriend, I’ve been watching you since you came back. You are always smiling to your phone, a man is behind it.” I rolled my eyes at her. “kini? ere ori igi, I’m listening jor” she said smirking at me. “What do you want to know about him exactly?” I asked. “Everything” she said. I told her Abdulrauf is several years older than I am and married. “Ah! You want to enter Polygamous family, at your age!” She exclaimed. “Mother he owns the largest beverages and plastic company in Nigeria. As a matter of fact his company supplies your store.” I said and she quickly dropped her sentiment like I expected. “Ehen! that is good now” She adjusted on her seat and lean forward, “so when are you bringing him?” I grinned. “He hasn’t introduced me to his family, and I don’t think he is ready to meet you yet.” I told her. “What kind of talk is that, he is not ready ke? Get pregnant for him o jere he will be ready.” “Ah! Mother” I exclaimed. “What is ah? It is the truth, the men nowadays want to see that you are fruitful before putting their money on you” she said in a convincing manner. I sighed. “Okay I have heard you ma” I stood up from the couch, but she kept looking at me meaningfully; it was obvious she didn’t believe I agreed to her opinion. “Mother I’ve heard now” I repeated and her face brightened up. I rolled my eyes at her and walked to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

I decided to resume early to campus and start working on my final year project. I didn’t want to take chances; I maybe topping the class but the others were not far behind. I left mother’s house to spend my last four days with father. He returned from work in the evening looking desolate, but put on a weak smile when he saw me. “Father is everything alright?” I asked. “I’m fine. I’m just happy I wouldn’t be alone in this house tonight”. “Eyah! When was the last time Ibrahim came home?” I asked. “Last month he stayed for two weeks, spent one week here and one week with your mother before going back. He will be graduating soon you know” he said and his face crinkled into a smile which quickly vanished as he remembered something else. He shook his head. “Your mother splited our family” he said accusingly, “and now you and your brother are forced to share your time with us”. I noticed “brother” was not pluralized and I instantly got emotional. I stood up and went to sit beside him; took one of his hands in mine and he looked into my eyes. “Father you need to forgive Yusuf” I pleaded. He removed his hand from my grasp and looked straight ahead. “There is nothing to forgive, he chose the life he wanted for himself. We all live with the consequences of the choices we make. I’m living with mine, his own will come in due time” he said frankly. “Father you still need to forgive him” I said and his face became the hardened mask I’ve seen many times. And I knew I should let the matter rest. “He didn’t think he wronged me, from what I heard he is doing well for himself. We will see how long it would last.” He stood up and headed for the dining table where his food was waiting.

My final exam was a month away, and I was doing everything possible to make sure I graduate as the best student in my department. I woke up with a slight fever feeling like a dead wood one morning. It was probably because of the stress I thought and took some malaria drugs and paracetamol. Few days later I discovered some foods tasted blank and others outrightly nauseated me to the point of vomiting. I stepped out of the toilet for the umpteenth time. “You should go to the clinic, it’s almost a week now and you are no getting better from what I observed” Rahamat said. “Did you tell your Mr man that you are sick?” Sholape asked and I shook my head. “What kind of human being are you? Why don’t you tell him? She asked flabbergasted, “maybe you have swallowed someone like that who knows”. “Shut up” I said. I wanted to lie down back on the bed, but Rahamat insisted I get dress and we went to the clinic.

The doctor examined me and run some test. “You are two months pregnant” she said smiling. I was dumbfounded. “Thank you very much” Rahamat said and practically dragged me out of my seat. Several thoughts started running through my mind: how would Abdulrauf react to the news, would he rebuke me for being careless and childish, complained that he wasn’t ready to have a child with me. And if he took responsibility, how would father react when he find out I was pregnant. Rahamat suddenly broke through my reverie. “Who is the father of the child,” she asked. “Do you have to ask, of course it’s Abdulrauf” I replied slightly annoyed by her question. She sighed. “You should have waited to get married to him before carrying his baby” Rahamat said cautiously. I smirked. “What difference does it make?” I asked. “I heard from my Alfa that any child born out of wedlock, according to Islamic ruling is a bastard, and cannot inherit the father neither can…….” “Rahamat!” I cut her off.”Seriously! Out of the things you can say to support me at this moment, that’s what you chose to say, I’m disappointed.” I flagged down a tricycle and hoped in but she quickly joined me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” she pleaded. I looked at her with contempt. “Pray to God that Abdulrauf should take the news well and I might forgive you,” I said angrily.

I called Abdulrauf that I needed to see him urgently. “I’m currently busy now. Can I see you in the evening probably by 5pm,” he asked. “That’s fine,” I replied. “See you then,” he said and hung up. It was already past 4pm and I was still rehearsing how to tell him. I couldn’t seem to find the right word to start the conversation. I rehearsed several sentences and even called Sholape to help me out at some point. She listened to me for some minutes before losing interest. “I don’t know why you are anxious, this man wanted to marry you, why is it difficult to say you are pregnant for him,” she said. I sighed wiping my face with both hands. “I don’t know. I’m just thinking he may not want the baby at the moment.” “Relax Aisha, forget the maybe. What I know is that he loves you, and I believe he will be happy you are carrying his child. “Are you sure?” I asked. “Of course I’m sure,” Sholape said. “Where did Rahamat go to?” she asked. “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “What is happening between you two, you were not particularly friendly since you got back from the clinic.” “Mtchew you need to hear what that girl was telling me, I felt like breaking her head”.” What did she say,” Sholape asked. “Ehn! You should have married him first, child born out of wedlock is a bastard,” I said mimicking Rahamat. “You don’t mean it,” Sholape exclaimed cackling. “Stop laughing it is not funny o, I’m still pissed off with her.” “Sorry, just forgive her okay,” Sholape said managing to suppress another round of laughter.

My phone rang and it was Abdulrauf calling. I picked up and he said he was outside my Hostel. I quickly prepared myself mentally. When I stepped out of the building some girls turned to look my way, I immediately looked straight ahead and saw that Abdulrauf came in his Range Rover Sport. I knew some of these girls were jealous of me and talk a lot behind my back, calling Abdulrauf my sugar daddy and all sorts of names, but as long as none of them could dare to face me and talk trash, we are cool. I open the door and helped myself into the backseat. “Frank! Excuse us,” Abdulrauf told his driver. Frank got down and closed the door behind him. He turned to face me. “Whatsup beautiful” he said as a way of greeting. “I am not okay,” I replied. “What happened?” he asked with alarm in his voice. I inclined my head thinking of how to phrase what I wanted to tell him, and silently praying for a positive reaction. He raised my face gently resting the back of his hand on my forehead to check my temperature. “What is wrong with you?” he asked again this time obviously worried, “talk to me,” he encouraged. “I’m pregnant for you,” I blurted out looking down. I thought I was imagining it when I heard the uneven breathing, but then I looked at Abdulrauf—and sure enough, he was grinning, “about time” he said. “About time for what,” I asked. He kept smiling at me like he hit a jackpot and I was totally relieved from the anxiety that gripped me like heart attack. “The reason I decided to take a second wife was not because my wife offended me, or neglected her duty. But when she decided not to have another child after our third born, she left me no other choice. I begged her, send her friends to beg on my behalf to have at least one more, but she refused. And when I saw you that day at the eatery, I couldn’t take my eyes off you, I knew you were special”. He used his hands to cup my face. “You will be the most spoilt bride in history,” he said smiling, and kissed me lightly on the forehead. The word “bride” caught me off guard. “Does that mean you are finally introducing me?” I asked. “I’m not only introducing you, our wedding plan is in motion as I speak.” I threw my hands around his neck and hugged him passionately.

Some days later Abdulrauf came to pick me. “Where are we going,” I asked. “To my house, my family members are waiting to meet you.” A shiver ran down my spine and I quickly did a silent prayer. After getting into his car I looked at my knee-length gown. “Do you think I should change my dress,” I asked. “No you are perfect” he said with a smile. He made a call on our way, telling someone that we are not far behind and will meet them soon. We reached his house and got down from the car. I marveled at the architectural design of the house. It was like a King’s palace, with large compound and beautiful flowers planted strategically. There was a fountain with the sculptor of two giant fish kissing at the centre, sprinkling water in various designs you could spend the whole afternoon transfixed by its beauty. The outside of the building was nothing compare to its interior: the furniture seemed to be carved from gold, the walls white like snow and the floor reflected like it was made from black diamond. Two people, a man and a woman were waiting at what I think was the reception area, because Abdulrauf ushered them into a more spacious living room, the size of someone else’s entire building. I presume they must be Abdulrauf’s uncle and aunt; I knelt down to greet them. “God bless you my child,” the man said while the woman looked at me appraisingly. I sat down and saw Abdulrauf’s family picture placed strategically on the wall. I remembered he told me his children lived in abroad; the male was gay while the females were perennial drug addicts. He said he tried to lure them back to Nigeria, perhaps with change of environment and counseling they would get better but his effort was futile. “That’s the main reason I decided to start afresh with you and raise children that will bring me happiness when I’m old” he told me.

The man cleared his voice bringing my attention back to the room. “The Yoruba people said one does not shave the head in the absence of the owner. Call your wife.” Abdulrauf summoned one of the servants on standby. “Go upstairs and tell Alhaja that the family head want to see her.” After some minutes that felt like hours. I saw a woman appeared at the top of the stairs, she is very fair, plumpy, average height, round face, her skin was flawless and she worked with a kind of confidence that suit a woman of her status. She sighted me and her eyes began to speculate turning her mouth in a sneer. “Asalamualeikum!” She greeted diverting her attention to the family head. Wahaleikumsalam! we chorused and I was barely audible to myself even though my mouth moved. She sat adjacent to the couch where I was seated maintaining eye contact with me. I quickly dropped my gaze to stare at the floor. The family head leaned slightly forward resting his elbows on his laps. “Iya Suliyat, God will bless your children, you will not cry over them, you will not use your hand to bury any of them,” he prayed. “You see a Yoruba adage says, one does not get angry over the multiplication of God’s blessing, since you got into my brother’s house his wealth continued to increase, and I believe the blessing as just started. This lady sitting beside me has brought another blessing into this family.” When I heard him refer to me I froze. “She is pregnant for your husband.” I heard a sudden burst of laughter and I thought I imagined it. I peeped under my eyelashes and she was laughing. She stopped suddenly without anyone cautioning her, stood up and faced Abdulrauf. “Is it true this filthy thing is carrying your pregnancy,” she asked pointing a finger at me. “Don’t call her names,” Abdulrauf said with an authority I had never heard in his voice. “Iya Suliyat, sit down, don’t let us make a mountain out of a molehill” the man said. “This is not a mole hill,” she said pointing and staring daggers at me. “This was not the promise Rauf made me. With ultimate respect sir, I will be glad if you stay out of this.” “The sky is big enough for birds to fly without touching” the man said exasperatedly. “I will roast any bird that dares to come into this house. Stand up!” Alhaja shouted and I jumped out of my seat. “Bird pregnancy! Leach it or drink it, I don’t care. If I were you, I would get rid of that thing”. “You. Will. Address her properly,” Abdulrauf said emphasizing every word. “And to clear your doubt, I’m going to marry her and she will give birth to this baby. Thanks for the embarrassment,” he said sarcastically and she seemed to mellow. He took my hand and led me out of the house. I was barely keeping the tears that have welled up in my eyes from falling, when we got inside the car my emotion got the best of me and I started weeping. “Oh come on stop crying” he drew me closer and I buried my face in his chest ruining his cloth with tears streaking down my face. “I know her she will calm down eventually; she didn’t mean any of those things trust me.” After sometime he pulled back and examined my face. “Are you okay?” I nodded twice. “If your father accepts me, no one can prevent me from marrying you,” he assured me. “You are like the oxygen I breathe, I can’t stay away from you even if I want to,” he said and I smiled a little.

I called mother that I would bring my fiancee to meet her during the week, and also planned the weekend with father since that was the only time he would be around. The separate visit reminded me of how our family ties had deteriorated. I was really sad that my parents couldn’t find a meeting point. Mother was ecstatic when she met Abdulrauf; she went to the extent of pounding yam and making egusi soup for him. “Your mum is lively and nice, where did she learn to cook like that? Wow! I hope you inherited her recipe and cooking skills?” Abdulrauf commented smiling. “You bet! I am the real deal when it comes to cooking not my mum,” I said proudly. “That’s something to look forward to,” he said grinning. We went to see father at the weekend with two members of Abdulrauf’s family. If he was surprised by my choice of man, he didn’t show it. And he didn’t seem to mind that I was going to be the second wife. He told Abdulrauf to take good care of me and promised to get back to him on the date we agreed on for the nikah. Abdulrauf was surprised he didn’t mention anything about introduction. “When is our introduction?” he asked. Father smiled. “We just did it. In this family we uphold sunnah. Gathering crowd for introduction is not part of Islamic culture, it’s a Yoruba tradition and Islam does not encourage Israf. It is a waste of time and resources to gather people twice for a wedding” he said. I left for the kitchen and prepared semo and egusi for our visitors. Abdulrauf took his first morsel and winked at me. “I told you,” I said grinning from ear to ear. Some minutes later they thanked father and left.

After they were long gone father called me to sit with him. “Aisha, Aisha, Aisha, how many times did I call you?” “Three times sir” I replied. “You are not a child anymore, are you sure this is what you want,” he asked skeptically. I nodded in agreement. “Open your mouth and talk to me,” he commanded. “Yes sir!” I said a bit louder than necessary. He shrugged. “Okay,” then he went silent for some time. From his countenance I knew he was doing a mental analysis of the situation. “Why the rushes though, are you pregnant?” he asked suddenly and my heart kicked into another gear. “No sir,” I quickly said before my fear robs me of my speech. He stared at me for seconds that seem like eternity. “Alright, I believe you,” he said finally. I was happy he didn’t press further because I can’t keep up. With that out of my way, I went back to campus and continued my preparation for the forthcoming final exam.

The graduating list was released and I was the best graduating student in my department, I couldn’t contain my joy. I called Abdulrauf and told him. “My beauty with a brain!” he said praisingly, “you are worth every penny I own dear. Name anything you want and it is yours.” I thought about what I could ask him but was unable to come up with any idea. “Hmmm I will gladly receive any gift from you,” I said and he chuckled. On my convocation day, he handed me the key to a brand new white Toyota Venza, my leg almost gave way from the impact of the surprise. He held on to me and I hugged him tightly with tears of joy streaming down my face. What more could a young girl ask for, I was on top of the world all my dreams were coming to fruition.

A day to my nikah, I saw a missed call from a strange number on my phone. I promised to call the person back but I got busy and forgot. Abdulrauf called and asked if his wife “Alhaja” called me. I told him I saw a missed call but I didn’t know if it was her. “She will call you back, make sure you are with your phone,” he said. Some minutes later my phone rang. “Asalamualeikum!” I heard from the other end. I replied the greeting in full, “wahaleikumsalam waramotullah wabarakatu!” It was a trick I used on father anytime I fell out favour with him; I hope it works on this stern woman. “Do you know who is speaking?” she asked. “Yes,” I replied. “Who?” she inquired. I wondered what her intention was about; I knew I couldn’t afford to screw this up for myself so I gave her full recognition. “Alhaja Shakirat Adelowo,” I said. “Call me your Iyale. We will soon be rivals anyway; I didn’t mean it in the bad way if you understand”. “Yes Ma,” I replied. “I would prefer to call you mummy if you don’t mind,” I said. “Do you think our husband will like that,” she asked. I was taking aback by the acceptance in her phrase “our husband,” so it took me few seconds to reply. “I don’t think he would mind Ma,” I replied. She was silent for some time; I thought that was all but then she spoke. “I’m sorry for the way I behaved and embarrassed you when you came to the house. Forgive me.” “There is nothing to forgive Ma, perhaps I will do worst if I were in your place,” I quickly said. “Alright, I will be at your nikah tomorrow. Take care of yourself” she said and dropped the call. I jumped up and did a cultural dance I was sure sucks. I didn’t have any audience so it was me showing my happiness the way I felt.

The next morning Sholape was getting me ready for the event. She had been on my makeup for several hours painstakingly dotting every spot with colours. Rahamat knocked before entering, expect her to do it ten times if she comes in ten times. She said it was an order from Prophet Muhammad to always knock before entering someone’s room in other not to violate their privacy. “You are still on this,” she exclaimed and I gave her a pained look. “Please leave me alone, let me do my thing,” Sholape replied her, relishing the opportunity to make my face her personal canvas. Rahamat rolled her eyes. “Will you hurry up at least; you don’t want her to be late do you? We all know you have a standing record in lateness, but today is her wedding day not some lecture she can stroll to.” “Really!” Sholape scowled. “It wasn’t my fault you don’t know the concept of beautification,” she said grimacing at Rahamat. Rahamat sighed, shook her head and sat down on the bed. My friends banter was the least of my concern. A lot was going through my mind, and at the apex of my concern was how father and mother would take to each other at the venue.

Ibrahim and some of his friends from Madrasat anchored the nikah program. From where I sat I could see father smiling appreciatively at his brainchild, his face glowing with so much happiness while mother sat beside him simply observing the event. Everyone could see they no longer have anything in common and their different outfits spoke volume. I remembered vividly a point Ibrahim made in his lecture, that the greatest gift a man could give to his children was to choose a good wife. I saw father nodding his head in agreement, and mother looked even more displeased to be sitting beside him. Ibrahim congratulated Abdulrauf and also advised him to follow the teachings of the prophet and be a good husband. He said a good husband is not a man who is rich or handsome, but a man who knows the value of a woman. He also quoted a hadith where the prophet peace be upon him said, “the best of you are those who are best to their wives”. Lastly, he advised me to be prayerful because prayer according to the Prophet is the sword of the believers. I couldn’t estimate how much father spent on thanksgiving, he was probably the happiest person at the venue. The presence of his boss and his wife were also felt, standing each time to support him with cash. Yusuf and his group of friends arrived later, when the program was about to end. All eyes were on them when they entered the hall, four of them including Yusuf dressed in uniform, the oldest among them shouldn’t be more than 24. The material they used to sew their outfit, I believed would cost a little fortune, and their necklaces, rings and wristwatches were real gold. He sighted me on the podium and blew me a kiss, went to where mother sat with father and gave her a hug. He greeted father but he ignored him. I wondered if it was the customary “asalamualeikum” greeting father preached to us not to ignore, even when we are not happy with the greeter. “It’s a grave sin” he would say. I couldn’t help not to think about the irony of the situation. Ibrahim on the podium preaching dos and don’ts, haram and halal, while Yusuf sat in the midst of his friends drinking beer and attracting young ladies like feces attracted flies.