Chapter 2: Chapter 2

21 Days Prior...

The wind howled as the sky turned black. The air dusty picking up cans and leather in the air. She walked faster, grateful she woke up earlier today. The sky looked like it was two a.m. when it was actually eight in the morning. She didn't want to get caught in the storm. With the bad roads, she was sure there’d be no car around. These days, out of nowhere there would be a heavy downpour of rain. In her small neighbourhood of Unguwan Dosa, storms were a constant thing. Especially during the August period. She crossed the street one more time and climbed a small number of step into the bookstore. The sounds of horns desperately wanting to get home faded away as she walked in. it was cool making her instantly shiver. A bell rang as she made my way inside.

"Hello, Mr. Mival." She beamed at the shop owner who was sitting in the counter. He was a stout looking man, with a moustache that went up and down anytime he spoke. Kids made fun of him because of his figure, but one thing she knew about him, he was awfully nice. According to her dad, Mr Mival and his wife had been in the neighbourhood for close to 28 years.

"Hello, Jameela. How are you? A storm is coming. Why are you outside?" He asked bewildered. The shop had two stories – the ground floor, a large section of books and a small coffee shop while the first floor consisted of his apartment.

She stood, contemplating on how to answer. How do you tell a sixty five year old man that you rushed to his bookshop in the middle of an upcoming storm just to buy a new book called 'I AM A FEMINIST... SO WHAT?' She fiddled with her hands, unsure. She finally gave a smile, her face lopsided.

"Um, there is a really important new book that I need to buy. So I am just going to quickly check it and leave." She hurriedly looked through the shelves.

"The new books are on the third shelves," He explained, shaking his head.

She went through them and luckily, there it was. With its bright peach cover – a handbag, pen, a justice scale glaring at her, she felt like jumping. She had been excited to buy the book since it was published. She was active on bookstagram raving about it, and even participated in a blog tour just last month. She had already read it of course, as an ARC copy but she wanted the feel of it in her hands, on her shelf. She snatched it from its shelf, beaming. You’re moving to your new home from today.

"How much?" By now, lightening was striking fast and the weather was much cooler.

"4500 naira." He looked at her and continued, "You came only to buy this book? You and Nina are one of a kind. She already has one up in her room." He smiled. Nina was his daughter and also Jameela’s best friend. Being age mates and in the same neighbourhood, they grew up together, and practically did everything together.

"Here, Mr. Mival. You have to read this book. It’s simply everything. Honestly. Anyway, see you later. I’m coming by later to see Nina." She fled out of the shop, hearing him shouting at her to be careful, as she crossed the busy street. Rain flooded suddenly like there was no tomorrow. She was drenched by the time she reached the porch. Mom flew the door open looking surprised.

"SubhanAllah! Jameela! Hurry inside. What were you doing for so long?"

"Guess what Mom. I got it." She screamed.

"Really? Let me see it." Mom looked at the cover and smiled. "Wow. You really have something to read now. Nice. Go and change. You will catch a cold if you remain in those clothes dear."

She changed into some casual wears since I wasn't going anywhere and fell on her bed. She couldn’t exactly go back to sleep. Instead, she tossed and turned. One thing was on her mind - her sleep-away camp in two days. Camping in a faraway place at first freaked her out, but now she had adjusted to the idea. Her mind drifted to when she first went camping. She nagged and cried not wanting to leave her parents. Jameela cringed, remembering her screams. No one could blame her though. She was a child and besides, a lot of the other kids had cried as well. She remembered being so upset at every little thing, so she never fully enjoyed it. Back then, it was still in Nigeria at least. But this time, it would be different. They would be travelling all the way to Florida. She had never been there, she thought excitedly. She cuddled in her blanket as thunder and lightning struck, scared of the sound it made and the light that pierced through her window. After having a rough year at school and also in her life, all she wanted was to rest and have some fun. No drama, no worries.

She somehow dozed off, only waking up after an hour. By then, light was streaming through her window. It was like it never rained, except for the sandy smell and wet pavements. She jumped out of bed and went straight to the family room where everyone was getting prepared to eat breakfast.

"Have you greeted Dada yet? You didn't greet her when you woke up," Mom interrupted, as she was piling food on her plate. Today’s breakfast was baked eggs in avocado with wheat toast and orange juice. Jameela sighed. Every time Dada was around, Mom made sure to ensure they all greeted her. She even kept an account of who greeted Dada and who didn’t. Maybe it was because Mom had noticed they didn’t like greeting Dada. Who know? They actually love Dad. It was just that anytime they greeted her, she would make sure to start narrating a past event, or about her life or life in general.

"No Mom," She sighed. "I will go now."

Dragging her legs toward the stairs, she climbed it and turned to the right before climbing another short flight of chairs and into a living room. The house was divided into three sections. Dad’s, Mom’s, the children’s and a section specifically designed for visitors which Dada frequently used.

"Salamu Alaikum Dada," She peered into the room. Dada was sitted on the couch, browsing through a fashion magazine. She was a chubby vibrant lady who was known for her sharp mouth.

"Amin Wa alaikissalam. Come in, dear."

"Dada, how are you? Did you sleep well?" She remained standing to show that she would be leaving soon.

"I'm fine. Well, you see this bed is really soft. So different from my own back home. This can cause a person to have backache. You know, Ameer, your cousin told me of a research that was done and it was found that soft beds actually cause backache." She chuckled before continuing, "the generation these days are quite funny. They know of all these, but they will not stop. I'm sure even the writer and researchers still sleep on soft beds in their house." They both cracked a laugh.

"Dada, you are very funny, you know?"

"But it's the truth, Jameela dear. You know, when I was younger, oh I forgot to ask how you are. I'm just blabbing about. How are you? Did you sleep well? The rain made me sleep longer." She explained.

"It's OK Dada. I'm good. Thanks. I went to the store to buy that book I told you about. Well, I have to..." She began trying to trail towards the door.

"Oh, I remember. You and your feminist principles. It's all nonsense. Haha. I don't know how you developed them. Aww my neck."

She rolled my eyes. "Are you okay? Dada, feminism isn't nonsense. There should be equality everywhere between men and women." She rushed towards her.

"Yes, my dear. It's just my neck. Could you...? Well, we both have different views on things, but I sometimes like the idea of equality you know? But don't tell your mother."

"Oh you don't know how happy it makes me when you say that." She massaged her neck as she continued telling her different stories.

"...You wouldn't believe it. Your great-great-grand father told me. Haha. It was hilarious. The boy didn't have anything to say then."

"Wow that's really hilarious. I wouldn't know what to do if I was there. The embarrassment. How would I feel? God forbid." She cringed imagining she was the one in the situation.

"Thank you very much Dear. You should go and eat. I will have to rest for a while here."

"Ok Dada. Bye. See you later. Love you."

"Love you too dear!"

She entered the family room just as everyone was piling food on their plates. The topic of discussion was their aunties’ wedding which was in six months’ time.

"Tomorrow we would buy some items, right?" Ibraheem asked.

"Yea. InshaALLAH." Jameela replied, beaming.

"I don't just like this camping stuff. It kind of freaks me out, you know? I think it's dangerous," Amina said.

"Amina, there's nothing to be scared of. I'm sure it's because of all the horror stories you've heard," Jameela told her.

"No! It's not that. It's just that, I don't know, I have a bad feeling," She said.

"It's going to be splendid. I just know it," Muhammad said.

In this family, everyone had their own characters. It was like a mini movie every day. Fatee was the chocolate eater, even though Jameela also loved chocolate. But for Fatee, it was an obsession. She would simply sit on the porch and divulge a whole box of chocolate with ice cream to top it up. Muhammad was the 'engineer' of the family. Ever since he was a kid, he would take broken equipment and try to fix them up. Farah was the makeup addict, who never went a day without it nor a minute without checking herself in the mirror while Amina was the quietest and friendliest. The most reserved of them all. Anytime Fatee and Jameela or any of them argued, she would solve the matter amicably.

Their discussion was cut short when Dad walked in. “Eating and talking, my chipmunks?”

They smiled, turning their attention on their food.

***

The afternoon was spent in Sunnys’ house. Sunny, who also lived in the same area as them was a tall and well-built guy. He was the same age as Jameela but looked much older. Sunny’s family had been family friends with Jameela’s family since they were kids. They even went to the same school. Until he was transferred to another school when they entered junior year. Jameela remembered vaguely the fight that broke in their school, leading to him being wounded. It was a fight among seniors, but Sunny happened to be walking on that lane, and got a share of the beatings. His parents immediately withdrew him, saying the school had no moral values and cared less about its students. He was transferred to another school, which was farther than theirs. That didn't stop their friendship from growing.

"Mom, we're back. Woah, I'm so tired. Mom?" She called out as she flipped on the couch.

"Maybe she is sleeping. Do you smell that?" Fatee said.

At that moment, Mom came out from the kitchen, with a spoon in her hand. "Hey. I just finished baking a cake. I want you to take it with you to your sleep-away camp. How was your afternoon? How is Melissa and her family?"

"Hmm. That explains the amazing smell Mom. They are doing great. Mrs. Melissa said that she will visit this weekend," Amina told her.

"Oh. She's going to beat me to it again. I was supposed to visit last week but I couldn't."

"Yeah. She said that she is sort of glad you didn't go. So that she can visit," Muhammad said.

Mom smiled, "a very nice lady she is. Well, I'm glad she's coming over. Kids, go and rest before eating, ok?" Mom said before disappearing into the kitchen.