Chapter 6

* 

There was something about Kano that always made Afrah smile. For the better part of her life, she'd tried to figure out why she always felt giddy and excited whenever she found herself drawing closer and closer to the city. Alas, the mystery remained to be unravelled. 

Perhaps it was the simplicity in the air; the way everyone seemed to move with a certain ease which was characteristic only to the North. Back in Abuja, everyone moved quickly and urgently, as though they were late for an important appointment. But here, in the heart of the North, things moved at a much more leisurely pace. Placing her head on the window, Afrah watched as a group of three young girls walked casually towards the gates of Sa'adatu Rimi College of Education, talking excitedly with their bags dangling behind them and their heads brought together. A group of teenage boys were ogling them as they passed, and she felt her skin crawl at the sight. 

Turning her eyes the other way, she chose to stare instead at the many oddly-arranged buildings, most of them mismatched and looking like they were about to crumble at the slightest gust of wind. 

"I hate this place," Amina muttered as they drove on. She was sitting beside Afrah, her nose buried in her phone while the driver sat in front of them, hands firmly on the steering wheel. 

"You say that each time we come here," Afrah replied. 

"Because I still hate it here," she replied with a snort. "It's so... ancient and plain. Who would possibly want to live here?" 

"Well I think it's beautiful," Afrah shrugged, staring out the window again. 

"You're only saying that because you have lived here for the better part of four years," Amina said. "By this time next year, you'll be sitting with me in Habil Café and criticizing this place as well." 

Afrah thought otherwise, but she said nothing as they drove on. The road gradually become more crowded as they moved deeper into the city, and they began to see a lot more tricycles, dominating everywhere in a sea of yellow and brown. 

"Umma says hi," Amina said as they stopped at a red light. Afrah turned to look at her. She had been staring at the young boy standing barefoot beside their car, his hands outstretched towards the next car as though in supplication. His clothes were torn in several places, and his hair was dirty and flaked with ringworms. Though he wasn't a pleasant sight, she felt a sense of pity towards the strange boy. 

"Chatting with your mummy, are you?" She smirked at Amina as she reached for her purse. 

"What's wrong with that?" She looked up sharply. Afrah ignored her as she rolled down the window and beckoned for the boy to come closer. As the lights turned green, she hastily dropped the 500 naira note in his hand, failing to see the look of utter bewilderment in his eyes as they sped off. 

"When are you heading back?" She asked Amina, dropping the purse beside her once again. 

"Probably tomorrow or the day after," Amina replied. "I need to go to the market with Mami to pick out a few things for the wedding. You're welcome to come with us if you'd like." 

"No, thank you," Afrah shook her head. More than anything, she hated going to a crowded market, especially the ones in Kano, where the men didn't even try to pretend that they weren't staring at you. 

"Might I suggest that we leave the day after tomorrow?" Lukman suggested from the driver's seat. "You will need to rest today, so there is no way you're going to the market today. And if you go tomorrow, then we cannot hope to leave on the same day without travelling at night. And your father has expressly forbidden me from travelling with either of you at night." 

"I guess you're right," she sighed lazily as she leaned back into her seat. "There are a lot of things I need to buy, so I think staying an extra day will be better." 

Nearly twenty minutes later, they finally pulled up at the gates of her uncle's house. The gates were thrown open almost immediately, and they drove in to find uncle Mahmud sitting underneath the shade of the mango tree, a newspaper in his hands and his horn-rimmed spectacles balanced on the bridge of his nose. He looked up as the car stopped beside him, a faint smile on his face. 

"You're early," he said the moment they both stepped out of the car. 

"There was no traffic along the way," Afrah said as she stooped slightly in greeting. Amina did the same, and their uncle's eyes flitted to her instantly. 

"Well- well, " he smirked at her. "To what do I owe this pleasure? The great and powerful Queen Amina has finally decided to grace my house with her presence." 

Blushing furiously, Amina kept her gaze on the ground as she greeted him. Behind them, Lukman was already pulling out their bags from the boot. 

"When is the wedding?" Uncle Mahmud asked. Afrah glanced up at him briefly, for the thousandth time noting the uncanny resemblance between him and her mother. Though he was much older than her, uncle Mahmud still had the same kind eyes and soft smile as Umma, and they both had a tiny birthmark beside their left ears. 

"Three weeks from now," she replied demurely. 

"I see," he nodded thoughtfully. "Well, your aunt has just gone out to see a friend of hers, but I daresay she will return in a few minutes. Call the maid to take your bags inside for you." 

As they walked away, Amina grabbed Afrah's arm and whispered into her ear, "Please tell me he's the only one who knows about the wedding. You know I don't want anyone else finding out." 

"I swear he's the only one I told," Afrah said truthfully. She, however, failed to mention that Umma had already told everyone else. 

* 

Aunt Maimuna couldn't stop smiling long after they'd hugged each other and exchanged pleasantries. 

"Look how much you've grown, Amina," she said as she stared at her for the umpteenth time. "I can't believe it's been seven years already since I last saw you. And you, Afrah, just went home to eat all the food and come back, didn't you?" 

Both of them smiled gleefully at their aunt. 

"I can't believe you're already graduating in a few months," she continued. "It seems just like yesterday when your father was dropping you off here, and you were too scared to even enter the house. And look at you now, all grown up and ready to take on the world." 

"Weirdly enough, I actually don't feel like graduating at all," Afrah confessed. "I wish I could spend more time in school." 

"Perhaps you should consider becoming the first female Vice-chancellor of BUK then," Amina suggested. "That way, you'll never actually leave the school." 

"Shut up," Afrah threw a deathly glare at her, and aunt Maimuna chuckled while she opened the pot and checked on the stew once again. 

"Mami," Amina said, "is it possible for us to finish buying everything tomorrow?" 

"Of course," she replied. "Since we know where we're going to, it shouldn't be much of a problem. We'll leave early, so we can finish up early. You said you have pictures of the clothes you want to buy already?" 

She nodded. 

"Send them to my phone then, and I'll forward it to Sanusi," she said. "He works at the store, and he'll be able to arrange everything before we get there." 

Afrah stood up suddenly, reaching for her phone. "I need to go and charge my phone," she said. 

"Well, you're not a guest in this house," her aunt replied with a chuckle. Afrah smiled at her before heading out of the kitchen, taking the steps two at a time. Her slippers made slapping noises on the cold tiles as she did, echoing across the emptiness of the house. Having lived in the house for the past three and three-quarter years, Afrah had gotten used to the stark emptiness of the house. There were no pictures on the walls, or any sign of even a pen out of place. There was a strange coldness which seemed to penetrate from the walls; a coldness which could only be dispersed by the presence of children. 

Safely in her room, Afrah shut the door behind her and quickly dialled her mother's number. For some strange reason, she was overcome with the sudden need to hear her voice. 

"Assalamu alaikum," Umma answered on the second ring. 

"Wa alaikis salam," Afrah smiled broadly. "Good afternoon, Umma." 

"It is indeed," her mother replied. "Amina already told me you've reached Kano safely." 

"Yes we did, Alhamdulillah," she said. "I just wanted to call and check on you." 

"I'm fine, Afrah," Umma said. "The house just feels empty with both of you gone, but I'll get used to it in a few days, like I always do." 

Afrah bit her lip as she held back a tear. 

"What's wrong, my child?" Umma asked immediately. Truly, a mother's ability to detect when her child was upset was remarkable. 

"It's nothing," she replied quickly. "I'm just... I feel... I don't know..." 

"Talk to me, Afrah," Umma said softly. 

"I just feel... like there's something I'm not doing right," she said slowly. "I feel like there's something I should be doing, which I've forgotten about." 

"I'm sure it's nothing Afrah," Umma said kindly. "You probably just forgot to switch off the socket in your room or something." 

She laughed at that, wiping the tear in her eyes. How could she explain to her mother that she felt an uneasy emptiness whenever she thought about the future? Everytime she heard Amina talking so casually and excitedly about her own future, it made her question her own life, and wonder what the future held in store for her. So far, all she could see was a bleak and empty canvas. 

"You know what," Umma said over the line, "I was right. You did leave the socket on." 

Afrah laughed as she heard her mother switching it off. 

"I miss you already, Umma," she said. 

There was a slight pause, before she replied "I miss you too, Afrah. Take care of yourself." 

"I will," she smiled before hanging up. Several seconds later, she was still staring down at her phone, wondering why she didn't feel inclined at all to rejoin her aunt and sister downstairs. 

"You're overreacting, Afrah," she muttered to herself. "Surely the future can't be that bad." 

Steeling herself, she stood up and walked out of the room, leaving her phone on the bed. 

Meanwhile, several miles away, Afrah's future husband had just stepped out of Murtala Muhammad International Airport, taking a deep breath as he inhaled the long-forgotten scent of Kano. 

*