Chapter Eleven

1

The blast of a horn cutting through the stillness of the afternoon jolted me out of my nap. Rolling over unto my stomach, I pressed a finger to my forehead and squeezed my eyes shut. I could feel the beginning of a headache coming on. Some thanks to that blasted horn and the rest to my fitful napping.

I hardly ever slept in the afternoon. Maybe it was my body's way of avoiding what was sure to come.

The horn blasted once more and just beyond the opened windows of the sweltering room, I could hear a cacophony of pleased welcomes and delighted laughter.

Crouched on the bed like an animal poised to attack, I listened intently to the tangled voices, trying to unravel the one I sought,yet dreaded; a low,vibrating bass. I soon heard it.. and grimaced -Hamza.

"Look how tall this boy has grown!" A voice -mummy- exclaimed," What has Medina been feeding you?"

The boy in question must be the cousin for whom Lawal was trying to tidy the room, I concluded. The burning curiosity to see this cousin outweighed the dread I had to see my brother and was what finally drew me out of the room into the living room to see the new arrivals.

And what a sight they were.

At first the living room was too rowdy for me to make them out. A cluster of people stood close to the entrance, talking excitedly while others -Lawal and Iman- struggled to bring in the heap of luggage.

My heart dropped into a bottomless pit; did Hamza really plan on staying so long? What would life with that tyrant be like? I wondered, my despair almost consuming.

All thoughts on him, however, vanished when I set eyes upon him who I assumed was the cousin.

It wasn't his looks (although he was a looker, I assure you) nor was it the fact that he easily stood a head taller than everyone else in the room. It was the feeling of déjà vu that coursed through me, that feeling that we'd met before,or that this moment had occurred and I was just reliving it.

Our eyes locked and he offered me a smile. Although it was a nice smile, it felt off, somehow. I struggled to grasp the thread of recognition but just when I thought I'd grasped it, it stretched further out of my reach.

Then mummy spoke and he looked away. The spell broke.

"Layla, can't you greet? Why are you just staring like a confused goat?"

Lawal chuckled and the cousin coughed into his fist; a clear sign he was holding back laughter. I buried my embarrassment beneath a strained smile.

Turning to the man of the moment, I greeted, but not before gaping at how different he was looking. His cheeks were rosy with good health and his skin appeared to glow. He did not look as strict as I remembered and certainly not as taller. His newly gained weight seemed to have pulled him a bit closer to the earth. Or maybe I was the one who had grown taller.

He smiled at me and asked how I was.

"I hope you are not as stubborn and unruly as I remember. You've become matured, not so?"

Lawal spoke in my place," Matured? She's still the way she was when you left. If not worse,sef. How long has it been anyway,a year? Time changes people but then Layla hardly qualifies as one"

Surprisingly,Hamza laughed good-naturedly and shook his head like he had just heard a really good joke. His companion coughed once more.

Satisfied with that, mummy finally went round to what I had been waiting for; she introduced the cousin.

2

She clapped a hand on his shoulder, and although I'm sure he didn't mean to,he winced.

"I'm certain you remember Suleiman. Your aunty, Medina's son. He came to stay pending when he gets admission to school. You remember him, abi?"

I didn't and said as much. Suleiman,on the other hand,grinned and took my hand in a firm shake, surprising me.

"I do"

"You were small,short even. Short like this," he faced his palm downwards over assure in a bid to illustrate just how short, "but with a temper hot enough to scare even the biggest of giants. You could hardly stay in a place for long. Always on the run like the devil himself was on your heels".

At this, the room broke into laughter and I followed suit, even though honestly, I was tired of being the butt of the joke, no matter how true.

Pots clanged; plates clattered. Utensils fell into place by their respective soup bowls, making little twinkling sounds as they came in contact with the ceramic.

Mummy moved like one in a possessed frenzy. Her fingers rapidly worked around the vegetables before her;steam blew from the big pot on the gas cook top, shrouding her momentarily with mist,meat sizzled aromatically by her side.

Sweat rolled down her forehead and beaded around her upper lip in little pearls. It trickled down her neck and into her blouse.

I looked away from her; just watching her left me dizzy and exhausted.

Iman in stark contrast stood a few inches away from me, a statue save for her breathing. She helped only when instructed and looked miserable doing so. She reminded me of a cloudy day.

She was still fuming about earlier but what was I supposed to do? She wouldn't even look at me, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge my existence.

I turned back to mummy and asked her where and when Suleiman and I had met. I had no memory of such happening. Although, I felt it might be the reason for his familiarity; I remembered him on a subconscious level.

Mummy dabbed at her sweaty face with a dish rag and tossed it aside. It landed soundlessly unto my laps (I was sitting in my spot on the counter).

"It's been a while now. Twelve years, I think. You were around three or four then".

"If he's aunty Medina's son,why don't I normally see him whenever we go there".

"How many times have you gone to visit her? Besides, Suleiman literally grew up in school. He was a boarding student".

"Was?"

"He graduated recently. Now he's waiting for admission and until that happens, he'll be staying here".

Well, that explained the luggage.

Mummy stepped back, critically evaluating the colourful trays leaden with mouth watering dishes; from glowing fufu to rich soups stuffed with assorted meats, billowing aromatic smoke; rice studded with colourful vegetables and sweating jugs of kunu. My stomach growled in frustration.

"I hope it's enough", she ordered us to carry a tray each.

As I did so, I asked a final question,

"Does that mean brother Hamza will be staying too?". I tried not to sound dismayed by that prospect.

"He'll likely be gone in a few days".

I muttered a 'thank God" under my breath, but judging by how fast her head whipped round to look at me (it wasn't a nice look), Iman had heard me.

I offered her a smile so sweet even sugar girl would be jealous; time to apologise -without really apologising, of course.