As Akram was heavily coughing, he counted his fingers three times and then became numb. Nenna and I were surprised, and Nenna asked him, "What did you do?" He said, "Don't worry about that." Then I said, "Please continue."
He continued, "There was a minivan that brought staff to our accommodation, including me, to and from, and it's not in the city of Dubai." Oh, Nenna and I exclaimed loudly, "Haaaaaaa!" He said, "Yes, ma'am. Nenna asked them where it was, and he said in the middle of the desert, 25 minutes away. The accommodation looked like a jail, heavily secured by security with guns. No freedom of movement, even on one resting day. It's depressing."
My mind still lingered on Brayan, but I said, "Fast-forward to where we meet you." "Ma'am, please listen to me," he said. "Okay, go on," I said.
He said, "I spent six months there, and it got to a point where I broke down mentally, emotionally, physically. I was brainwashed and manipulated about how great I would become. The staff looked up to me as a role model, this and that. Then I went for my passport. The manager gave me a letter to sign, stating that I should bring two people as my guarantors who would stand in for me if I did not return my passport. I tendered my resignation to my manager and coworker, and on my way to the airport, I was robbed my money and passport, all gone. And I could think of nothing else than committing..."
I opened my arms, and Akram walked into the hug, tears streaming down his face. Nenna stood beside us, her eyes welling up with tears too. "Despite what happened to Bryan because of him," she seemed to say, her voice caught in her throat. But I just held Akram tighter, whispering, "It's over now. You're safe."
We stood there for a moment, the weight of Akram's story still hanging in the air. Finally, I pulled back and said, "Eat well, and you all go to bed. Nenna, show him to his room."
Nenna nodded, her eyes still shining with tears, and led Akram away. As they disappeared from view, I couldn't help but feel a sense of compassion and understanding for the young man who had endured so much.
Brayan's image flashed in my mind, and I involuntarily shouted, "Brayannnnnnnnnnnn!" The sound echoed through the room, a mix of anguish and longing. Akram and Nenna rushed to me, concern etched on their faces, as if sensing the depth of my emotional pain.
I turned to Akram and asked, "Where are you from in Nigeria?" He replied, "Kwara State." I pressed further, "Farther, where in Kwara State?" He said, "Ilorin." My curiosity piqued, I asked, "In the household of who?" He mentioned, "Sheik Salaty." My eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, you mean the great man of God who can turn water into fuel and put it in a car while it moves?" Akram's eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically.
I continued, recalling the stories, "You mean the great man of God whose breath or sweat can make a quiet new-born baby cry?" Nenna and Akram exclaimed in unison, "But Mummy, how do you know?" I smiled, "I used to have a friend, Sophie, she's from Ilorin, and she told me a lot about what's happening there." Their faces reflected their amazement.
"Did you say that's the man whose household you're from?" I asked, my mind racing with possibilities. Akram nodded, "Yes, Mummy." A glimmer of hope sparked within me. "Then he could be able to help me revive Bryan, isn't it?" I asked, my voice filled with desperation.
Akram's expression turned solemn. "Very well, Madam, you are correct. But it's been a while now; I lost my phone and everything." I urged him, "This is my man we're talking about, please. You and Nenna should head to the airport now to book a flight going to Kwara State, to Ilorin, to be precise. We need to go see him right now."
When they returned "Nenna, please stay back and take care of my man at the hospital," I said, my voice trembling with emotion. "Yes, madam, have a safe trip," Nenna replied, her eyes filled with concern.
As we took off, my heart was racing with hope and desperation. "Please, God, make this work," I prayed silently. "Bring Bryan back to me, and I'll be forever grateful."
The hours ticked by slowly, my mind consumed by thoughts of reunion and second chances. Finally, after nine long hours, we touched down at Lagos airport, and I boarded another flight to Ilorin, my heart pounding with anticipation. Would this journey bring me the miracle I so desperately sought?
Akram said, "Madam, I'm sure Allah will make it happen. Please don't worry." I looked at him, and my eyes welled up with gratitude. "Thank you," I said softly.
After seven hours, we arrived in Ilorin and took a ride to Alanamu, to the residence of Sheik Amada Rufai Salaty. Akram's family rushed towards him, tears streaming down their faces. His mother, overcome with emotion, fell down, got up, and crawled to Akram, embracing him tightly.
As they reunited, I held back, trying to compose myself. Once the emotions subsided, Akram began to narrate his story what had happened to him, how he met me, and our purpose for being there. His family's eyes turned to me, filled with a mix of curiosity and gratitude.
His mom said, "Madam, may Allah be with you. I appreciate everything you've done for my son." But before she could finish, she dropped a bombshell: "Sheik Hammad Rufai Salaty is dead."
My eyes widened, and I felt breathless. Akram quickly held me, concern etched on his face. "Mummy, who can we meet now, please?" he asked.
His mom's expression turned determined. "Head to Alanamu now, to Sheik Shadili Sambo, the current Sufi master. It's been years since I heard from him, but go to him now. I'll come with you."
I felt a whirlwind of emotions shock, hope, and uncertainty but a sense of peace settled in amidst the turmoil.
We arrived at the Sufi master's house and shared our story. However, we were told that Sheik Shadili Sambo had passed away, but his successor, Sheik Adam Shadili Sambo, could guide us. A call was placed, and Akram's mother spoke with him.
After explaining our situation, Sheik Adam instructed us to perform ablution and then visit the grave of Sheik Shadili Sambo, where we would pray and seek blessings. We were taught how to perform ablution, and after completing it, we entered the grave.
I prayed fervently, "Ya Allah, I know you're the same God everyone calls upon, regardless of name. Please grant Bryan good health and bring him out of the coma."
Just as I finished praying, my phone rang. It was Nenna. My heart racing, I answered. "Madam, the doctor said Daddy Bryan is..." Is what I asked, she said Dead!