Five

6:50 pm,

The Lamido house, Life Camp, Abuja.

I responded to greetings as I shut the door of the Uber I ordered and watched it drive out of the gates that Baba Sarah opened. I waited to greet the gateman who i knew was itching to talk to me.

He quickly shut the gate and ran to me. "Oga soldier." He greeted, mimicking the attention stance my battalion soldiers gave when they saw me. I just nodded and waited for him to stop trembling enough to speak.

"My daughter had the baby yesterday. She is still at the hospital because there is no money to use for discharge." He said in Hausa, tear clouded his eyes and I sighed. His daughter had been raped by some boys in their area who thought she was playing hard to get, I personally reported to the assistant inspector general who sent the police there to get all three boys arrested.

I tapped Baba Sarah's back as I turned back to go in, "Send me your account number, or give it to Layla, I'll send you something for the baby. It's going to be fine." He nods and thanks me profusely as I walk the length of the unnecessarily long driveway into the house.

When I cross the threshold into the house, the sound of Hausa music and Layla shrieking assails me from where I'm standing. I walk to her unassuming self and rap a knock on her head.

"Why are you screaming like a child. You're fifteen! Behave your age!" She smiles at me and instead of the frown i expected, she flies up from the chair and jumps into my arms.

"Ya Sa'ad!" I shake my head and set her down on her feet, she adjusts her scarf as she walks back to her seat right in front of the television. It's very rare for Layla to be found in front of the television, she's either reading or talking to her friends. I sink into the chair next to her.

"What is making you so excited?" She laughs and points at the television where the opening song of Dadin Kowa is playing. I sit next to her and ask her how school is while the anchor is doing an introduction.

"School is fine, its just IELTS is so hard to read for, you know?" I nod. Knowing Baba, he forced even me to read for GCSE and all the international tests even when I was going to a military school in Russia.

"I understand, if you have any problems, you know I'm open to reply questions." She smiles and points at the television again. "That's whom I came to watch, she's an actress, Labeebah Sheriff. Isnt she beautiful?" I blink at the television over, careful not to show my interest.

"How popular is she?" She goggles at me, trust my sistet to overdo. "Very popular, although she 'blew' last year." She quotes the blew. I laugh casually.

"I met your actress the four days ago, the soldiers in a battalion in Kano held she and her driver at her checkpoint. So I stepped in and helped when i saw her looking pitiful. No one was the wiser." I rub my face as I speak so I don't see my sister's eyes widen and then she jumps up and down.

"You met her? Like Labeebah Sheriff? Oh my Allah!" She covers her face with her scarf and screams loud. "That was how Fateema's sister saw her and did not tell anyone until Labeebah reposted her photo." She swallows and comes to my side, taking my hand lying limp on the chair. I eye her and she takes her hand off.

"What was she like?" I laugh again, surprised at my sister's reaction. "Well, she was calm, calmer than I gave her credit for. I thought, although I didn't know she was an actress, that she was mild enough, knowing the officers were being insulting. She was okay." My sister gasps.

"If you say someone is okay, it means they're amazing. Ya Allah, too bad she's married, to an amazing human too. The man ehn, Oh Allah. I'm so happy for her." I pat her head and get up to go upstairs to my room. I've spent the whole of today deep in paperwork and deserve all the rest i can get.

---

"No please, send it to the account number I'll send to you now. Please. Thank you." I set my phone on the dresser and continue pushing my filming table into my room having spent the whole day moving furniture around to accomplish my purpose.

A ping sounds just as I finish and dust my hands. I race to the phone and swipe to see the huge sum the seasoning company is paying me to host a cooking show spanning all the thirty days of Ramadan. It will be pre-shot and shown during the Holy month. I jump up and down, acknowledging to myself with a tiny shiver that this if money fell into Abdul's hands, he'd spend it anyhow.

I left Kano after spending a full four days just eating and resting, reading scripts on my phone and replying all direct messages left on my messaging accounts. I took on a few advertisement jobs to keep busy over the next few weeks. A knock sounds at the door and I walk to the door to open it, taking a large cotton scarf near the door to cover my face and spaghetti strapped top with.

I open it to four unfamiliar women, whom I greet but before I finish speaking, they have pushed me out of the doorway, a little unkindly. I squint and want to ask them who they are until I see Abdul behind them. I look at him searchingly and he has the grace to look ashamed. I scoff, chuckling as i walk back into my room.

I hear them all the time I spend laying on my bed measuring space in the spare room. Now, no more of Abdul's unnecessary guests coming over at their whims, or him bringing five Friends for Iftar and only informing me at five pm.

I hear them asking which room is the biggest, he says it's my room. Then I hear a knock, as I climb out of the bed, I laugh low and deep. These people think I'm a fool. At the door, I only crack it open a bit.

"They want to meet you." I ask why. "To know Amal's Uwargida of course, you think her mother would marry her to me without meeting you first?" I nod and shut the door behind me, walking to the wardrobe I assembled and filled with all my clothes at the crack of dawn today. I take out a rhinestone Abaya that I bought with my best friend Rabiah and wash my face before wearing the Abaya and throwing a scarf over my full, shoulder length hair.

I meet Abdul waiting at the door and I walk past him, caring less about him to the living room. "Hello. You asked to see me?" All the home training Ma gave me flew out the window immediately they refused to repky my Salam when they were walking in.

I walk to the most comfortable sofa and sit on it, crossing my legs at the ankles, giving them a look of get things on, i have other things. The oldest woman there sighs and greets me properly. I just stare at her, refusing to reply.

"We called you," She says eventually after waiting a while to answer her. "To ask you if you'd like to," She swallows. And then waves her hand under my piercing stare.

"To what?" She waves her hands again and i get up, walk out of the room. She was supposed to ask me to vacate my bigger room, wasn't she? Thank Allah she didn't say a word, I might have just disgraced my Ma.

---

"I got a job."

I lift my eyes from the laptop I'm using to edit videos and ask "Oh?" He nods and clips his shirt ends together using a cufflink.

"Well, its a small one, just one fifty thousand in salary. I'll still need your help to run the house." I smile. "Abdul, when it was just two eif us, one fifty was too much to serve as upkeep, it will still be enough when your Amarya comes." I look back to my computer, taking a sip of the tea a client sent me to sample for advertisement. It tastes excellent, as all shayi.

"So, you won't even pitch in? She's a young girl, just in her twenties. You won't be so cruel to make her hungry while she's here will you?" I don't answer, knowing how i want to deal with him. "Answer me Labeebah!"

I raise my head from the screen. "Don't expect me to fund you and your new wife. God forbid it. You took on an Islamic duty, you will see it to the end. Besides, I'm still in my twenties too. I'm only about three years older than she is, we're both young people." I say, not bothering to look at his face anymore.

"Why are you turning into a shrew? Do you think everyone is like you? Sleeping around with people to get money?" I shake my head at him. Abdul, like most men throw the prostitute qualifier once an argument is no longer in their favour. Prostitute, tart, loose woman, Ashewo. They do it once they lose an argument with a woman.

"All I ask, which is not hard, is a little cooperation from you, if you won't be a cow. Just help me till I can tide over." I get up, carrying my laptop.

"You should have just waited till you were financially buoyant to marry her. I will not spend a penny of my sleep around money on your pure amarya. Is that understood?" And as I walk away, still carrying my laptop open faced. "Please, reserve some time, so we can go to the bank and get our joint account scraped and all the money I contributed returned back to me."

I havent gone two steps before I feel his hands on ny neck. He presses on my nape until I feel a choking sensation. My laptop falls from my hand to the tiled floor, then he leaves me.

"Abdul, even if you kill me, you won't get a penny of that money, its to go to my aunt and uncle, just get ready to go to the bank." The rush which I used in talking has winded me and I'm choking for air. He hisses and walks out of the living room, slamming the door behind him.

I pick my now damaged laptop and go to my room, dropping it on the bed to look at the place Abdul pressed me. Over the past two and a half years, he's slapped me, yes, knocked me around yes, but never as bad as this. It hurts, to say the least.