COUSINS IN LOVE

FRESHMEN DAY II

2. FRESHMEN (HAMDAAT’s POV)

Princeton University, it wasn’t really my first choice, in fact, it’s not on my first five choice, but like father always says, "You are an Anifowose and you have to behave, act and also get what an Anifowose should get". Princeton University has been attended by my kin since the generation before my grandpa, and from then on, anyone bearing the name Anifowose has attended this place for their bachelor’s degree.

My father tries as much as possible to show me love, but beyond reasonable doubt, he is under some kind of pressure from his father about me being a female child and not a male child that will take over the Anifowose empire for my generation.

My mother had, on the other hand, tried to show me so much love that I felt she is trying to cover up for the love I was missing from my grandpa and also from my father. But she can’t hide the fact that I’m getting less love than I deserve from both these two men.

Here I am, on my way to Princeton, my mother has been head-on trying to convince me about how I will enjoy my stay in Princeton. She has been telling me about places and activities I could engage in so as to make my stay in the school eventful and also, even though she didn’t point it out specifically, it will also help me forget about the love I wasn’t getting at home.

I sat doing nothing all the way till my dormitory, and even when we got there, I didn’t respond to any of her comments or warnings about school life and all. I just wanted her to leave me alone. Yeah, she has been my best lady all my life, but at this moment, even she kinda irritates me and I just wanted to be left alone.

She got me settled into the room and, from the look around, the other bed space have been occupied but only belongings are in sight. There is no sign of anyone. I had intentionally skipped the welcome orientation program and came in late on Sunday, just in time to have a good night's sleep to rest of the stress from the two-hour journey down to the campus and be fresh to go through with the registration the next day.

Mother helped me set up my corner in the room about thirty minutes after I arrived; I had specifically requested that the edge corner of the room be where I would like to be because Grandpa wouldn't agree to me getting a private room, at least that's what my father had said, because Grandpa hardly concerns himself with anything that involves me. Even though grandpa never seems to acknowledge my existence, my father always made sure I followed all his norms and rules, all of which are not written down, they are just adopted generational tradition passed down from only God knows who.

"Hamdaat, please know who you are and know the child of whom you are..." Mom stated again that these are words I have heard a million times, mostly in my local Yoruba dialect. But this time, my mother is saying it to me with a direct word-for-word translation into English as that’s the language in which she’s more comfortable, though she grew up speaking the native dialect.

"I am not saying you shouldn’t have fun; apparently that can’t be stopped, but you should not do anything that the family won’t be proud of". She continued with the cool, quiet voice I have always known her with ever since.

"I will be taking my leave now." Mother announced after issuing as many warnings as she could remember.

I just stood up to see her off as courtesy demanded of me, all the warning she had listed out. I was hearing her but not really listening as I just kept on nodding my head in acknowledgement to whatever she was saying. I placed my hand on the door knob and was just about to turn the door open when I heard some giggles and followed the movements to the other side of the door.

"Hey...", one of the ladies who had opened the door from the other side, greeted.

"Helloooo..." I had responded to a beautiful milk-complexioned lady. From first sight, one needs no more information to acknowledge she is from the Middle East. Definitely an Arabian, but I couldn’t be sure from where in particular.

"You must be the one who I’m going to be sharing the room with." she asked.

I nodded my head in affirmation, still trying as much as possible to avoid uttering too many words. I was mesmerized by her beauty and, most interestingly, the glittering skin that made me guess she must have been using milk to bathe, if not always, well quite frequently.

"My name is Elsa..." she introduced as she came closer to giving me a warm hug, very typical of Arabs.

I was numb and just went into the embrace. I could perceive the strong Arab perfumes from her. I am well familiar with such perfumes because that’s what my family also uses, especially after anyone amongst us visits the holy land for pilgrimage. But I was so deep in the scents that I was still able to perceive the stench of alcohol and smoke.

"And this is my friend Firdaus..." she gestured at the taller but quite beautiful lady behind her, who in turn stretched over for a simple side hug.

"She’s been keeping me company in the room, but with your arrival, she's got to move." Elsa had mentioned that while I and Firdaus had the side hug.

"That doesn’t mean you will not see a lot of me from now on." Firdaus cut in, adding immediately, as the girls laughed, I just brightened up my face as I forced up a smile not to look awkward, which was unfortunately becoming awkward because I just kept looking

Suddenly, while still keeping the fake smile on my face with the confused look, my face fell on my mother’s and our gaze met. She gave me that look that says to me "you better behave yourself and do not embarrass yourself." It’s the kind of look Yoruba mothers give their children to understand what they mean and correct their actions without them having to say a word.

"Oh..." I exclaimed as I finally recognised that I was supposed to also introduce myself.

"I am Hamdaat and this is my mother. She was just about to leave." I made a quick introduction and got a step closer to my mother, giving her a nudge to move and leave while I made it look like it was a sweet, gentle back parting.

"Nice to meet you ma’am..." the girls had chorused out, greeting my mother, who had the friendliest smile on.

"It’s really a pleasure to meet you girls, and I wish I could be able to meet and know you girls better." I already knew where this was going. My mother could start a sermon for these young ladies who just came back from having a whole load of fun, something my mother would consider dishonouring of the family name.

I put more pressure on the nudge, urging her to leave the room and let me see her off immediately. We walked past the girls at the door into the large lobby. My mother had wanted to have a motherly touch on the girls, but I wasn’t going to let that happen because I was eager for her to leave.

"Am I the one imagining things or did I actually perceived the stench alcohol and smoke on those ladies just now?" I would be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting that question. One good reason why I wanted her to leave the room as soon as possible.

"I didn’t pay attention to that..." I responded casually, trying to end the conversation even before it began.

"Mo Ti Mo..." she commented in Yoruba, meaning ‘I expected that’. She usually switches to Yoruba whenever she wants you to be explicit in her warnings.

"Well, I am sure of what I perceived, and I thought Grandpa said you’ll definitely be getting a Muslim as your roommate. Those girls only look and dress like Arabians, but they are not really Muslim." My mother has started again. She just wouldn’t let the sleeping dog lay.

Definitely, I was expecting a cool, quiet, and conservative roommate, but it's obvious that’s not what I got. Elsa and her friend are loud, rugged, and explosive party goers. Thank god my mother didn’t notice what they had under their hijabs and little transparent flowing gowns. I could see the bomb short and Elsa had a crop top, while Fauziya had worn an armless top that pushed up her boobs, which looked like a d-cup size.

I hastened my pace and deafened my ears to whatever my mother had to say. We got to the car quite faster than I expected, judging from how long it took to walk to the room from the car. I just wanted to be free of this woman and then settle myself into the reality at hand, which is way far away from what I had dreamed, wished and hoped for myself.

"Se omo jeje o (be a good child)..." she said, beginning to conclude her sermon for the night. Of course, all I’ll do is nod in affirmation of what she’s saying.

"Ma dooju timi o" (don't put me shame) she added to her closing statements, which I was thinking at the time would never be concluded if I didn't do anything about it.

"Mummy, you can go now. I've heard anything you’ve got to say now more than I can remember, and saying it won’t change or have any extra effect from what the past ones already had on me," I said to her, nudging her into the car, in fact, practically pushing her.

She looked at me one last time, had a smile full of trust on her face before she drove off, bidding me good bye in our native Yoruba language. Of course she would trust me. I had been obedient from the very beginning and my wishes had never aligned with the family needs and expectations. Nonetheless, I never outwardly rebelled against any of the family arrangements, even if I hated whatever it was or stood for.

"Haaaa..." I sighed heavily after watching her car disappear out of sight. Finally, home was gone and I was here now. It might not be what I wanted for myself, but I was determined to make the best out of it. I had to stay on that campus. I looked around and looked at the screen of my mobile phone. It was late in the evening already and, for some strange reason, I didn’t want to go back to the room at that moment.

So I decided to locate the Murray-Dodge hall, which I have read serves as an Islamic centre for the students on campus. I observed my evening prayers at the centre, had a little walk around the campus for sightseeing and also to clear my head with Nicky Minaj blasting on full volume in my ears.

On getting to the room, I found Elsa on a prayer rug she spread in the middle of the room, just concluding her evening prayers. I was a bit caught in awe by that sight. She must have been to a club and done only God knows what, but she still finds it necessary to observe her obligatory religious rights. I walked quietly to the bed on the right hand side of the room. She got up and laid on the other bed.

"Your friend won’t be spending the night here with us?" I asked her, trying to salvage the unfortunate first impression I must have had on her.

"Nah, she decided to go make herself comfortable in her own room also, in preparation for the academic week beginning tomorrow..." She responded very quickly, as if she was expecting me to ask the question.

"That’s thoughtful of her," I said coldly, trying not to act the same way I did earlier, even though I still had almost nothing to say.

"So what’s your major?" I dreaded that question because I was here at school but had little to no knowledge of how the application process worked.

Bruzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

That was my mobile ringing, I was glad it did because I was not ready to look dumb at such a question. I quickly excused myself and picked up the call quietly, and luckily, when I was done, she was already dozing off thanks to the stress and drinks she must have had during the party.

......