Ya Amar (My Moon)

Thirty six

My mother's garden had been taken care of by a gardener my father hired. He took care of it, watered it and removed the weeds when I was not around. I was glad dad made an effort to keep something that was part of my mother's memory. Since I had arrived, I took care of it giving the gardener a break. The fragrance of the delicate blooms filled the cool evening air. I drenched the rose bush with water before moving to the daisies. After wetting the flowers, I opened the sprinkler to wet the lawns. While the lawns got wet, I picked scissors to cut roses for my room and the house. The back door opened getting my attention. Amir came out of it grinning at me. I returned his smile and continued my work.

"Are you not bored alone?" he asked stopping beside me.

"No" I replied passing the roses I had cut to him.

"I have been watching you from your room window. You have been alone for a while"

"I want to relax my mind" I cut a white rose and passed it to him.

"You were smiling while working"

"My mother's memories are with me" there was silence for a while except the shuffle of our feet.

"This was where our engagement and your farewell party took place" he looked around the big garden. "This was where we spoke that day I came to ask for your hand in marriage. It was there" he pointed at the pond "We stood and talked when you said I sounded like a boy trying to woo a girl that my lines were cheesy when I said I was crazy for you" he laughed.

"You have a good memory" I stopped and looked at him.

"No" he nodded negatively. "I don't. It is just that the times I spent with you are just unforgettable. I don't know but those moments mean so much to me that I want to cherish them forever"

"I am glad you remember them because I also do. The feeling of finally being with you was the best"

"I know that feeling" he stepped closer.

"Let's go out tonight for a walk around the street to the main road" I resumed back to my work.

"When?"

"After dinner In Sha Allah"

"No problem. Just you and I"

"You need to see a typical Nigerian night. I am showing you tonight" I grinned kissing his cheek.

It was a moonless night when Amir and I stepped out of the gate into the busy street. A motorcycle zoomed past us making me cling to my husband's hand. The road ahead was busy with different night activities going on. Lights from bulbs, kerosene lanterns and fire woods brightened the rough road. Business was going smoothly for night sellers. The local music store two houses away from ours had a Nigerian hip pop music booming from the large speakers outside. In front of it were guys seated on the bench talking in their loud sonorous voices smoking and drinking dry gin usually called ogogoro as they gambled. The woman who sells akara (Bean cake) and ogi (pap) had a line of both children and adults waiting for the next akara to be ready as she sold the fried ones to people who had come before. The common noise pollution from houses that had their generators on due to the power supply that had been interrupted since evening buried the voices of people.

While Amir and I walked hand in hand to the suya seller, who had been selling suya for almost three years on that street, a car drove slowly down the road trying hard to not drive through the pot holes indented on the dusty lane. I recognised the car as Baba Femi's car, a neighbour of ours who lives a house before ours. A group of Hausa men sat in front of maishai's shop eating noodles and eggs or bread and tea as they conversed in their dialect which I really do not understand. After serving in Kano for a year, I was able to know the basis of Hausa language. I placed my hand on my nose as we promenaded past the music store where the dark smoke from the generator was polluting the air and the stench of cigarette.

"I want to eat suya" I said to my husband who had been quiet since we left home.

"Let's get it. I also want it" he pulled me to the suya seller Musa.

"Noorie" the woman who sells akara shouted my name across the street. I cringed at how loud her voice was which had attracted few people's attention. "Ni gba wo lo de ti o ti e le wa sofun wa? (When did you arrive that you did not let us know?)" she asked in her local Yoruba accent as I together with Amir crossed over to meet her.

"Oti pe di e ma (It's been a while ma)"

"O de lati ilu oyinbo a de mo. Ele o da o (You came back from abroad and we knew nothing. That is not good o)" I smiled at her word.

"Ema binu ma (Do not be angry ma)"

"Binu ke. Mi o binu o. Ba wo ni gbogbo awon eyan ni be ye. Oko ren ko? (Angry ke? I am not angry o. How is everyone abroad? What about your husband?)" A car whose engine sounded like two metals clanking together drove by us, its sound deafening to my ears.

"Ohun ni yin ma (He is here ma)" I pulled Amir to my front.

"Baba wa" she began to greet Amir and he replied back. Before I knew what was happening, she was showering him with praises.

"Just give her money" I whispered to him squeezing his hand. It was something people usually expect from you when you come back from a journey. They expect you to give them something.

"Ejo Egba owo kekere yin ma (Please, have this little change ma)" Amir gave her money which I think with my eyes was like ten thousand naira. I was displeased. It was too much. Now the woman would be thinking I have a rich husband and might ask for more.

"Ahhhh!" she shouted. "Ose baba mi. Olohun a se pupo fun e (Thank you, may God bless you)" she shoved the money into her faded wrapper.

"Yes ma" I said with a fake smile wanting to get away from her as I bent down. She kept praying as we crossed over to the suya spot.

"That was too much" I gritted to my husband.

"What was too much?" he asked clueless.

"The money you gave her"

"It was just fifteen thousand" he shrugged.

"What?" I almost yelled. "You gave her fifteen thousand" My face froze with horror.

"Is it too small?"

"Small? That was too much. You know the present situation of the country and you gave her fifteen thousand naira! I know this people. Before you know it they will turn you to an ATM machine where they can get money from" I said getting vexed.

"Just forget it" he wrapped his hand on my shoulder. "I have given her already" I huffed.

"Mallam, give me suya" I said to the suya seller.

"How much own?"

"Nawa? (How much)" I pointed at the stick suya.

"Dari biyu (Two hundred naira)"

"Dari biyu! This one dey too expensive o"

"Haba Hajia! You know how the economy dey now. Meat don cost for market" he said with thick hausa accent.

"Cost ke? Me wey......"

"Give me five sticks" Amir cut me off.

I kept quiet until we bought out suya.

"You should have allowed me to price it" I said putting suya in my mouth.

"There was no need to. He already told you the price" Amir said as we walked towards the main road.

"We could have bought this for five hundred and not one thousand"

"You are speaking like a typical Nigerian woman" he dipped his hand into the black nylon where the suya was wrapped in a newspaper and ate.

"I am a Nigerian"

It has been five days since we arrived to Nigeria. During those five days, everything had been going well Alhamdulillah. My family from London kept calling every day to know about our wellbeing. Aunt Sabr said she missed me already. I missed all of them. Tubassum and I had spoken the day before and she was not doing well. Pregnancy and family issues are making things hard for her. There was good news. Ramlah Aunty and her children will soon move out of the manor. I was so happy. Finally, there will be lesser drama in the house.

The day before, we had gone to visit his uncle Saif and Aunt Subomi who lived in Ikoyi. It was obvious the woman does not really like me. It was something normal and I am used to it.

"Why is your father's family not in a place like your mother's?"

"My father's family are scattered around the world even in Nigeria. Some of them are in Canada, America, Saudi Arabia, Dubai, Australia and other countries. Everyone has a life to live that's why. My father was from different races that's another reason"

"Okay" I encircled my hand around his arm as we got to the main road.

Vehicles zoomed at high speed on the smooth tarred road. The Calabar kitchen on my right was opened. From the opened shutters, I could see it was filled with customers. Outside, the benches and table were filled with people eating different Nigerian delicacies. One came to my mind, Isi ewu. Two men came out laughing both picking their teeth with the toothpick stuck in their mouth. I looked at my husband with puppy eyes.

"What?" he asked as we walked to down the road.

"I want to eat pepper soup"

"You are eating suya habibti"

"I know. I also want pepper soup" he sighed and stopped.

"You brought me out at night for a walk. We have been walking for long. Where are we going to?"

"I just wanted to spend some time alone with you" I pouted. "We shall go back home after you get me pepper soup" I grinned. He laughed out quietly. "What is funny?"

"Nothing, come on let's get you pepper soaps, sit down and chat" he pulled my hand. "I do not want to miss a chance with you"

The corner of my lips curled up into a smile as we walked to the Calabar Kitchen. Only if he knows how much my heart beats wildly for him with everything he does to me.