A Promise to Aabidah (#1 Natives series) #ProjectNigeria

Chapter Two

Chapter Two.

14 Years Later.
NASARAWA.

           SOMEONE WAS FINALLY MOVING IN. And they weren't taking their renovations lightly.

The rich dark green walls of Alhaji Ali's old place which had once been welcoming to guests had faded with the changing seasons into a curious pale. Over grown shrubs, dead and alive, lined most of the compound space. Adamant and stubborn weeds sprouted out from every cracked and open space they could find. Wanting to breathe. Wanting to live.

The house didn't need much of a renovation. Other than getting rid of the weeds, plastering up cracked spots, wiring the house, plumbing, and repainting; there was no real work to be done.

AbdulAzeez Dawud turned up the collar of his polo T-shirt as a light but chilly breeze swirled around and picked at the wide leaves of a cashew tree just inside the fenced compound. The sky was clustered with a constellation of stars which was slowly fading away with the gathering of clouds.

Crickets chirped from hidden places, bats flew to their various homes, and the wind howled like a wounded animal as it picked up pace. Trees rustled with the restlessness of the coming storm. Clouds gathered in gray uniformity; a clear warning sign to those who dared to heed.

People scrambled about in a hurry to get home and away from the coming rain. Stretching out his cramped joints, AbdulAzeez walked out the gate, done with his work for the day. The clang of the heavy black and grey dusted gate as Mallam Kabiru, one of Alhaji Ali's relative closed it shut stirred long, locked memories in him.

Shaking his head, AbdulAzeez sauntered lazily to his bike and secured his tool kit to the back seat, eager to do something so he wouldn't have to think about the past.

There was no point thinking about it, he cautioned himself firmly like he always did.

"Toh, see you tomorrow." The older man waved as he too walked in the direction of his bike, he boarded it, and soon he was gone.

Now left alone, AbdulAzeez turned back to look at the house where he had spent most of his childhood. He never walked or drove past the Ali's house without glancing at it. Most of the fun he'd had growing up had all been found there. When he'd needed an adventure, or a comforting embrace, he'd gotten it there with his best friend by his side. Two mischievous little cats, Aunty Habibah, Aabidah's mother had labeled them.

As he stared long at the big house he could almost see the both of them again, running and scrambling about, trying to find out who could climb the cashew tree faster.

A memory of the time he had decided to hang upside down from a limb of the cashew tree flashed through his mind.

He had been nine at the time and had learnt the trick from his friend, Isah. After returning back home from the farm, he had not bothered with washing up or changing his dirty clothes, instead he had raced to Alhaji Ali's house, a nylon bag with the fresh and juicy cashew fruits he and his friends had gone to the farm to get clutched in his hand.

After giving his best friend the bag, he had climbed up the cashew tree, ready to show off his newly acquired skill. He recalled Aabidah, seven-year-old then yelling and crying for him to stop, and come back down. He hadn't listened. He should have. He smiled now as his elbow gave a faint throb of pain. He massaged the once dislocated joint, a reminder that he should have listened when he was asked to get down that tree.

He could never forget the way she had cried and begged him, her nose red like a tomato bum. Instead of being comforted that day, he had ended up being the one comforting her. Sulaiman, Aabidah's brother had twisted his ears so hard that day for making his sister cry, he could never forget it.