From Aliya to Hafiz

One.

Aliya.

When I decided to study medicine, I knew it was going to be a huge ache in my behind. I knew that.

But nobody told me the final year was going to be a full-on prickling and throbbing pain. The projects, presentations, and hospital rows coupled with the courses themselves were enough to make a person drown.

When the last lecture of the day was over, I packed my notes stuffed them into my navy blue side bag, and left the hall together with the other students, ignoring the half-friendly smiles and half sneering ones directed at me.

I was clear on what I was here to do. And I was clear about the distinction between myself and those people. They can fail and still make it.

If I fail, then I not only fail. I also disappoint.

Taking the path that led to the school gates, my eyes skimmed over the campus ground. It never ceases to amaze me how the children in this school dress.

It was like they were attending weddings or something.

Most of them prance around waving their designer everything and the latest iPhones and Samsungs.

But I don't blame them. They had money.

What's more ridiculous than turning campus grounds into their own personal fashion show and flaunting area was having to pay seven thousand Naira for transport.

I mean...!? Like!?

Buttttt, I do not blame them at all. Money is the one thing the people in this school lack the least.

After a ten-minute walk from the school gate, I stopped a keke and rode back home. All for a simple and economical price of five hundred Naira.

Sense.

The keke man took me right to the black iron gates of the villa where I lived and after paying him, I knocked on the door. Haroon opened it as usual and I greeted him like usual.

As I walked down the mazed path leading to the front doors, my eyes subtly trailed the 'gardeners' attending to the flowers and plants. I just wanted to say that even if the sense I was so proud of was beaten out of my body, those people are definitely not gardeners.

Why was I so sure?

Well, the experienced way they handled their tools for one. Now don't raise your eyebrows just yet. I had seen other ordinary gardeners and I swear they don't smolder at the plants as they trim them.

They also don't throw knives at stray lizards with such precision.

Yes, I saw it with my own two koro-koro eyes.

Unlike the green and white and black surroundings of the villa, the interior was a blend of caramel and white accented with hints of turquoise blue.

To be honest I like the minimalistic and comfortable design of the villa. It was a place I wouldn't have had the opportunity of ever stepping in my entire life.

It was only thanks to the kindness of the person who took sole responsibility for my mother and me.

Hajiya Amina.

My mom and dad worked for her. My dad was her driver and my mom was her house girl. But when I was seven, my dad died in a car accident trying to protect her, so she took responsibility for my mom and me.

She had us move into her home, saying the place was too big for her anyway and that it got lonely at times. She put me through my lower-level education till tertiary.