Mrs Ahmed Shehu

01

[Note: If a statement is written in French and the translation isn't in brackets, then the statement that follows explains the statement made in French]

SURAIYA

Niamey, Niger

April 29th, 2022

It's funny how I'm in the same city and on the same street as my family but instead of being home, I'm in a hotel. I plan to stay here, in this hotel room, until Eid is over and I have to leave for whatever new contract I get.

Mum said I had to come to Niger for Eid and I've honoured her request. She should know better than to expect me to come home. It's been a while since I did and until I'm sure that I would be happy within the four walls of my family's overly lavish house, I'm going to stay out of it.

I leave the balcony with a sigh when I get bored of watching people go about their business. Many of them are Eid shopping and if I'm being honest with myself, I don't like the fact that each time I look to my left while standing on the balcony, I catch a glimpse of my father's house and the people that walk in and out; many of them I know and others I don't.

My hotel room is cold and it's small, just the way I like it. I pick my phone from its charging spot and make myself comfortable on the single sofa in a corner. There are a number of notifications from my social media pages and a number of emails but none of them holds what I'm looking for. I need to get a new contract before Eid, or at most a few days after Eid.

If it weren't for the disgusting approaches I got from the father of the kids I was taking care of in Morocco, I wouldn't be bothered right now. Their mother was a darling and she's honestly the reason I stayed for as long as I did. Her husband is a psycho and I don't want to be wicked but she and the kids are honestly better off without him. Nothing good can come from a man like that. I worked for them for half a year so I am certain of what I'm saying.

My phone rings as I'm replying an email and it's very hard to not roll my eyes at the caller ID. I know better than to not pick up. I won't rest if the call goes unanswered. She's talking as soon as the device is by my ear.

"Suraiya, I hope you have an explanation as to why you are not here in Niamey when I told you, you being here wasn't a choice. It was an order."

I pull my knees up to my chest. "Assalam Alaykum to you too, Mum."

"Suraiya Boukar Shehu."

I turn my head and catch my reflection in the full length mirror on the opposite wall. "I'm in Niamey. I came in this morning."

"And you've been where?"

I should lie, I know, but there's no good in that either. It's exhausting. "I'm in the hotel down the street. I'll be staying here until after Eid when I have to leave."

She's quiet for a moment and all I hear is the laughter and chatter in the background. It's a full house, I'm sure of it. It's always a full house during Eid.

"Suraiya."

"Oui, Mére? (Yes, Mum?)"

"What on earth do you think you're doing? Tu veux etre tetu? You want to be stubborn? Are you out of your mind?!"

Here we go again. I say nothing, not because I can't but because there's nothing to say. In our house, anything Mum and Dad say goes. I'm lucky to have made it this far while opposing almost everything. They can't blame me though. I just wish they'd see why all of this is happening in the first place.

"What's the use of coming to Niger if you're not going to stay in the house?!" Her voice is rising and the background chatter is ceasing. It shouldn't take a genius to figure out why. "I made myself clear when I called, Suraiya. I told you to leave Morocco and come home! You don't get to twist my words the way you deem fit. You've been stubborn and we've let you have your fun but it's getting irritating, Suraiya. Tu n'es plus un enfant alors arête d'agir comme tel; you are no longer a child so stop acting like one. Stop throwing these tantrums and come home this instant!"