Mrs Ahmed Shehu

03

SURAIYA

May 3rd 2022

Niamey, Niger

"So, Suraiya, why don't you tell us what you've up to? Nous ėtions si sȕrs que tu ne viendrais pas pour ce diner; we were so sure you weren't coming for this dinner."

Every conversation around the table ceases and the chocolate pudding I had been quietly enjoying doesn't seem sweet anymore. If by any chance I do finish it, it'll be much later. For now, I've lost my appetite.

"Suraiya? I'm talking to you."

I exhale quietly and lower my spoon, wondering why I thought I'd be lucky today; that they won't talk about me since the conversations had been centred around my sisters and brothers who have achieved one milestone or the other.

I take my time wiping the corners of my mouth although I know there are no stains there. When the napkin is lowered, I look at the man who literally threatened and blackmailed me to have me attend Eid and every other party held ever since. Dad is fixated on his pudding and the aura he gives off is of someone who's not interested in whatever conversation is being held.

I then look at Mum. She's like her husband but the only thing different is that while she doesn't look at me, she's waiting for my response. Why am I not surprised?

On both sides of the long table, my siblings act like they don't understand the language that had been spoken. It's funny. They were the same ones laughing and being embarrassed mere moments ago. The same ones who didn't say much when I offered my congratulations. But then again, this is nothing new. Why did I even think today was going to be my lucky day?

Resigning myself to my fate, I turn to the nosy aunt who asked the question and said she was talking to me. There's a smile plastered on her face but she's angry and it's all because I took my time facing her. I smile as warmly as I can manage. I'd rather be anywhere but here.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint." I tell her. Of course she'd lie and say she was so sure I wouldn't come; as if she wasn't there when her brother threatened me over the phone. "I didn't have much of a choice this year."

She smiles a little wider. "Well, it's good to have you here with us."

I don't tell her that it's good to be back home because we all know that it's not. If it was, I'd have been here on my own and not here because Dad gave me no other option. When she sees that I'm actually not going to say anything, she clears her throat and takes a spoon of her pudding while the other aunts and uncles watch our exchange, taking in every word.

"So, why don't you tell us what you've been up to?"

"I've been working, having fun, and making money." I tell her. "Since last Eid, I've gone from Qatar to Norway and then to Morocco."

She picks up her glass of wine, a mocking smile on her lips. "Still taking care of people's kids?"

A finger of mine twitches but I keep my expression composed. "Yes, I'm still taking care of people's kids. It's the best thing and it helps me live comfortably and independently."

She takes a sip, nodding. She's mocking me; it's as clear as day. She returns the glass to the table. "What use is it taking care of other people's kids? You should be married and settled now, Suraiya. You're not getting any younger."

Here we go again. "I haven't gotten the zeal to settle yet." It's the plain truth. "I haven't met anyone either."

Another aunt jumps into the conversation. "That's because you don't allow yourself meet anyone. Take a look at your siblings. You're the only one unsettled. Hamoud is already putting things in place."