Mrs Ahmed Shehu

04

AHMED

My nerves are all over the place and I know it's too late to back out of everything now but I swear to God, the thought is tempting. It's really tempting to give in but I know better. We've put in too much to back out now. I'll have to face this head-on, for the kids. And for me too.

I breathe and out, wanting nothing better than for my nerves to calm. I repeat the breathing exercise twice and when I'm sure I can do it, I unlock the door and pull it open. Smiling at Mama who stands on the other side is a natural reaction and I'm glad this hasn't changed even after all that has happened.

I step forward and hug her, basking in the warmth I'm provided with when she hugs me back. "Welcome, Mama." She's always been warm. It's always hard to separate Baba and I from her. "Your trip went well, right?"

She pulls back a moment later and nods, her smile similar to mine. It's one of the traits I got from her and I always love it so much. "I did." She replies. "Sorry we delayed, the flight kept getting postponed."

She texted me earlier about it. Suraiya's flight didn't leave Niamey on time. I wonder if she forgot about the fact that she texted earlier but I don't ask about it. I play along.

"It's fine." I tell her. "You're here now and the kids have gone for Islamiyya so it's all good."

I look over her shoulder, at the lady standing by Salami who is getting her boxes out of the car booth. The fear I've been nursing since the day I agreed to all this slams back into my chest with full force but I push it down. This is not the time to freak out. I can't do that now.

I know who the lady is but I still open my mouth and ask "Is that her?"

Mama nods and turns around. "Yes, that's Suraiya Boukar Shehu." I frown the same time she does. "I just realized I never told you her full name."

Yes, she didn't. "You told me her name was Suraiya Shehu. I had no idea she had Boukar in her name."

"She does. I skipped so many details, my dear. Ya hakuri."

My chest squeezes when I come to the realization that she's stressed. She's been the one pulling all loose ends to get Suraiya here and then there's the fact that she has to act as though everything is fine in public because news hasn't gotten out of mine and Asma's divorce.

"Haba Mama, there's no problem." I can't have her stressing more. "It's been a crazy period so we had to skip a lot." I sense movement so I look over her shoulder again. "I'm just grateful that..."

I don't remember what it is I'm supposed to say and I don't think I'll be remembering it anytime soon. My breath hitches as Suraiya turns around and the first thing I notice are her eyes. It's always the first thing I notice and according to my parents, it's been that way since I've been little. It was the first thing that pulled me to Asma and no one will ever know how happy I was when Nurudeen turned out to be exact replica, carrying her big, round eyes and every single other trait of hers.

Suraiya's eyes are beautiful; it's a fleeting thought I have in my head but I can't deny it. They're doe-like but what really gets to me is how bright they are. They're bright brown, nearly gold and the sun has to be a paid actor right now. I think back to the brief profile I have of her. She's Tuareg but with Arabian descendancy. That should explain it.

She's in a black abaya and the veil is draped over her head. I shouldn't notice that the dark colour makes her skin pop but I do and when she smiles, it's small but pretty. That is a fleeting thought too but it's true.

She makes her way over, ascending the entrance stairs ever so gracefully. "Assalam Alaykum Warahmatullah."

Soft. Her voice is soft and –