Alkyabba

1.

   The humid and cold air of early May hit me square in the face just as I descended the airplane. My head getting fuzzy and light with each step and my Louboutin heels making clanky sounds as heels meets with the metal stairs. Out of sheer curiosity, I had made an attempt to ask the air hostess why we're walking down the stairs and not through the tube like it's done in other airports around the world, but I changed my mind last minute. This is Nigeria after all, you make do with what you have.

The airport was beautifully lit with lights, the runway especially. Moving in the crowd of passengers who just alighted from Air France,I  headed into the building of  Nnamdi Azikiwe international airport . I waited patiently through all the security checks,which was painfully slow,till it was my turn. After I was done with security, I quickly rushed to the ladies room and changed out of my comfy jeans and yellow knit sweater into a loose atamfa gown with bright embroideries. I later picked up my luggage and headed out searching for my ride.

The airport was filled with laughter and a lot of screams. Families reunited, soulmates meet. I was supposed to be happy because I was returning home to my family,but reverse is the case. I wasn't in the slightest excited about returning to Nigeria. On an honest note,I never wanted to return to this place. Its been four years and I still don't regard it as a  home after all the person I'm supposed to run home to is back in Marseille, France. I clutched her ruby red chiffon hijab tighter which I had snuck into my backpack as I pulled my luggage,my heart getting heavier with each step.

Abba Waziri already informed me that he sent the driver to fetch me at the airport,and when I saw a man dressed in a black suit  holding a cardboard that read 'HRH Maryam Suleiman' I knew he was the one. I couldn't resist rolling my eyes.
First off, I'm  not 'Her Royal Highness', I so much hate the fact that people have to regard me with that title. I didn't choose to be the Waziri's daughter and if I ever had the chance to change that,I'd rather be a daughter of a college professor. On a second note,people forget the fact that my name is spelled 'Miriam' not Maryam. But it doesn't matter anyway.

I pulled my trolley towards him and smiled politely.

"Hi! I'm Miriam Suleiman" I said with a smile. He immediately stood upright and acknowledged me.

"Welcome to Nigeria your royal...."

"Thank you" I interrupted him before he could say anything that'll piss me off or decide to curtsy. I should count my lucky stars today that some palace guards were not sent here to receive. I couldn't imagine how chaotic it was going to be.

He offered to pick my luggage and because I was jetlagged, I couldn't say no. I let him carry my trolley bags while I held on to my backpack as I followed him to the black SUV that was parked a few meters away.

Few minutes later we were on the road heading to Maitama District where the guest house was located. Since I arrived a few minutes past 9pm,Abba decided I spend the night in Abuja in his guest house and then I'll be leaving to Zaria the following morning. Here in Nigeria, its safer to travel when the sun is high up in the sky and you can see what's coming your way from miles ahead.

I rested my head on the headrest and sent an instant message to my Ma letting her know I've arrived safely. I waited a bit for a reply and when I didn't get one,I knew she was probably asleep.

Half an hour later, we arrived at the guest house. I can remember few years ago,it was just a plain white house that stood in the hills of Maitama with shrubs and creepers running all around making it look like an old castle from the 80's. But now,it has been transferred into something spectacular.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The crystal clear water fountain, the huge French windows and the perfectly cut shrubs. Everything was so exquisite. Abba has really done well with this property. It could pass as a three star hotel somewhere in Marseille.