Scarred For Life

Chapter 8

*

The theatre was a large and partially curved hall, not fully a semicircle but very nearly so. Several rows of seats were arranged so they curved with the building, facing inward towards a raised podium on which six plush, brown seats were arranged. All around the hall, several banners had been strung over the many doors, bearing the symbol of a woman extending a small bundle to a little girl, against a green backdrop.

"This looks promising," Maryam said as she and Afrah stepped into the hall. Several people were already sitting all around in a disheveled manner, as a rumour had gone around that there would be refreshments.

"Let's sit over here," Afrah gestured towards two empty seats in the second row towards the middle of the hall. As they headed towards them, Maryam smiled and waved at several people, while Afrah kept her gaze fixed on the seats. She was aware that a few people were staring at her, but she paid no attention to them. As her father had told her long ago, 'The things we allow to bother us are only capable of doing so because we give them that power'.

"I hope this doesn't last too long," Maryam said as she sat down. "I haven't had breakfast, and I'm this close to dying of starvation," she gestured with her fingers.

"Don't be so dramatic," Afrah said. "I skipped breakfast as well, but you don't see me complaining."

"That's because you have mastered the art of bending your stomach to your will," she replied. "Mere mortals like us have to deal with the unbearable pangs of hunger throughout the day."

"How many times do I have to tell you that you watch too many movies?" Afrah sighed.

"Perhaps a few hundred times more and the message will start to sink in," she chuckled. "Anyway, I saw a picture of an invitation card to a wedding on your WhatsApp status a few weeks ago."

"Oh," Afrah sighed, "Amina is getting married in three weeks."

"That's wonderful," Maryam squealed in delight. "I'm happy for her."

"Yeah," Afrah said quietly. "Simply thrilled."

"Who is the lucky guy?" She asked, either not detecting the sarcasm in her tone or choosing to ignore it.

"Ibrahim," Afrah said. "I've shown you his picture already, haven't I?"

Maryam scrunched up her face. "Is he the short guy with massive sideburns and a crooked nose?" She asked.

"Don't let Amina hear you describing him like that, or you'll be in for it," she laughed.

Nearly twenty minutes later, when the hall was finally filled to the brim (several people with no place to sit chose to stand along the walls), the hosts of the seminar began to file into the hall. A few of them climbed onto the podium and sat on the armchairs, while the rest headed off around the hall to maintain order. A short and portly man wearing a faded black suit and polished black shoes stepped forward, a microphone in his hand. He was a round-faced, kind looking man with an air of boyish charm about him. He waited for the noise to die down before he spoke.

"Settle down, settle down," he said quite unnecessarily, his voice echoing across the expanse of the hall. "Welcome, distinguished ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls and everything else in between."

A few people at the back sniggered. Afrah distinctly heard someone beside her mutter something about 'Bobrisky'.

"To the old students of this wonderful school, I say, welcome back," he continued. "To the new students who are just about to embark on their academic adventure in Bayero University, I say, welcome. I congratulate you all in equal measures, as we are all privileged indeed to be here today.