Thorns and Berries

Chapter Three

Husna

By the time we reached Gwarinpa, it was past five that same afternoon. Driving to Gwarinpa from our take off point was not a long journey. In fact, it was one that would not take up to an hour to arrive. But as Nigeria traffic has always had it's way, it was our source of delay. But nevertheless, we were grateful for arriving before it was dusk.
   
As I horned at the locked high black gates, the gate man, peeping through a small opening in the gate to see the intruder, asked with a tone of hostility in strong Hausa accent.
      
"Who be that?"
   
I poked my head from the car window and waved languidly, at him. I could not understand this cliché with most Nigerian gate men. That similarity in their harshness as though everyone else but themselves was responsible for their jobs which was obvious they hated. Recognizing me, the man quickly pushed the gates wide open for us as he limped about, carrying his duty on one foot, his legs unequal with one shorter and thinner than the other. He looked smallish like Jide, only that Jide looked a little older than the former.
   
As I drove into the overly large compound, the gate man waved frantically at me with a broad smile plastered on his face such that his yellowish broken teeth could be seen in full view. His eyes danced with excitement to see me and one would wonder if I was related to him or if we had some kind of intimacy or anything related to that.
   
I acknowledged his greeting.
         
"Abubakar, ya jin dadi?" I raised my voice audible enough so he could hear from outside my vehicle.
       
"Alhamdullilah, karamin hajiya." Karamin hajiya, which meant 'little hajiya, translated from Hausa was the name Abubakar always called me whenever I came for a visit at the house, as I always visited wearing long abayas and well covering hajibs.
  
The mansion was Salma father's which also served as our family house. It was an enormous duplex painted ash grey with a bit of white to create a simplicity of colour blending. A water spring adorned with different species and colors of fishes, also stood at the center of the driveway to give a road diversion.
       
"Wow! This is beautiful!" Sandra exclaimed in admiration.
   
I gave a small smile containing a tinge of pride.
      
"Hold up, girlfriend. Wait till you get inside the house. There, you'll see real artworks and not just water springs and the exterior of the house. This is your first time of being here and that's the reason you're baffled. Ummi has been here once, so she can get a hold of herself now. But when she initially came here, I swear that this Ummulkhairi almost fainted inside the house."
        
"Really? Babe. And you didn't bother sharing your story with me all these while." Sandra said to Ummulkhairi who only gave a short laugh from the back seat. It was true what I had narrated and the Ummulkhairi felt slightly ashamed of venturing into the house again after the show she had displayed the last time she visited.
   
It was not that Ummulkhairi was not from a rich home too. Matter of fact, her father, Suleiman Sani, was the inspector General of Police and they could afford to purchase any artwork they desire. However, what had taken her breath away were the unique artworks and exquisite interior furnishings of the house which she could bet she had never seen in any other house in her life. This, she had told me after that day.
  
As I approached the large garage to park my car, Abubakar rushed before me to pull open its gate. I gave a small smile in gratitude which Abubakar returned with a larger one. After parking my car amongst a host of others lined up in a composed row, I stopped the engine and alighted from the car with the others following behind, shutting the door after them. I didn't fail to take notice of Sandra's mouth hanging agape in awe and her eyes taking in all the flamboyant cars. I could swear that deep inside, she was silently wishing she had been born into such family of wealth and the best of material things.
  
A nano minute later, I was standing in between my friends, ringing the bell of the house once, twice and thrice before the door was opened from inside to reveal a teenage girl of about fifteen or so, in baggy pants and an oversize cotton top with a small scarf over her head. Her eyes bore a boredom look which immediately lit up upon laying sight on me.
   
The girl jumped and gave me a tight bear hug.
         
"Coz!"
  
I laughed and tried to pull her off but the girl wouldn't budge.
         
"Haba! Yasmin. You're squeezing the life out of me." I joked but deep down, meaning every single word I had said as I silently prayed all the bones and joints in my body were still in their right places with the crushing power of Yasmin's supposed hug.
        
"I've missed you, Husna." Yasmin held onto me even tighter, her accent purely and unmistakably British as she spoke.
        
"Yes dear, me too." I agreed and gently tried to disentangle myself from Yasmin's hug and my effort worked this time. I stared fondly at Yasmin.
       
"How's London been?"
       
"Normal. Just the same old boring London. It's bustling with life again, mom says. But for now, I stay at LA. Didn't mom tell you so?"
  
I shook my head. It had been months I last spoke with aunt Amina, and I was sure the woman would not let me settle peacefully in the house until I gave concrete reasons for the unusual distance I had been pulling with them recently.
   
Unconsciously, my attention was carried away by the adoration of Yasmin's ravishing beauty. It was not that we haven't met before. We had met a few times before. Twice, when I had visited my aunt in London and the other times were on their few visits to Nigeria. I had last seen Yasmin two years ago when the girl had accompanied her father to Nigeria for a summit conference and I was entrusted to keep Yasmin company at the hotel where they had lodged. Yasmin's beauty dating two years back was noticeably different from the present. Her attractiveness seemed to have enhanced and gotten even more eye-catchy as she grew older.
        
"I've been in LA for about two months now, I think. I'm auditioning for a movie and I've been selected to play a role in a new Nickelodeon movie series." Yasmin continued, eyes glittering with self pride.
  
I gave an impressed, yet tired nod. I was no doubt, proud of Yasmin and her personal achievements but first things first, I had to escape the talkative Yasmin and get inside the house.
       
"Wow. Barakallahu fik, Yasmin! I am so proud of you and what you do. Come, let's get inside the house first, then I'm sure I'll have all the time in the world to listen to all of your stories and adventures." I said, taking Yasmin's hand into mine.
      
"Sure thing, coz." Yasmin agreed, face beaming with smiles as we walked into the house. I could hear Sandra mutter,
     
"Spoilt girl. So, just because she's americanized now, she doesn't know how to exchange courtesies with her elders."
      
"She's just a spoilt kid. I have nieces and nephews living abroad and they don't behave this way." Ummulkhairi added. "Look at the way she snobbed us as if we were ghosts."
  
I pretended not to have heard them and hoped Yasmin hadn't either—to avoid the girl's irrational behaviors. I agreed with the ladies about Yasmin being spoilt and knew I would have to apologize to them on Yasmin's behalf.
      
"Mother, grandmother, look who we've got here." Yasmin announced as we stepped into the magnificent living room which at first glance, a person would conclude belonged to a multi billionaire. Its interior furnishings which looked like ones imported from abroad coupled with historic colour paintings and black and white pencil drawings of armed guards mounted on horse backs in battlefields, the general view of old Kano city, Humuani mosque in Lagos and the awe inspiring entrance of the emir's palace in Kano amongst a many others, portrayed an atmosphere of wealth and geniality, and a family of great historians. One again, I noticed Sandra's eyes glimmering in enchantment, an exuberant look of awe hanging from her face.
  
The room parked with people engaging in conversations hummed in life with ripples of laughter from all directions of the house while others were slouched to, and snagging on the expensive couch, sofas, and cushions. Movements in the house were on motion and my face beamed with smiles and pride at the sight of our family's togetherness and big get- together. It was indeed a house full of people, just as Salma had said.
  
An elderly woman stood talking and laughing with a younger woman, each woman clutching the grips of their fingers to wine glasses of red hibiscus drinks also renowned by the name of zobo. The elderly woman was plumpy and not tall and had a small head tie on, which effort to act as a hair covering, still could not hide the long braids of her grey hair peeping out of the head tie. Although her looks could pass her on for a grandmother, she was still stout and communicating with so much vigour and life like a woman half her age.
 
The other younger woman was thinner and taller than the first. Her looks were of a woman in her late thirties and she had her body postured with grace. Her body structure and skin color was similar to Yasmin's and at mere gaze, a beholder would easily point out that she was indeed Yasmin's mother—aunt Amina, and the elderly woman was our grandmother. Just as Yasmin had called.
   
The two women turned to look at us when Yasmin drew their attention and just immediately as their eyes fell on us, I rushed to give the eldest woman a hug.
        
"Kaka!" I cried in happiness. Kaka was the Hausa term for 'grandmother'. A name by which the woman was called by all members of our family and even close friends.
   
Kaka handed her drink to aunt Amina as it spilled its contents lightly on the floor from the vibration caused by my hug. She squeezed me tightly to herself.
       
"Allah sarki!" She praised God and pulled me from herself a few seconds later. She scanned my full body with her eyes as if to analyze if there had been any slight change with me since the last time I visited.
      
"My one and only Husna. You've added weight fa!" Kaka added. A compliment I knew was untrue, considering the stress I had been undergoing at my workplace and how virtually everybody who had last seen me few months ago could testify I had lost so much weight compared to my former self. I chose not to start up an argument, though. Kaka was too much of an optimist and would possibly not have paid any attention to my weight loss or any other negative change in me.
      
"Ha! Kaka, I won't rest till I get to add as much weight as you have." I replied and everyone laughed heartily.
  
Aunt Amina frowned.
         
"So, it's only Kaka that you see koh? I'm no longer your favourite aunt right?"
   
I covered my face with my palms to hide my embarrassment.
        
"Forgive me, aunt. I don't know what came over me."
  
Aunt Amina's frown was slowly replaced by a small warm smile and she pulled my palms off my face and spread her arms in warm embrace. I dissolved into her awaiting hug to sink into a cloud of the long lost fragrance of aunt Amina's motherly love and I could feel my heart lighten at the scent of warmth and old memories. At that moment, I realized how terribly I had missed and longed for this irreplaceable good woman without even realizing it for so long, and how I could never trade this moment of reunion with anything else in the world.
       
"I've missed you, aunt Amina." I said, genuine about every single word I just uttered.
       
"I've missed you more, my dearest Husna." Then pulling me from her, she pouted her lips and added.
       
"You didn't even bother calling, talk more of getting in touch with me on Skype, for more than a month now."
       
"I'm really really sorry about that, auntie. I've been really occupied with office work these days and barely have spare time for myself. You can ask aunt Basma if you feel I'm not telling the truth."
   
Aunt Amina gave me a smile again and a gentle pat on the cheek.
       
"And why should I ask her just to confirm if you're saying the truth or not? I trust my Husna and I believe every single word she says."
   
I felt relieved and gave a smile of gratitude.
      
"Thanks, auntie. I'll to make it up to you and Yasmin." I promised, my eyes already distracted, cooly appraised by aunt Amina's beguiling beauty. No doubt Yasmin had taken after her.
     
"I'll take your words for it." Aunt Amina said. "And by the way, talking about Basma..., how's she doing? Would she be attending the wedding too?"
  
I shook my head.
     
"No, she won't . Her kids are a pain in the ass and she's got to put eyes on them all the time. Just like me, she's extremely busy with work at the hospital. You know doctors na. Always on motion, saving lives and doing all the stuffs they are born to do."
     
"I understand. May Allah tame her children and grant her the strength to carry on her work tirelessly."
     
"Amin." My voice echoed with that of the rest, and suddenly remembering Ummulkhairi and Sandra standing behind me, I introduced them to the women.
       
"Kaka, auntie, meet my colleagues and closest friends; Ummulkhairi and Sandra."
   
Sandra and Ummulkhairi curtsied to greet the women out of respect.
      
"Good day, ma"
      
"Inawuni, hajiya."
   
Kaka gave each of them quick welcoming hugs.
     
"You're both welcome to our home." She said and lingered her gaze on Ummulkhairi. Her forehead creased in a frown as she clicked her fingers in a bid to recollect her face.
    
"Have you been here before?"
  
Ummulkhairi smiled shyly and hung her head downcast.
     
"Yes, kaka. I was here with Husna the other time she visited."
     
"Oh, yes! Now I remember. You're that funny girl who gave us the best laughter of our lives." She gave a small laugh and with the look on Ummulkhairi's face, I could tell she was wishing right now, that the ground split open and swallow her up to cover her shame.
      
"You're highly welcome dear. Feel at home." Kaka added and then facing Sandra, she asked,
      
"Are you Igbo or Yoruba?"
      
"I'm Igbo, ma."
      
"Oh, Nice! I've been to an Igbo land before. Can't remember the place though but it's somewhere in Imo state. I graduated from Obafemi Awolowo University where I studied Estate Management and due to my unsuccessful career, I became a professional caterer and was hired sometime later as a cook for a wedding ceremony there in Imo. It was the wedding of a big chief's daughter and I really enjoyed myself there. Igbo weddings are quite interesting, you know."
   
Sandra's eyes showed great interest in Kaka's tale while I rolled mine in uprising boredom. There goes Kaka and her unending stories again.  Everyone else in the household were all used to Kaka's histrionics which at times were quite compelling to listen to, especially when it was a new one.
      
"Wow! I'm actually from Anambra State but I hear Imo people are good at throwing big weddings." Sandra commented.
     
"Aha! That's right dear. In fact, let me tell you something that will shock you. When I arrived Imo for..." Kaka made to continue her tale but Yasmin cut in, grabbing my hand.
      
"Should I take you to Salma now?" She asked me but Aunt Amina snapped at her, much to my disappointment.      
      
"Haba, Yasmin. The ladies aren't done with us here and you're already talking of going to see Salma?"
      
"It's okay, Amina. Let them go see her." Kaka calmed aunt Amina.