RABIAT

CHAPTER ONE

LIFE IS WHAT YOU MAKE OF IT. THERE IS A FANTASY IN THIS CLAIM, I MUST BE CONCERNED WITH REALITY.....

I don't belong to that group of women who suffer from disorder of the womb, yet lie to their doctor because of the fear of having their bodies examined privately. 

If you do not tell the truth to your doctor, how can you expect to get better, or at least be treated?

If I fail to tell the truth to my parents, friends and even my adversaries, how can I explain the fact that I am not merely being negative?

Ordinarily, I would not have confided such private matters or discussed them, but in this case I had to extricate myself from the messy lies about my private life and  my role in the breakup of my marriage. 

So bearing this in mind, I decided to be brave, resolute and bluntly honest…….

My father is a Zaria-born Fulani and has earned himself respect all over Kaduna as God-fearing and hard working citizen.

Father a middle aged man who believes doing what is right  at all times, could be described as a strict  person even though his educational background wouldn’t allow him to be unexplainably so. I am the eldest of his four children, two  out of the three  had been taken to boarding school so that they get a taste of being on their own. Except my sister.

‘Independence’ father had explained to them, ‘is very important’ when my brother Faruk repeatedly complained about father,s intent at the beginning of his decision. Father made sure he sent us to the best schools in town, not forgetting to remind us always that it’s the only legacy he hopes to leave for us.

Although our family is not a large one, we are not without constant visitors in our house. Most of them are relatives and friends, a good number of them from Zaria.

"You could look us up in Liman's house."They would say any time they are asked of their contact address in Kaduna.

Of all the visitors, my favourite is Aunty Halima, a quiet and unassuming woman who looks quite like my father except that my father is on the tall side while aunty falls on the short side.

They have been known to be very close and usually visits us once in a while for a change of environment as she used to say. “I love being in zaria, but sometimes the break is important, because it reduces monotony.” Aunty had explained.

During my younger days, I used to have this feeling of emptiness whenever she had to go back to Zaria.

Imagine what happy hours Aunty Halima and I spent! They were hours I wish were repeated over and over again, because was nothing which I couldn’t tell her.

She seemed to be the most understanding elder I had ever come across and interacted with.

She hardly shows her serious side, as most elders do, or even expect me to be careful of what I tell her or the way I tell her. I am always myself when am with her.

She has a pleasant countenance   about her, always smiling but ready to tell you off when you are wrong and praise you when you are right.

So I did find her really warm-hearted and loving.

Whenever we sat together in front of the television talking about the past, present and future, I used to tell her, how I plan to spoil her nuts when I came of age.

"Aunty  ."

I would often say, "I'm afraid of growing up."

"Why?" She would ask.