A Hazel Haven

Chapter 13

Her father had to take over( as usual). The busy man had been forced into making time, speaking whenever he could. Why was it so different this time? It was as though the reality of her being unsupervised, of not being monitored, suddenly sank in. Or was it because of her grandmother's ominous words?

No drinking. No smoking. Don't crack under peer pressure when your principles hang in the balance. No going to strange places. No being alone with strange people-stay in the eye of the public at all times. Report any harassment. No men. That meant prostitution of any kind was off the table-as always, of course. Don't let stupid decisions ruin years of hard work. Be careful.

Everyday her father lectured over his meals, reiterated while he studied papers, emphasized while he drove. She knew all that. Everyone knew all that. That didn't stop him from educating her, like he had done before she left for Ogun state on a protracted stay-something he seemed to have forgotten altogether.

Of course she wouldn't smoke or drink; if she hadn't when things were debilitating, certainly not now. There was no pressure to crack under because there was no peer to do it (except Mrs Ehana, but too bad she was already wise with age and experience; she was also far away.) No, she wasn't going to venture into strange places or be alone with unfamiliar persons( she had learned a life time lesson).Maybe she would report any harassment. Of course men were off limits: she was engaged to be married (obviously). Prostitution? She always snickered at that, and he always gave her a grim look.

It was a serious matter from a far too serious man said in a rather stiff, laughable manner. The same way he had tried to explain away her panic when she'd started menstruating. Her mother hadn't been home; she had been mortified and he had been terrible. Were all men this terrible with their female children on such matters?

"Everything I've been saying for the past five minutes fell on deaf ears." Nadeem stated, sighing resignedly, settling back into his seat. Caught, Huma stopped her mindless nodding, sheepish. "Always zoning off in the middle of a conversation. How do you pay attention in class?"

Ten minutes actually. Ten minutes of him rambling on and on about the same thing while they waited for Uche outside the second gate, with the gateman-who was not Gbenga, a stout carefree man with jaded eyes-watching them as he snacked on what looked like groundnuts.

Mr Effiong had given her as well as her parents a bottle of groundnuts each; his wife had brought them from the village when she visited. Although Huma didn't like or eat groundnuts, she could never refuse a kind gesture. Hers was still in her bag. Maybe this man would like some more.

" Children. They think they know everything,"

Well, she didn't know everything, just all he had to say. He hadn't been able to relax since they got here, stewing so discernibly. Why couldn't he just stop worrying? Huma teased him with a small smile.

Nadeem chuckled. "Believe me, I understand. When I was young, my mother would do the same thing, talk on and on about the little she knew from experience: hard work pays, remain virtuous... even when we were old enough to have families, she sat us down like children and went on and on with didactic stories. The market took her places, sometimes to the city, and she would come back and narrate what she'd seen, with more stories."

" And as young and hot blooded as we were, at a point we found her a nuisance, so tiring, too much talking. She was uneducated, a farmer's wife, what did she know, except wake up and weave clothes and baskets? Except talking? Oh, how we wanted her to shut up, that self absorbed woman," Nadeem shook his head, smiling wistfully, a common expression when he talked about the woman in those rare moments, and Huma touched his arm, smiling too, "We knew those things already. We knew what we wanted. For all her talk, she was a nobody, and she knew we thought that way. Some of us even began to treat her with contempt. But she still talked, kept reiterating, advising, passing wisdom, even if we didn't listen, because that was all she could do, that was her duty as a parent. We would say we heard, go away, discard everything, and make mistakes that would have been avoided."