Born on a Tuesday (16 page)

It feels like we are both standing naked in this room and I do not know which is worse—his nakedness, or mine. I look up at him and he looks up too.

‘Are you waiting for me to say something? That is the end of my story.'

He gets up and walks to the door.

‘Were you wondering what the moral of the story was?' he asks, turning around.

‘Yes, Sheikh,' I reply.

‘There is no moral. I just felt like telling you a story.'

FOCAL

1. Principal: main and most important.
   

In my heart, Aisha is FOCAL.

SECT

1. a religious group that is connected to a larger group but that has beliefs that differ greatly from those of the main group.
   
2. a religious group that is a smaller part of a larger group and whose members all share similar beliefs.
   

When I am hearing Sheikh preaching or hearing news on radio or reading Sheikh books, I am thinking of the way people are fighting Muslim people in all the world and I am thinking that if all Muslim people are not fighting each other then maybe other kafir people will not have the power over us. Every time I am looking at the CD where Malam and Sheikh are not agreeing, I am wishing that everything is in the Quran, all the questions people are fighting about, so that people will not be fighting over what is correct and what is not correct. Allah forgive me. Because maybe if everything was there Sheikh and Malam will not be fighting. But there are people that even if every thing is in the Quran, they will still bring their own thinking into it to cause fighting. Maybe some people just like to fight. I don't understand. Allah forgive me.

Tolls

Politics is very time consuming. These days Sheikh hardly shows up at the mosque: I haven't seen him in three days. I go with him to a lot of meetings and the last one went from 9 a.m. until 6 p.m. I chew lots of kola to stop myself from falling asleep. Kola makes my stomach swell and gives me gas, but gas is better than dozing off when I have to take notes. Sheikh doesn't chew kola at all. I wonder how he stays awake.

‘You are a lazy man,' Sheikh often jokes when I start to chew.

No one, not even Alhaji Usman, knows who will contest for the governorship. The deputy governor has been unclear about this and it frustrates Alhaji Usman. He thinks the deputy governor is deliberately not saying anything. The governor has had his two terms. He is not interested in being a senator and has refused to endorse any candidate ahead of the Big Party primaries. But there are rumours everywhere and no one is sure whether he is giving money to the deputy governor or to Alhaji Usman or both of them. Alhaji Usman has refused to print any posters until the deputy governor says what office he is interested in.

Alhaji Usman has doubled the amount of food he gives on Fridays and added bars of soap to the distribution. Soap has become popular especially after the cholera outbreak, when there were daily jingles on the radio about keeping clean and washing often. People are calling the soap Sabulun Usman. At first Alhaji Usman angered all the shop sellers whose sales were affected by all the free soap that suddenly flooded the town. When the market association sent a delegation to meet him, he apologised, gave them money and arranged to buy the soap directly from them. So now, if you buy things from any of the shops in the market, you will get a free bar of washing and bathing soap. Everyone is happy with this arrangement.

The deputy governor gives cash to people during rallies. His posters, which simply have his face and the words ‘Sai Ka Yi,' do not say anything about what office he wants.

Jibril is scaring me with these texts he sends from different numbers. Malam Abdul-Nur made them all give up their phones when they moved to his new farm in a remote village I have never heard of.

‘Shooting makes me feel both scared and as if someone is shocking my body with electricity. Shooting makes me feel like I have drunk something to make me high.'

I have never fired a gun but I know the feeling he is talking about. It is the same way I felt when we were burning things. The only high better than that is the high of wee-wee. Everything becomes slightly blurry and it feels like I am standing on a moving platform above everyone around me. In that moment I feel like no one is capable of doing anything to me. But it is the feeling afterwards that makes me glad I don't get high anymore. Like how I felt after all that burning in Bayan Layi. It felt like someone had tied my intestines in tight knots and the whole world was crashing on my head. And that horrible feeling lasts longer than being high.

There are tents everywhere, he says, and the farm itself is like a small village. Because Malam Abdul-Nur has his boys patrolling the whole village at night and has dug two wells, he forces the village head to pay him a weekly tax. The Mujahideen do not use cars or phones. I am happy he has taken his weird movement far away from us. It is the people in that village I feel sorry for.

After the evening prayers Sheikh walks into my office and sits down.

‘What is the problem?' he begins. ‘I have given you enough time I believe and you still act as if what I told you is not important. It is sunna to marry. You do not have to wait until you find the best woman. You do not even have to like her. Find a good girl and we will conduct the marriage.'

‘I found a girl,' I say, ‘but it seems she does not like me.'

‘Why do you think so?'

‘Because I used to talk to her and even call her on the phone, but now she doesn't take my calls.'

‘You are smart in the things of religion but it seems you need to be tutored in the ways of life. When a woman does not like you, then she will not care about you at all. She will not bother to hide herself from you. But when a woman takes the time to hide from you and doesn't take your phone calls then she is playing a game. This is how our women are.'

‘Then what do I do?'

‘She needs to know you are not one of these useless men around town and that you are serious. Show her you are serious. Just tell her you are going to talk to her father and see what she says. How old is she?'

‘I didn't ask.'

‘What do you mean you didn't ask? I am not going to do your background work for you. Find out all these details, how old she is, who her father is, if she has ever been married before and then let me know. I can't believe I have to tell you all this.'

‘OK, Sheikh.'

‘What of Jibril, do you hear from him at all?'

‘Only to tell me that he is OK. They have been stopped from using phones.'

‘Madman. Abdul-Nur is mad. He is doing this because I floored him in the debate. He is trying to prove to me that he can run an Islamic state. But he will kill all those people. If Jibril has any sense, he will find his way out of there before his brother leads them all to destruction. I even hear that in the village where he is, people are leaving because they are afraid of him. In just a short while he has taken over everything and terrorises everyone including the village head. Allah forbid! If there is any one mistake I made, it is Abdul-Nur. Now I can't even look Alhaji Usman in the eye because he will say he told me. Everyone told me but I thought I had him under control. A Yoruba man is a Yoruba man. No matter how Muslim they become. They stab you in the back. That is how they are. Hypocrites.'

Sheikh is angrier than I have ever seen him. There are tears in his eyes as he speaks. This will be the wrong time to tell him about Aisha. Usually I am sure how he will react to something—I think I know him that well. This time I have no idea if he will give me a big handshake or a big slap. In my head I want to agree about Yoruba people because everyone says it and you can always find examples, but then I remember that Jibril is Yoruba too. He has never stabbed me in the back.

We have lost one of our major funders in Saudi Arabia. I did not know of this funder until I started handling our second bank account. There was money coming from the Maliki Foundation, which stopped a few months before Malam Abdul-Nur came back. The Foundation hosted Malam Abdul-Nur when he first got to Saudi Arabia. They gave him everything he needed because he was from Sheikh. When Sheikh called to ask if there was a problem, they told him they would send him an email. Two weeks after, they emailed to say that they had suspended the project under which we were receiving assistance. We do not know what happened when Malam Abdul-Nur was there or what he told them about us but Sheikh has found out that they are the ones who gave him money to buy and build up his farm. Sheikh says he will travel with the next hajj and try to have a meeting with them. He has added my name to the next hajj list too. Now I need to go and get a passport from the Immigration office in Sokoto.

I discovered something else while handling that account. When he announces a donation, Alhaji Usman only gives us a third of what he announces. The money comes through his company, which makes a payment to us by cheque or by bank transfer. I then withdraw two-thirds of the amount and give it back to him in cash. Then we multiply all our expenses by three. So even though what we spent on the building of the school was eighteen million, our papers read fifty-four million. I do not know how to feel about this.

* * *

When I leave the house to go to the mosque, everyone is huddled in groups listening to the radio. People are sad and shaking their heads and talking in hushed tones. In the mosque Malam Yunusa is speaking with Malam Abduljalal and a few other men.

‘Salamu alaikum,' I say to them on my way into the office.

‘Wa alaikum wassalam,' they chorus.

‘You have heard what happened?' Malam Yunusa asks.

‘No, what happened?'

‘The governor has died ai.'

‘Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un,' I sigh; ‘how did he die?'

‘An aircraft crash. He went down south with others in a helicopter to attend a wedding. He died together with the former inspector general of police, who was from Sokoto.'

Sheikh calls to say he will not be around all evening. He and Alhaji Usman are going to Government House to see the deputy governor. Life is funny and one never knows why Allah destines these things to occur. What causes mourning in one house causes rejoicing in another; one family cries while another gives thanks to Allah. The deputy governor may mourn but there is no way his family will not rejoice at his sudden elevation. And at least Alhaji Usman now knows that the Senate seat is free for him to contest.

I call Aisha. She does not pick up. Women can be very annoying. Sometimes they are very nice and they make you stay up all night thinking about them, unable to breathe because you feel your heart wanting to jump out of your chest. Other times they act as if the world is theirs to take, as if men were made to fulfil their every need.

‘What is it?' she texts me.

I dial her number again. Every ring feels like hot stones pushed through my ear.

‘Yes?' she says.

‘Salamu alaikum,' I reply.

‘Amin alaikum wassalam.'

‘I'm sorry, but I just wanted to find out if you got the wrapper I sent you.'

‘Yes I got your message loud and clear because all I have are green hijabs ko? And you need to save me from embarrassment because I need clothes. Yes, mister, I got your message. And I might have returned it if I did not need a rag so urgently.'

‘May Allah calm your temper, Aisha, I did not mean to insult you. Forgive me if I have acted foolishly.'

She goes silent for a few seconds and then says in a less impatient voice, ‘What do you want?'

‘I want to ask your father,' I say.

‘Ask him what?'

‘I'm not joking around. I want to marry you, Aisha.'

The line goes dead. I know she has dropped the call but I call back. It rings for a while before she picks up.

‘Aisha, did you hear what I said earlier?' I ask.

‘Yes,' she mumbles.

‘Do you have anything to say then?'

‘First,' she says, almost whispering, ‘I don't know you like that. And second, this is not how to tell someone you want to marry her. Why do you want to marry me? Are you not too young to marry even?'

‘First,' I reply, ‘one does not get to know a person in one day. Even when one has been with someone for many years one still learns new things. And to your second question, I like you, Aisha. I like you and I think you are a decent, hardworking girl. I like you, Aisha.'

‘So if you like me, is that not what you should have said first? How do you tell a person you want to marry them first, and then after, that you like them? Me, I do not understand this. A man woos a woman. It is not like I do not have options. How do I know that you are serious?'

‘Forgive me Aisha that I have gotten the other things wrong but I thought to go straight to the point since you hardly ever take my calls. And if you let me, I will woo you.'

She is silent for a while. ‘My mother needs me, I have to go,' she says.

‘So, will you pick up the next time I call?'

‘I don't know. Won't you have to try to find out?'

‘That is true,' I say.

My heart is beating against my chest like a dog trying to get out of its cage. I feel like reaching into my chest and opening the cage. The phone rings again and without looking I pick up and say: ‘Aisha.'

‘It's Jibril,' the voice whispers back.

‘Oh, Jibril. What's up?'

‘I am afraid,' he says.

‘What has happened now?'

‘He has gone crazy!'

‘Has she told him?'

‘Yes and he thinks it is his but that is not the issue. He chopped off someone's hand today.'

‘What? What!'

‘Someone said he stole some raw meat after they slaughtered a cow.'

‘And nobody said anything?'

‘He made everybody watch, and I was in front. He used the butcher's axe. I've never seen so much blood in my life. He has gone crazy!'

‘When did this happen?'

‘Early this morning. The boy died about an hour ago. The bleeding refused to stop. They are digging the grave on the edge of the farm.'

‘Jibril, you have to run away.'

‘I can't. Where will I run to? Anyway, it is not that I can't run away, but I need her to come with me. I can't leave her there with my child. That is my plan. To leave with her.'

‘Jibril! This is not the time to be thinking of all this. Would you feel better if you were dead? If you die she will continue life like she never met you before. And your child will never know you.'

‘I know she will come with me. I just need to have a good plan to escape, that's all.'

‘Jibril! Don't go and put yourself into more trouble fa!'

‘Look, I have to go. I will call you again tomorrow.'

When Alhaji Usman walks in to the mosque with Sheikh, people crowd around them, hoping to hear news about their visit to the deputy governor. As Sheikh and Alhaji Usman chat with the other trustees, I try to make sure that the sound system is working properly.

‘What are you doing there?' Sheikh calls out to me.

‘Checking to make sure everything is OK.'

‘Let one of the other boys do that.'

I walk over to where they are all standing.

‘Ahmad,' Alhaji Usman says, stretching out his hand. I receive his with both of mine.

‘They will swear him in after the burial tomorrow,' Sheikh says to Malam Yunusa, continuing the conversation they were having before I came.

‘So, what has been happening?' Sheikh says, turning to me.

‘Nothing,' I say.

After a bit of silence I add, ‘Jibril called again today.'