TRAPPED...Part 15.

The beep from my phone woke me up. The message icon danced on the screen. I sat up and pressed the message button. The message was brief and the tone, terse. "You have been avoiding us. We have given you enough time. Please, come with the baby to 13 Alao Crescent, beside 2nd Rainbow junction tomorrow by 12 noon, or face legal action. Thank you." I sunk back into the bed, tears welling up in my eyes. I have merely postponed the evil day.

It was the morning of Habiba's wedding. Nkechi had agreed to come over and take care of the kids to enable me attend the wedding. I thrashed about in the bed for some time, thinking of a plan. None came. I gazed longingly at the solitary bulb at the center of the ceiling, allowing its light dispel any beclouding darkness. "It is well," I reassured myself, repeatedly. My lonesome musing was interrupted by a knock on the door. I stood up reluctantly and went to answer the door. It was my sister.

"I thought you said you are leaving early for the wedding,eh? You aren't even dressed," she said as she walked past me, into the living room.

I closed the door behind her. "I am not even sure I am still going," I said.

"Why? What is wrong?" she asked, facing me.

I scratched my head. I was at a loss for words.

"Go and dress up, joor! You don't know you should still be in circulation?" she said, laughing and patting my shoulder.

"Hapu m aka, biko. Was I out of circulation before?" I retorted, smiling.

I have kept my sister in the dark about my entire situation. Maybe to avoid the soul-piercing 'I told you so'. She had warned me about Jide, but I was carried away by the euphoria of that moment. She was not aware of my status. I had told no one, except Dan. I had to tell him. When we ran into each other at the hospital after Jide's death, he had wanted to rekindle the relationship. The children did not deter him. He loved them to bits. But he realised I was holding back. 

One evening as I was seeing him off, he drew me to himself just outside my door. My heart raced as a flood of emotions swept through me. I could feel my walls breaking down as I melted into his arms, his fast heartbeat outracing mine. His touch reawakened a fire I was trying hard to douse. I felt his lips on my forehead, earlobe and neck, each touch sending shivers down my spine, my lips smacking in anticipation. The next instant, a tiny fragment of my reasoning returned and I forcefully pulled away.

"Stella, what is the problem?" He had the look of a child denied his favourite toy.

"I am sorry. I can't do this," I said, adjusting my clothes.

"What is wrong? Is there another guy?" he asked, still surprised.

"No, Dan. You know that there is no other guy. It's just that, em, there is something you should know."

"What?" There was anger and irritation in his tone.

I was silent. Confusion, disappointment and shame engulfed me. "I am HIV positive."

For some minutes he stood there, looking at me, saying nothing. I knew he was heartbroken, again. His next action threw me off-balance. He hugged me tight, kissed me on the left cheek and whispered in my ears.

"I know he did this. But always know that I will be there for you. Always."

He had his own confession to make: He has a girlfriend.

The bus dropped me just after Ikeja bridge. I took a cab going to Esomo Close through Toyin Street. I stopped at No.10. Just outside the compound several cars were parked. A good number had military plate numbers. I entered the compound. At the center was a white duplex with its balcony suspended by two pillars. There were canopies in the compound with seats arranged under them. I went into the building and asked for Habiba. I was directed upstairs.

"Ah Stella, you made it!" she shouted gleefully, upon seeing me. I embraced her, offering her my congratulations. Aisha and her cousins were dressing her up. She was dazzling in her looks, smiles permanently pasted on her face. They were chatting in Hausa, occasionally breaking into laughter. I could not follow the conversation. I lingered in the room for a while and became restless. I quickly excused myself and went downstairs. There were many people seated in the expansive living room. I found my way to the backyard.

There were some seats there. A dark young man in blue kaftan and matching cap was seated in one. He was looking disinterestedly at the flowers adjacent to the fence. He looked up as I passed him and took the next seat.

"When is the wedding starting?" I asked him.

"Anytime from now," he said. "The Imam is already here." He spoke without any accent. I had never seen an Hausa man without one.

"I am Stella, a friend of the bride," I said, offering him my hand.

"Ali," he said, shaking my hand. "Friend of the groom and a relative of the bride."

"So Ali," I began, smiling. "Who did you sell your accent to?"

He laughed hard and long.

"Oho! Maybe I wasn't at the meeting when it as agreed that we must all have an accent. I bet you also think every Fulani man is a poor cattle rearer."

"Stop joor!" I said. "But most of them are cattle rearers nau?"

"Of course. But they are far from being poor. Don't allow their dressing fool you."

"Really?" I asked. "How rich can they be?"

"Very, very rich. Some families may have up to a fifty thousand cattle, scattered all over the country. Each son may be in charge of a group of ten thousand. How much does one cow cost?"

"About a hundred thousand naira," I said.

"Do the maths. That is a total of five billion naira. Yet, you won't see them dress fancy or show off."

I was stunned. I knew I would never look at a nomad the same way again.

"What do you do?" he asked.

"I am a tailor. Or a fashion designer. Whichever you prefer. You?"

"I am a banker. I was recently transferred to Lagos from Kaduna. I am still trying to relocate my family."

"You are married," I said, partly asking. He smiled.

"Yes, four wives."

"Kai!" I could not hide my amazement. "What are you doing with four wives?"

He started laughing again. "The more, the merrier. Besides, it is allowed in Islam."

"Hmmm. You wan born one village ni?" I asked, gesturing.

He smiled. "We are working on it. Each of my wives has 3 kids."

He asked for my number. I gave him. Just then, we heard the sound of prayers emerging from the living room.

"It seems the ceremony just started," he said, rising.

As we were entering the building, we met Aisha in the hallway. She looked surprised to see us. "Megida," she said, looking at Ali. "They are asking for you inside."

"Your husband?" I asked Aisha. She nodded.

"You know my first wife?" Ali asked, looking uneasy.

"Yes. It is really a very small world," I replied, smiling.

He was about saying something but I snapped him out of it.

"Don't bother," I said, walking past him. I sashayed into the living room.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

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