STORY TIME 5: Chapter Four Umar Faruk Close is an exclusive area. It is an area with very few houses. Almost all the houses in the area are what are usually referred to as mansions. The houses are well constructed. The road leading to the Close is well tarred and the drainage clean. The area is generally clean, noise-free and secluded. It is the type of area some call GRA in those days. Though this one was never referred to as such. The owners/occupiers of the houses in the area are either well to do or what is referred to as the elite or both. Most of them are senior government officials. Others are established business tycoons. I was opportune to secure a three-bed room accommodation in the area. I am new in the area. New in the sense that most of the people have stayed there for decades. This is my second year in there. I used to live in our family house prior to my marriage. We have an extended family. A member of our extended family is virtually found in almost every household. Our family is so large that it can boast of representation in almost every human endeavour. Two of us are lawyers. There are two doctors. There is a teacher, three accountants with some of the leading commercial banks and three other successful businessmen. Of course, two are not all that successful. This is only natural. Not everybody is lucky in life. Anisa is my wife. We’ve been married for six years. The marriage is blessed with two children Mubarak and Muhsin. They are aged four and two respectively. Mubarak is now in nursery two. He is already proven to be as brilliant as his mother and myself. Each time I look at him, I pray silently for his success. He is promising. However, the world is too wicked, especially for people like him. Anisa, my wife, Maman Mubarak, as our neighbours call her, is not only a brilliant woman; she is also pretty, hard working, loving and caring. She comes from a very noble and large family as well. In fact her family is twice the size of mine. Above all, she is religious. Whatever she is bent on doing, once you tell her it is unislamic, she instantly abandons it. Her religiousness is proving a very vital tool in the upbringing of our two children. Sometimes it is making positive impact on me as well. It was her apparent religiousness that attracted me and led me to speak to her in the first place. I was in my second year into private law practice. I was doing my pupilage then. The office was situated at the famous Ahmadu Bello Way. It is the commercial nerve centre of Jos. She was attending the same school with Muhammad, our Litigation Secretary. She had cause to look for him in the office one day. “Assalamu alaikum”, she said as she entered the reception. “Wa Alaikumussalam”, I responded. I was the only one in the office then. Muhammad has gone to court to file some papers. Mary, our Secretary has also gone on an errand. I was sitting in the reception. My head was buried in a newspaper. I did not raise my head as I responded to her Salam. “Excuse me please sir,” a shrill sweet voice said. I raised my head slowly. There she was standing half-entered into the reception. She was wearing a pink native wear with a white Hijab on top. She looked simple but imposing and elegant. She appeared a perfect example of how a Muslim woman should dress. My assessment stopped there. “Yes please.” I responded. I barely restrained myself from gazing at her. I noticed momentarily that she had lowered her gaze as well. “Come in please” I quickly added noticing she was still standing. “Sit down please”, I said gesturing her to one of the visitors’ chairs. Incidentally, the chair was directly opposite where I was seated. She appeared uncomfortable, and uncertain. Yet she sat down at the edge of the chair. I quickly re-accessed her. She doesn’t look like a client. “Can I help you?” I inquired. I noticed my voice was sounding very nice and reassuring. “I am looking for Muhammad Garba. He told me he works here. He asked me to bring some papers for him – some materials for our course work. Em we are in the same class.” I noticed again that even though she was confident, she was also nervous. I decided to make things easy for her. I stood up to go back to my office. “Muhammad would soon be back. If you wouldn’t mind you can wait for him or you can leave a note in that note book on the desk near you.” I said as I went into my office leaving her alone. That was an attitude I have and which I am proud of. Since my university years, I hate to impose myself on any girl. Once you appear not free with me, I instantly back out. That was why I found it very difficult to make girlfriends. I had none throughout my under-graduate years in the university. I am also finding it difficult to have one now that I am out of school and into practice. The only close to having a girlfriend I had was in my Law School days in Lagos. There was this girl with whom we attended the same university. She appeared to have picked interest in me right from the university. Her interest appeared more visible during our final year. We were always together. We sat together in class. She always reserved a seat for me next to hers. We went for lunch break of fried groundnuts and popcorn together. We went to the mosque for our afternoon prayers together, except on some few rare occasions. Our friendship was becoming the talk of the law faculty and even beyond. There appeared to be a silent conversation going on between the two of us whenever we were together. Yet none of us ventured to voice it out. For me it was out of fear of hurting my pride in the event she says “no” to my proposal of a more serious relationship. For her, I guess it is sheer womanism: ladies are not supposed to talk first. I must talk first as I am the man. When we met again at Lagos, we picked up from where we left at Jos. Both of us were in the hostel. We saw each other more often. We shared each other’s problems and counsel each other. I was impressed and encouraged by the way things were. I summoned all courage and dismissed my fears. I spoke to her. That was it. She appeared diplomatically shocked. I saw something like disappointment in her eyes as well. I became confused. I began to hate myself. Now I am going to lose her sweet company and friendship, I concluded. On that day, our conversation, which was hitherto always lively, was limited and formal. She left me earlier than usual under the pretext that she was not feeling very well. It was a Friday. I did not see her throughout the better part of Saturday. When I visited her hostel in the evening, I was told that she had left a message that she has gone to see her aunt at Ikoyi. That she won’t be back until Monday morning. I was devastated. I was equally annoyed. I managed to scrabble a few lines and dropped it for her. I concluded by saying “I am sorry if I hurt you in any way. I won’t repeat it again.” When we met again on Monday in class, none of us brought up the topic. We left the matter to rest – forever. This only confirmed my fears and reservations concerning women. They are unpredictable. The best way to deal with them is at arm’s-length. Never get emotionally involved with them. They can easily hurt you. I resolved to maintain my stand as a principle. I know that one day I would get married. When the time comes, Allah in his infinite mercy will reveal my wife to me and He will make her accept me without much hassles. Such was my unshaken faith in Allah and the way He does things. Anisa waited for sometimes and left after dropping a note. She said “Ma assalam” towards the direction of my office and went out without even waiting for my response. The second coming of Anisa to our office was exactly a week after her first coming. She came to return the materials she collected from Muhammad. Incidentally I was in my office. Muhammad was also on seat. I was not aware she was around. Muhammad, in his own wisdom and in his characteristics, felt he should introduce her to me. “Assalamu alaikum”, I heard his voice. “Wa Alaikumussalam”, I answered. “Come in Muhammad.” I know his voice, having being with us for close to two years. She followed him as he came in. He stood down as usual. I asked them to sit down. “Sir,” he began. He has this character of beginning each sentence with sir whenever he talks to me. “This is Anisa. She is my course mate. She said she met you here last week. But I insisted that she should come so that I introduce her properly and formally.” He turned to Anisa, without waiting for any reaction from me, Anisa meet Barrister. He is my oga.” She simply and coldly said, “Assalamu alaikum.” I responded to her Salam. “You are welcome.” I said raising my head from the file I was going through for the first time since they came in. My eyes caught her eyes. She blushed quickly and looked away. I kept my eyes fixed on her face. She stole another look. My eyes caught her eyes again. She shivered and appeared uncomfortable. I looked away. Yes she is beautiful and presentable. Her height is fantastic. Her face full and lively. She has a smiley but serious face. I quickly recorded all these features in my inner mind. Muhammad remained indifferent. I was later to find out that he was watching our reactions. He felt satisfied with what he saw. He secretly smiled a satisfactory smile. His intended self-acclaimed mission accomplished. Anisa later confirmed to me that the moment we first met, her instinct told her that she’s going to have something to do with me. She was not certain what that something could be. She was only having the feeling that I may end up saying I love her or even want to marry her. However, she thought that the way she saw me, handsome, relatively happy in my profession, which is a well-respected one, calm and apparently intelligent, so many girls must be after me. She believed that I must be having dozens of girl friends. This is a situation she abhors. She cannot stand sharing a man’s affection with another woman. She told me that our second meeting and the way I was staring at her confirmed what her instincts were telling her. She was at a loss. She was not sure of her feelings towards me. She resorted to prayers, beseeching Allah to guide her to make a choice of what is best for her whenever the time comes. It was the following day that Muhammad came into my office after noticing that I was less busy. It was immediately after Zuhr prayers. It was my time to go through some newspapers after my launch. He came in and sat down. He said nothing to me apart from the usual greeting. I didn’t say anything to him as well. He looked a bit disappointed. He managed to pick himself up and said, “How did you see Anisa?” “She looks nice and well mannered.” I replied dryly not giving away any emotion. Muhammad looked more disappointed again. Yet he refused to give up. “She is coming to this office again today” He said satisfactorily as if he is doing a very nice job. “I managed to convince her to come again. I ….” he hesitated, “I lied to her that you said you wanted to speak with her.” He said looking at me sternly in the eyes as if he wanted to intimidate me to submit to whatever he is planning. A sudden rage rose to my voice. I controlled it quickly. I remained calm. I didn’t want to give him any satisfaction of thinking he has put me in a tight corner. That was what he appeared to be trying to do. “What else did you tell her?’ “Nothing! Wallahi nothing!” Muhammad protested. “I just feel…It is just like…I think the two of you are matched sir,” He finally blurted it out. “It is alright Muhammad, you don’t have to belabour yourself. I saw Anisa. I am interested in her. She has certain qualities that I think I should give a try.” I confessed. “However, I continue, I need more time to study her closely. You know I don’t like doing things in haste. Like the Prophet said, haste is from Satan and delay is from Allah” I sermon. “It is true”. Muhammad said reflectively. “Except that having stayed close to both of you for a considerable time, I am of the firm conclusion that you would make an excellent couple.” Muhammad sat waiting for an answer or a go-ahead to proceed with his plans, whatever they may be. I buried myself in my newspaper without saying a word to him again. He waited for some moments and left. That was it. Anisa did not come to the office that day. Muhammad followed her to their house and talked to her, as she later told me. She couldn’t help thinking within her that Muhammad has high regard for me. He has tremendous trust and love for me. She became convinced that she really likes to get to know me. She gave (or was it accepted) an invitation supposedly by me to visit their home. I was skeptical of going over to their house initially. I postponed the visit twice. It was not because I did not have interest in her, rather it was because of my fear of women. She indeed appeared matured enough; she must be between 25 to 28 years. She is now in a University. She must have come from a well to do family. Very few girls make it to the University at that time due to so many factors. One major factor is poverty. Many girls from poor background tend to imitate the few they interact with from the well-to-do families. They copy their mode of dress, usually lavish, their eating and relaxation habit and so many things that are cash demanding. When the demands become enormous, the cash not forthcoming, they usually ended up going the “extra mile” to fund these habits. The end result is to become wayward and above their parents’ control. When I finally summoned courage and visited their house at Rogo Road, the reception I received was warm and encouraging. She came out a minute after the boy I sent to call her returned to tell me she is coming. We don’t have the luxury of GSM phones that time. To my surprise, she invited me to well furnished sitting room. We sat and after the initial formalities. She asked me my mission. “I thought Muhammad has told you already?’” I remarked with utter astonishment. “No. He only said that you would be coming over to see me over an important issue.” She said. I tried to detect any tone suggesting a joke, but there wasn’t. She was calmed, serious and innocent in her remark. It dawn on me that I’ve a gigantic task ahead. Muhammad made me to believe he told her my mission and that she Okayed it. The princely reception I got also led me to confirm what he told me. But now, I’ve to start all over again. “Well”, I began, “As you must’ve seen, I am a lawyer. I am sure Muhammad must have told you that I am a bachelor.” I paused to search for any reaction from her but there was none again. “I found you marriageable.” I decided to take the bull by the horn. Anisa simply smiled. “I wanted to hear it from your mouth.” She said giggling. “Am I accepted?” I asked her, to my surprise my heart was thumbing. “Yes” She said still smiling. It was that simple and easy! The rest was now history, and the dividends of such first visit were Mubarak and Muhsin.
Posted on: Fri, 29 Aug 2014 14:37:14 +0000
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