WRECKED
/ WRECKED 34 33
Kuku had made a promise to herself during their Dubai trip. She was responsible for Mustapha's loss of confidence and the drinking that followed. He must never be pressured again. She would deal with her own problem in her own way. So far, fate had been kind. Her affairs were discreet, and she avoided the risk of becoming involved in a long-term affair with any married man. She lived a schizophrenic life–a loving and a fond wife to her husband and the woman who slipped in and out of hotels and apartments with a variety of men. Kuku matured into a very beautiful woman and it wasn't difficult to find men. They gravitated around her, scenting the sexual invitation that was implicit in everything she did. Their objective was the same as hers. Luck was holding out so far. Mustapha was sober and Afsat, who she had feared more than anyone in the family, had come down firmly on the side of the marriage once Mustapha had stopped drinking.
Two months after their trip to Dubai, Kuku slipped away to Lagos. "You don't mind, do you, Mustapha? Just for a week. Subomi is having a party to mark her anniversary. She invited me and I would love to go. I know you don't want to go away just when you've started your book."
"I don't mind," he said. "It's important not to stop now; it's taken me long enough to get started. You can have a little break, my dear."
"You're sweet," she said and kissed him. "We'll plan a weekend getaway when I return."
She saw to it that he was settled, and then flew off.
Sure, she had a friend called Subomi Adeyemi who was going to Lagos with her husband and children to celebrate their wedding anniversary, but Kuku wasn't joining them. She was going alone to Whispering Palms at Badagry, with a companion. She was certain that nobody would recognise her there. She had promised there would be no scandal, no awkward questions.
Mustapha did not ask many questions, and she promised to call him regularly. They parted happily. He had the house to himself except for a skeletal staff. He didn't hurry to begin the actual writing on his laptop. He took his time, then sat back and read a few hundred words of the first chapter and felt satisfied. Nobody except Kuku really believed he would write that book.
Jubril was always jeering. Afsat never mentioned it. Anaya being Anaya, did ask, but only because she wanted to encourage him. He thought of his sister-in-law and laughed to himself. She should have written the book. She wouldn't have pondered and hesitated to put off starting. She would have rattled away and finished the whole thing while he was still researching. Look what she's doing with those girls. Amazing.
He decided to take a drink to relax, before he started on the laptop again. Yes, he'd do that. He must get to work otherwise, there would be nothing to show Kuku when she got back from Lagos. He felt quite inspired. He put in a whole afternoon's work, and when he read it, he was genuinely surprised at how good it was. Interesting. Concise. Funny in parts, too. He took another sip from his glass.
****
He had forgotten Kuku was due back. He had worked feverishly on his book, read and re-read through, exulting in how original and amusing it was becoming. It was so easy now that he took an occasional drink. It was commonplace for the young houseboy who looked after him to find him asleep in his clothes in the morning. Nobody knew what to do. They waited, because Kuku Rufai would be back soon.
The airport cab drove her in by noon. She was longing to see Mustapha. She was also very tired. Lethargic after her marathon. From the moment the plane landed, she shut Lagos out of her mind. She flew out of the car, ran in and up the stairs to their room to find him.
He was sitting by his desk. She didn't see the bottle and glass at first. "Darling! I'm back!" She hurried to throw her arms around him.
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"Kuku!" He pushed the chair back and tripped. He recovered himself. "Kuku, my darling! Hello…"
Kuku froze. He lumbered towards her, a beaming smile on his face. "Did you have a good time? Did you have fun? I've had fun…I've been working. Read it – come and read. It's really good…"
He was drunk. Very drunk. She let him lead her to the desk, put her into his chair, and sat while he powered the laptop.
It was gibberish. He leaned down and looked at her. "What's the matter? Don't you like it? What's the matter?"
Kuku got up; he was unsteady on his feet. "Sit down, Mustapha," she said. "You've gone back on it, haven't you?"
"Not really," he protested. "Just one now and again. It hasn't hurt. Don't you like the book?"
"Yes," she mumbled. "Yes, I like it. It's very good." She had to do something but she couldn't think.
"Good. Now I can go for a walk. I've been indoors since you left. I need air. I need the sun."
She ran and stood against the door. She was trembling. "Mustapha, please. Do you have to?"
"Yes. I need the reprieve from this room and my bottles have been exhausted."
"Ahhhhh, don't buy any drink," she moaned. "Please, Mustapha. I beg you. Don't go out. Let's just stay in today. Please!"
"Don't be silly, Kuku. There is nothing to worry about. I can handle it now. Really, I can."
"You can't," she said in despair. "You can't ever have a drink again. You know that! Oh, why did you do it? Why? Just because I left you for a few days?" She broke into tears.
He shook his head. "That's not why," he said. "Listen, I didn't drink because you weren't here. I drank because I wanted to. You're here and I still want to. If I don't get some today, I'll get tomorrow." He pushed her aside and walked out. By the time she regained her balance and came out of the bedroom, he had gone.
She had to save herself and Mustapha before Afsat and Anaya found out. And she couldn't do it alone. She'd make a call and wait for her husband to return.
****
"Jubril—it's so good of you to come. He got back a few minutes ago."
"No sweat," he said quietly. "Where is he?"
"In the bedroom," she pointed. "He's in a dreadful state."
Jubril opened the door. Mustapha was lying at on his back. He was unshaven and dirty, and the sickly smell of alcohol hung pungent in the air.
"Terrible," Jubril remarked disgustedly. He closed the door and looked at Kuku. Poor little thing, she looks so pale and miserable, he thought. He had no sympathy for the rotten drunk lying in there. "It's a good thing you called me. You couldn't possibly cope with this."
"I'm so sorry about this, Jubril, but I had to talk to somebody."
He'd been kind when she was in trouble before. He was always nice to her, in spite of Anaya, or his mother. She had phoned him, and by a miracle, he was working in the office, even though it was a Sunday.
"What am I going to do?"
"Same thing we've always done," he said, as he led her back to the couch. "Send him back into seclusion. Let them dry him out."
"But he'll start again as soon as he comes out," she protested. "I dread what will happen when your mother finds out he's drinking again. She'll blame me."
Jubril saw despair and fear in her eyes.
"Dread what? Why will she blame you?" he demanded. "She knows he's a hopeless drunk."
"She'll still blame me," she said. "She'll kick me out. What am I going to do?" she repeated.
"You're not going to do anything, Kuku. I'll handle this. You want to come and stay with us…"
"No! Please! Anaya can't know. Please, don't even tell her," Kuku pleaded.
"I wasn't going to. She is not around anyway. She made a trip to Aba to see her mother."
****
Mustapha was admitted to another private clinic that evening. Jubril had got him up, washed him and shaved him, and changed his clothes. It upset Kuku because Jubril was quite rough. Mustapha submitted to everything, bleary and disoriented.
After they dropped him off, Jubril took her home. "You'll be alright, won't you? I wish I could say come back and stay with us but Anaya will be suspicious if you're alone."
He saw her crying and said, "For goodness sake, don't upset yourself over him. He isn't worth it."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry for him."
"Better be sorry for yourself. Now, go in and rest, okay?"
Kuku nodded and gazed at him. He had a rather beautiful face. Not as blatantly handsome as Mustapha used to be, but sensitive, fine-drawn. And deep intelligent eyes. Anaya was lucky—Jubril was kind and strong and made all the decisions. She gazed at him with such intensity that he began to see her as though for the first time. What a waste, he thought suddenly, throwing herself on the boozehound. A good beating was what Mustapha needed, instead of everyone running around after him. No wonder Kuku had herself mixed up with that married man. Pity she didn't go o with him and leave mother's boy. What a hell of a life she must have led.
"Thank you, Jubril. Thank you for everything." She reached up and kissed him full on the mouth.
He didn't know how he managed to leave her and go home.
****
With Anaya away, Eni, Hauwa and Laraba had little to do. They lazed about Lake Alau, swimming, enjoying the breeze and the view. Eni and Hauwa bantered about this and that, that and this.
"You have been silent, Laraba, sort of distracted. What are you thinking about?" Hauwa demanded.
"Nothing that would interest you," she answered, keeping it vague.
"Ah, but everything about you interests us," Eni countered.
"Why's that?"
"Because we're sisters now, and that should give us certain privileges."
Laraba chuckled, touched.
"Ok. I'm thinking about my baby."
Eni and Hauwa gasped in shock, and then spoke simultaneously.
"Your what?"
"You're pregnant? How?"
"How do you think?" Laraba asked slowly, looking at them pointedly.
Realisation dawned on the two girls.
"Ah, God be merciful!" Hauwa exclaimed.
"Your captors? The Boko men?" Eni asked in horror.
Laraba nodded. "Not really my captors. It was their leader. I know he is the father of my child because he was the only one that touched me…that way."
There were silent for a long time.
"How did you know?" Hauwa demanded.
"Dr Judd told me. He said that was the reason I fainted and came down with the fever."
"Oh, my God! What are you going to do, Laraba?"
"What can she do, Hauwa?" Eni queried.
"I mean, is she going to keep the…"
"Baby! Hauwa, it's a baby!"
Laraba chuckled. "I don't blame you, Hauwa. For a while, I thought about it as a monster. What else would you call the offspring of one? I didn't take joyfully to the news."
"When did he tell you? Does auntie Anaya know?" Eni enquired.
"Three days after he took my blood samples for the test. Auntie Anaya was with me when he broke the news."
The silence was deafening.
Eni reached out and held Laraba's hand. "What do you want to do, Lara?"
"Frankly, I wanted to abort the child. I just could not imagine going through with this pregnancy. It felt like a bomb was ticking in my womb. Then, last night, I felt a little movement in my tummy. I don't know if it was my child, but my heart gushed with love and I chose to give it life." She began to sob.
"Don't cry, Laraba. You are not a bad person because you feel the way you do," Hauwa comforted.
Laraba wiped her tears, as she continued, "I know, but it's good to hear you say that. I was an innocent victim of a horrible crime. I am not to blame for what happened to me. However, I realised that in choosing to abort, to kill the innocent child growing within me, I lowered myself to the level of that monster. This child isn't the jihadist's child, but mine."
The girls shook their heads in sorrow.
"My heart has been in agony. My life is like a war, but I want different for my child. I want my child to be normal. Nothing like his father."
"He?" Hauwa asked with a smile.
Laraba nodded. "He! Dr Judd told me, but I'm not excited about that," she said. "Every day, I see his father in my dreams. I feel my son will have to pay restitution for the crimes of his father. I feel dirty, I feel less of a person and I feel isolated. You know, I even think I can't live in this world and be a part of it. I will always be spectator, watching normal people go about their lives. It's okay for me to feel that way, but I don't want it for my son."
"He will be fine, Laraba." Hauwa said.
"So you say, sister. But what happens when he comes back from school one day and asks me 'Mummy, everyone has a daddy. Where's my daddy?' What do I tell him, Hauwa? How do I explain to him that his father was a terrorist, a monster who killed people for no just reason, beheaded children and struck innocents?"
"Lara…" Eni tried to cut in.
"Hold on a bit, Eni. What if they look alike? What if my son looks like his father, Eni? What if his father's crimes affect him just as they had me?"
Hauwa and Eni didn't have any answer, couldn't think of one.
Laraba continued, in a whisper, "You know, when I first got here, all I could think of was suicide. Now, I'm on my journey to recovery, at least I hope so. There are still some horrible emotions I go through. I have a period of denial, and sometimes I ride that pendulum of shock and grief. Then the anger comes. I see him everywhere, all the time. He still haunts me, a regular apparition, reminding me that I'll never get away from him." She looked up at the gathering clouds. "How can I get away, when he's still inside my head, inside my body?" She delicately put her hand on her slightly bulging tummy.
Hauwa and Eni were awash with emotion. Eni looked into Laraba's eyes and cupped her face in her hands.
"You are the bravest, most amazing girl I've ever known."
"Thank you, Eni. I'm being selfish," she said. "I know that. I shouldn't be bothering you with my problems. Sometimes I just feel like…" She paused, as if struggling to nd the right words. "Like I'd like to nd some happiness for myself for a change. It sounds awful doesn't it?"
"No. Not at all." Instinctively, Hauwa put her arms around her. "And you're not burdening us. We're happy to listen."
"My mother and father didn't have the perfect marriage, but I'd held them up as an example of real commitment, and I craved it for myself. But now, I don't think I'd ever get married…"
"There's always hope, Laraba," Eni said.
Laraba stared at her hands which were now trembling. "You think any man would want me knowing all that has happened to me? Tell me the truth, Eni."
Eni lowered her gaze. "No."
Something inside of Laraba shifted—something that moved her toward a helpless anguish. The tears came, and she dabbed the wetness away with the sleeve of her dress.
Eni pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to her.
"It's okay, Laraba. Please, be strong."
"I'll try. Thank you."
"Is that all that is bothering you, Lara?" Eni asked.
Laraba hesitated before she replied, "Yes…yes, that's all."
Hauwa grabbed her hands. "Look, I have this ritual…for when I get upset about something. I love to cook. I know it's a bit simplistic. But there is something about cooking…that's settling. If we could go back to the house now, I'd cook anything you want."
Laraba's face lit up. "Anything?"
Hauwa nodded.
Eni interrupted. "Who will clean up?"
"You!" Hauwa replied, playfully punching Eni on the arm. "Let's go. "
Laraba looked at them. "Thank you for being so kind to me. My heart feels fine now. I want peppered Jollof rice, Hauwa. The last one you prepared was heavenly. What do you think, Eni?"
"I agree with you, Laraba. Now, you two go back to the house. Let me quickly pick up Madam's slippers from the cobbler. I'll catch up with you."
The other girls walked back in the direction of the house as Eni moved in the opposite direction down the street. She saw a man hovering at the side of a tree. On her return trip a few minutes later, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the man suddenly approaching.
Thoughts of suicide bombers and kidnappers skipped across Eni's mind and before fear could grip her, the man came right up to her and said, "Excuse me, can I ask you a question?"
Eni automatically took a step back. She was tall at five feet eleven but this man was even taller and quite heavy-set. His accent sounded Hausa, so he was from around here.
"Sure," Eni said. She was careful to keep the distance between herself and the stranger.
"I'm looking for the temporary Army Barracks? Am I anywhere near?"
A soldier! Eni felt a slight rush of relief. The man just needed help. "You are a long way off. You'll have to take a cab from the junction up ahead." She gave directions to barracks and continued her walk back home.
"I'm sorry for disturbing, sister," the man called out to her back. "I'm not from around here but I hear the girls here are pretty."
"So?" Eni asked, a look of confusion on her face.
"I saw you with two girls a while ago? The taller one is beautiful. Your friends?"
"Sisters," she said casually, increasing her pace.
The stranger wasn't giving up. "Is she married?" he yelled, "Because if not, I wouldn't mind taking her out."
Ignoring the stranger, Eni made it to the gate, made it through and shut it firmly behind her.
****
The man lurking on Anaya's street had watched the girls emerge from the house twice. The first time they went to the Lake carrying a bowl filled with fruits. The second time, they had come out to carry bags from the car of a beautiful fair woman. She was some kind of famous person. He had seen her in the papers before. Lucky break.
Trust Hauwa to trade up without a second thought about the husband she had left behind in Biu.
Trust the silly girl to act as if she had no past.
Well, she had a past all right, and he was here in Lake Alau to prove it.
Abdul. Husband. The same husband she had left lying on the floor in their home in Biu, his head bashed in by a pestle, blood everywhere, unconscious for seven hours until his mother discovered his almost lifeless body at about nine p.m. and frantically called for help.
He had lain in a coma for almost eight weeks. Everyone had given up on him, until one day, he had opened his eyes and struggled back into the land of the living.
Abdul was strong. He was a survivor. He was a furious survivor. And he wanted his wife to know that she could never escape from him, however hard he tried.
And she tried very hard indeed. She had left Biu and vanished. Poof! Like that, she was gone, and nobody, not even her uncle and auntie, could help him discover where she was. She could have gone anywhere, to any of the thirty-six states in the country.
Abdul had no choice but to wait, hoping that one day she would turn up again. She had to, because knowing Hauwa as well as he did, eventually she would want to see her auntie Asabe, and the only way to do that was to return to Biu.
Unless she thought she'd killed him.
God! Was that what she thought? Just because he had pushed her around a little, she'd imagined she could get away with murder!
Not on his watch. No way. He would find her and punish her if it was the last thing he did.
And then, one day, purely by chance, he discovered exactly where she was.
Fate was a strange and wonderful thing. After his forced time off the force to recuperate, he had gone to see a local school teacher, his latest love. While he was enjoying ministrations from her, he spied an Ovation magazine on the table by the bed. And on the front of the magazine was a photo of a woman surrounded by girls. One girl stood out because she looked exactly like Hauwa. In fact, it was Hauwa.
Jerking away from the teacher, he grabbed the magazine.
"What's the matter?" the woman wailed. "Did I do something wrong?"
Ignoring her, he read the magazine, devouring every morsel about the woman housing his wife. Anaya, she was called.
He could hardly believe his eyes. Hauwa. There she was, carrying on like she didn't have a care in the world. She had left him for dead, and proceeded to make a new life as if he had never even existed. She had even grown her hair.
Fury overcame him. A white-hot fury that made him itch to find her, get her back, and force her to pay for the way she had treated him.
Two days later he'd taken a leave of absence from his job. Now, here he was at Lake Alau, and it had only involved a small amount of detective work to track down the house.
Now that he had her in his sights, he decided that he was not in a hurry. First, he had to find out exactly what she was up to – hence stationing himself on the street to observe her movements.
Didn't she understand that she was his property? She was Mrs Abdul Akeem—that's who she was. And if she didn't understand, she soon would.
I'm coming to get you, Hauwa.
Chapter end
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