In
his room, Sameer listened attentively to the unidentified noises of the night.
He had never been sad and unhappy like this. How was it possible to forget a
dear lover who had been so nice to him? A girl he dreamed of marrying, a lady’s
smile that seemed capable of igniting fires in him. He groaned to himself when
he remembered how he had been attracted by Husna’s beautiful body, which might
be lying beside the long muscular ugly arms of another person at this time. For
him, it will be the busiest night in his lifetime; for Sameer, it must be the
lonely night filled with nightmare.
“I
could never possibly love any girl else,” Sameer told his friend when they
discussed the issue.
Bashir
had smiled a little, but sadly. “You can’t be serious, was it because you lost
the battle now? I am sure when it’s a little farther away; you could change
your mind.”
“There
could never be another Husna.” Sameer added.
Later,
Sameer sat down at the writing table and opened a notebook. He had kept the
notebook for five years, since the beginning of relationship with Husna. In the
book he had described some qualities of Husna, and his feeling towards her which
he referred to as unusual. To him, no one could be more beautiful in his or her
dress than Husna. She walked gently in her unique style. When she smiled she
looked like a jewel throwing back the ray of the sun. She was actually calm and
gentle. When she talked to him, her voice had slurred, sensual tones.
Saturday
morning, Sameer planned to participate in the monthly creative writers’ forum
normally organized by the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) Abuja chapter. He
had been a member of ANA Kano, but never bothered to attend the forum of Abuja
chapter since he was posted to Abuja as a National Youth Service Corp. The
agony of losing his beloved encouraged him to attend, where he could share
ideas with writers and enjoy the excitement of writing. He arrived the venue at
about 10:30am, and entered through the rear entrance leading directly to a
hall. The hall was decorated with flowers and balloons. At one end of the room
was a high table, behind it five people were seated. Plastic chairs had been
arranged for the participants. Sameer quietly got a seat, he wondered how late
he was. A series of poems and short stories were presented, but none of them
drew his attention like a poem titled IN LOVE presented by a young lady Nabila
Muhammed-a slim good looking girl, with her fine eyes and beautiful teeth. A
wave of depression came over him, when her words entered his head. The poem
thrust a new knife into Sameer’s heart and opened the old wounds afresh. At the
other end of his heart, the poem served as an amour pierced that can make him
recover possession and courage. When the forum was over, Sameer met Nabila to
collect a copy of her presentation. His voice shook a little as he said.
“Hello. My name is Sameer Ahmad, a youth corps serving here in Abuja. I’m
impressed by your poem, it may cure my emotion.”
Nabila
smiled; she looked so young and untouched in her mid twenties.
“I’m glad you
appreciated it.”
“I certainly do, may I
have a copy?”
“I’m afraid its
finished,” She said softly, “but I will write you down the words now.” She
brought out a writing block and a pen from her handbag, and wrote the words
down.
IN
LOVE
In love we laughed and cried
I will sing no sad songs
For being smashed by emotion
As love is life
It could be cloaked in hypnotic slumber
I shall dismiss it mysterious
Time is the great healer
As the sun rise and set
With my golden arrow at hand
Sadly I may be in loneliness
But haply may forget.
When she finished
writing it, she handed the paper to him. Sameer collected it. “Thank you very
much.”
She looked up with an
infectious smile. “You’re welcome.”
Sameer looked at her closely.
“Haven’t we met before?”, he asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,”
She replied.
“I have a feeling I have
seen you somewhere, were you at ANA Kano convention?”
She nodded. “Yes, I
was.”
“That’s where I saw
you! He exclaimed. “I’m a member of ANA Kano.”
She gave a little laugh.
“Oh! I’m from Kano too, I know some of your members. I knew Dr. Yusuf Adamu, Zaharaddeen
Kallah, Aisha Zakari, Ismail Bala Garba, Badsha (badshonian motion) and many of
them.”
Nabila speaks Hausa
fluently, he noticed that from her accent and she was raised in the walled city
of Kano.
“Where are you serving
here in Abuja?” She asked
“Ministry of Information.”
He answered.
“I’m leaving in Asokoro
with uncle; feel free to visit me whenever you wish. I can hear more about Kano
literature”
“Do you mind giving me
your number please, I think I better call you at least to know if you are at
home before taking my bath as a steppingstone for the preparation of seeing you
for the second time.”
She burst into laughter
while collecting the paper she wrote her poem on and wrote down her number on
the remaining space.
“You don’t have to bathe
anymore, you smell good and fresh. Here is the number. She handed the paper
back to him, smiling.
Two days later, Sameer
called Nabila’s mobile phone. He had planned a speech of introduction in case
she didn’t remember him, or wasn’t able to place his name.
“Hello. I don’t know if
you remember me. I’m Sameer, the youth corps you met at ANA Abuja forum.”
Nabila answered delightedly
as though they were old friends.
“Sameer, is that you?
It wasn’t long enough to forget you.”
Strange, sweet madness
seized him at the sound of her voice.
“I called to hear from
somebody I know in Abuja, because the day is boring to me.”
Nabila’s voice came
again. “Are you all alone today?”
“Yes,” Sameer answered.
“You will come and
lunch with me, won’t you?”
Something echoed
desolately through his heart. “It’s awfully nice of you, Nabila. I will.”
Sameer dated a number
of ladies, but he was surprised to have a new feeling. The combination of
distance and closeness, fear and confidence that comes at the same time one
shaking hand with other.
When Sameer arrived, he
called Nabila from his mobile phone. He looked young and charming in a white
shirt with blue jeans. Sameer’s heart went out to her in a great rush when she
met him at the gates. She appeared in a brown lace and tied a black scarf over
her shining head.
“Sameer, you are highly
welcome.” She said with a smile.
She led him into a
sitting room, and brought him some drinks. They talked about poetry and
creative writers’ forum in Kano. Nabila was comforted by the unexpected
sweetness of the story of Kano writers he told her.
At about 2:30pm a house
girl came to tell them lunch was ready. Two places had been set at the end of
the table. The house girl brought in dishes of Fankaso and Taushe soup. There
was also a dish fish soup.
She was fully conscious
of his steady gaze while she was serving herself. She asked gently. “Are you
enjoying service in Abuja?”
“Yes, I am, but life
here is too expensive, and the environment is married with loneliness. But,
apart from these, the environment is nice.”
She sighed and said.
“You will enjoy it, when I first came here, it was same story as yours.”
Sameer said. “For how long
have you been in Abuja.”
“Three years, since I
got admission into University of Abuja.”
“What are you
studying?”
“Mass Communications.”
“A journalist to be.”
“Certainly.”
Sameer found himself
listening to her, talking, and when she questioned, he was happy to reply with
a care of what to say. After the lunch, they walked out on to the veranda, took
seats on plastic chairs.
“I want to make you
happy today,” Said Nabila. “I’m going to make you laugh. I’m going to banish
your agony and cure your emotion as you said my poem could do. I’m going to
make the day comfortable not boring, that’s going to be my assignment.”
Sameer smiled. He said.
“I think you had also experienced mysterious emotion, your poem indicated
that.”
She nodded. “Yes, I’ve
suffered so much; I’ve been lonely like an orphan bird. But, I learned how to dismiss
those memories.”
“Yes, you still have
your golden arrow at hand.”
“Yes,” she said
breathlessly. “I can shoot a new target, a chance to mould men the way I like.”
Sameer laughed aloud
for the first time since Husna’s marriage. “You will take a revenge on innocent
men.”
Nabila’s dark eyes lit
up with seriousness as she said. “They are not good.”
“You mustn’t talk in
this way. I too experienced such tragedy.” He mumbled out the story of his
relationship with Husna.
Nabila felt sorry for
him, how much he must have loved his lover!” Your own case is different. How,
will I help you to forget the past; everything will be okay for you
In-Sha-Allah. It is part of the struggle in life. According to Anthony
Troshope, “those who have courage to love should have courage to suffer.” And
Alfred Lord Tennyson argued that, “Is better to have loved and lose than never
to have loved at all.”
Sameer nodded, feeling
encouraged. But he wondered what Nabila means when she said. “I will help you
to forget the past.” What could she do to bring him back to the reality he had
lost?
Gradually the pattern
of Sameer’s relationship with Nabila had evolved into a twist a week visit and
date. Sometime he would even visit her in school. He found Nabila warm, funny
and tremendously vital. He felt more at home and more comfortable in her presence
than he had with any woman he had ever known. He wondered how fast the story
and agonies of Husna’s relationship has disappeared from his heart. With
Nabila, now everything was settled except for what basis their relationship is.
He wondered what makes him more comfortable in Nabila’s presence than any
woman. But Nabila Mohammed, the poet, lover of books, caring, and understands
human nature very well. He understood that they shared a lot more particularly
in common with her. He was sure he loves her. What seemed funny to Sameer was
that Nabila said nothing about love, except in a joshing way. But they did have
a talk about it one afternoon when he visited her in school.
Sameer and Nabila were
shown to a table in the school’s cafeteria. Sameer ordered snacks and ice creams
for them.
“Nabila, you’re too nice
to me. And it means something to me, it means a lot and could mean so much if I
…. if I have you,” Said Sameer, he was frank and unashamed in his voice.
His words went to the
very depths of her heart, and made it to beat madly. She was in loss of word;
this is the moment she had been waiting. There was a warm, glowing silence
between them. Sameer breathing quickly, it is ridiculous to him. His gaze still
on her, drinking in the beauty of her with his soul in his eyes.
His voice came again.
“Nabila, I’ve been
through hell before, but you brought me back into life. You’re the source of my
courage, I adore you, and I love you even if I’ve fallen hopelessly.”
Nabila felt her whole
body trembling and all the blood in her body rushing violently to her head. She
mirrored her gaze down the eyes of the man close to her. She knew even from the
bottom of her heart she loves him. She loves him with every drop of blood in
her body.
“You won’t fall
hopelessly,” she said it coolly with her eyes portraying nothing but truth.
“Can’t you see the reality; I don’t need to say I love you. Because you have
that power to make women love you forever. But I love you, and I want to be
with you for the rest of my life.”
Sameer smiled at her.
“I don’t want to make another mistake, the way it happened to me before.”
She gave a twisted
smile that barely showed her white teeth sparkling like snow. “So do I, anyway!
Don’t bother I understand.”
Zaharaddeen
Ibrahim Kallah
africanglobalpoet.blogspot.com
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