Two months later, Hadiyat’s parents discover that she is pregnant and are devastated by the unfortunate predicament of an unwanted pregnancy that will jeopardize her privileges of getting married to Assam or any other man in Niger. Every bride must be a virgin otherwise she will bring public shame and discrimination against her parents and family. This bad development infuriates her father and in fury, he nearly beats her to a state of unconsciousness until her mother and fellow Arab beggars nearby intervene to save Hadiyat’s life from the wrath of her enraged father. Sule is unable to defend Hadiyat and he wisely keeps away for his own safety. “Father, please have mercy!” “Mercy? You don’t deserve mercy, but to be stoned to death for the abomination you have done and brought shame to our family and me. Allah! What will I tell Alhaji Musa and his son Assam?” “The Satan has done his worst. It is not our fault or Hadiyat’s. We should have sent her home since last year, but you were the one delaying her. Now the worst has happened,” her mother laments bitterly. “Is the delay the excuse for her indiscipline? Women. You are all dummies with your brains in your loins. Our daughter has disgraced us and you are blaming me!” Hadiyat’s father screams in fury. He raises his whip as if to whip his wife. “Go on! Beat me too. I will keep on saying the truth. The sooner we return home the better. We can do better than begging infidels for money. Is that not an abomination? You grin and smile to ask them for alms, but you curse and sneer at them behind their backs. Why not reject their alms since they are infidels? Such hypocrisy. I am fed up. If not for Allah, I would have left you and returned home without you.” “Insolent woman! I will teach you how to keep your insolent tongue still!” He tries to whip her, but his fellow Arabs hold him back, rebuking him for disgracing his family shamelessly in public. Hadiyat holds her mother as if her life depends on her mother’s. Her father retreats to their corner under the flyover while the younger children look on with mixed feelings of fear and pity. The shame of it all makes Hadiyat’s parents to stop talking about it openly. And without wasting anymore time, they pack their belongings and leave for their own country. To save their beloved daughter from further abominations among the infidels. Sule watches helplessly from a distance as Hadiyat leaves with her family. His buddies begin to sing songs on how Sule has lost his Arab “wife”. And Sule chases them all over the bus stop without much remorse for the departure of Hadiyat. In the harmattan of 2005. A beautiful fair lady with long curly hair and holding a young girl walking by her side comes to the motor park under the flyover opposite the National Stadium in Surulere, Lagos. She is well dressed in a modern white skirt suit and high heels. She has a small red handbag. The petty traders notice her as she walks up to the few Arab beggars. She wants to give them alms. She looks like a rich young lady. Probably a tourist. They regard her with anxious and curious eyes. The Arab beggars point to an old woman among the petty traders they call “Mama John.” And she turns to the woman. “Good evening ma,” she greets politely with glints in her beautiful hazel eyes. The old woman looks up from her seat in response. She thinks the young white lady wants to buy from her. She sells sweets of several brands. But, there is something familiar about this young white lady holding a little white girl. They look alike. Must be her daughter. They have the same eyes. “Yes, oyinbo? What to do you want to buy? Peppermint or chewing gum?” “No, ma,” the white lady replies. “Hen?” If she does not want to buy anything, then what does she want from me? “Mama, I am looking for Sule,” “Sule? Which Sule? I am not Mama Sule. I am Mama John.” “Yes. But, They say you know Sule. The one who was collecting money from bus drivers and conductors at the bus stop,” she says pointing to the bus stop. “Oh, Oh!” the old woman exclaims as she remembers the Sule the white lady seems to be asking for. “Yes, Sule. Oga Sule. Tall and slender. Black fine boy with gap in his front teeth?” she says describing him. “Yes. Yes. Sule. Tall young man,” the white lady says. “Ah. Sule don go school and Sule don become Oga lawyer now. No be conductor again. Sule, good boy is now a big man lawyer in Lawanson,” says the old woman. Some of the other petty traders and some touts gather on hearing the name of Sule. Because, Sule has become a household name among them since he left to go back to school and has become a lawyer since passing out of the Nigerian Law School last year and most of them were at his Call to Bar party on Victoria Island. Then, out of deep curiosity, the old woman scrutinizes the white lady and it begins to dawn on her that she resembles the very pretty Arab girl that Sule impregnated seven years ago right here under the flyover before her very eyes and she was one of the people who intervened when her infuriated father “Baba Hadiyat” was punishing her. “Hadiyat?” she calls her name. “Yes, ma. Hadiyat. I am the one,” she replies. The old woman looks into her hazel eyes and touches her hands and cheeks to be sure that she is not mistaken. And on her conviction of the reality that she is really Hadiyat, she exclaims in excitement. “Hadiyat! The Arab girl! Sule’s girlfriend!” Her announcement echoes and attracts the attention of other traders, touts, drivers and conductors and many others. They all surround the young white lady and her girl-child whom the old woman now recognizes as the result of Hadiyat’s pregnancy for Sule. She begins to thank the almighty God for the providence of the unwanted pregnancy that has brought such a very beautiful child into the world. To Be Continued …
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