***
Remember I said I killed the drunkard who killed Safiyya? Here’s what happened: when he hit her and sped off, I ran after his car but I couldn’t stop him. Instead, I managed to take his photo. I disseminated that photo through social media, and I printed it and got it circulated. I even disseminated it through the Delivery System. That was how Abba found the man and that was how, a few days later, the senator found him and had him killed in order to frame Abba.
“There are fourteen or more people who are exactly like the Senator. And one of their rules is that, don't make mistakes twice.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because Alhaji Shatima was one of them, Umar. But I must admit that Alhaji had nothing to do with Safiyya's death. The senator, however, did frame Abba. Alhaji got out of the cabal when he discovered what the senator had done. Alhaji was drunk one day and he told me all about it. That’s also how I knew about the Delivery System. I guess that’s the perquisite of having a drunk for a father. Some days he tells you all his secrets. Other days he hits you and beat you up. And some days he shows you how broken and how much of a loser he is and you don’t feel too bad about yourself. You even pity him a little.”
“The senator framed Abba?”
“Yes, that's his part in all this. We can't hand him to the authority because, this cabal, owns the government. But we can have the cabal turn against him. From what I understand from yesterday's meeting with the king is that he has made the first mistake. And I have his second mistake with me.”
“You have evidence that he framed Abba?”
“No. That’s not the leverage I have in mind. Remember I told you I write to my mother every week?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I wrote to her the day Safiyya died.”
“Okay. But I don’t see how that’s helpful here.”
“I took a photo of the crime scene and attached it to the email I sent to her the week Safiyya died. And a day after her death, my phone was stolen and when I finally found it everything on it was wiped out. I didn’t think much of it at that time but I think the cabal – or more likely the senator, was trying to hide something. I think anyone who took a photo of the crime scene that day experienced the same thing. But I still have the photo,” I said. I brought out my phone and showed Umar the photo and he was dumbfounded. “I wouldn't still have the photo if I hadn't sent it to my mother on that very day. It was just yesterday after the meeting with your cousin Abdullah that I checked the mails I sent to mother and I found this photo.”
“Is that..?” Umar said surprised.
“Yes, it is,” I said.
“I see where you are going with this. Let's have Adam publish it,” Umar said.
“Not just that. We'll send it, through the Delivery System, to people I suspect work with the senator.”
“Hold that thought, I have a better idea,” Umar said. “Do you have the senator's number?”
“No, but I can get it. What will you do with it?”
“Just get it. You'll see,” Umar said smiling as he placed his wet hand on my shoulder.
***
Umar called the senator's number but he couldn't reach him. We conjectured that perhaps the senator configured his phone so that nobody can call him except people whose number are saved on his phone. So we decided to text him instead. Umar sent him the photo with the caption ‘fail to call me with your number within two minutes and you'll meet your second and last mistake.’
The senator called exactly a minute later. “Umar Ja'far Nasir, I suppose? The youngest in the Ja’far’s family. Are you anything like your brother?” the senator said.
“I hope so,” Umar said.
“You made a mistake of contacting me,” the senator said. “I’m sure your brother has told who I am. Your brother is my plaything and now you want to sign up to be my plaything? Today must be my birthday!”
“You've seen the photo?” Umar said.
“Where did you get it?” the senator said.
I’m sure the senator had gone to great length to make sure the photo stopped existing. It was a photo of his daughter, Khadija Taneem Thawbaan in the crowd that formed around Safiyya's body. And in the hands of the senator’s daughter was the book, Sign Your Death Warrant. I’m sure you get the picture.
“It doesn't matter how I got it,” Umar said. “You know what it means, don’t you?”
“And you think that scares me, little boy? It’s just a photo of my daughter who happened to be at the scene of an accident.”
“An accident you exploited. You framed my father.”
“What evidence have you to prove that? This is just a photo.”
“Your friends won’t see it that way. They'll see that as your final mistake. They'd assume your daughter read the book which automatically makes her an enemy of your little cabal. I can make that happen with the click of a button. Do you want to take that chance?”
The senator was quiet. Then he said, “What friends are talking about? You, dear boy, know nothing.”
This was the opening I was waiting for. So I said the name of one of the people I was suspecting was a member of the cabal. The senator was quiet and that’s how I knew I was right. Then I lied, “We know them all and we can make sure they get the photo.”
“Who’s that with you? Who are you?” the senator said.
“Your worst nightmare. I’m also the guy who broke your daughter’s heart and you had me thrown in a cell because of that.”
“You are Shatima’s son,” Senator Taneem said. I could hear the anger in his voice. “Umar, what do you want?”
“You know what I want. Let my father go,” Umar said.
“I can't do that.”
“Yes, you can. You know what's at stake if you don't: Your daughter's life.”
“I'll see what I can do. But I need you to delete that photo. I need to make sure it stops existing.”
We assured him we’d delete it but he said he didn't trust us. Typical. “I guess you just have to take our words for it,” I said. Trust me, it’s sweet to have the last word.
***
After we were done having fun with the senator, I took Umar to Abubakar's home to talk to Aamati about his broken engagement. She told him she had spoken to Alhaji and he agreed to speak to Prof Siraj. Who’d have thought Alhaji Shatima was one to come to the rescue!? Maybe he was drunk when he said he’d help. That must be it.
So far, everything seemed to be working in our favor. But then something always goes bad when that happens. As I said before, in this little place called life, nothing is ever what it seems. Life was simply too harsh to be that easy.
I had brought Umar home and was on my way back to return Abubakar's car when a police officer stopped me. He asked for my driver’s license. I told him I didn’t have one – dumb move right? But I guess I said that because I was trying to be a better person one dumb move at a time.
He told me to get out of the car and I did then he punched me in the face for no reason at all. Honestly, I’m seriously tired of getting struck on the face – my pretty face.
He took another swing, this time to my gut. That’s when it dawn on me that the senator is behind this. The police officer handcuffed me and put me behind his car, brought out his phone, and called a number. The officer gave me the phone and I heard a familiar voice. It wasn’t the senator’s. voice It was Alhaji' Shatima’s.
“You disappoint me every day, son,” Alhaji Shatima said. “You've been snooping around my business. You quit school and I let you. You quit the company and I let you. You left home and I let you. And now you are snooping around my business. You are going after Senator Taneem Thawbaan! Do you know who that is? That's very foolish of you. Why the hell do you always disappoint me?” I didn’t know how he knew and this was not the time to find out.
“Because you took away the one beautiful thing that made me happy,” I said. “You sent my mother away. I don’t even have enough memories of her. All my life you made me think I was the disappointment but in truth, you're the disappointment. You disappoint me,”
I must look pitiful to you. And this is the reason I hate the whole idea of marriage. Because I hate it when someone you love leaves. I’m afraid that that is what’s going to happen if I let someone close; there – I said it – I’m afraid that when I commit and get married and have a kid, I’ll let my kid down. That I will fail him the same way my father has failed me. And this is my moment to tell Alhaji that he has failed me. “And your mantra, the question that you believe everyone must answer, you have not answered it yourself. Life being some arithmetical problem that everyone must solve. That in solving it one solves the problem within oneself. Of fear, of hesitation, of lack of confidence, of getting distracted, or whatever. That formula might have helped you in being a successful businessman but it made you a crappy human being and a crappy father. A crappy narcissistic drunk.”
“Huh! The boy has become a man!” Alhaji said. “You know what your problem is? You are just like your mother. You live in the past and you’re too emotional. And now you'll rot in jail. And nobody will know where you are. Not even your precious friends. And whether you like it or not that mantra has helped you. Inspector Danlami, are you there?” – the officer snatched the phone from my handcuffed hand. “Take him away and treat him like a criminal. That boy is no son of mine.”
I was taken to a jail in Zaria and then moved to another jail in the city of Kaduna the following day. I spent more than a week badly treated. On the ninth day, I heard from the radio of one of the officers that Abba has been released. Abba has been exonerated; he was given a presidential pardon. I didn't have the energy to smile but I mustered one and smiled. I was happy and all that happened to me was worth it.
A few hours later I saw Jamaal Muhammad with a lady behind him. Remember him? The guy who came to Zaria to meet his sister; the guy I beat in chess.
I was surprised to see him. Of all the people who I thought would come to my aid I didn't think Jamaal was the one. At first, I thought perhaps he came for somebody else. Until he pointed at me while talking to a police officer.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him as he came closer.
He told me his story and I felt more betrayed than happy. Jamaal Muhammad is my half-brother and the lady beside him who looked a lot like him is my half-sister – the girl he came to meet the time he came to Zaria. He told me about you, mother. But you know that don’t you, mother?
“She talks about you a lot. Mom talks about you a lot, bro,” Jamaal said. I made a mental note: that you’re mom and not mother. But I prefer calling you mother.
“What do you mean? I don’t understand. How long did you know we were related? How… trust me, if you’re playing games with me you’d regret it.”
“I know, big brother. Do you remember what the last thing you said to me the first time we met was?” Jamaal said. He looked at me intently when he said it. A look that was proof enough; he was related to me.
“You don’t remember? You said all you did was intrude. I’m a little like that. Big bro, I have the utmost respect for you. The emails you've been sending to mom for more than a decade? – I've been receiving them. Mom doesn't use that email account anymore. I'm sorry I never replied I just thought that if I did you'll stop sending them. I didn’t want you to stop.
“When I came to Zaria, I came to find you. The time I let you beat me in a game of chess was the third time I saw you. I had long seen you before that day. I wanted to tell you then but I didn’t think it was the right time.”
“You what? You read my emails?” I said.
“All five-hundred-and-fifty-four mails. I must say you write well. It almost feels like I’ve known you for a very long time. And that is why I know how you must be feeling right now: Betrayed. You know I saw you some days after my father died. I couldn’t believe you came all the way from Zaria to Bauchi to pay your respect. You and your friends. I recognized you from a photo of yourself you attached to one of your mails.”
There you have it. This is one of the reasons this would be my last message. I think if I had the energy and wasn’t behind bars, I’d have strangled that boy to death. But a part of me was impressed – weirdly impressed.
Jamaal Muhammad looked at me waiting for me to say something. I said nothing. I had nothing to say.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I know you have questions,” I did have questions, obviously. “I know your first and biggest question is whether mom knows about the mails. No, she doesn’t. I didn’t know how to show it to her especially since you’ve been writing for a very long time. She wouldn’t have forgiven herself. And I know you won’t believe me but things were especially hard for us but she tried to reach out. Multiple times, actually. But the problem was…”
“My first question is who is the lady beside you?” I interjected. I didn’t want to know what the reason was or how life had treated you. I didn’t even know what to feel. I already feel like a piece of shit. I didn’t want to hear more things that’d make me feel shittier. So I asked about my half-sister, even though I knew that he said she is my half-sister.
“Hey bro,” the lady said. “Nice to finally meet you. Fatima. My name is Fatima but mom calls me Jameela. I know! Funny right? Jameel, Jamaal, and Jameela. But it proves that mom loves you and always has you on her mind.” Unbelievable! I was being lectured by small children.
“How did you know I was here?” I said, ignoring what Jameela said.
“Jameel, I have been tailing you for a while now,” Jamaal Muhammad answered my question. “That’s how I knew that the police had arrested you. That day I had decided to meet you and tell you who I was especially after getting your last mail. You said you were going to hurt Mr. Raj and I was a little concerned… Seeing that, I went over to meet your cousin, Abubakar, and I told him everything and he took me to your father. I told your father about the police arresting you and he said you deserved it. He asked me who I was and I told him, and he got angry and told me to leave. I had printed all the emails you had sent before I went to see your father, so before I left I implored him to read your emails. Believe it or not, your emails are more than a thousand pages. From the ones you titled Days in school to the ones you titled Days after Umar’s return.”
A police officer unlocked my cell and I exited the cell and came closer to Jamaal deciding what to do to him. I decided I’d let him finish first. “A week later, your father told Abubakar to call me. When I went there, your father asked me about mom. He said he had thought she had died. He asked about me and whether I was working. He asked me how life had treated us. Jameel, I've never seen a man look so pitiful. That was when he gave us two cars to come and get you. Alhaji wants you to come home. Your friends and your friends’ family are outside. I told them to wait outside so that I'll have a chance to introduce myself.”
I was surprised that Alhaji was capable of that. I'd have denied everything but I had no basis to deny anything. I swallowed my ego and hugged my two siblings. I hadn’t taken a shower for days so I knew I smelled bad. That was one of the reasons I hugged them; payback for making me feel betrayed and for keeping me waiting for that long in this awful place. I smelled terrible and I saw it in their faces but Jamaal and Jameela couldn’t complain. They dared not complain or speak badly about their big brother.
We walked outside and there they were: Abubakar, Yusra, Noor, Saleem, Aisha, Hafsa, Umma, and Aamati. No Umar – where the hell is that idiot?
“Some family reunion, huh?” I said. Abubakar and Hafsa were the first to approach me; my confessor and the amazing Hafsa.
“Cozz, it’s good to see you,” Abubakar said hugging me. “By the way, you smell horrible.”
“Thank you, cozz,” I said, not letting him extricate himself from the hug. “I heard the good news about Abba.”
“Yes, Umar told me it was your plan. Your plan worked, you crazy idiot. Abba has been released.”
“You smell bad, Uncle,” Hafsa said taking a few steps back.
“It's my pleasure,” I said.
“I don’t think that was a compliment, man,” Saleem said. “Nice to have you back, Jameel,” Saleem said proffering his hand for me to shake.
My two mothers hugged me even though I was reeking. “Let's get you to a bathroom. You need to wash up before we head back,” umma said.
“I don't know what made Alhaji do that to you, but he said he was sorry. He promised he had changed,” Aamati said.
“Alhaji said sorry? That's something you don't hear ever. Please tell me you recorded it?”
“It's a good thing you haven't lost your sense of humor,” Yusra said laughing. Noor was in her arms. I tried to take Noor from her mother when her father, Abubakar, stopped me.
“What on Allah’s green earth do you think you’re doing? You want to suffocate my daughter with your smell?” Abubakar said.
I grinned at him and his fatherhood. I guess it could be an amazing experience, being a father. I think I’d do well as a father since I have these beautiful people with me. “Where’s Umar?” I wanted to make a joke about his absence then it dawned on me that something bad might have happened to him. Perhaps the senator got to him.
As if on cue, I saw Umar arriving in Safiyya’s Honda. The idiot had the car repaired. The idiot actually drove. Something I didn’t think I would live to see happen. I guess present moments aren’t always dirty, dusty, and dead.
He turned off the car engine and came out of the car. Seeing that made me go through memory lane; I remembered the first time we became friends. We fought a lot before we realized we could be best of friends. I really couldn’t believe he drove alone for an hour from Zaria in a car that hasn’t been used for almost a year. For me.
“You look awful, Jameel,” Umar said.
“You mean I look like a king,”
We hugged and then he said, “No man. You look like a true Nigerian; black like a true Nigerian.” I was surprised he remembered what I said to him a day after his return. “Thank you,” Umar added. “Thank you very much for everything you’ve done. May Allah reward you and sweeten your days.”
“You don’t have to thank me, man. Besides, it was teamwork. So when is Abba arriving? Are we going to go pick him up?”
“Abba will be in Zaria tomorrow by flight. The king has made arrangements for that. Abba will be coming with the king, grandfather, and Hajia.”
“But it’d be way fun if we go there to pick him up. We have three cars here already. We’ll have the best road trip ever. Me, you, Abubakar, everybody. It’ll be fun.”
“Abba said we don’t have to because, guess what?” Umar said. This time his smile broadened.
“What?”
“My engagement with Maryam is back on. The wedding is tomorrow. Alhaji persuaded Prof Siraj. I don’t know how, but your father persuaded Prof Siraj.”
“Alhaji did what?? Bro that's great news,” I said. Looks like a lot of things happened in the nine days I was here. I really couldn’t believe it. Alhaji Shatima, the man who made the scar on Umar’s face, is the same man who has come to his rescue – that’s just odd! Maybe what I told Alhaji the last time we spoke got to him. Maybe it was something Aamati or Shaykh Basheer said to him. It was too good to be true but I was glad. And I was glad Umar was back together with the love of his life. “But why tomorrow. Isn’t it too early?”
“Are you kidding me? No, it’s not early. Plus, Abba wants it tomorrow. So we are celebrating two things tomorrow: Abba’s return and my wedding.”
“Congratulations, man.”
“Thanks,” Umar said.
“You’ve met my half-siblings, haven’t you?” I said – Umar nodded. “What do you think of them? You think they are for real?”
“C’mon bro! We are right here,” Jamaal Muhammad said feigning being offended.
“Just kidding! We are good,” I said laughing. “Umar, tell me Adam is coming for the wedding. If he doesn’t come I’m going to take it out on Mr. Raj.”
“Mr. Raj from the restaurant?” Umar said. “What do you mean by that? You know what, I don’t want to know, because Adam is actually on his way too.” Finally, the four friends would all come together.
A part of me wanted you to be here with me, mom. To see these people I call family. To see and share these beautiful moments with them. This is the last message. They say what comes after the last one is the next one. But I’m not so sure that’ll be the case here. Only time will tell.