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25% Northern Prince / Chapter 12: Waiting on the World to Change

Chapter 12: Waiting on the World to Change

Rabi was working through lunch when Jamal arrived to taunt her. He was bored and came down from his office needing to pass time. He always got like this when he closed a contract deal; then the Ministry of Works ceased to be exciting abode. As she transcribed patients notes into her computer Jamal tried out nicknames on her till he found the one that most annoyed Rabi. "Bee Bee it is then" he declared. "Don't you dare or I'll call you La La" she threatened. Both names stuck and when Bee Bee tired of watching La La chuckle and point at models of the female reproductive system she decided to humour him and accept his offer of peppered chicken and Fanta. She hit him over the head with a Women's Sexual Health textbook when he suggested that it was physically impossible for her to turn down free food. As he nursed his head wound she informed him he now had cooties, relinquished him of the car keys and relished driving his car to the suya joint. As they ate, Jamal's favourite song came on and Rabi asked him why he liked John Mayer.

"Who?" Jamal chewed

"Isn't this your favourite song?"

"No. When did I say that?"

"A few months ago when I dropped you off at Jacaranda"

"Oh!" he looked embarrassed "I only said that because you made me uncomfortable and I needed an excuse to turn on the radio"

"Nooo" Rabi laughed. "How did I make you uncomfortable?" she pointed with her straw

"I don't know you were too quiet. It was weird"

Rabi laughed for a long time, giggling as she lit her cigarette. Jamal disproved of her smoking generally because he used to be a heavy smoker himself and the sight of Rabi blowing out perfect O's gave him the itch. Smoke ringlets curled upwards and Jamal reached across the table to confiscate her pack of Marlboro; due to his enforced regulations she was officially down to 6 sticks a day now. Jamal supplemented Rabi's obedience to this rule by bribing her with suya. His secret weapon! Rabi smiled when she thought of her hidden stash of Benson & Hedges in her hospital locker. She was not picky and would smoke anything that could be lit; it was the nicotine she craved.

Jamal tired of her teasing made a mad proclamation to always dance whenever he heard John Mayer. Rabi laughed at him even harder afterwards. As Jamal pulled into the Hospital parking lot, to drop her off "Waiting on the World to Change" played on the radio. Rabi dared him with her silence and Jamal began to wriggle in his seat, lunging in time with the beat. Rabi got out into the rain; noisy and warm, laughing uncontrollably trying to make a run to the entrance doors before she got too wet. Jamal ran to her side pinning her against the car blocking her exit to shelter. "You must dance too or I'll let you get soaked" he warned. Rabi ducked and dodged with no success, Jamal was not letting go and the rain was getting heavier soaking through her white wrap skirt. He ignored her pleas and was unaffected by her threats of lacing his tea with fast-metabolising, untraceable poison. She had no other choice, Rabi sang the words and Jamal made a mess of the lyrics but it was then with the warm rain, fiery peppers on her tongue and the scent of Fanta on Jamal's breathe that Rabi forgot her place. She did not pull away when their playful laughter died down and their huffs sounded like Wind instruments to the song, the raindrops drummed in accompaniment to the strumming of Mayer's guitar. Jamal stared at her with heavy lidded eyes, his hair a tangle of brown curls, he laid his forehead against hers and their noses touched, Mayer crooned, he leaned in.... and Rabi ran.


Chapter 13: They were not friends, not anymore.

She ran toward the hospital doors like they were her salvation she was pleading sanctuary. That night as soon as her shift ended Jamal called her. His baritone voice drifted over the telephone to her ears as she lay in bed trying the push the matter out of her mind, telling herself it probably was not as dramatic as she made it out to be; she prayed they would ignore the moment, even hoped he would tease her about bolting but instead he spoke the words. Jamal destroyed that refuge with his profession "I married the wrong sister. How could I not have seen you? Rabi it's you. I just know it." Rabi hung up but the illusion had been shattered. They were not friends, not anymore.

Rabi was home now although she had no memory of driving out of the hotel or through the black gates of her home. So she followed her routine: locked herself in Baba's study skimming through his old medical journals, gorged on Oda's fried rice, listened to Mama complain about the shade of green she had to wear to a campaign party. "Na shiga uku- I want three. When Baba was appointed Minister of Health I did not punish my friends with this rag." She held the material; with two fingers like it was stained. "Mai ke damun Hajia - am I wrong?" she asked Rabi waiting for an answer. Mama looked so horrified it was comical. "Ban sani ba Mama."- (no mom) Rabi replied smiling. Her father took alot from her, but then again few could live with a man who said less than 200 words a day. Dr. Danjuma Bello was brilliant but he was boring. Kai! Her parents were a classic case of opposites attracting and Rabi truly believed her parents loved one another. Farida Balarabe walked away from the insurmountable wealth and dynasty of her maiden name when she was 19. Refusing the old Hausa family money and all the trappings it accorded to make her own way with a struggling medic newly returned to the country from Cambridge and fresh off a break up from his white girlfriend, Natasha Matthews. Her family said she was stupid, assured her he would return to "bature" "those with red ears" but she persevered and now she had earned herself every nag and complaint her heart desired. Mama was good because she pushed her husband to be more than a regular doctor. Got him into politics and kept him there for a good 12years and now although officially retired; he consulted with WHO and UN on behalf of the Federal Government. Baba was essential because he put a break on Mama's wild ideas and kept her grounded. It was hard for Rabi to believe that even with all the money they had, the Bello family grossed one-fifth of her maternal grandparents' Balarabe estate. Knowing her mother, leaving that sort of comfort at such a young age must have required a great deal of conviction and faith in a man...

Mama was lucky she had good taste in men. The one she chose to sacrifice everything for repaid her with a long and happy marriage. Rabi Bello re-read Jamal's text and came to the conclusion that she would always be that sort of person. The one who always wanted what she shouldn't have. The problem with Lust is hormones remember every encounter and should the opportunity with the faintest of desires materialise; you are drawn to it. Hormones silence your conscience and muddle your reasoning. Rabi had gone against her family over a man once before.

Two years ago while she was studying medicine in Warwick; his name was Marc. He was tall and handsome, half-British and half-Italian. Baba found it amusing that his child had a white boyfriend around the same age he met Natasha. Mama failing to see the humour nearly had a cardiac arrest. Marc stood outside the library smoking and would undress Rabi with his eyes every time she walked by. He wore a distressed leather jacket even on the harshest winter days and always kept his dark hair a little too long. His slate green eyed stare was so intense that even after they began dating he could reduce her to stuttering, his touch set her skin on fire and his kiss gave her shortness of breath. He opened Rabi's eyes to a whole new world of vice. He lit her first cigarette, and her first spliff, bought her edible underwear, watched for speed cameras while she drove his car like a maniac. He taught her to roll the perfect joint, to exhale through her nose, to suck, to grind, to down a shot or three in one sitting. All the drinking songs she knew were in Italian. They both understood it was not going anywhere; but their carnal need was so out of control that the night he took her virginity; Rabi did not leave his dorm room afterwards for three days. It was a life of no repercussions they lived. Rabi has no idea how either of them graduated. He was in Paris now; probably giving some other girl rapid heart murmurs. Rabi smiled as she remembered him making pasta in his boxers, and then later eating grapes off her belly button. How they would snuggle up naked in his duvet on cold misty mornings and lean out the window to share a cigarette. That's why Rabi accepted the marriage to Alhaji Tukur; she's had her fun and enough sex to last her a life time.


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