Kapitel 8: Sister sister
Rabi sighed. She had just graduated medical school and was an intern at National Hospital Abuja. Nabila let her moan about work; but being Rabi her annoyance didn't sound genuine. She moaned because that is what she ought to do, because in Nigeria loving your job was unheard of. Yes, she was tired, and barely slept and had fallen behind on her favourite shows but that was life. "Besides, it sounds kind of silly to rush home to watch Grey's Anatomy when I have real patients that need seeing to." Nabila shook her head and dipped her feet into the hot scented water Yemi had put down. She thought of the 80+hour weeks Rabi had to put in to fulfil her internship, and her insistence at volunteering once a week at the fertility centre in Nisa Premier Hospital due to her interest to pursue obstetrics and gynaecology "I couldn't do what you do." Nabila concluded
"I kill every living plant within ten yards. Oh if I had your green thumbs...I'd create my own Garden of Eden. That would be my talent." Rabi said as she stared at the cluster of bell shaped dusky blue African lilies in the large rectangular vase. It was true, Rabi could kill a cactus.
"If I had your face I won't need a talent" Nabila countered
"If I wore your dress size I'd be a model" Rabi said. Her size 14 was beautifully clad in a jersey maxi dress with bands of bright colours running down. She pinched her arms.
"If I had your height, I won't need these heels" Nabila gestured to her three inch block heels. The Moss green matched her Prada leather tote bag, her feet were so sore she wondered why she bothered
"If I had your feet, I'd be able to wear more heels" Rabi wiggled her size 8 feet in the warm water, causing Yemi to slap her knee to be still. The sisters went on, babbling their short comings to each other and wishing to be more like the other person. As always Nabila had more characteristics in praise of Rabi. Her smarts, her boobs, her nose, her long lashes, her height, wide circle of friends, her personality, her infectious laugh... Rabi couldn't keep up and Nabila mused that her only ups were her gardening instincts, her skinny frame and the fact that she hardly sweats.
Yemi's colleague had begun on the sisters' hair. And she parted the thickness with a huge black comb; having to step back with her arm movements. Neither Nabila nor Rabi had ever relaxed their hair; there was no need besides they preferred the curls. And secretly, they knew it was the only genetic link to one another. The one thing they had both inherited from one parent, mama. Other than that Nabila was the short, dark, skinny sister and Rabi the tall, fair, chubby one. After the wash, they admired their painted toes and laughed at their Martian heads as the foil paper used for the Protein steam made crackling noises underneath the dryer. Nabila looked at her beautiful sister and brought up the taboo topic between them. The issue of her arranged marriage to Alhaji Gidado Tukur.
"You don't have to marry him"
"I haven't said yes Nabila"
"But you haven't said no either"
"I don't see the reason to"
"How about the fact that he's a year older than Baba and already has a wife. He has kids our age. He's a grandfather."
"That entire aside..." Rabi reasoned
"This is stupid Rabi. You're an educated woman"
"Exactly. Do you know how long I have left before I obtain my license to practice? Seven years Nabila now tell me which man is going to wait that long. We have known Alhaji Tukur for a long time." Nabila wanted to add that for the mere fact that he once wiped her runny nose and helped Rabi onto her bicycle; it was disgusting. But her sister was speaking rapidly, denying her a chance to cut in, lest she spoke over her. "Baba is his close friend. He is kind, thoughtful and does not impose archaic rules. His wife spends most of her time in their house in Dubai anyway, she basically lives there. So I will be alone; no one to disturb me. All the kids are grown they won't give me grief. They know I am not in it for the money. Besides this is merely a guarantee that I will be someone's wife, he is not carting me off to his house tomorrow."
Nabila looked at her sister, since mama suggested the match last year it was like every time they discussed this, Rabi had stronger arguments about why it was right.
"You don't have to do everything mama tells you to" "I don't. She wanted me to study law remember"
"And instead you chose medicine. Yay you are a big rebel kenan. Clap for yourself." Nabila hissed and rolled her eyes for good measure. Rabi got annoyed
"You act like your marriage wasn't a hook-up as well"
"Because it wasn't" Nabila spoke as she would to a child who had just made a stupid comment
"Saboda mama didn't join your hands together, does not mean it was not a convenient social arrangement. You guys barely dated six months before his relatives brought the geyisawa, dowry to our house. It was like they heard you resided in the same university and it was naturally assumed that you would wed."
"It had nothing to do with us"
"It certainly didn't. Did Jamal ask you to marry him or did mama call to say his relatives were interested." Rabi adopted the same tone Nabila had earlier, like she asked the question to a child
"I love Jamal" Nabila smacked her lips together "Then you are lucky, but I don't have anyone I feel that strongly about and I need the security of a husband and the freedom to practice my medicine. I am being offered both"
"Mama is just being hypocritical; forcing you into a polygamous home when she herself is Baba's only wife"
"She wouldn't have minded if Baba married someone else along the way"
"Yes she would" Nabila answered with absolute certainty. Rabi chose not to argue because she knew it was the truth.
By the time they were lying face down and having essential oils massaged into their skin their conversation had slowed to a halt. Yemi enquired if Rabi was alright, because they were used to Nabila's standoffishness but non- bubbly Rabi was rare. Nabila didn't want to fight with her sister; she was tired of fighting as a whole so she utilised her new found apologising technique
"Haba Rabi, let's not fight. Kinsen I want the best for you ne. I only push it because I think you are making a mistake, Allah" "I understand you disapprove but when it comes to it I expect my sister's support." Rabi summed it up. "To ba komai, no problem" Nabila responded
With that they were chatting away again and occasionally made ooh noises when the tea tree oil was absorbed into tight muscles. They paid the hefty bill and walked out hand in hand scenting like mint tea leaves with shiny exfoliated skin. They proceeded to the Fulani Pool Bar at the other end of the hotel for lunch. With its traditional thatched roofing, mats and statues, the ambience was just as enjoyable as the barbecue a la carte specialities they ordered. As their meal arrived in large calabashes, the head waiter greeted Rabi and Nabila enthusiastically. They were regulars. They ate in beautiful friendship and took in views of the landscaped gardens. In the evening, Nabila escorted Rabi to her car and hugged her goodbye. "Don't let them kill you in that hospital fa" she begged and as Rabi got in her car, her phone rang. She glanced at it but ignored the call "Hey that could be your future husband calling" Nabila teased. Rabi pulled her nose causing her to yelp, and then got into her car.
Kapitel 9: The beginning of the end
She watched Nabila cross the parking lot to her Grand Cherokee; her phone began to ring again. Jordin Sparks was screaming on her ringtone to get armour because love was a battlefield. Rabi couldn't agree more, still each time the ring tone died down, it started again because Jamal Mujahid would not stop calling. Please stop she pleaded silently, leave me alone, haba you're married to my sister. Still Jordin sang on...it was as though he was hitting redial repeatedly. A car honked and Rabi looked up to see her sister drive by her slowly, dialling a number. She was sure it was Jamal's. He must not have picked up his wife's call because her phone still rang. Nabila waved and drove off. As Rabi put on her seatbelt; a text came in:
Rabi I meant everything I said last night. Please pick up. Jamal
In the two minutes Rabi Bello stared at the text message, her brain comprehended a lot of information. Her heart dreamt up a couple of wishes and her memory dragged up a few mentionable events. In the end, her hatred for two seemingly innocent materials became absolute: Rain and John Mayer. As long as Rabi lived, she would never again merge the two together. It did not matter how well your intentions or how high your priorities, morals could even be the most uptight. The mixture of those two dreadful components was the catalyst to her current predicament. She just wished with all her heart someone told her...
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