Bab 9: Chapter 8
We had just landed at the Sultan Abubakar III international airport an hour ago and now, we were on our way to Dankani Guest Palace in Minanata, an elite area in Sokoto.
The Caliphates city and also, the second hottest location in the whole of Nigeria. I had never imagined that I would be visiting the North-Western state in a lifetime but now the Daran's had warranted that.
The Daran Empire had branches in six of the North Eastern states and maybe I had just on the whole, thought that at least one of them would also hold their residence.
Bankole and Osaze had tagged along and it was irrefutable because they had continuously insisted that their presence was essential, owing to the fact that the visit was something significant. In all, the view of the city was spectacular but at the same time, a complete change of scenery.
It was bustling with exuberant crowds, which was awfully a similarity to the usual haywire weekdays in Lagos. Building structures were fascinating, having had their own intricate and aesthetic appeal but the only problem had been the heat, it was almost unbearable.
The state's populace was dominated by mostly Muslims and one could clearly see a great many mosques scattered around. It had over 4 diverse cultural groups but in the end, the composition was mostly of the Hausa-Fulani indigenes. Their attires were distinctive, many women clad themselves in the usual Hijab, Burqa, Al-Amira and so on. But, the other majority whom I assumed were users of the fulfulde dialect, dressed in hats that had tappers at three angular tips together with bead and cowery designs on the heads of their females. I was intrigued, the current sight looked promising but nevertheless, what mattered most was how I would see it upon exit, still breathtaking or might it just be scathing instead?
"The heat is scorching," Bankole complained while frowning for the fifth time since we landed.
"If you knew you were too much of an Oyibo why did you agree to come?" I replied with intended mockery whilst putting on sunglasses. The sun had transfixed itself as an angry shade of orange amidst the blue whiteness of the sky. The earth was bathed in heated rays of sunlight and truly, the temperature was insufferable. Also, according to some online weather reports, this time of the year had the tendency to even get hotter.
"See who is talking, he can't even pronounce it aptly," he retorted and I laughed, fully suspecting the incoming banter we were heading straight towards.
"You can't expect my tone of speech to be an exact imitation of the natives," I responded just as we approached a private company car from Oviation.
"Why not? Haven't you been here long enough," Bankole rejoined and he hadn't been wrong actually. Aside from the Lebanese basilect, I was bilingual but not in the case of the vernaculars of this region. I could hear a tad bit when hausa or maybe yoruba was spoken, but because where I lived didn't have much igbo dialected people around, one could say I had been blanked in that aspect. Trying out the Nigerian local lingo in speech would always turn out to be a cluster of wrongs for me in all perspectives.
"Bankole, don't try to turn this on me. The weather is bad, agreed but you're a natural born nagger," I asserted, trying to throw back my own fair share of words.
"Ha! You're forgetting I won't be the one getting sunburnt after this," he replied in a childish tone, smirking like he had finally hit a delicate spot by referring to my contrasting complexion.
"Funny but at least, I won't also turn out like charcoal's sibling," I followed up with my own witty barb which finally earned a laugh from Osaze who had been unusually quiet since. He had become so distant and unreceptive lately and it was even a thing for joy that he had contributed to our exchange.
"Ou!, Jacob!" Osaze exclaimed, making a gesture as if he had been hurt by a jab to the stomach. He was ribbed as a result of my come back whilst Bankole just rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"What's this one laughing about?" His attention was now on Osaze who just couldn't recover from his laughing fit.
"He got you good," Osaze chortled, inciting Bankole's annoyance who in turn now glared at our friends over the top amusement.
"Sure, be finding high spirits in my misery, pigeon toes." Now it had been my turn to embrace the hilarity of the whole situation. He just had to go there! A long while had elapsed but I guess we both still remembered the childhood photo of Osaze we had stumbled upon and in succession, discovered something scandalous. Osaze was pigeon toed.
Presently, it hadn't been as bad as then but it was clear that he had to be classified in the group of those who had it.
"Please! Neymar's pigeon toed, apparently it's a good thing for athletes," he didn't hesitate to defend himself against us like always but honestly, I had actually heard of a number of star footballers who yielded that style of toes.
Bankole was on his way to cook up another chuck inorder to promote our light argument but then, an incoming call zapped Osaze out from our back and forth. Though, what had happened next was rather shocking and unexpected.
"Oh! Sasha," he began and Bankole recovered instantly whilst at the same time, we shared a look of complex surprise—huh! Sasha?...Interesting...
"Yeah, Infact, I just got off the plane not long ago," he continued, during which Bankole and I could only just stare in disbelief.
Osaze's face featured an exhilarating smile that seemed to now be permanent because of this said person.
"You owe me dinner when I get back," he chuckled again, looking as happy as a satiated belly after an evening sup.
It didn't fade till the call ended and the way he had sobered up in a heartbeat had me arching a brow at him and then, a knowing smirk flashed it's way through.
"What?"
"You're seriously asking us what!" I voiced, casting him a sceptical glance but he just raised a shoulder in response.
"No way! Like I'm not letting this slide," Bankole added in impatience.
"She's just a friend." He had hesitated before speaking, meaning it wasn't good.
"And that's all?" I asked after I realized he wasn't backing that statement up with any exciting detail but he should have known better than to try to lie to us.
"Okay, Okay! I met her at an ex-club's reunion I attended the other day," he explained once more since our seeking eyes had still remained planted on him in suspicion, not buying the friendship title in any way.
"Osaze, you can't play me false. Tailor-made ladykiller like you."
"Wait, what about Lilian?" Bankole questioned after my remark and certainly, he wasn't pleased that our friend was back to his Sybarite ways.
"October's Conquest, Number 1780," I joked in reply even though I had known Bankole was currently playing serious. It wasn't like I supported Osaze's flings because sincerely, I didn't do the whole 'womanizer' thing but casual hookups were more or less inescapable. Though, Bankole's virtuous lifebook had always thought otherwise
"You finally had something stable, Osaze. Go get her back and stop doing things you would end up regretting," he continued, ending his statement with a warning but our friend was already far too gone.
"I'm tired of talking about it, let's just drop the matter." It took a few seconds of quiet before Osaze replied and the defeat in his tone was oddly noticeable.
"Talking about what? You haven't even told us anything yet. What happened, Osaze? What did she do?" Bankole still pestered in spite of the tension that had risen patently in the air. I had wanted to know too but I couldn't tell why I just decided to keep silent and watch how things would go in the end.
"Nothing!! Nothing, she did absolutely nothing!" He shouted suddenly in reply and his tone shook us because we hadn't seen it coming.
The topic was still delicate and because of that, we all just went quiet after his outburst, doing nothing to lift the awkward silence that enveloped the space. In all, the car ride to our destination was estranged with a choking stillness and I could only hope things would take a better turn eventually.
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