Friday, September 28, 2012

Book Excerpt: City of Memories

A week after his fiancée left, Faruk’s car treaded a steady seventy on Nigeria’s northeast highway, easing up only when he paused to change gears. The sun bore down on the white Toyota so relentlessly that every few minutes he cursed his not having fixed the air conditioner. He sweated profusely, even with both windows wound down—the underarm and chest of his crème cotton shirt was streaked with brown patches. It was just about 11 a.m. and he already felt lost in the featureless vegetation, fleeing as he was.

He drove past towns no larger than some suburbs of his native city and often, mirage oasis shimmered at the far end of his vision. Long stretches of road were poorly maintained, so every now and then the highway broke up into vague stretches that threw up geysers of dust the minute the tyres touched them. On both sides of the road, dry savannah bore the intense heat without bursting into flames. Yet, there were nomads all along the way in all the heat, herding more cattle than he had ever seen. 

When he drove past herdsmen, Faruk responded to their calls by tooting his horn and raising a fist through the window. All he and the herdsmen had for company were numberless cattle egrets, who were more interested in the cattle anyway. The mostly white cows, equally uncommunicative, wandered about minding their own business—eating grass and occasionally letting drop large blobs of dung. The muscles of his neck strained and twitched as he battled his thoughts, which always returned to Rahila and the flurry of his departure from Jos City.

“See, Faruk, be na son ka kuma. We have to call it off. It cannot work anymore, please.”
“Ba ki so na? What the hell does that mean? Face the issue and say what it is.  Is it you don’t love me anymore or that you are leaving me—which is it, Rahila Pam?”
Sudden anger sparked in her eyes as she yanked her arm from his grip, shocking him with her force.
“It doesn’t matter. Let me go!”
“It does matter, and you know it. Both things are not the same!”
But he had known. Her family. A foreign influence. Like witchcraft.

Her words kept running loops in his mind, broken only by Miles Davis’ 1959 ‘Kind of Blue’ album playing from the speakers. But when the music no longer soothed him, he slipped into his awareness of the heat and thoughts of Rahila—and the love she threw back at him as if it were ash.

He glanced at the rear-view in time to remember that on that particular stretch of road he was alone and had been for quite a while—an hour since he’d passed a lorry laden with assorted farm produce and rustic farmers hanging on to the tailboards of the old Bedford, laughing and singing. They had saluted him noisily, making faces and raising their fists. He had tooted his horn. He smiled at the memory, caught himself looking at the mirror yet again, sighed, and resumed whistling to the modal jazz. Rahila made him think of his mother Ummi al-Qassim, and her madness. She made him think of many other things. Faruk smashed his fist half-heartedly into the steering wheel, tilting his head back like a ram to be slaughtered, his eyes leaving the road momentarily. Rahila—he hated her now, for leaving him, and for leaving him confused.

But his thoughts of her led him to thoughts of her mother, Eunice Pam, who even at that moment was seeking to have him killed. Eunice’s meddling had already seen to the return of his engagement ring and the end of his affair with her daughter. By the time he visited Hussena Bukar, his mother’s closest friend until she died, he was anger-filled enough to burst.

The highway started up a sudden rise so he downshifted his gears, his mind running over the events of the last days, along with the wheels of his car as the Toyota laboured up the steep incline.


***
The first thing she said on his entering the house was;
"My God, what is the problem? Your face is as long as the Ka’aba’s door!"
And he did look drawn, sullen eyes beneath finely arched brows, thin lips; a lithe young man, he had an ovoid face, pleasant to see. Smooth dark complexioned skin. But only the mole just below his left eye remained untroubled. Hussena Bukar had been at the far side of her porch filled with potted plants, mulching compost with gloved hands unto the roots of a rose bush. She led him to a sofa and shouted for the maid. An old woman, soon sixty; grey hair peeked in neat cornrows from under her Dubaijin headscarf. Her skin was as pale as his mother’s had been.
“Ga abinchi, it’s just a snack, eat up. . .”

Hussena Bukar always adopted the spirit of a young girl with him. Smiling like a coquette, she listened to him. But it seemed to Faruk that a film appeared over her eyes while he spoke of Rahila, as if his words reminded her of something else. He did not know he was shovelling dirt off an event buried for three decades. Déjà vu coursed through Hussena Bukar’s mind as Faruk sat on her porch, telling her about his danger fraught love for Rahila Pam. She had heard these words before—from his mother.

Thoughts like a swirl around a whirlpool spun through Hussena Bukar’s mind.
She shook her head, placing her still supple thin-fingered palms behind her neck. Her thoughts flit to the face of General Hassan Abba, her friend. Hassan Abba had helped her make the most of it—when the twin eclipses of the love mad Arab and the fanatic Usman Waziri had come to destroy her friend. Bolewa! Now, the bloody Bolewa past demanded sacrifice. It wanted Faruk!
Hussena Bukar realized she could not just tell Faruk what had happened at Bolewa. She thought:
‘He needs to travel; he must discover what happened himself.’

Faruk looked up at her. She smiled—then took in a deep breath.
"Faruk, my love, this is indeed very complicated.”
“Yes, yaya.”
“And there is so much you do not know of what has happened before. Just as there is plenty I don’t know of what is happening now with this Rahila and her mother,” she said, slowly ticking off her fingers, shaking her head. ”Faruk, everything that happens has a background. In knowing the background of what is going on, lies clarity and strength.”
"I don’t understand."
"I know, my love, I know you don’t. But what is happening to you now has happened before. I’m thinking what I can do, so that the result won’t be the same as last time. I think we will pull this thing apart and then try to put all the pieces together again, hopefully better,” she said, turning out her palms to heaven. “But you can’t remain here. It will start with you leaving . . . then you will come back knowing. That is how to understand the past, my son. Come, my love, I have some of your mother’s things, her diaries, I think it’s time you had them."
“Diaries?”
Hussena Bukar led him into the familiar house past the living room to her quarters, a small room with large windows and a gold and green Oriental rug. He fiddled around with a paperweight, uncertain why she wished to give him his mother’s diaries just after telling her about his troubles. What did that have to do with foreknowledge, what was all her talk about the ‘past’? How did it all tie up?
The elderly woman straightened up and placed herself beside him on the ottoman, putting a large brown wooden box in his hands.

Two days later, Faruk went to the Employment Directorate and was informed of a placement for a teacher in the Northeast, if he was interested—a six-month stint while the substantive teacher was on sabbatical.
Fine. Where?
Federal Government College, Bolewa.

He remembered what Hussena Bukar always said, that something coming was on its way all ways. Or, had she manipulated it all? It did not matter, for Faruk trusted Hussena as much as he did his father. He was whistling when he left the Directorate. Yet, within hours of that, his assault on Rahila’s brother had given Eunice Pam the bloody excuse she needed to come after him openly—the protection of her daughters’ love was already stripped off him. Faruk become, in one week, merely the expendable son of a formidable opponent.


The day before his journey, Faruk sat in his father’s office for awhile before the secretary came in with a Thermos flask and coffee things.
“The Colonel will be here shortly, Faruk. Meantime, why not have some coffee?”
Faruk, embarrassed he had forgotten her name, smiled.
“Did my father go far?”
“No. He is in the business district; he called to say you were to wait. Do you want it black?”
“Yes, black. Thank you. I’ll add the sugar.”
His father, Ibrahim Dibarama, arrived just as he finished the cup of coffee, smiled at him and went around the large desk; “Make me a cup,” the older man said, “I see you’ve already imbibed.”
It had been four weeks since they last saw each other and an hour passed before Faruk brought himself to state why he had come, and for that hour his father restrained himself. Each knew the great love they bore the other yet each felt the need for an unexplainable caution. Ibrahim Dibarama’s caution came mostly from pride, of having raised a strong and independent son alone.
“Father, I shall be leaving Jos tomorrow.”
The older man did not reply.
“I shall be going to Bolewa,” Faruk stated. At the mention of that word, his father’s eyes came alive with a malevolent thunder. Just as quickly, Faruk saw the rage suppressed with a simple, superhuman will. The older man looked his son straight in the eye.
“Why?”
“You refuse to tell me about my mother. I intend to find out for myself.”
“Viper-of-a-son!” Ibrahim spat out, “is there anything I’ve not done for you? I have told you all there is to know about your mother, Allah rest her soul, what more do you want for God’s sake?” His voice rose with each question. The secretary, in her office fifteen meters away, felt the tension as one feels the heat of fighting lions even from the confines of a touring vehicle. Faruk, for his part, felt like a young lion caught between the passions of his mounting anger and his respect for his father. He stared back at his father for less than half a minute, opening his mouth to say the first thing that came to his mind. But prudence overcame all and he sipped from his coffee which was now so cold it tasted salty. He steeled himself.
“Father. Is it wrong for a son to want to know all about his mother, to visit the land of his parent’s youth?”
At these words, his father drew back, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop Faruk from this journey. Ibrahim Dibarama knew that not even a fight would sway this boy, his true son—it upset him to be on the receiving end of an obstinacy he himself had instilled. Ibrahim Dibarama’s eyes still held anger, but his mind was far from where they were—his mind on his last days at Bolewa; guns going off everywhere, the shattering windscreen of his car, his wife’s scream, the corpses and the billowing smoke. Bolewa. City of memories, a town of death; a town that had unhinged his life and taken his wife from him slowly, as a virus eats a memory chip. Bolewa. How could he protect Faruk from the legacy of Bolewa?
“You are not going to Bolewa!”
“I am, father. I ask only for your blessings.”
Ibrahim shook his head sadly. He had feared this argument for a decade now and the reasons he had feared it were still the same. His eyes settled briefly on his only child. Faruk sat still in his chair, unsure if his father would try to force him to change his decision again, wondering by what means—if he would. Faruk knew he would not be forced, no matter what.
Just then the grey intercom on the table beeped and was hastily picked up.
“Yes. . ? Who? Okay,” at this the older man nodded an apology to his son before saying, “Okay, put him on. . ,” proceeding to converse with the person on the other end of the line. Faruk poured himself another cup of coffee and finished it to find his father still speaking. Another glance passed between them.

While he answered the phone, Ibrahim Dibarama’s thoughts were on the situation before him. What was he to do? All over the country, unexplainable fanaticisms were breaking out and he and his friends realized that the existence of the Nigerian State was at stake. But, what were they to do about it? And now, his own son wished to leave him and go to Bolewa, that den of fanatics, he thought, that fortress of loss. Viper-of-a-son! Ah, but he could not say he had not expected this day. It was at this point the disturbing thought of his son’s liaison with Eunice Pam’s daughter first crossed his mind. He ended the call and dropped the handset carefully into its cradle.
“You want to go to Bolewa?”
“Yes father.”
“Are you telling me everything?”
“Yes I am,” Faruk lied without losing his composure.
“Fine then, Faruk, you are a man. You have my blessing.”
Surprised but glad at his fathers words, Faruk wanted to tell his father he loved him.
But he did not.



The music stopped but Faruk did not play it again nor place another CD in the tray. He drove on, his thoughts still far away in Jos.
“It cannot work, Faruk. It’s all broken down. I cannot marry you, I’m sorry.”
Rahila, her head bowed in tears, tried to remove the ring then. Faruk, angry, held her hand.
“Why are you doing this?” he demanded.
But she did not answer.
“Here’s your ring.”
Rahila turned away and looked out the window. He grabbed her by the forearm and turned her slowly so she could face him. He wanted to play a game they used to play but his voice had grown husky.
“What are you?” he whispered.
She looked up at him. “I am the mountains; you are?”
“Breeze,” he said.
“We cannot be.”
“I am the sun,” he tried, desperately.
“But, you are not.”
“You are rain.”
“I am not. Not anymore,” she said sadly.
The waters between them broke at that moment.
She tried, against the wall of his silence: “Faruk, I am sorry, I hate to be, but I am, now. You are from the Northeast; I’m from Central Nigeria, we are separated by a whole complication of history and things. I thought it was possible, but I cannot, we cannot, be indifferent to our distinct selves. I am my mother’s child; you are your father’s son. Neither of us can undo that.”
He stayed silent awhile longer—then he bent forward and pressed his lips on her cheek, feeling her shudder. His eyes were closed. Rahila’s eyes were closed as well.
“You are breaking my heart,” he said.
Then he turned away, leaving her alone amid the contradictory swirl of her emotions.
Thirty minutes later on the Northeast Highway, Faruk came to a junction. Straight ahead was Maiduguri, 200 km away. He took the road that led to Nguirama and then on to Maidunama and Bolewa. He still had 300 kilometres before he could present himself to the native land from which he had been for so long sequestered, unsure as he was if he was a pilgrim to his mother’s story or a fugitive from the avenging mother of his lover.




Richard Ali, was born in the early 80’s and has lived in Jos most of his life. He holds an LL.B from the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria and a BL degree from the Nigerian Law School and was duly called to the Nigerian Bar.

Ali has experience in both print and digital publishing, having been Editor of Sardauna Magazine, Kaduna [2004-2007] and being presently Editor-in-Chief of the Sentinel Nigeria Magazine [www.sentinelnigeria.org]. He is at present a member of the PEN Nigeria Translations Committee.

His poetry has been published internationally in reputable journals such as the African Writing Journal and the Prosopisia Journal. 

38 comments:

  1. Delhi Escorts
    Delhi Escorts are more and more smart and intelligent escorts in Delhi because Delhi Escorts are College Escorts in Delhi , Model Escorts in Delhi , Hi Profile Escorts in Delhi. Delhi Call Girls are Provided Escorts Service in our Place or Hotel and other place . It has provided the Best Escorts Service in Delhi and fulfill your requirement which you want to Escorts Girls. Delhi Call Girls and Escorts Girls in Delhi

    ReplyDelete
  2. http://www.delhiprimeescorts.com/Escorts%20Image/Nigar/Nigar.jpg

    ReplyDelete
  3. Delhi escorts services is the world class services because girls of here are so excellent and sexy ,so come on my site
    http://www.delhincrescortgirl.com/delhi-escorts.html

    ReplyDelete
  4. Offering a top class escort services, Female Escorts in Delhi, Delhi Escorts, Independent Delhi Escort, Noida Escorts and much more.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Hi….
    Friends I am Josef Mangele from London. Nishthadutt is the leading escorts Services Provider by Online. I am very happy using This service. I think Independent escorts in Delhi is the best in this fild . independent Delhi Escorts

    ReplyDelete
  6. I wish I would have found this post before the Super hot. All girls are so pretty so for more information please visit on www.niyativerma.in

    ReplyDelete
  7. www.bobyraj.in
    Mumbai Escorts
    Mumbai Escorts
    Mumbai Escorts Service
    Escorts in Mumbai
    Mumbai Escorts Agency
    Independent Escorts
    in Mumbai in all areas in Maharashtra


    ReplyDelete
  8. They are likewise more than willing to look at you in your home, perfect for the man looking to truly take part in a real sweetheart ordeal.


    Mumbai Escorts
    Escorts in Mumbai
    Mumbai Call Girls
    Call Girls in Mumbai
    Mumbai escorts service
    escorts service in Mumbai

    ReplyDelete
  9. There are vastly different kinds of myths which are Goa Escorts Service Visit us this Site :- http://www.goacallgirls.net/ made from various sort of individual and a large portion of the man are making a decent attempt with the goal that they can improve their life. The vast majority of the general population would love. It can be conceivable with the assistance of escorts in Goa Visit us this Site :- http://www.riya-mehra.in/ and make your life less complex. In the event that you don't know exactly how fun with our Call girls in Goa Visit us this Site :- http://www.daizy.in/ has, you ought to talk about the experts of this business sector or a customer bolster partner of an agency. AT the page, you can get their assortment effectively. So you can now realize that you could do the greater part of components from your home or lodging. It is your decision totally. An agency makes night and day to finish your longings by conveying out Goa Escorts Visit us this Site :- http://babydona.com/ at your suggested place. You need to choose, precisely what suits you.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Our Escorts in Goa are highly confident, regimented, and well in connecting with clients, with who you can certainly share your feelings of love and romance. With full security, escort service Goa, these girls will never leave you alone. Our Goa escort services are the reputed one escort company that always tries to offer that young Call Girls in Goa www.goabella.in whose expenditure will never disturb your pocket size.

    ReplyDelete
  11. The great thing about Hyderabad Call Girls is these are really competent of making the most of lives for their clients. You are able to spend time with them that you may never forget and really turns directly into enduring experiences. The style and approach of these monster beauties is absolutely exceptional. You just need to demand the Hyderabad Escorts www.rimshakhan.in services and starting the better life from another moment.

    ReplyDelete
  12. You will understand our Agra Call Girls are incredibly much in demand so that as we are so selective in the girls we accept onto our portfolio; our galleries are filled with a realistically exclusive group of wonderful Call Girls in Agra www.agraangels.in you simply will not find somewhere otherwise. Before making your reservation we might encourage you to determine more about each of our individual Agra Escorts.

    ReplyDelete
  13. To make my client fun independent Call Girls in Gurgaon always have many sexy dresses for each and every type of occasion because I know that when my client meet me and find out me in his bedroom that period I actually wear that dress which make his heartbeat fast and he find full enjoyment and my milky body offer then for fun and i also offer them all pleasure of love that this individual expected so ready to play with me in your bedroom and find an everlasting relationship with independent Gurgaon Escorts www.cristinagurgaonescorts.com.

    ReplyDelete
  14. All the free Goa escorts are all around prepared and gifted in the contemporary erotica and have an exceptionally perfectly clear thought of what the healthy men need and how they can be satisfied in whole.
    http://www.callme4escorts.in/

    ReplyDelete
  15. Right from the earliest starting point, they transform into the horny lioness that can battle any fight into the field of erotica.
    http://www.kavya-arora.in/
    http://www.prettycallgirls.in/

    ReplyDelete
  16. I am a girl who can be in straightforward words depicted as the girl-adjacent and exceptionally ladylike and exquisite in nature. You can't discover a escort in Delhi

    in the same class as me, still you need to attempt your fortunes around then devour your valuable and basic hours finding such a class and lively independent escort in Delhi however take my wager you will fall flat and return supplicating about your misguided judgment and

    toward the end you settle on your decision for none other than this youthful and excellent Punjabi girl Pinky Khanna. In the event that you are searching for some

    reasonable Delhi escort service then rather squandering time with breaking on each one of those pseudo pages about independent delhi escorts simply discover one and

    the tried and true that you can contribute upon your time and cash.

    ReplyDelete
  17. A girl of many advantages to make you sexually charged.
    Indian Escorts in Dubai

    ReplyDelete
  18. After knowing about the achievements of Escort in Chennai, more people are coming to Chennai city to get the service,
    Escorts in Chennai

    ReplyDelete
  19. The VIPs or VVIPs pending into this Chennai Escorts directions will probably be matched to a fine degree lovely Independent Escorts in Chennai who has perfect bends.
    Independent Escorts in Chennai

    ReplyDelete
  20. Es fácil ganarse una confianza que( tam san be tong sieu nhe ) es fácil de destruir, es importante no engañar a los grandes( tấm bê tông siêu nhẹ ) o pequeños, pero el engaño ha sido el problema

    ReplyDelete
  21. Packers and Movers in Delhi The Air cargo Packers & Logistics was incorporated to offer remarkable services to its reputable clients. Capitalizing on our experience and expertise in the field of packaging and unloading , we are providing our specialized services across India and that's why you will face no problem with our services.

    ReplyDelete
  22. Our Escorts in Bangalore are young and trained enough to fulfill all of the inner desires & needs of our clients. Their erotic moves keep a man fully charged up and thrilled. So get thrilling experiences with our escorts.

    Call Girls in Bangalore

    Bangalore Call Girls

    Bangalore Escort

    Escort Service Bangalore

    Escort Agency Bangalore

    ReplyDelete
  23. If you are looking for entertainment then hiring Chandigarh call girls will be the most appropriate solution. As an independent being, you are free to choose your means of entertainment and for that, you do not require taking any permission.

    Chandigarh Escorts
    Mohali Escorts
    Zirakpur Escorts
    Panchkula Escorts
    Chandigarh Call Girls

    ReplyDelete
  24. We presents elegant and beautiful girls, you will be free from any worries or disappointment here. Because we provide only genuine models to all of our clients, we guarantee to have 100% satisfaction with our pretty ladies.

    Ahmedabad Escorts
    Delhi Escorts
    Hyderabad Escorts
    Mumbai Escorts
    Visakhapatnam Escorts
    Kerala Escorts
    Chennai Escorts
    Bangalore Escorts

    ReplyDelete