Tales of the Heart✅

Chapter 6|the trip home.

Amaani (16 years old)

2013

I released a breath I had no idea I was holding the moment the car stopped.

"We're here," Imaan patted my hand twice, there was excitement as well as nervous anticipation in her tone, "I can't believe we're here after so many years!"

A grin spread on my face as I took in the scenery. The car was rolling into Uncle Ahmad's residence in Abuja and my feet ached to touch the ground. The trip wasn't too stressful but I've been feeling weary way before we embarked on the journey to Nigeria.

It was our grandmother's decision to have us brought home because according to her we couldn't be left 'abroad' for so long, that the tradition and culture of our origins will leave us if we do. Hence the decision to come home. It feels weird to call anywhere that's not our home in London by that term. So the plan was to come to Abuja first, then after we spend a week here Imaan and I will be taken to Gombe where Daddy's mother is based at, then we'll go to Kano to Uncle Fu'ad's house or Abba as we refer to him before we're taken to Zaria to our Mothers' family house and back to Abuja. It was going to be one hell of a stressful holiday but I was anticipating every step.

Uncle Ahmad's family came down to welcome us, there were so many hugs and head ruffles I could barely keep count because all the guys were around except Ya Sadiq and Ya A. Ya A promised to come for us before we leave for Gombe and that if he was less busy he would go with us to Gombe and return to Kaduna while we're still there.

Ya Sadiq made no promises because he was based in Lagos.

Daddy and Lina couldn't come with us because Lina was in school while Daddy was busy with work.

I couldn't believe how Ya Umar and Mujahid changed, they were so manly it felt like the versions of them I knew while we were kids was a mere figment of my imagination. Plus the age gap between us and them is much. Ya Maleek went MIA immediately after welcoming us. He's one big recluse.

Over the past few months a truce of sorts was reached between Munee and us, at times we hang out together but for some reason she and Imaan never ever got along unless I was with them. I personally have no problems with her but because her animosity towards Imaan isn't as well hidden as she would've wanted I made it one of my life's mission to never ever trust her completely. I'm naturally suspicious of people, and she handed me a reason to be suspicious of her on a platter.

Life never returned to normal after Mommy and Munee became a part of our family. Yes, we had to adapt to the change that came with them but the freedom to do as we pleased and the way we handled our lives went flying out the window.

There was no more chaos, no more drama, no more harmless nonsense. We both became cautious of our every move. Imaan's caution tripled mine. She created a barrier between herself and every other person that's not myself, Lina or Ya A. Daddy once summoned her to his study to inquire about why she was acting like she wasn't at home, like she wasn't comfortable. He asked what changed her and she could say nothing, not even when he took her in his embrace and assured her that no matter what was happening in her life he was always going to be her Father and nothing else.

The sentimental ole girl cried hard while I got the duty of handing the Kleenex over while taking several short videos and pictures which I went on and printed, I sent them to Lina who was in school for safekeeping.

At 16 nothing has changed about our dressing, I still wear my mom jeans, sweatpants, baggy t-shirts and sneakers. Lina, bless that beauty got into a beauty pageant her first year at school, she won. Pictures of her and the trophy is all I see when I think of her because of how often we were forced to look at them. On Instagram and Twitter her followers gush over her and well the size of her head has expanded tenfold. Thousandfold? If that's a word. It is.

My dearest Imaan comes second to Lina's fashionista status, like now, she's clad in a burgundy straight dress, everything else she's wearing is nude, from the veil wrapped around her face to the flat sandals she had on.

Munee overdresses a bit, according to Imaan she's our very own wannabe Lina and it just doesn't fit her. Lina's petite form gives her a grace that not everyone could pull off and come out a conquerer. Me I think she follows too many Indian bloggers on Instagram. No offense.

Today though she was in a native ankara dress that fits her so much better than anything I've seen on her does.

I don't own a single dress made from ankara. During Eid I wear Abaayas and that's it. So many times when we get sent dresses from Nigeria made from the native fabric all I do is wear them once for pictures sake and hand them over to whoever loves em. I feel suffocated in anything that's not a pair of trousers and a nice top. Or a flowy dress.

Growth has favored us, now I don't look too bad in the mornings, at least not compared to the bombshell Imaan wakes up as. She and I don't share rooms anymore, that's one funny detail because we always sleep in the same room.

Daddy just indulged in our request for more space by letting me move out of my room to the one beside it after we turned 16.

Last year we went to Saudi Arabia for the lesser hajj, Umrah and Daddy promised to take us back for Hajj after we graduate secondary school. That was something we were anticipating with so much fervor.

Right now I was aching to dip the whole of myself into a tub filled with lukewarm water because the weather was hot dammit. Imaan shared my thoughts because we raced to the bathroom after we were shown the room we were to stay in while we were here, one funny detail was that we were sharing with Munee. We left her in the company of the guys because getting out of these clothes came first. It was natural for us to take a bath first immediately after a journey. I cheated by pulling her out of the way and locked myself up from the inside.

"So long, sucker!" I said that loud enough for only her to hear because I wasn't ready to announce to the world that Imaan and I weren't really normal people as is assumed.

"Whatevs." That was definitely accompanied by an eye roll.

I relished in the soothing feel of water and came out after ten minutes only because I knew Imaan was coming up with a thousand ways to kill me.

"Sorry I took so long." I wasn't sorry.

"Just wait for when it's my turn habibty. Just you wait." Then she turned the lock with a click.

I changed into a dress made of a very soft fabric because despite my love for jeans and sweats, they don't fit with the weather right now.

"I'll be back for you dear comfy clothes." That's me reassuring the jeans I packed in my suitcase.

One more thing about myself is that I talk to myself when there's no one around. It's not weird, almost everyone does that. Imaan rolled her eyes when I justified myself. It's not weird!

Some claim that i'm clumsy but I still haven't accepted that piece of information as a fact. Accidents happen all the time, people trip over pillows when they're walking all the time. Just a few days before school ended, my art and design class crush caught me staring and while trying to right myself I ran into a wall, people do that all the time too. It's quite normal.

"I can't believe we're here, really." Imaan mused after I helped zip up her coffee brown dress.

"Neither can I. I'm hungry."

"When are you ever not? Let's go get something to eat i'm famished, hunger is an understatement of what I feel."

We both love good food, the only difference between us is that Imaan is a picky eater while I hate so many green vegetables. No brocolli, no spinach, no lettuce, the list is overflowing.

When Mommy became a part of our lives she re-introduced Nigerian food to us, we got re-acquainted with tuwo. She loves it and forces it on us because I'm not gonna lie, I don't like it and Imaan too doesn't because she is a picky eater while my reason stems from the woman that made it herself. I do not like her, period.