Who is Anisa Haque?

Chapter 21 - The Unexpected Visitant

The atmosphere was jolly as I walked in with both hands full of like a hundred grocery bags. It felt like my elbows were about to get dismembered from the rest of my body. But hey, that's the price I have to pay for trying to transfer thirty thousand Naira worth of groceries from the car to the kitchen in one trip. I could feel the handles of the bags thinning out and starting to give up as they dug into my palm, but I was determined to make it to the kitchen in one piece.

'Is that my  precious little agwagwa?' Baba sang as he opened the rickety front door for me.

'Baba!' I whined. 'I told you I'm too old for this.'

'Thats why I'm going to keep singing it until you're old enough not to care that I call you agwagwa. What have you got there?' He reached for the bags with large, slightly arthritic hands and I swerved out of his way. 'Let me help you with it.'

'No, don't! It's just groceries. I can do it.' I brushed passed him, knocking the bags against both our knees as I hobbled towards the kitchen and he followed after me singing.

🎵'When Allah doesn't bless you with sons,' he sang, rather off key. 'He blesses you with a daughter thats worth a thousand sons.'

'Don't sing that!' I looked around the living room. 'If Mama hears you talking about sons-'

'Oh, relax. She's in a great mood this evening. You're the one that seems a little tense,' He tapped my shoulders firmly with the edge of his hands as I made the final three steps into the kitchen.

Having spent all day at the glorious Amana Mansion, I really began to appreciate just how ugly our house really is. I used to be the one that tells Mama off for calling it an old wasteland. But now it's like the scales have finally dropped from my eyes and I regretfully agree.

For starters, it is an ancient house. We've lived here since 1990. Yep, that's right! Over 25 years. It is literally the only home I ever remember having in Abuja. Baba worked at NIPOST before his retirement and these were the first houses built for their staff. A small semi detached one storey, 3 bedroom, 4 bathroom and 1 guest room space, it felt adequate for our small family so he ended up purchasing it in 2001. I mean, who would pass up the opportunity of buying a subsidized house in Maitama?

But time took its toll on our dear old house. We always seem to be looking for some sort of repair man every month! If it isn't the plumber fixing the water pipes that leak one bathroom after another, it's the electrician fixing the fuse that blows every time you put on two ACs while the washing machine is running. Or the mason that patches up random cracks on the eastern wall.

Its not pretty on the outside either! Compared to the grandiose standard of Maitama houses, we might as well live in a thatched mud hut. The only redeeming quality is the quaint little garden in front.

Of course we've considered moving, several times! But the thought of letting go of our precious old home gives all of us major anxiety. I'm getting squeamish even thinking about it!

Mama was laying out plates for dinner when we entered.

'Saratu dear, Anisa bought groceries,' Baba belted in between his chorus of 🎵'When Allah doesn't bless you with sons...'

'Oh, Yar Nan! Allah ya Miki albarka,' said Mama emphatically as she rushed to help me with the bags that have finally pulled me to the ground. 'My Goodness, Anisa you do so much for us. When will we even get to finish all these? It would last till Ramadan, almost! Thank you, Hajiyar Babanki.'

What's this? I thought. Hajiyar Babanki? She really is in a good mood! Even after all the superwax drama this morning? I better milk it for all its worth.