ROYAL✔️

2. /Rich People/

     The prestigious state of Birnin-Gabas had its people categorized hierarchically. The hierarchy system of government was respected in such a way everyone knew their place in the system. Everyone knew their stand and no one has ever attempted to change the rule.  The Royals are the highest in the hierarchy, thus, consist of every person related to the Sarki. The council is in second place. They consisted of council members and far relatives of Sarki. The middle class had the highest population, though they were separated but they all lived in the same area. The palace guards & maids, farmers and traders are the lower middle class.
     The teachers, bankers, and every person under an educational sector were under the higher middle class. Maleeka and her family belong to the lower middle class. Her father wasn't able to attend school during his time. He had to follow his parents to the palace. His father was the king's most trusted guard and his mother, a palace maid, the king's chief maid. 
     Most people from the lower middle class sent their children to school so their kids would be able to live in a better condition like those in the higher middle class. Those from the higher middle class had taps and electricity for at least 16 hours a day. While the lower middle class not so much. They all had a little or big issue paying their bills. A big well and a general tap were built at the centre of the settlement where everyone could come get water, while, the electricity was just for 10 hours a day. That was what they would be able to afford. The impoverished being least in the hierarchical chain were those who fed hand to mouth. They were the ones who had few clothes, wouldn't farm or work but prefer to beg around for food and the sorts. They weren't much, because most of the young ones growing up were quick to look for work, farm or anything reasonable so they'd be with the middle class. 
     "Are you dressed yet? It's getting late" Sa'eed yelled at the top of his voice, making Maleeka's frown deepened. 
     "Almost through!" she yelled back.  She angrily picked up a brown long hijab and wore it. Then she looked over the mirror which had a rope attached to it and was hung on the wall by her bedside.  She looked like her ancestor right now. She groaned frustratingly and yanked the hijab off her head, threw it on the floor and almost stomped on it. 
     "Maleeka, if I come inside that room and I find you undressed, I will teach you a lesson. It's not like you're going for a wedding or something!" her mother yelled this time around. It is obvious her father had reported her to her mother. He always made her mother the bad cop.
     "Umma where is my flowery Boubou wai?" she yelled ignoring her mother's threats. 
     "It's in the laundry basket. Were you expecting me to wash it?" her mother countered making her groan again. Then she'll have to wear the big striped patterned burgundy and peach colored one. Being pretty fair, the color complimented her skin. She added kohl and a lip balm. She wasn't getting dolled up for anybody. She preferred not being downgraded. She picked up the small burgundy veil seeing it had the tiny stripe on the boubou. She ran out struggling to slide her feet into her black flip flops. She wasn't about to wait for her mother to put the threat into action. Boarding Mallam Buba's keke, Maleeka sat close to her father. She rested her head on his shoulder. Being his only daughter they share an unbreakable bond. Even though she'd get frustrated with his little work he had put upon himself, she loved him more than life itself. 
     She watched the building as they passed the Council quarters. Houses ranging from bungalows to story buildings, beautiful paintings and flowers planted everywhere, the gigantic gates connected to electric barbwires. Definitely! protection from thieves.  When they passed the council quarters, they stopped at the gate of the Royal quarters. 
     "Baba Sa'eed!" the security guard yelled happily. He looked familiar but she couldn't place where, so she stared at him and her father neutrally. 
     "Isah, How is work? Hope you're not misbehaving" Her father asked the guard who was beaming as though he had seen a celebrity. 
     "Alhamdulillahi Baba. I don't misbehave anymore. Thank you so much Baba. May Allah continue to reward you for all the good things you do for us. May Allah bless and protect your family" Isah blabbed happily gesturing to the mallam Buba to drive in. Whenever Maleeka hears people praising and praying for her father, she has this feeling of contentment swelling her heart. Remembering she had heard about Isah. The notorious thug, who used to beat up men and women from the higher middle class, he'd collect the little money they were able to gather. 
When her father heard about his endeavors, he had him summoned. Talked some sense into him then got him the security guard job he seemed to be enjoying now because, he looks away plum than when he had come to see Sa'eed for the first time. Watching the buildings which the architects were definitely paid fortunes to make, Maleeka sighed. The Arewa sign is carefully embedded on different parts of the walls. The flowers looked neater and better trimmed than that of the council quarters. Everywhere looked radiant. Everything is Green and white. There wasn't single dirt on and by the roadside. She watched as the maids and guards moved about their various businesses. 
The ones wearing green and white belonged to the kitchen, those with blue and white did the laundry, and the ones with orange and white did the cleaning. The guards around were shared also. But Maleeka had busied herself so much; she forgot who did what in the palace. The buildings were all shared amongst the relatives. There was a door connected to each room in an apartment. As they drew closer to the palace, Maleeka began to feel inferior.  She really didn't want to meet the Queen Mother. The woman is just a sack of trouble walking. The palace is where all the council meetings, case judging, and crowning is held. It is a big beautiful building on its own. It is situated in the middle of the Royal quarters. That is where the throne of Birnin-Gabas is. The Queen's quarters is not very far from the palace, she and her children, assigned maids and guards live. A little farther from the queen's quarters are the second and third wives of the king and their children. The other children know they have no hope of getting the crown, so they concentrate on their studies and even try to find a way into the council. 
Maleeka had never had the opportunity to be friends with them. She simply watched them from afar, bidding Mallam Buba farewell. Her father led the way to the Queen's quarters, his best friend's favorite place in the world. He walked straight to the Neem tree, where a mat is already spread out. He didn't need to bother himself to ask the guards to notify Sarki of his arrival. They would do that on their own. As he sat down on the mat, he noticed his daughter was standing at the edge looking at him meanly. 
     "Why are you following me around? It's not like you don't know where Azeema's room is. Can't you call her or something" he said rolling his eyes making her scowl. The scent of incense that filled her nostrils told her the Sarki is near. He never seizes to amaze her. How does he walk tall and straight after all the clothes he had to put on? His guards were hot on his heel, not until he gestured them to stop. The nearer he was, the better everywhere smelled. She didn't know the exact reason why his presence never shook her. Instead of the strong fear, she felt this warmness she couldn't explain. Maybe because she saw how he laughed and joked around her father. Sighing deeply, he sat down occupying half of the mat with his robe.
     "Barka da wuni Baba" she said, squatting down. She never called him Sarki. She called him Baba so he'd feel a little better. The word Sarki carried a big weight on it, as he told her once. 
     "Barka Maleeka" Go inside, Azeema is waiting for you" he said beaming at her. Nodding cutely she dragged her feet slowly and headed inside, greeting some maids she knew, leaving her father to his business. The door to the entrance was kind of stuck. She pushed it with her might, but the darned door refused to open. When she used all her strength and kicked it for the last time, it opened forcefully, hitting someone on the other side. Maleeka wanted to run away, but she knew it was no use. It would be better to apologize. She heard the person groaning so she peeked slowly. When she saw the cloth the person was wearing, her heart did a double flip. 
     "I'm so so sorry" she muttered wiping her sweaty hands on her gown as she swallowed. The person had clutched his forehead. 
     "What the hell is wrong with you?" he yelled angrily standing up. When he saw Maleeka his demeanor changed instantly. He shyly scratched his nape seeing he had yelled at Maleeka.
     "O my God! Maleeka" Yarima Azeem yelled, beaming brightly. She giggled seeing he had suddenly forgotten about his forehead. 
     "I'm sorry Azeem. But what were you doing bending down by the door?" she asked trying to find out how he got hit was a bit weird. 
     "The lock was misbehaving. I wanted to take a look but your taekwondo skills caused me a lumpy forehead" he ranted folding his arms accusingly. She laughed heartily at his statement. 
Azeem, unlike his siblings, had a sweet personality. Azeem would rather wear normal clothes, roam the town and follow girls about, unlike Yarima and Azeema who had to use a convoy whenever they were going out. 
     "Sorry!" she mumbled apologetically.
     "Are you here for Azeema, she's been talking about you since when we arrived" he said, making her wonder when they had exactly arrived. 
     "I could massage it for you" she suggested when she noticed how engrossed he was in stroking his swollen forehead slowly. He turned to her scowling, making her chuckle. 
     "Haven't you done enough?" He said massaging his forehead making her giggle apologetically.
On getting to Azeema's room, Maleeka tried so hard not to ogle at the room. It was every shade of perfect, neat, beautiful, arranged and homely. The scent of humrah and a room freshener gave the room a rather sweet scent one would want to die in. 
     "Maleeka" Azeema squealed, squeezing the life out of Maleeka who had a fake smile plastered on her face. 
     "I've missed you so much. I was eager to come back so we could chat and catch up. I have a whole lot of things to tell you. Wow! I love your boubou, where'd you buy it from?" she stated all at once twirling Maleeka as she took in her structure. 
     "I.... I.... Uhmm asked a friend to make it for me" she stated becoming uncomfortable with Azeema's scrutinizing gaze. 
     "It's beautiful. You look so pretty" Azeema said, smiling softly. 
     "Yeah she's hot. See ya" Azeem yelled walking away. Maleeka couldn't help but smile at his retreating figure. Azeem is a big drama king. He always blew things out of proportion.
     "Eww, Don't tell me you're checking Azeem out" Azeema shrieked, making Maleeka cringe. This is another reason she didn't like hanging out with Azeema. She's way too Barbie for her. She ignored Azeema. If she denies it, it will cause more shrieky annoying giggles she wasn't sure she could stand. 
     "Azeema, Mother is asking for you" Yarima said, swiping through his phone. He had no idea Maleeka was seated on the purple plush sofa she was seated on. 
     "I'll be with her shortly" Azeema replied from the bathroom. He nodded, then majestically started leaving the room, still buried in his phone. Maleeka held her breath hoping he'd go without noticing her. 
     "Yarima, Maleeka is here" Azeema added loudly, making both of them stiffen up. 
He turned abruptly and scowled at her. You could see irritation plastered all over his face. When his eyes met hers, he looked at her demeaningly. She just annoys him. Maleeka felt belittled. She didn't know what wrong she ever did to Yarima. Why had he decided he didn't like her?
He scowled at her one more time, with his chin and shoulders high, he walked out of the room like the handsome prince he is with irritation plastered on his pretty face.