To the outside world, Alhaji Baffah Hassan remains an enigma. A man of very few words and very guarded when it comes to display of emotions. Piecing together his personality remains a mystery to all who know, heard or had encountered him. The one single thing however that is agreed upon by both business partners and acquaintances alike, was that he possessed a strong sense of justice.

To his family, it depends on who you ask; his wife thinks him as obstinate and too hung up on conservative ideals. To his kids, he is a combination of lax and stern, depending on what is at stake.

He believes integrity is a power possessed by so few men and he feels he is one more step closer whenever he carried out an honest act. Today he felt he had achieved that, for he had kept his promise...almost anyway.

Over the years, his lanky fulani physique has filled up, transforming him into a burly man with a slightly protruding belly. His hair started greying in his early twenties. Now that he is well into his fifties, his hair is a complete mass of luxurious matted silver, complemented with silver goatee and eyebrows.

What he had lost to premature greying, he was compensated with, by a skin that doesn't seem to age a day over thirty.

His once acquiline nose has filled up quite nicely softening his once severe look. His very light complexion is dusted with light sunspots underneath his piercing dark eyes that views the world through thick wire rimmed glasses.

The family was complete at the breakfast table, with the exception Muneefa who is married and resides with her family in N'djamena.

Each time he looked at Biba sandwiched between Anwar and Kamal, an almost invisible smile cuts across his face.

Her face reminds him a lot about Bayero. She has the same toffee complexion, the same upturned nose, high cheek bones and wide forehead. Her smile on the other hand was like her mom's. It is the kind that will makes you want to smile along.

As food was passed around, she looked uncomfortable, taking small helpings of the scrambled eggs, plantain chips and liver sauce.

When the milk was passed to her, she declined, which was met by surprised glances all round the table.

"It's alright Habiba, try it, it taste almost the same as the fresh one." said Alhaji Baffah.

"I don't drink...I mean, I don't like milk."

"It upsets my stomach." she added
when they all stared at her as if she had just grown a horn.

"ohoo, you have lactose intolerance then." Kamal said, reverting his attention to his phone.

She felt relieved that they bought it. they even had a fancy term for it.

"it is understandable when someone has had a lifetime of something, obviously." said Hajja

Alhaji Baffah cleared his throat, as it's his habit not to ridicule his wife in the presence of a third party however wrong she might be. She took the cue and dug into her eggs.

Hanny was at her best behaviour. She sat gracefully and sipped a cup of spiced tea with no sugar in it.

Kamal was engrossed in the task of stealing glances at his phone, eating, and trying to pay attention to the conversation, while his older brother ate in silence, taking great pains not to show his irritation.

"Anwar, what are your plans for the day?" his father asked

He carefully placed his fork beside his plate

"Nothing much, I am meeting Jabir later." he replied, he however omitted the part that he had another commitment that morning.

"Perfect then, you can take Habiba out and show her around."

Anwar knows an order when he hears one, and knows fully well the futility of trying to argue about it. He nodded and mumbled a barely audible "okay"

His mom paused a bit as if to protest, but thought better of it and continued eating.

Breakfast was over and the family had retired to the living room. Anwar has since gone upstairs "to get ready" he had said. But seeing he was already dressed up before breakfast, Biba wondered if there was a different kind of getting ready when it came to city dwellers.

Every now and then Alhaji Baffah would ask her random questions to which she answered in her usual unpretentious straight forward way.

"Go and see what is keeping him my dear." He looked at the time.

It took some minutes before she realised he meant she should go and fetch him. She was still getting to know some parts of the house, luckily, she had seen him enter his room after the early morning fiasco.

She said salam twice and got no answer. She took a deep breath, twisted the knob, and walked in.

Anwar was hunched over the night table which had streaks of white powder on it alongside a small container and a razor blade. In his hand, he held a rolled paper, the residue of the white powder he was snorting clung onto his nostrils.

He looked up and their eyes met. For a brief second, she was afraid how he would react, but what he did next surprised her. He smiled.

She saw something for the first time in his eye, a sparkle. The eyes had never failed to convey the disdain he felt for her, but now she saw something different in them.

Her mouth formed an O as she tried to make sense of what she was witnessing

"what? what are you looking at?" He asked.

"It's just that there was milk at the table, why didn't you drink it instead of sniffing it now?"

"oh Biba, Biba, Biba... aren't you smart? I think I might like you after all." he laughed. A real heartfelt laughter revealing his dimples and perfect set of teeth.

************************************

The drive was a silent one except for a few times he had to answer a call. Biba on her part was afraid to make as much sound so as not to provoke the real Anwar she had come to know.

He drove them to Trukadero, at Ademola Adetukunbo crescent. He got out and made a long call before instructing her to come out.

She trudged behind him as he made his way to the bowling alley, saying a few hellos and some handshakes along the way. It was obvious that he was a regular at the poshy hangout.

A tall dark guy in a white polo shirt and brown skinny jeans approached them. He was spotting a beard that is almost identical to Anwar's, his eyes were a bit slanted and goes perfectly with his lop-sided grin.

They shook hands like old friends. The smile was still there when he looked at Biba.

"I am Jabir Abdul- Jabbar, your husband's best friend, slash rival on several occasions, slash brother, slash your future friend. It's nice to meet you."

She couldn't help but laugh at the long intro.

"and if I may add, you have a killer smile, and I also apologise for missing your wedding, but it's more of your husband's fault than mine." he said laughing along.

All this while Anwar was making a call and from the little she heard, the person on the other end was on his way to meet them.

Jabir got her a table in the Trukadero restaurant and excused himself before getting back to Anwar who is still standing in the bowling alley and pacing to and fro.

The smile was gone off Jabir's face and he hit him on the shoulder.

"Aw man, what was that for."

"Ka fini sani ai, what you are trying to do is not cool man. what's her fault in all of this? You should go back right in there and for once act like a decent human being." He said looking him straight in the eye.

"wow! first it was my dad, then mama, and now you? come on man, give me a break. you saw her yourself J, what am I suppose to do with a girl like that? she doesn't know shit...except for getting on my nerves. that I can tell you she's good at for sure." he balled his fist as he talked.

Jabir felt for him, but at the same time he felt for the helpless girl back at the restaurant. He managed to convince him to go sit with her.

Jabir kept making dry jokes to ease up the tension at the table while they pretended to laugh at some of them. They were interrupted by the sultry voice of a drop dead gorgeous young lady.

Anwar stood up and gave her a brief hug. She shook hands with Jabir.

"Hi J."

"Alaa." He replied with a nod.

Jabir kept shooting daggers at Anwar, who didn't seem to care. She pulled a chair before extending a hand to Biba.

"hi, I am Alaa Housny el-moussa."

************************************

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