Abuja.

LIFE is full of surprises but she certainly wasn't ready for what was in store for her that day...she doesn't know about it just yet. It started eight years ago. Well, eight years three months and five days to be exact, a day she'll never forget.

Mariam Abdou Balde walked out of her room freshly dressed in metal black shirt featuring a notch collar and cuff sleeves. Her lower curvaceous body is enshrouded in navy blue high-waist jeggings and ebony Yves Saint Laurent pumps. Her natural wave hair was velour-black and it offset her oxblood-red lips. She needed no makeup, naturally perfected that's up to her advantage.

She had been brought up in a world vastly different from this. A world where food is not always available on the table or good clothes to wear. Where the food they ate was either brought from faraway neighbors or something she would have to close her nose to eat it or regurgitate.

It is a life she had loathed since she was little and now it is not happening, she's taken the reins. Neither is it going to ever happen again.

Also one of the many reasons why she's never been on good terms with her mother for a very long time. Eight years to be precise.

Mariam believes that everyone has their own linear perspective on life whether to live in the slums or decide to get a name for yourself somewhere. Because she's chosen a good life for herself in a wrong way, her mother is all over her but that won't change anything in her life or her view of the world. It doesn't matter what her mother wants or thinks. It is her life and she'd govern it the way she's always wool gathered.

She is done living in the slums, her mother wont be able to take her back even with countless emotional blackmails and physical ones the first time she's taken this route for herself. If she wont come and enjoy opulence with her, then she shouldn't stop her from enjoying it herself. That's a selfish move her mother is desperately trying to work with but failing miserably time and time again.

They are both extremely recalcitrant.

She opened her brand new iPhone using face ID. The phone is yet to be in Nigeria but like it was aforementioned, she's gotten influential beyond what anyone had thought. Even she couldn't believe the eminence she's got sometimes. Had she knows wealth comes very easily when you stir away from the right path, she would've done that long long time ago. Without remorse.

Checking her call logs, she met many missed calls as the phone was on 'Do Not Disturb' mode as usual. Of course, Madina had called her billion times already.

They were supposed to see a Doctor twenty minutes earlier but she's never been one to be on time, at the bottom of her list for there is nothing wealth cannot do. And her mother wanted to take all that from her while she sits there and watch? Never! She's gotten so used to this life that nothing could end her subscription. The most important person in her life couldn't get her out of it too.

She dialed Madina's number who picked up after the first ring.

"Where on earth have you been?" Madina shrieked from the other end sounding thoroughly annoyed.

In her cool acerbic tone, she answered like the ice queen she is considered to be. "Madina... you know I can hear you perfectly without you shrieking like that right?"

The sound of Madina taking deep breaths reached her ears making roll her eyes at the girl's annoying tactics. "You overuse this DND. Where on earth are you right now? I've been waiting for you for ages."

"I called to tell you about my change of plans."

"Which change of plans, Mariam? We are already late for the appointment. And you know this doctor is very busy and important." Madina is clearly irritated at her friend's attitude which keeps augmenting by the day.

"I want to go see my mother. It won't take long so I'll meet you there. Get a cab or something." She drummed her stiletto dark nails unconsciously on the steering wheel.

"It's okay just don't make it more harder on her." Madina's voice lightened as she talked about her mother knowing how strained their relationship is.

"Or the other way around." Mariam murmured loud enough for Madina to hear and she did.

Sighing from the other end, Madina said encouragingly. "Just be careful what you say to her. She's fragile now whether you want to believe me or not. Part away with at least a light heart and not scowl with raging heartbeat and let's not forget, curses from both angles."

Mariam looked into the rear view mirror of her frost white GLK Benz, grimly. Madina knows everything about her even though Mariam hardly talks about her family with anyone. It's a topic she would want to mull over all alone by herself for her own peace of mind since she's got no guilt within her. At first, she didn't want to leave her mother but then again, live in that ugly place?

"Yeah whatever. I'll call you later." And with that she hung up her phone, push it inside her bag and accelerated out of her gigantic mansion.

The drive to her mother's house was uneventful, no one called out to her rough driving here in Abuja because they all don't have the good conscience to drive safely. They drive like the devil is chasing after their lives.

She grimaced when she reached the area her mother resides, around Lugbe. Why is the woman so stubborn that she doesn't want to leave a house that is slowly crumbling down with each rainy season? She is close to a small lake in a rent house where other five people reside backbiting one another because they don't have work to do. That what poverty does to people.

Her mother sells pepper, dried okro, potassium, local herbs and whatnot but all of them without a single kobo from her. She wouldn't accept a dime after she asked her the first where she got her money from and she brazenly told her what happened. What was there to hide? She has always been an honest girl. And she's never been shy her entire life. Maybe that came from her father?

"Hajiya Sauda took me to go meet a rich guy. He is so rich, Maman! He kissed me and touched my breasts then gave me hundred thousand with promise for more next time if I cooperate." Those were the exact words she had told her mother looking at the new one thousand naira note bundle in her hand.

Her mother had stared at her with an open mouth, trying to gauge out whether her daughter is mentally unstable or not. Of course she was in her right state of mind but her mother didn't understand that then. She refused to believe her daughter stood there in front of her, insolently telling that. She was galvanized and horrified to say the least.

When she finally found her footing, she sputtered out. "Don't you ever go anywhere with that Hajiya Sauda after everything people are saying about her. I shouldn't see you anywhere near her again, alright? And you are going to return that money to her right now!" She shook her shoulders hard, her eyes wide and wild with fear.

Fear? What's there to be frightened about? Mariam had wondered.

Slowly extricating her shoulders from the bruising grip her mother had on her, Mariam stared deep into her mother's smoldering eyes so much like her own. The nineteen year old was hell-bent on having her way this time around even though she knew surfeit was at risk. The both of them scooped in a small room surrounded by many plastic bowls filled with her mother's local herbs, dried ginger and others, the fetid scent strong in the air....

Oh, she couldn't wait to leave that environment and wake up to the aroma of abundance, riches and lap of luxury.

"Maman, I know well enough that what Hajiya Sauda is doing is wrong and what I did is too. But the point is... I don't care. As long as I will get rich and live a lavish life. If you want to join and enjoy my success because in Hajiya Sauda'a words, I am an asset, then feel free to do so. Nothing will change my decision for I am tired of living this life of poverty." She had told her mother looking straight in her eyes.

They didn't talk for the next two weeks albeit living in the same room, eating from the same bowl of food. She hated it but they both have things they want that the other doesn't, they should accept that and move on. That is what they did while losing the closeness they once had because they were attached by the hip until that twist of fate.

Mariam had missed her mother's stories, the way she would stroll and saunter her fingers through her hair while she sleeps.

But in those two weeks, Mariam got richer than any harlot living in Abuja. She created a name for herself without them knowing the face for such havoc. Hajiya Sauda herself seized to exist, she paled in comparison to what became of Mariam, the girl she had introduced into the business. That was when she saluted, it was already in her blood to become a temptress, enchantress. And the men in Abuja had no idea what was coming.

One month into her business, Mariam was ready to buy her own duplex in Wuse 2. It was chaotic. Topsy-turvy. Jumbled. An uproar that had everyone questioning where she got so rich from, asking her mother and gossiping behind their backs. She knew people were going to talk, she gave them more reasons to when she packed away from Lugbe. Away from her mother and her herbs. Away from the putrid smell of penury.

She was so eager when her car arrived the day she was supposed to leave, a Snow Discussion Continue. She packed her new stuff there and left the rest for her mother, the old ones.

She refused a single dime from her 'cursed' money which didn't hurt Mariam even a little, she was right after all.

Back to present, she parked her car few feet away from the moth-eaten house she grew up in. She eyed the place with distaste, her mother is so stubborn just like she is which is why none of them want to lower their standards so they could be on good terms like before. The time they were genuinely wrapped around one another to the hip, inseparable like sisters and not mother and daughter duo.

So what if her money is dirty? The entire world is dirty and you must get ahold of that filthy thing one way or the other. Either a cultist held it before, a kidnapper, armed robber or the likes of them. Her pride wont permit her to enjoy the remains of her days.

And Mariam won't beseech her to do what is good for herself.

Walking to the cheap red bricks building made from mud, she held her bag in her arm tightly, her expensive heels sinking into the russet colly clay below. She grimaced the whole way not paying attention to the little children looking at her with wide excited eyes filled with awe. She was not there for them and children are not her forte. Making it inside, she released a deep breath filled with exertion, it wasn't easy.

Her eyes surveyed the home she grew up in, severely with disrelish. If not for her mother's pertinacity, she would've lived in the best houses anywhere she wants in Abuja or the whole world. Mariam now own houses away from Nigeria. Just utter the word and her life will change for the better in a whole new world. With many maids that she wont have to do anything again for the rest of her life. Not even lift her finger if she so much wish.

Her head held up high, she passed the other women in the compound either dressed in an old wrapper and shirt that had seen better days or old gown that's tattered, she trudged to her mother's room, the only decent place in the compound. She could hear the women gossiping about her behind, she only smiled. It had never bothered her and it wont start now.

"Now she's become rich we won't rest."

"What rich? She is a prostitute or have you forgotten? She is dirty filth."

"She thinks she's better than us now."

"It's her mother's fault for allowing such nonsense. I would've beaten my daughter to death if she decides to do this..."

They all spoke in Hausa which she doesn't understand much of, she is glad about that too.

She didn't knock on her mother's door that is chirped from below. Entering inside like she owns the place, she found her mother lying on bed with a tweed rosary in one hand. She wasn't sleeping, her eyes were wide open staring at her tan carton ceiling that had weird patterns courtesy of water that is leaking from it. It is a wonder the house hasn't collapsed yet. It had been like that for ages, since she was a baby.

The woman on the bed began to rise leisurely at the feel of someone's presence in her room who smells like her daughter. Of course, she stood in the middle of the room —looking out of place like she didn't grow up there— almost naked. She didn't feel repulsive for the first time since she'd taken that route. She has come to terms that her daughter is just a little lost and that is it. All she could do now is watch and pray, nothing more.

She stared into her little girl's eyes who now is not so little anymore, at twenty seven though she still managed to look younger than that. Probably because of her their Malian blood. Full-blooded ones. Her eyes are tiger-brown, like two pools of liquid inferno, bisque skin tone almost porcelain but a bit darker due to the sun in Nigeria. Her skin is as smooth as a moonstone, like her smile used to be.

"Good morning, Maman." She tried sitting down on the floor but couldn't so she dragged a wooden stool from beneath her bed and sat down on it. Where she belongs but doesn't fit.

"And you are here today because...?" Her mother asked instead because the last time she was there, they fought hard before she left, that was about five months ago.

Mariam's mother, Aissata Mamadou is a Malian woman through and through. She was born and brought up there only came to Nigeria because she married Mariam's father an equally Malian man who abandoned them when they came to Nigeria. They had to leave Mali because of the famine and dearth catastrophe that had attacked the country leaving many people impoverished, some dead and others starved. They came to Nigeria for refuge and got offered help.

It wasn't easy bringing a daughter in an unknown country after being abandoned by her husband whom she had no idea where he disappeared to. Whether dead or alive. She doesn't care now, she had gotten strong enough to take care of herself and her daughter looks to be doing fine too with her line of business. A paramour to half the men in Abuja or more.

She hated her daughter after she found out what she was up to, she still doesn't love her like she had before. She is living her best life though, safe and tucked somewhere. Her only wish is that something traumatic should happen to her so she could repent. It doesn't matter what, she should just repent and go back to her Lord.

Rolling her eyes, Mariam pursed her pouty lips marred with translucent lip gloss. "Maman, I'm not here to fight with you today. Just stopped by to say hi and see if you've changed your mind about my offer to aid you."

Sitting up and lying her back supine against the chirped lemon green wall, Aissata regarded her daughter coolly. Her eyes lacking the warmth they once had reserved for her. Only her. Everything had changed and it is only getting worse by the day.

"I don't need your help. Thank you so much for stopping by but you can leave now." Aissata murmured tyrannically to show her daughter who the boss really is.

Mariam eyed their surrounding to emphasize just how not good her condition is but Aissata refused to budge, her face still merged with an ugly scowl till Mariam shrugged her shoulders and gave up. It is time to leave then, there is no winning with this woman and like Madina had advised her, she won't part with a scowl today.

"As you wish, Maman. Just know that my offer still stands if you change your mind." She stood up from the wooden stool permitting her lustrous raven hair to fall to one shoulder.

"Why do you have to dress like this even though you are a prostitute? You mustn't show it to the world." Aissata found herself saying before she could reign her tongue.

Shrugging and looking a bit confused at her mother's weird question, she answered. "I like dressing like this. It is the only way to show my wealth." How expensive each piece of clothing she wore is... sighs!

Aissata didn't answer but felt a bile rising from her throat. She is being emotional and it is useless when it comes to Mariam, she is far too gone and only miracle could help at this rate. She looked down at her hands as her girl got ready to leave, removing a RayBan sunglasses to shield her eyes. Oh, what is life turning into? Why are we so greedy for the worldly materials? Leaving the path we know is the right one that will lead goodness to us? What is the hurry?

Looking at her through the glasses, Mariam zoomed her eyes on the depressed signs all over her mother's fragile frame. The saggy posture, bent neck, lethargic hand movement, vacant stare and intemperate bags beneath her eyes. She is aging rapidly like the Malian blood has left her white beautiful skin, pencil nose and cute pouty lips like hers.

She swallowed a thick gob of saliva down her throat. Is she the one doing this to her mother?

"Well, have a great day ahead." She turned around and hastily left the room before she could embarrass herself by maybe hugging her or crying like a baby.

She didn't hear when her mother said; "May you be guided into the right path, Mariam." For the first time she prayed for her with excessive hope in her chest.

Walking out of the room, Mariam took a deep breath to clear her head. Being emotional after meeting her mother was new then what was that she felt in there? Or maybe it is because they weren't on each other's throat today for the first time in forever. Which is why she always loved it when they quarrel, they are keeping their emotions in check. Putting a front.

When she was passing by the women living with her mother in the rent house, she removed a bundle of one thousand naira note and threw it at them. The women were quick to take it from the muddy floor erasing the dirt with their own clothes.

"Get something to do and stop gossiping naked in smelly clothes." With that she yawed around and sashayed out of the house in her catwalk strides, head held up high and eyes as calculating as ever.

Settling inside her car, she removed her phone from her bag and called Madina.

"You are done already?" Madina questioned the minute she answered the phone sounding perplexed.

"Yes and we were not on each other's throat, surprisingly." She turned her car around and maneuvered out of the dinky place scowling at the dirt her tire is probably exhibiting grotesquely.

"Well, isn't that a record you broke."

"I know. Where are you right now?"

"Home." Madina answered shortly, her hands busy around the veil she decided to change last minute.

"I thought you left for the hospital?" Mariam's scowl deepened if that was possible.

"Change of plans, Boo." She repeated her words from earlier. So like Madina to want to get back at her for petty things.

"I'm coming to pick you up so you better be dressed before I do." And she hung up the phone moodily.

Back to business.

Now tell me what you think about this... Hello!

01-02-23