STRANGE ENCOUNTER

★★★★★

Watching his cousin dash away hurriedly made him stare in confusion with a blank look on his face. A thought came to his mind that he might have said something to stir her emotions. That was the only rational reason he could come up with as to why she had acted like that. But the question was, what could he have said that would have such an effect on her because he had caught a glimpse of tears at the corners of her eyes? As he stood there lost in his thoughts, he heard someone call his name.

"Zayn!" It was his mother. She approached him wearing a beautiful smile. She held two flutes filled with red wine in both hands.

"Mum?" He mumbled, looking at her as if to say 'What are you doing?' He didn't know if he was happy to see her. For the past few days, she had been bugging him with the same topic, marriage. so anytime he saw her his heart shrunk. He had been dancing to her tone probably because she was his mother and he just couldn't defy her orders.

He hated loud crowded spaces. At some point in his life, he had thought he was agoraphobic because he disliked open spaces and people. There was no way in the world he would want to inconvenience himself with all these people invading his privacy, that was why his mother was doubtful when he finally succumbed to letting the party be held at his house.

"This is for you, my child." She said sweetly, handing him one of the flutes in her hand.

"Mum, what are you up to?" He raised a curious brow as he collected the flute from her. He had to ask that question because he knew definitely that his mother was out to get him again.

"I'm doing my job as a mother." She smiled

"I can see that." He took a sip from his drink, his expression was neutral as his mother was now standing very close to him. She looked up at him cheerfully, an internal smile lingering in her mind.

"Look around you, son." She spoke in a sagacious tone and her son looked at her with one of his eyes half closed in a way that clearly stated 'What am I to look at here?'

"Now do you know why these people are here?" He internally wished she didn't just ask that as the reason was not oblivious to anyone present at the party unless the person had amnesia. " They are here because of you, because of who you are, because of what you stand for. We won't be having this much gathering here today if you weren't successful as a young man. You should be proud of who you have become and learn to take charge of who you are. If your father and I had not stood by you just so you could stand out amongst your peers....." Just before she could finish her speech he interrupted.

"Mother, I'm not in any competition with anybody." He said in a shrewd manner aiming to rest his backside on the chaise lounge since he was tired of standing. His mother, determined, followed behind him and carried on with her speech taking her seat beside him on the couch.

"I'm not saying that you are competing with anyone. All I'm trying to say is that these people have come from far and wide in your honour. You should go out there and show them some gratitude and appreciation."

"I don't think my spirit will allow me to do such." He blurted, knowing what his mother wanted him to do and though he had promised to do whatever she wanted only for that night. That was because she had invited almost half of the people that were present there. The celebrant not showing up at his party would not sit well in the minds of the guests.

For once he was glad that she wasn't talking about marriage, possibly suggesting that he chose from any of the girls around and propose marriage right away.

"Look Zayn, I want you to drop this carefree attitude of yours. Is this how you'd lead the people by the time you're crowned the emir?" Her voice was audible enough so only he could hear her but it wasn't a whisper and unless someone was deliberately listening to their conversation one couldn't hear them speak.

Listening to his mother's quiet rants, his eyebrows were now knitted together in annoyance."I've already told you people that I'm not interested in becoming an Emir or whatever you call it." His tone wasn't as polite as he had intended and it hurt him to speak to his mother in such a manner. "Father has relinquished the throne and so have I." He paused, seeing the disappointment in his mother's eyes.

"I don't appreciate your tone." She uttered in all earnesty. He ran a clammy hand through his hair. Her presence was becoming a threat to his integrity.

"Listen, mother," He huffed, making his tone a little lighter. "My position as the crowned prince is invalid as long as it is not Father that is seated on that throne. You should be having this talk with Omar, not me. He'd be glad to listen to you."

Why must she pick the wrong time to start a fight with her son?

"Why have you chosen to follow in your father's footsteps? If you do not do the needful and ascend the throne when the time comes for you to do so I will fight you. My spirit will fight you even if I were dead."

Hearing those words from his mother his mouth fell on the floor, staring agape at her. "You don't mean that. Ummaya please take back those words." He only called his mother Ummaya when he was on good terms with her but because he was astonished by her words he had subconsciously said things he couldn't hear himself saying because of the love and respect he had for her despite being quite stubborn.

Banu, being aware of how uneasy she had made her son, decided to put him in an even tighter corner, one that he couldn't escape. She carried on with her emotional harassment. "I mean every word I've said here. And I'll only take back those words if you go out there and do the needful." She knew her place in her son's heart and always used it to her advantage.

Out of respect and honour for his mother, Zayn gave up and yet again yielded to her request even though he desperately didn't want to do it. The young man might be anything anyone thought him to be but he was never disobedient to his parents, especially his mother. "Fine... I'll do it then." He gave a frustrated sigh before standing up and heading toward the microphone.

"Assalamualaikum warahmatullah wabarakatuh.." He greeted over the microphone in a pure Arabic accent which drew everyone's attention to his direction. He looked at the microphone, speechless. He showed no sign of discomfort or nervousness rather he looked very confident but he had no clue what to say.

This wasn't a patient's file that he'd just run through and read the test results before giving a diagnosis. He was going to give a damn speech and somehow that had suddenly become the hardest thing to do. For him keeping silent amidst the audience was better than stammering on the microphone.

Wearing a bold look, his eyes scanned the guests and they laid on Yasmeen, the only person he could recognize at that moment out of everyone his eyes had captured. She looked up at him and their eyes met before she mouthed a 'thank you' at him. He smiled when he saw her mouthing something that seemed like she was saying thank you. He couldn't understand why that had made him smile but he suddenly knew what to say next.

"Thank you all for honoring our invitation to this auspicious event." He meant that sarcastically in a way to spite his mother if she was listening to the speech but his tone had delivered the message unjustly. "I must say that I'm glad to have every one of you seated here in my life. You people have been a crucial part of the journey, especially my parents, my grandmother, and of course my beloved friend, Omar. In moments like this people like me don't usually have much to say because words cannot describe what I feel within. Alhamdulillah, it has been a long journey. Right now all I can say is Barak Allahu Feekum (may God bless you all), I appreciate everyone for coming." He concluded his speech and dropped the microphone in its place as everyone applauded.

He went to his mother and picked up his phone from where she was seated before whispering: "Are you happy now ?" in her ears. She didn't care whether he was in a bad mood or not, she was just thrilled that he had done as she wished.

He grabbed his phone and took a sip from the flute in his hand, for a moment he felt like gulping everything down his gut to quench the fire that was burning inside of him. To avoid any further infuriation he decided to head to his bedroom. On his way there he stopped somewhere in the room to thank Yasmeen who had helped him earlier. Yasmeen was delighted to be of help to him even in the smallest way, after all, he once saved her life.

He continued to walk down a straight line until he met his brother and cousins seated at the back corner of the room with Omar standing next to them.

"What's up, Sheikh?" Asked Omar who saw the fury in his eyes but was a little distracted by his younger cousin, Khalid's greetings.

"I'm all good man," He said, turning to Omar who was exchanging the salaam with the boys and subsequently sat with them on the couch. That was the typical Omar, full of humility. He could associate with anyone regardless of age, unlike Zayn. He knew who to associate with, definitely not kids. He did try being friendly with them too even though he wasn't fun to be around.

Khalil stood up to greet Zayn and he pulled him in and gave the kid a gentle squeeze which made the boy giggle, after which he asked about his well-being before releasing him. He couldn't help but notice Imran who was looking rather downbeat as he exchanged greetings with the other boys.

Turning to an absent-minded Imran he crooked a sly smile despite the annoyance he felt within."Oh! lemme guess. You lost, didn't you?" He stated and Imran looked up at his older brother, forcing a sad smile.

"How did you know?" He inquired.

"I can tell by the shame in your eyes," Zayn smirked, earning a small laugh from him. Imran had lost a game to Fawzan for the first time in his life. The reason for his bad mood was that he gambled his phone on the game and now he'd have to hand it to Fawzan, he had just thirty minutes to do that. Now he was thinking of how he'd survive without a phone until he got a new one.

Soon the boys resumed their game. Omar joined them while Zayn continued the journey to his room. He headed upstairs to the top floor and felt a hand slip under him, grabbing his arm as soon as he made his way to the corridor. He turned to his side swiftly to see who it was.

Aliya, his younger sister had appeared from nowhere. Where was she coming from? He hoped she wasn't coming from his room. He looked at her suspiciously before averting his eyes from her.

"What are you angry birds so angry about?" she jeered, holding him tightly as she followed by his side.

"Angry bird?" He shot her daggers and Imaginarily banged her head against the wall.

"Did you get into a fight with your girlfriend?" She mocked him again and he found himself pulling away from her hold. By 'your girlfriend' she meant his mother because she knew it was only their mother that would put him in such a sour mood but an angry Zayn thought otherwise.

According to him, Aliya was an annoying spoilt brat. Out of all the members of the family, she chose to be the most obnoxious. She had a thing for being disrespectful towards him in particular despite being his younger sister.

His thought was interrupted when his phone buzzed. He reached for it in his pocket and started to walk away, leaving the obnoxious little brat there. It was a video call from Ahmad, an old friend of his and a very close one. He Slid his thumb across the screen to connect with him.

"Assalaam Alaikum" Ahmad's thick voice echoed from the other end, filling the air with his laughter and Zayn joined him.

"Wa alaikum salaam, Green man." He called him by his sobriquet as he took in his appearance from the other end. Ahmad had grown into a man just like the rest of them. By 'Green man' he meant 'a man in army uniform' because his dear friend was in the military now. Ahmed was an army officer. After completing his university degree he went for a Short Service Commission (SSC) before joining the Nigerian army as suggested by his father.

"Man, it's good to see you again. It's been forever. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing great, Brother."

"I can see that," Ahmad beamed.

"How about you? What have you been up to?"

"I've been fighting Boko Haram in the Sambisa forest." He joked and they laughed. After they both laughed for a while Ahmad sighed and decided to give him a serious reply."I've been so seriously busy with work these days that I hardly have time for myself. Kano is not a playground for kids, it's a battlefield for men." Ahmad being a military man and a businessman staying in a huge commercial city like Kano, things could be stressful for him.

"Talking about Kano, how is the weather over there?" Zayn asked, thinking back to those days when they were still young secondary school boys in the city, they would spend hours roasting in the scorching gaze of the sun all in the name of playing football. Look at them now, they barely have time for themselves not to talk of having fun.

Ahmad smiled."The weather here is anything but friendly." He joked again."At times I wonder if the sun is slowly descending on us here. It can never be over-emphasized that it is always hot here."

"Are you for real? To think that I was planning to drop in on you and probably stay around for a couple of days." He thought about the temperature, comparing it to that of Abuja. In Kano every season came with its own extremity, when it was Harmattan it was damn cold and when it was summer it was like the gate of hell had been opened near the city. Being at the equator it was normal for the temperature to be a little higher here in Nigeria when compared to the USA. He was missing the California weather already. He didn't see himself getting used to the weather over here.

"Oyinbo (foreigner), when are you coming?" He saw Ahmad grin widely.

"Don't call me that," He said, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay sir," Ahmad mumbled.

"I won't tell you. Just anticipate my coming" It was Zayn's turn to grin as he saw a frown flash in Ahmad's eyes.

"Alright, I hope you come before the marriage."

"Who's getting married?"

Ahmad gave a sad sigh before saying."Na me (I'm the one)" He spoke in Pidgin English which was their language of fun back in the day."It's the reason I called you, to inform you about my forthcoming wedding." The look in Ahmad's eyes and his unenthusiastic tone gave away the impression that he wasn't pleased with the marriage of a thing. Zayn was well aware of this because he knew that Ahmad was already married to his cousin, Teslim. And even though he didn't attend the wedding Ahmad had sent him photos and videos via WhatsApp while he was away.

"Woah! No way! When?" He tried to act surprised. As boys Zayn, Ahmad, and Omar had planned to get married on the same day. He was not sure about that anymore. At twenty-six going to twenty-seven, he wasn't sure if he was ready for marriage. Omar on the other hand didn't even have a woman in his life. Omar was still busy playing around with girls, he didn't even have plans on settling down yet. They had been too young to make such promises to each other and he doubted if they remembered that silly promise still.

"Two months from now." He proudly announced but it looked like Ahmad was hiding something from his friend, Zayn could sense it.

"To who? Wait! let me guess, Tasleem?" He saw glee in his eyes at the mention of her name. His smile was now replaced with a frown. He could almost see the sarcasm in Zayn's words.

"Come on, brother. You know Teslim and I are already married."

"I had to ask if maybe I have miraculously traveled back in time to witness the wedding since I was not present at my brother's marriage." Zayn was being really sarcastic this time and quite sagacious too. He knew he had to draw the truth out of Ahmad and it was not going to be easy going straight to the point. "Do you want to remarry another Tasleem or I'm the one who's stuck in the wrong timeline?"

"It's a long story, ya akhi." Ahmad gave a wistful sigh.

"Well, cut the long story short. Was it an arranged marriage or you just enjoy polygamy now?" Out of curiosity zayn had to ask because he knew how much Ahmad had loved Teslim since childhood and wouldn't do anything to hurt her feelings. This news only meant one thing-something was wrong somewhere. He was already feeling too persistent in trying to scoop the truth from his friend, but Ahmad was a hard nut to crack. He was hiding something and wasn't ready to spill it out, any moment soon.

"This is not something we can discuss over the phone. I'll create a time to come over to Abuja so we can discuss everything in person. It's a very delicate matter." Ahmad explained in all sincerity.

"Oh! I see you're trapped?" Was the only words Zayn could manage knowing where his friend was heading.

"Well, I chose to be trapped," chuckled Ahmad.

"Are you okay being trapped?" Zayn was directing this question more to himself than Ahmad.

"I guess I am." Ahmad nodded with a weak smile.

"I'm happy for you."

"Do you mean that?" He asked because looking at Zayn's face, he didn't look like someone happy.

"No! but I'm happy for you, for real." He told Ahmad genuinely and he nodded with a soft smile creeping its way to his lips, even though he was contradicting his own words.

"To the upcoming married man." He raised his wine flute in front of his screen as a sign of toast. The smile on Ahmad's face grew bigger. Zayn knew his friend was faced with some kind of difficult situation. And he trusted him to do the right thing since he was more modest than any of his other friends. When it came to modesty Ahmad was the king. It was the reason he adored him so much, he and Omar were like his brothers from another parent. His mind temporarily drifted to their childhood days, remembering how they got into trouble together, how they watched each other's back, how they kept each other's company.

"How is your dad?" Asked Ahmad. It was at this moment that Zayn realized that he had not seen his father since the day he returned home. The old man was out doing crazy experiments and was currently engrossed with work.

"My old man is probably having fun wherever he is right now, as always." He said and Ahmad immediately understood. Everyone knew that Zayn's father was a free bird, a crazy scientist, and a wild animal.

Walking with his phone held in front of him as he spoke to his childhood friend, a picture of an old man with grey Afro hair that reminded him of the great writer Wole Soyinka played in his mind. That was the only way he could picture his father right that moment since he hadn't seen him for years. They only spoke over the Telephone. And the Professor would only reach Zayn when he wanted any form of help or assistance. After that, he disappeared without a trace, yet the young man loved and cared for his father more than he had ever cared for anyone.

"So, how is Umma (my mother)?" Ahmad inquired, referring to Zayn's mother. Ahmad often called Banu his mother because both his mother and Zayn's mother bore the same name.

Ahmad's father was in the military too. He was brought up by his father's sister who took him in when his parents got separated. His father didn't want another man to raise his child so he handed Ahmad to his younger sister.

"She is very well, alhamdulillah!" Zayn replied and suddenly remembered why he was angry earlier, his mother was slowly becoming a nightmare.

"What about your aunt and her little daughter? How are they?" Zayn asked after a short silence Ahmad's aunt was like a mother to Zayn back in the day. She made the best of meals. He recalled how they used to hang out at Ahmad's place just to have a taste of her mouth-watering meal. Zayn had only grown so fond of her because she was his babysitter when he was still very little and her husband, Mr. Saleh, was his physics teacher and an intimate friend to his father. Mr. Saleh was the one who always knew the professor's whereabouts anytime he disappeared. He would always take Zayn to visit his father wherever he was, anytime the boy asked to see his father.

"They are both fine. By the way, I should be asking you about them because they are way closer to you than me."

"What do you mean?" He furrowed a puzzled brow.

"Umma no longer stays in Kano, she moved to Abuja two years ago." Zayn saw his face saddened. It looked like there was more to what he was telling him.

"After the death of her husband" He dropped the bomb and Zayn's eyes went wide. "She decided she couldn't stay here anymore. She got a job and moved to Abuja. Your father got her an apartment and her new job."

"Wait, why didn't anyone inform me about all these earlier?" He tried to hide his annoyance, shock, and confusion from the heart-aching news he had just received. Her husband was such a good man. Zayn's father always talked about him all the time.

Inna Lillahi wa innaa illaihi rajiun( We came from Allah and to Allah is our final return) Zayn internally prayed amidst his rage. The day just kept getting uglier for him.

"I guessed they didn't remember to tell you."

"Probably because I didn't ask." He huffed in abashment. Little information like this kept escaping his knowledge because he couldn't pay attention to his loved ones and the things that mattered the most to him.

He thought about how Mrs. Saleh might be coping with her little daughter, Hanamy. He knew she was a grown-up girl now but still, he felt she needed the love of both parents to survive this cruel world. He knew Teslim, her older sister was married and it was Ahmad's responsibility to protect his wife. But what about little Hanamy? Who would protect her? By now the responsibility might be weighing Mrs. Saleh down. She was a woman and every woman needed a man in her life to shield them against the menace of the society we live in. Innocent Hanamy and her mother lack this vital piece in both their lives. No brother, no father, or a son.

An image of little Hanamy running and trying to get away from him flashed in his eyes. Seven-year-old Hanamy was frightened by fourteen-year-old Zayn leaning by the door in a way that frightened her the most. He remembered that day because that day she had called Ahmad an 'old fart' which had made the boys laugh their way to the Durbar festival where they were going for horse racing. That was their last outing together. He also remembered that day because it was the last time he went to Ahmad's before he left for the States.

'Old Fart' He smiled at his thought recollecting her tantrums on that day. They were almost caught by their mother because of her loud mouth. The boys had barely escaped, making away with whatever they had come for when she ran off to tell on them.

"I wonder how my Hanamy might be coping now." He said out a little too loud and he knew Ahmad heard that. The 'my' was to show how much he cared about the little girl, he had always seen her and Teslim as his own younger siblings. He had forgotten what she looked like as a child not to talk of her grown-up self which he had never seen.

Little memories of her played in his heart anytime he saw his cat, Hanamy. It was a wild and untamed cat when Grandma Innajo had gifted it to him as a parting gift some days before he left for San Francisco. And because little Hanamy had exhibited the behavior of a wild cat the last time he saw her, it gave him an idea of what to name his new cat. He had named the cat after Hanamy and over the years the cat had grown to be quite peaceful and calm. He hoped just like his cat a grown-up Hanamy had also become collected and humble.

"What was that name she used to call you again?" Zayn asked and heard Ahmad laughing on the other end. He remembered the name was really funny but he secretly loved it and once in a while when he and Ahmad talked on the phone he'd teased him with the name. He had written the name down somewhere in his diary. He wanted to be sure if Ahmad remembered the name since it had been a long he teased him with it.

"Old Fart," Ahmad said, tilting his head backward, ready to burst out laughing again, just then everything Zayn had in his hands came crashing on the floor. His phone and his wine flute were lying helplessly on the floor.

Someone had bumped into him, making him drop his phone on the floor. He didn't care about the flute. It was his phone falling on the floor that anguished him. First, it was his mother, next it was Aliya who made snide comments to him, the bad news he had just received was still lingering in his heart, and now this stray person had to come to interrupt his call, a very important one. How was that day not the worst day of his life?

He saw her stare at him in shock before squatting to pick up his phone, hoping that she would hand it to him but she just stood there staring at him like he was an interesting piece of art being displayed in a gallery and she had stopped by to admire its magnificence.

Is this human even aware of herself right now? perhaps she had left her brain somewhere because why the hell is she acting strange, holding my phone in her hands and why is she looking at me like that?

"Can I have my phone?" He bellowed, not meaning to sound so harsh but he couldn't contain his anger. He saw her expression turn into fear. He didn't mean to scare her but he was too angry to care about that. He was in the middle of a very important call and she just had to ruin it for him. What the hell was she doing there?

Why isn't she with the others downstairs? See my point, you give people an inch and they'll take a mile. Now, why should a normal human being be invading someone else's privacy? This was one of the issues I complained to Mother about. What if she steals any of my art?

Aliya had taken Hannan to the third floor of the building where Zayn resided. He had occupied that side of the house because he didn't want to be easily reached when he was at home, he loved having alone time with his thoughts and imaginations and the last thing he wanted was anyone invading his privacy. Most of the paintings on the wall were his handiwork.

"Sorry...sir," She stuttered, handing the phone to Zayn. "Please have your phone," he noticed her fidgeting. When he glanced at the phone screen, the video call had disconnected and there was a crack on the screen. Great! He will try not to explode with anger.

Who she was and why she looked so incredibly fine despite the colour of the hijab she wore didn't go with the dinner gown she had on was a detail he didn't fail to notice. He didn't know a hijabi could be that pretty. Was she another of his cousins that he knew nothing about? Anyways, whoever she was, she shouldn't be up there.

That place was restricted for distant relatives and strangers, even for Aliya, his sister. He saw her coming closer, she was going to clean the stain on his jacket.

What is she doing? She must be really obtuse to even attempt that.

He couldn't allow a random stranger to touch him and his blood was already boiling inside, "Stop right there! I'll do it myself." He tried his best not to sound crabby but she wasn't having it.

"Sir, let me help you." He knew she was only being polite because of the little accident that just occurred but what part of 'I will do it myself' did she not understand? She was going to lay her filthy hands on him.

"Did you not hear me? I said I will do it myself" His voice came out more thunderous than he intended. And he knew the look on his face was deadly as he could feel it himself, a twitch by the corner of his eyes. He could tell she was scared by the way her body went rigid. Okay, He shouldn't have reacted like that. It was just a small accident and he was directing his anger towards her for no reason.

He was mad because no one told him about Mr. Saleh's death. That man and his family meant so much to him. Mr. Saleh was ten times everything his father ever was. He and his wife were like Zayn's second parents. He was his physics teacher and jockey coach. He taught him everything he knew about horse racing. He had to pay homage to his wife and daughter by visiting them as soon as possible.

"I'm sorry," She said in a soft tone. looking up, her eyes met him and she blinked a couple of times before looking away. She was the shy type he guessed.

"Oh it's fine," he said, his voice dead. He had to leave there before his rage overpowered him. He was losing every ounce of sanity he had left bit by bit. He walked past her not understanding why he felt pity for her.

He felt the urge to apologize to her but his pride wouldn't let him, even if he tried. She deserved what she got, what was she doing standing there in the first place? He knew it was his fault that they collided because he was on a video call and wasn't looking in the direction where he was heading.

Throwing long strides towards his bedroom he called out to his manservant to come and clean up the mess that was on the floor. Thomas was the only servant who was not restricted in this area of the house. He was in charge of the third floor because of the level of trust his master had played in him. He had been Zayn's servant since childhood and during those years Zayn had grown to trust him even though he knew the man's place as a servant, he somehow considered Thomas as part of the family.

★★★★★

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