OCTOBER 1

Today I am sitting and thinking of how much i missed grandfather.

So is life.

No one is born to live forever.

Grandfathers or grandmothers are always the loves of grandchildrens lives.

We are pampered, spoilet and played with a lot as grandchildren. So nobody is suprised whenever we say silly things to our grandparents.

Rudeness wasnt allowed though.

I now sadly remember ooking at his frail body on the bed, I felt tears well up in my eyes. He looked so serene, peaceful. In that sacred rest I left him. Let him remain undisturbed.

And now as I ponder, my lips motionless I pray quietly,

May his gentle soul rest in peace.

Amen.

OCTOBER 22

It has been three weeks since grandfather, s death. I go this afternoon to see grandmother and deliver a message to her from father.

On our way I tell the driver that I would like to spend the whole day there in order to visit some friends and relations, and he answer,

"No problem, ma."

Also, I inform him that he could have some rest while I do my rounds on foot. After I have stayed with grandmother for a few minutes, she tells me that my friend Bebi has come to condole her and that she sends her condolence to our family in Kaduna, too.

"Are you dropping to see her today?" she adds.

"No, I shall go round to other relations' house I would like to see Cousin Labaran. Bebi's house will be next time," I explain and grandma understands.

So I go to Labaran's house.

His section which was built mside his father's compound is very clean.

I announce my arrival from outside and walk inside after exchanging greeting with some women outside the room. Labaran's wife, Amarya, is writing something on a piece of paper.

She stops and gets up to welcome me from inside the second room of her palour,being her bedroom. I must say I find her looking disturbed and wearing a very unfashionable dress which is too loose and has different wrapper which didnt match.

I feel like saying to her, "Why, Amarya, what's wrong with your dressing? You look awful!" But I restrain myself from saying so.

Since I would not like things to be concluded about me like that just because of mere appearances, so it is my duty not to say anything to her until she needs to be told.

After greetings she tells me that Labaran has gone to the market to do some shopping and she has been writing to her father to report him about something. "Hmm!" I grunt

"So maybe you are not supposed to see me looking like this. I even forget I was dressed this way, wearing a different wrapper from my dress," she says apologetically and promptly breaks down, sobbing. I stand there, arms akimbo, not knowing what to do Or what to say.

"Your cousin is getting married soon," she continues in between sobs." I am not staying with him anymore, I am fed up and to cap it all, he is marrying a secondary school leaver.

I have not been to school, you know. He has been making so much noise about it, telling me that soon he is going to feel like the enlightened man he had dreamt of being, and that he would start life as a new person." ´That unfair, I must say.

Why did he marry you in the first place if he knew he was going to find you uncivilized later?

´Uh hum Rabiat that's why I like you, you speak the truth. Let me go to the kitchen and come back. She gets up and goes to the kitchen to start preparing for lunch. I watch quietly, still at a loss about what else to tell her to put her mind at ease.

I am brooding when Labaran comes back.

"Hello Rabiat, how are  You? You today in our house? Hmm!" he feigns a surprise.

"It isn't you I came to say hello to I came to see your wife." I answer.

Sitting down, he picks up a copy of a weekly newspaper and starts to browse through it. "But it's too early, Labaran.

You have married only eleven years," I start, trying to dissuade him. "Must you marry again at all?" I add pleadingly. "I have had no intention of marrying until I fell in love with this girl, and I had never done anything ever since I met her except think of her, and dreaming of a life with her." he explains helplessly.

Just then, I hear a male voice announcing himself. It's Nasiru, Labaran's childhood friend. I am glad to see Nasiru after so many years. There he is, looking distinguished and his usual handsome self.

He had once sent me a love letter when I was in secondary, to which I never replied.

I didn·t know how to answer love letters then even though I had a crush on him too. Nasiru takes his seat in small, compact sitting room and asks after me and my mother, whom he says he hasn't seen for some time.

"Oh we are all fine," I reply. "Why nasiru? Maybe you've got married ever since without letting us hear about it," I say to him accusingly. "No I haven't, rabiat." You are long overdue, Nasiru," I observe earnestly.

"Well, I couldn't get a wife." "Are you serious? You!" "Of course, I am, since you are around, would you marry me? And when?" he teases.

"Tomorrow. I am not doing anything tomorrow," Comes my equally teasing answer. We all laugh heartily. "No, I am serious, nasiru.

Why aren't you married? I really want to know why," I insist. "It's because I once said I loved you when you were in secondary school and you never returned my love and I lost interest in love altogether."

" No,Not because of that," I say sourly. "You see, rabiat, I've had so many relationships and have even got engaged and called it off. I prefer to stay unmarried for a much longer while." "Yes, but I had no intentions of marrying until I find a woman who could communicate with me on the levels other than the horizontal, you know what I mean.

He said winking.

And since I myself was apparently unable to do anything except look at women in that way, this paragon of womanhood has proved to be as elusive as ever because almost every girl I met thinks that way. I want a less boring companion , infact I want a wife who would stimulate me mentally."

"Then you ought to marry a robot woman with a high I.Q., I tease. "Is that what you really advice me to do?"

Nasiru is looking at me in a way other than the one I know«in a romantic sort of way. I look away. After lunch I take excuse to go. "Why, Rabiat, are you going too soon?" asks nasiru. "Yes, I have stayed two hours." "I am not tired of seeing you, rabiat."

´Then what stops you from visiting me to see me when you want? ´Indeed I must.·· After saying goodbye to Amarya, who says she would like to have some discussion with me when next I visit Zaria, because as she confessed our discussion isn·t finished yet.

I assured her I shall come because of her the following week, and I would make sure I come when labaran isn·t at home. I stand up to go. Nasiru tells Labaran to sit and wait for him while he walks me to the car.

"I am not going by car, I am going to Aunty Halima's house straight from here on foot. I enjoy it." I tell him.

"'Oh, is she still living in her late husband's house? "Yes." Outside, he asks me of telephone number, which 1 give him. Before turning back, he takes a look at me and says softly, and earnestly "I love you, rabiat, I still do."

My heart skipped. After seeing Aunty Halima and Aunty Bilkisu, we drive back to Kaduna this late evening. Later in the night when I return to bed I sleep off immediately. Tired.

A few hours later, Nasiru's husky voice tears into my mind, telling me he loves me, and I wake up. What's wrong with me?

Am I a flirt or what? Maybe I am in love with his frank, simple, affectionate ways. Maybe. I open my diary to write this confession out of my mind. If I have not had a relationship with Mahmud and sulieman, I would have given Nasiru a chance but how do I deal with three loves at a time? Am not confused actually because I love each of them in my own way surprisingly. I must confess in these pages that Nasiru has interested me, attracted me and forced me to remember how I felt for him years ago. In those two short hours, he had warmed his way into my heart again.

Let me see who loves me better. There is a hausa proverb which says ¶love the one who loves you more than the one one you love. Huh!

NOVEMBER 6

Laraba has phoned to say she is coming!

What a relief. I have a lot to discuss with her. Being my childhood friend, there has been no one I can confess things to like her except my diary, of course; not even my mother can know some of my secrets.

Every woman needs a special friend of her own sex with whom she can have talk about everything from cooking to male monsters and I have mine, laraba and father.

I miss Fatima who had been transferred to yola with her husband but as she had told me over the phone, they hope to come back in a year,s time. Laraba has become that special kind of friend who knows me well enough to predict me anytime.

It makes no difference whether she understands or not. She always has lots of sympathy when am in a mess or delima.

We have listened and consoled each other over the years. Her problems are over by her marriage while mine started after it. Such is life. I would not think of what Laraba would say if I told her how serious things are getting from the other side in Kano and how I cope with my flirty attitude loving three men at a time.

Did I say loving? I will wait till she comes anyway. I'll think of Uwa instead. Poor Uwa has been staying with us for weeks. Her mother, my grandmother's sister from Rigachukun, brings her over so that we can find her a husband.

Uwa has insisted that she will only marry somebody from the city, and not the village she came from. She had confessed that her  class is not that of the village, and that she's too classy for village guys.

Being the youngest of all her mother's children, she is doted on by her mother.

NOVEMBER 14

Poor Uwa!

I have been drumming up eligible men for her to marry like our relations here in Kaduna but, alas! I know she hasn't a hope of suiting them. She's nineteen years and ready to be married but has never had anyone in love with her.

What can it be to a girl of nineteen, six feet tall, with mousy hair, deep set eyes and flat bosom? How unfair it is that the success of a woman's entire life depends on her physical appearance! I honestly do feel very sorry for Uwa and so, although she drives me to distraction with her boring conversation, I make every effort to be nice to her especially when I had nothing to do and want a bit of humour.

Bello, my brother, treats her like an imbecile. It is men like Bello who make life hell for women like Uwa.

The other day, a friend of abu's came to visit.

After he had gone, Bello was wicked enough to let Uwa believe the friend was in love with her, which was not so. Uwa, with her usual naivety, thought it was true and would from then on always dress up, waiting for the him to reappear.

He never does.

Since then Bello has kept congratulating her on her newfound lovers anytime his friend or abu's friends do call. " You see this other guy? " he would say to her. "Yes, you mean the one with the glasses that came today in the morning?" she would answer. "Yes, yes! Okay, he said he loves you also," Bello would tease her. "But they never talk to me. Why?" ´They don·t talk to you because they think you too classy and are afraid you wouldn·t answer them.µ "I will, I will! You know I will," she would remind him, stupidly.

"It is not fair,"

My sister, would say. She has tried severally to make Uwa understand that her stupid crushes on abu or anybody's friend is not going to get her anywhere.

But Bello teases, and Uwa responds.

Poor Uwa! Poor innocently stupid girl!

Lately Sadiq told me that Musi was interested in Uwa. I don't know how far this is true. The only truth I know about the certainly of what Sadiq told me is that I once heard grandmother says it would be a good idea to have them both joined in marriage.

I had laughed at the idea and asked her if she had dreamt about it or it was only her sixth sense that suggested to her how comfortable Musi was with Uwa.

Grandmother had shaken her head and said, "I am not a fortune teller. But the best person for uwa is musi, because when one knows two people very well, one senses instinctively how they will behave in certain situations or what sort of person they would get on well with that·s old age that·s experiance," she explained.

I can remember how relieved I was about the compatibility between Musi and Uwa because lately I had sensed a heart break for Uwa if she should insists on clinging to Garus, abu's irresponsible friend Garus, who has been Sadiq's friend since time immemorial has severally stayed in our house. Telling lies is one of his specialties he steals too.

Everybody knows because he has told some untruth about his circumstance of birth and his parentage.

Mother has insisted on not sending him away whenever he visits though. She had insisted every boy is like a son to her.

NOVEMBER 15

The first time I noticed Uwa's love for Garus was when I felt had to quit my misery by playing the song it,s not right,but its okay from the cassette recorder in the family sittmg room.

Suddenly, Uwa shouted for asharalle I gave up.

Uwa started to dance, after which I left the room, after some time I came back for my cassette and found Garus had joined her while Sadiq and Bello cheered them Later one night, uwa had told me she liked Garus typical of her.

It would take a foolish girl like Uwa to fall for a lay about like Garus. He works in the city somewhere but calls himself a businessman. I don't believe he is ever more than a clerk because he never agreed to show us his office but Uwa confesses to me that she thought he was sexy typical again. He is a heavily built person, with curly hair who is very proud of his Fulani charms ´Uwa, are you sure Garus is the right person for you? I ask with seriousness. "But he is such a catch, Rabiat!" she sighs.

"And the lovely thing is that he is like one of the family, so I don't have to explain anything."

'Not wanting to hurt her by further discouragement I decide that things that seem so wrong can be right after all. Maybe she can make him a better person and he can make her a wiser person.

NOVEMBER 23

Tomorrow I heard that uncle aliyu might come.

Maybe he would tell me that going back to my former husband is the only course one  should take.

My sister confide in me that she heard mother arguing with him over the matter on the phone and that she has heard mother telling him she was expecting him, before replacing the phone.

As soon as I found myself alone after that news I become restless.

The one question which remains is, am I capable of taking this step? It's tempting just to answer 'Yes' or No' and my answer is no because it is only I who knows where my roof leaks as the proverb says.

I know what I had been through. I had I am bound to feel guilty if I don't listen to Uncle and my parents.

No, I mustn't despair. I must live in the hope and gather some strength to face my fate if that's the way God wishes it to be. Soon after four oclock the following day I am summoned to my mother's room.

As I head there I am hoping how I could outwit Uncle if I am lucky enough. Uncle has the reputation o being outspoken and honest.

The first thing he says to me after I greeted him and sat down beside my mother on the carpet is, "Rabiat, if you want justice you have to hear us and respect us." I stare at them, thinking God help me.

Of course I do respect them.

Why should they have any doubt that I respect them because I am honest enough to own up to my weakness of not taking any more pain? I am human as well as woman enough to know what I am up to. So why? They shouldn't try to make me guilty of disrespect.

I feel so vulnerable that I should be judged so by the people whom I more than anyone need to be praised by.

NOVEMBER 24

Father scratches his head awkwardly and turns the other side as if he can't bear to look at me.

Mother is quiet while Uncle pleads with me to give this marriage a last chance.

"You see, Rabiat, we all in a muddle. Mohammed came to me and there is no way we could ask you not to consider him. Firstly, you have a child with him and secondly he seemed to be sorry.

So what should we do other than urge you to try again? Please give us all a last chance!" When he has finished, I say, "The problem is the attitude, not the man."

"Don't worry. Everything will be alright, we are praying for you." I try to speak, but I can't. "Take things easy, Rabiat.

All will be well, God's willing," Uncle says when he notices that my eyes are filled with tears. "Okay? Now just leave this to me.

Go and dry your eyes. I shall see you later.," he finishes. Back in my room I sink on the bed, shed some tears, glance around the room and give huge sigh and told myself if that·s my fate I have to bear it.

So I had been taught in my Qur'anic school.

That cures me. Much later in the night, after my mother has told me that Uncle and father wish the engagement to take place in a week, I decided to break the news myself to Mahmud. I spend about an hour thinking of how to begin the letter.

At last I write one, which goes like this:

Mahmud,

I can't think of how to begin this letter except to tell you that I care. Mahmud, I cannot see you again because I shall be going back to Mohammed soon due to some pressures.

I am sorry for the unhappiness I might have caused you.

I suppose we were wrong in thinking that we could have a future together.I don't expect you to understand or even forgive me, so there is no need to reply my letter.

I can guess how you might feel, that's how I am feeling, too. It's just I have to tell you this before someone else does. I must close by telling you that I did love you and that's all I can say for now.

Rabiat.

I  immediately send my brother with the letter before I can tear it up.

DECEMBER 3

Soon there is so much rumour about me once again. For once people are right in their prediction about my going back. To console myself I think of how happy Aisha will be to have me back.

I dare not think of how Mohammed and his wife are going to behave this time around.

Anyway, I should just concentrate on the positive and happy part of having my dearest daughter with me once again.

Ten days after Uncle's final discussion it isn't a surprise when I received Suleiman's letter from Jos. If it wasn't mother that told him, he might have heard it from somewhere, I think.

The letter makes me very thoughtful. It reads thus:

Dear Rabiat,

Allow me to congratulate you on your engagement.

I am happy that at least you are taking another step towards solving your life's problems. This step by worldly standards in quite splendid. Judging by your recent confidence to me on the subject of marriage I have reason to believe that this is not your doing.

I never expected you to change your mind about what we talked about. If you are quite certain that you wish to go back, good luck; if not I don't try. It would be the greatest mistake to marry for worldly gains alone. I am asking you, rabiat do you really love Mohammed?

Can he make you laugh as I do ? I shall miss you, my love. Please do not take offence at my letter. I am aware that you are a mature woman of thirty. If you believe in your decision then I congratulate you once again even though I feel very much deceived by you, infact I feel stupid for thinking you cared enough.

Yours Sulieman.