Under the Sun

It was a beautiful morning in Gidan-kowa, the land of the people, the land of deceit, the land surrounded with rich plants and healthy animals. The household of Alhaji Basir was snared with enmity and malice. Alhaji Basir was one of the wealthiest and respected business magnates in Gidan-kowa, a complete gentle man whom the youth of the community looked up to. He was known with his largess both in and off Ramadan period.

On the 2nd of March 1995, Alhaji Basir married his 4th wife, Nafisa. Nafisa was the only daughter of mallam Balarabe, an honourable person that edified his people with his wisdom, even the Mai-angwa(head of the community) and the wakilai(chiefs) looked up to him. Nafisa was known with her sincere attitude, simplicity, and humility. She was a typical African beauty and a hardworking woman. She won her husband's heart with the integrity and loyalty she possessed. "You are an angel sent to me from Allah". That was what her husband always mentioned whenever they were together. However, the other wives were so sad and desperate because Nafisa won the heart of their husband.

On the 25th April 1996, Nafisa gave birth to a bouncing baby boy who would inherit most of his father's properties. The other wives were unhappy because none of them had a male child. Moreover, on the naming ceremony, high notable, rich and famous entities were present along with the mai-angwa (head of the community).

Vividly, the sheik performed the necessary prayers, and the infant was named "Al-Warith" meaning "The heir". There were excess of food to eat, sufficient drinks to drink, and reasonable number of people of the community were present to witness the memorable day.

On the 14th Nov 1996, a storm stroke in the household of Alhaji Basir. During that night, Alhaji Basir and Nafisa were asleep when an unknown person bashed into their room. It was so dark. Nafisa heard footsteps and suddenly woke up from her sleep. She was so scared that she quickly woke her husband. "Who are you?" Nafisa asked as she shivered and almost fell from her bed. "What do want from us? I have money, you can take all, please don't kill us", Alhaji Basir pleaded as he cuddled his wife. The masked man moved closer to them, sat on the bed and held Alhaji Basir's hand. He said: "I want your son, give me your son." At that moment, Nafisa and her husband were uncomfortable. Nafisa swiftly looked beside her and couldn't find her baby. She screamed and cried like a baby. She tangled and uttered, "Where is my baby?" as she held her husband's hands. Alhaji Basir couldn't hold back his tears, he pleaded with the masked man to return their baby if he took him.

"Are you stupid? Bring your baby or I will kill both of you", the masked man threatened, pointing a finger at them. He pulled out a gun and dragged Alhaji Basir. Nafisa hurriedly knelt before the masked man and pleaded to leave her husband alone. The masked man rebutted and pulled the trigger. Alhaji Basir and Nafisa were both shot with one bullet each straight to their loving heart.

The death of the couple extended rapidly within and outside the community. Everyone was shocked about the news. "It's pathetic", one of the wakilai (elders) exclaimed.

Ali, the younger brother to Alhaji Basir, an England based engineer arrived as soon as he heard the news of his brother's death. The burial ceremony was done islamically, and almost all the men in the community were present to witness the burial of a magnate and his wife.

Some weeks after their burial, the wakilai (elders) gathered before the mai-angwa (head of the community) to discuss the sudden and bizarre death of Alhaji Basir and his wife. They summoned the household of Alhaji Basir. The Wakilai asked questions but none of them was able to give a reasonable response.

However, throughout that period, Al-warith had been with Mallam Balarabe. His grandfather took care of him together with his maid who left after Al-warith celebrated his second birthday. Mallam Balarabe didn't disclose Al-Warith's whereabouts except to the elders.

Al-warith grew older and stronger; he emulated the attributes of his late mother, but had his father's eyes. Moreover, Al-warith, grew bigger and was in jss2. He was a smart and intelligent boy, well-loved by his teachers.

On one Monday morning at school, the students were elated when they saw their English teacher in class. Al-warith was totally at bliss because that was his best subject until the teacher instructed them to write an essay about their parents. Al-Warith knew nothing about his parents, all he knew was they were late. He was in tears, his fingers were as strong as iron steel, his legs were feeble as he struggled to gain his balance.

" I don't know why grandpa didn't tell me about my late parents?" he wondered as he tried all means to avoid any conversation with his class mates. Sadly, he went home depressed and didn't talk to his grandfather.

Mallam Balarabe was disturbed about Al-warith's mood. He had never seen him that way before, and to clear his curiosity, he asked: "what is the problem the apple of my eyes?" Al-warith uttered no word as he groaned and turned his face to the other side. His grandfather who looked so innocent like a dove pleaded, he wiped away the tears in his eyes that were dropping like tap water.

"Please talk to me my son", he pleaded again. Al-Warith got up from where he sat and rushed to the bathroom. He locked himself up and didn't open the door for his grandfather.

"Why are you doing this to me son, you know you are my heart beat, and I cannot help it when you are sad. Please open the door my sunshine. If you don't tell me your problem, how will I dry away your tears?" Mallam Balarabe said as he sat on the floor beside the door of the bathroom, crying as he placed his soft palm to his chest, feeling every heart beat that sounded like a jakabola.

"Please go away grandfather, I just want to be alone, leave me please", Al-warith responded.

"My dear son, don't push away your best friend, remember I'm your shelter from the rain. If you don't tell me your problem, who will you tell? Remember my son, a single bracelet does not jingle", Mallam Balarabe uttered as he cried loudly.

Al-warith couldn't hold himself when he heard his grandfather crying, he opened the door and zoomed outside.

"I'm sorry friend for making you cry, please stop crying, please", Al-Warith said as he wiped away the tears from his grandpas' cheek.

"its okay my friend, at least share your worries with me", Mallam Balarabe said.

"Why didn't you tell me about my parents, why?...I want to know." He knelt before his grandfather and beseeched. Mallam Balarabe was so emotional. He wiped the tears from his grandson's cheek and deferred the story till night. "Night when everywhere is silent, night when the breeze will bring past memories", he said serenely.