The night before

 

She should have taken her phone number or at least asked her aunt for it. "Can you be gay by yourself", that phrase from the Ellen sitcom keeps running over and over in her mind. 

This is not the time, be decisive. It was perfectly normal to ask for the lady's number hadn't her aunt told her she was looking for friends. She was reading too much into this. 

They could just be friends, there is no law against being just friends surely. 

Duniya knew she was lying to herself. What she felt was nowhere near friend territory and Hajiya Kyakyawa was not the person to trifle with. First she was someone's wife, mother and possibly grandmother. 

But she was gorgeous and there was something there. She could feel it. 

Duniya, instinctively  felt for her passport. She felt safe. It was her safety net.

She texted her aunt, watched the cursor bleep then pressed send. 

She had not imagined the night before or had she? 

They had been glued to the hips after the taking pictures, talking and laughing like old friends reacquainted,  who had found each other almost the to exclusion of everyone else. 

We have to take to the "amariya" to the groom's family for "budden kai", her aunt said. 

As was the tradition a convoy of women would take the bride to the groom's family house where her veil would be raised and the groom's family would see her face after the price was paid. 

As the women scrambled up, the young running to get a car and be closest to the bride, mothers admonishing their children, some left with nannies other with siblings. Duniya did not want the night to end. 

Where are you going she asked Kyakyawa, are you taking the bride to the groom's family as well?  She asked trying not sound desperate but she was. Kyakyawa looked at her jewelled watch. I am meant to be at another wedding today. But I can drop you off if you'd like. 

Duniya looked at her aunt, who was busy organising and marshalling the wedding party. Aunty are you going to the groom's? 

"Wanan ma yara ne", her aunty responded, that is for the young, I will stay here and get things sorted. 

Duniya felt a panic, she didn't want her aunt with her, on the other hand neither could be she classed as the "yara". She was a grown woman in her forties. 

What was it about being in this society that made her emotionally regress to her teenage years. Yes the culture felt foreign and her footing was at best slippery. She was a grown woman. A fact she seemed to constantly remind herself. 

A grown woman who was making a fool of herself in front ... her thoughts faltered. 

Fortune favours the brave. She looked directly into Kyakyawa's eyes and said. Did you come alone? 

Yes, she answered with my driver, but I really have to go now. 

Ok, Duniya said, maybe you can take me to the groom's  place. It has been a while since I have seen a "budden kai".  I will tell my driver to follow your car, which is it?

They sat in the back of Kyakyawa's luxury car. The seats felt plush and expansive. Everything about the woman felt expensive and impressive. 

A person with something to lose, nagged the negative voice inside her head. This woman has a lot to lose, what are you doing here?

The talked in halted sentences, the camaraderie they had in public had vanished. It felt strained to Duniya. I must get out of my head, and be present she reminded her self. Looking at Kyakyawa who as on her phone.

My kids have been calling me, she said and she pressed a button on her phone and spoke in Hausa. 

Duniya, took a deep breath in. She smelt the expensive perfume and the woman next to her, she looked at the woman on the phone, at the way she moved while on the phone. She looked at her face, her eyes, nose, mouth. 

She looked at her neck, her chest, her arm, her chest again. 

It was silent in the car. She had not noticed when the phone call ended. She stopped breathing and looked. 

And was looked at.