a

Beyond Guilt First Published 2008 Copyright Usman Balarabe Aliyu 2008 Reprinted 2009 ISBN 978-978-085-824-7 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, except for use in any review, without the prior written permission of the Copyright owner.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Published by: Usana Publishing Company Limited, Usana Complex, 39/41 Broadcasting Road, P.O. Box 1584 Minna Nigeria E-mail: usana.minna@yahoo.com Printed by: Usana Prints, Usana Complex, 39/41 Broadcasting Road, Minna Nigeria

Beyond Guilt
By Usman Balarabe Aliyu

Family Adventure Series - 4 Usana Complex Minna 1984

ii

Brief on the Series: This series consists of four books: gone missing, eye for order, a widows dew and beyond guilt. Each of these books looks at the activities of a family of five: Malam Yakubu, the father; Safiya, the mother; Umar and Kabir, the sons, and Aminu, the kids first cousin; in here, each grapple with their own world. In the first book, Kabir is to go missing only to uncover, with the help of Umar and Aminu, a bunch of bad people, while their mother is rendered heart-wrecked; even so, Yakubu is rather too busy probing into the disabilities of a limp giant, Nigeria. In the second book, eye for order, the kids visit the picturesque Gurara Waterfalls where Kabir witnesses a nasty event. Later, he entices Umar, his senior, to snoop on the hardcore car-snatchers; Aminu, though, is left to cover for them, even as he is saddled by his own books. Safiya, nonetheless, is recuperating, as she awaits her next entanglement. But, their father, the machine, is now engrossed, struggling to save Rangana, a neglected enclave east of Minna. He is being helped by zealous experts who come up with a radical revenue allocation formula for the rather poor government. In a widows dew, the third book, it is Safiya, the mother, who takes on the bait; nothing, she tells herself, will bar her from fighting for Zainab, a onetime friend who is not aware of any woman, widowed through accidents, who had any compensation advanced to her. But, Safiya is adamant, as she assembles a formidable team of the tireless: Aminu, Umar and, of course, Kabir. She is up against some tough adversaries and a not-so-encouraging husband, Malam Yakubu. In the fourth book, Kabir, as always, is on holidays. That means a lot, for the danger in beyond guilt is real. Individuals are dying. Everyone is scared. Why? There is a strange thing with some strange names around; HIV/AIDS is a killer with no cure. Kabir and Umar learn that soon enough. They meet Atiku who is seriously ill. They swiftly get their parents involved. Whilst Safiya goes bananas, Malam Yakubu is set to prevent the tiny virus visiting any next village! iii

Recalling what went before in A Widows Dew: The days wheeled by, the months sped on rather quickly, and the years turned round, somehow; then, the holidays, as at all times, for Kabir; we therefore looked forward to certain out of the ordinary happenings, and much was in a widows dew, the third book in the series. In that, it was Safiya, the mother, that took the bait; nothing, she told herself, would bar her from fighting for Zainab. Zainab though, a onetime friend of Safiya, was not aware of any woman, widowed through accidents, who had any compensation advanced to her. It appeared Safiya was in for a shock or two! Actually, Malam Yakubu, Safiyas husband, was beginning to see that Safiya's involvement in this case could have some negative repercussions, as a result, he was discouraging! Nonetheless, Safiya was adamant, as she assembled her assistants: Jamilu who was agonized to watch Zainab, his mother, cry; Falalu, Zainabs elderly half-brother who had little liking for any snob; Sagir, the globetrotting pupil turned killer-boy; and, of course, the famous trio: the articulate Aminu, the resourceful Umar and the indefatigable Kabir. The combatants on the other side were: Amaale, who had made up his mind long time agohe was not going to do any paying back anything in heavens; Maigamu, a potential troublemaker, and Zubairu, the bug-eyed bugaboo, all Zainabs in-laws, and a heavyweight who had perfected the art of subornment, popularising corruption, one widely acclaimed as capable of bringing the whole lives of others down. Could it be the boys, then, to bring about a resolution? What you get is not a shower;its just like dew. A widows dew...? Zainab asked, jokingly. Yes, Safiya replied with a smile. Well Hajiya, I have been so parched this long, the dew is a torrent to me. She smiled. Usman Aliyu 2008 iv

Introducing Beyond Guilt In this book, the fourth in the series, Kabir, as always, is on holidays. That means a lot. The danger in beyond guilt is real. Individuals are dying. Everyone is scared. Why? There is a strange thing with some strange names, AIDS. HIV/AIDS is a killer with no cure, a tragedy not just for those infected. Kabir and Umar learn that soon enough. They meet Atiku who follows them home. Few days later, he fails to turn up. They investigate. The boy is seriously ill. They swiftly get their parents involved. The search for remedy leads to Atikus Aina, a village near Rangana. Malam Yakubu learns of the calamity there. It all started 10 years ago. Mahe had gone to Minna and had come back with (it). Everyone in the village was either dying or packing out. The last man of Aina has his say, and Malam Yakubu maps his way. He is determined to help prevent this tiny virus visiting the next house in the next village! What will they be doing to bring about that revolution? This is not a medical book, but it sounds like it. It is a story looking at what is, and what could possibly be, the effect of such a disaster in a simple community in Nigeria. Usman Aliyu 2008

The author so lived: Usman Aliyu was born of Aliyu Mu'azu, Sarkin Yakin Minna, and a fairly quiet lady, Amina Usa, on Wednesday June 17, 1953 in Minna, Niger State. His Academic quest ran thus: Elementary Education, Minna and Sokoto: 1960-66 Secondary Education, Birnin Kebbi: 1967-71 Higher School Certificate (HSC) in 1973, Sokoto Bachelors Degree (BA), (ABU) Kano: 1974-77 Post Graduate Diploma (PGD) in 1982, London. His other engagements were: Co-operatives, Abuja until June 1972. National Youth Service (NYSC) 1977-78, Lagos. Employment with (NTA) from 1978-84, Minna Film Production, Usana Complex Minna 1984-96. Bricks Manufacture, 1997-2006, Minna and Funtua. His authorial endeavour: Gone missing, ISBN 978-978-8200-14-7: Adventure 1 Eye for Order, ISBN 978-978-084-699-2: Adventure 2 A Widows Dew, ISBN 978-978-085-658-8: Adventure 3 Beyond Guilt, ISBN 978-978-085-824-7: Adventure 4 Retailing Power, ISBN 978-978-087-272-4: Drama The Children of the Republic, ISBN 978-978-088-779-7 Loners Flash, ISBN 978-978-088-990-6: Poetry Usman Aliyu was a family man with children.

vi

When death finally came, his epitaph was: Allow me cry God for those who cant cry Make me be heard for those who cant be Let me die free, Let me not live in chains, I thank you God for allowing me be All that I had wanted to be

Dedicated to these ones: Habiba, Halima, Baraatu, Hayran, Amina, Fatima, Zahra and Maidah; Salihu, Ahmad, Luqman, Imran, Ibrahim, Rayyan and Zayd; I am afraid of this thing; I hope you are.

vii

So yearned: Let the weak find solace, Where the rich lack heart

So acknowledged thus: Of the billions now on earth, of the countless that had come and gone, and of the billions that may come, to share a womb, such a tiny world, with someone, one you luckily come to know and love, is a unique experience in itself; Ibro, from Bala, accept this on behalf of those with whom you had shared that little world, those who had not made it to this date

Iiviiviiizingeriioooix

viii

I Rangana was once a colonial outpost, sitting in the midst of rugged terrain with mountains at two corners, a wide river on one side, and thick woodland on the other. It was, of course, the same Rangana as in the story of Eye for Order. Two years ago, the town could be generously described as a settlement about to die. Then, it was hostile to itself and to its inhabitants. The people got fed up. Driven by poverty and by neglect, they burnt it down and almost destroyed themselves. That anarchy ruffled some feathers in Minna, a town down west, and the seat of its government. Minna was that centenarian railway town, middle-belted in the ever changing Nigerian political jigsaw. It was a place once mouthed to have a judge that would jail the innocent to scare the guilty. Luckily, it had fewer of those judges now, with much fewer innocent to jail, and many more fearless guilty ones. It had become stylish, with plenty flowers and little work, except for people like Malam Yakubu. By the way, Malam Yakubu was that same stout fellow, now approaching forty nine with well cultivated moustache and sideburns, detailed by the government to Rangana to do some rebuilding there. After much pushing and rubbing, he had managed to instil certain function to the town. As a result, Rangana had survived, flourishing with some air of being permanent. They now had what they called Yakubus seven basics: a clinic, a school, water, electricity, police, market, and a multipurpose centre. You could also safely say there was some business. All that was very deceptive though, for Rangana still retained that lingering feel of being nervous, waiting for something to happen; any little thing, a tremor or even a rumour could tilt it way back to its traditional anarchy. Its reviver, Yakubu, did not feel too bothered about that state. In fact, he was upbeat enough, this season, to invite his family to his pet town. 9

Come and see the little weve done, he said to his wife. Of course, that was Safiya, who willingly agreed, and said, thatll be fun, I supposed. Safiya was thirty-eight, a woman with model physique, much to Yakubus delight who got into this union by love at first sight. Since then, this beauty had kept her acclaimed machine happy, (incidentally, that nickname was a secret coinage from his subordinates) and when the young ones arrived, she had an additional task, not enviable really, of keeping them tuned. She had two of them, all boys. She needed little persuading to do to entice those ones to come. Umar, the first born, was stoutish, a feature he grabbed from his father. He was now about twelve, and with every indication he was growing into a busy little machine himself. He had secretly whispered to his junior, you want hot news? Yah, whats it? Were going to dads bush town. You dont mean well be eating monkeys there. The junior was Kabir, and he was referring to what he heard about the large bush-meat market in the centre of the town. Before coming, Kabir had to have a stern warning; dont you go causing trouble or chasing wild men there. That was in reference to his urge to bring any criminal he saw to book. The eight-plus-year kid had a record of being daring; his father had just coined him a ticking clock. That was quite a compliment, coming from the bigger machine himself. Kabir had readily agreed, sure, sure mum. But, no one was that deceived, not Safiya, especially, who gave Umar this charge; dont you ever leave him alone! Well, Kabir was not actually left alone, but he had not left anything alone either. He was soon to unearth what would keep everyone at an edge. In the midst of it all, Safiya would almost cry out, I just wished you had kept your little body in one place. Kabir was witty enough to remind her, that wont be nice, mum. 10

The day was Sunday. For Rangana, that meant very little; not because Sunday was not a holy day or a holiday, but, because Rangana was a town full of mixed everything, most especially tribes and religions, and lots of uncertainties: Muslims, Hausa and others, the old and the new with divergent views; Christians: Ibos, Yoruba and others, with multiple perspectives, and non-Hausa-non-Muslim and non-Ibos-nonChristian either river-adorers or jungle-worshippers or nothingfollowers. The time would soon be night. Well, that would mean a lot to almost everyone here. Shortly, the parasites would invade the place: the mosquitoes, the bedbugs, the crawling snakes and lurking thieves. These were in abundance; they would unleash themselves to keep the inhabitants busy. Now though, the sun was turning into a weak disc, a large golden one, grudgingly lowering itself down the hills. The evening wind had waited for this weakness to slip in, gently forcing the leaves of the savannah trees to a dance. Down the slope of the hills, to the west, were three kids, and one of them was Kabir; the other was Umar, kneeling beside a boy of just about ten. The boys head with much unkempt hair was resting on a dry wood, hurriedly placed for it by his two companions. Atiku, Atiku...can you hear me? Umar placed his ear on the boys bony chest. Kabir looked on with some apprehension. Umar could not perceive Atikus chest taking in any air. Then, he recalled what his teacher had said about helping people breathe. He bent down, placing his palms on the chest. One he pushed in. Two he lifted up. One, two he pushed in and lifted up. Why are you doing that? Kabir asked, with concern. Making him breathe Umar replied. Oh no, youre hurting him. Kabir complained. No, Im not. 11

Well, it looks that way to me. Kabir asserted. Just shut up. Umar almost shouted. Kabir was just not sure if Umar knew what he was doing. Umar started again, trying to attain some rhythm. Atiku...Atiku... I better go get dad. Kabir suggested, imagining Umar would soon burst the poor boys chest. Yah, hurry up then. Umar assented, as Kabir took off. Umar wiped off his mouth and bent down again meeting Atikus mouth, trying to force air into the lungs. He soon discovered that was not working, so he gave up. He looked at Atiku and mused. He and Kabir had come looking for the boy this afternoon, because they had not seen him since yesterday. They wondered why he had not come to collect his food. They brought it to him. It took them a while to locate him. When they did, they thought he was asleep. His legs were wide spread and his head erect. Then, Atikus thin limbs started to wriggle, and foamy saliva oozed out of his mouth. They were scared, but Umar thought of doing something to help; mouth to mouth they called it. He said. I never heard of that before. Kabir said. Well, what do you know, when youre in a small class? Everyone starts from a small class. Kabir said. II This while, Kabir was in a race. Atikus frantic movements had scared him; sure, the boy is dying, Kabir visualised, and only dad will know what to do. Kabir just knew that, nothing seemed impossible to his father, whether it was buying those nice sweets, or paying for anything asked for by the school or by their mother; and these two did it a lot. How wonderful dad is. His mind readied his tiny frame. He soon reached home. It was a two bedroom flat recently built, as an official guesthouse, close to the hunting jungle. He burst in with a cry. Dad, dad, thethe 12

Yakubu had just finished his meal. It was a recipe his wife had tagged welcome to Rangana, boiled white rice flavoured with fresh fish in tomato oily stew. She had invested much effort in this, hoping to give the family a joyful evening treat. Hey, whats wrong? He turned to Kabir. Kabir was panting, the boy, dad, the boy What boy? Yakubu said, calm down. Safiya heard Kabir, as she was arranging plates in the new kitchen. She had wondered where the boys had been since, not coming for their meals. She walked to the rather tiny sitting room, wondering what all the commotion was about. Atiku, dad, Atiku Kabir was saying. Whats wrong with him? Yakubu asked Kabir. Whos Atiku? he then addressed the bewildered mother. Hes a boy they give food to. Her soft voice came through. From where did they get him? Yakubu asked, surprised at how they made friends so soon, coming less than a week ago. I dont know. Safiya said. Whats happening? Come here, Yakubu held Kabirs hand. Whats wrong? Kabir was beginning to regain composure. This time, speak slowly, get me? Yakubu encouraged him. He knew Kabir could easily be rendered speechless, if stirred. Yes dad, Kabir was now calm. He is kicking about, dad. Where? There, Kabir said, as his hand indicated out. Whats wrong with him? Yakubu asked. We dont know, dad, we dont. Kabir said. Alright, lets go and see him. He held Kabirs arm, picked a torch, and walked out of the sitting room with Safiya coming bewilderedly behind them. III The sun had finally gone, and darkness was blanketing Umar. He became quite uneasy, wondering why Kabir was taking that long. He occupied himself recalling their first 13

encounter with Atiku. They had just cycled down the slope, enjoying the free-spin, when Kabir complained of his bike. Its making funny noise, Umar. What noise? he had asked. I dont know, Kabir replied. Well, try it, let me see. he suggested. Kabir tilted his bike, help me hold it. He then turned the pedal, and the sound of the chain rubbing its cover became apparent. He opened it and saw the chain had slacked. I think the nut is loose. He said. Why? Kabir asked. How would I know? he said. May be you untied it. No, I didnt. Kabir said. Well, youve to drag it, then. He said. You mean all the way home? Kabir was alarmed. No, before we get someone with a spanner. So they walked, pulling their bikes along. Apparently, a boy was stalking them. I can help push it for you. the boy offered, nearly startling them. Then, they saw him. As Kabir said later, hes scary. How? Safiya then asked. He had big head and wicked looks, mum. Umar declined the invitation, but the boy persisted. Why are you following us? Umar asked him. I eat nothing, since yesterday. Well, go home then. Umar told him. I have no home. the boy declared. No home? Kabir asked, with surprise. Yes, the boy replied. Well, every kid gets his mum and dad. Kabir said. I have no mom and I have no dad. Youre not serious. Umar declared. Yes, I am, the boy replied. Well, wherere they? Umar asked. I do not know. The boy said. Whats your name then? Umar asked. 14

Atiku, the boy announced. Well, since youve a name, youve a dad, then. Umar said. No, I do not have a dad. Atiku said. Still, we dont want you to follow us. Umar ruled out. Please help me. Atiku said. I said go away. Umar said. Um Umar, Kabir said. Yes, Umar turned to Kabir. Um, what if we give him a little something? What? Anything, small, Kabir said. Its up to you, do what you want to do. Umar said. Umar did not take to Atiku. He appeared very gruff. Kabir fished out a coin from his pocket; here, but then, he gawped at the receiving hand; whats wrong with you? Why? Atiku said. Dont you take bath? Kabir asked. I do. Atiku said. How come your hands are this dirty? Kabir asked. Let me see. Umar had a look. What he saw was a patchwork of scabs and rashes, a cut here, a bruise there, caked dirt and peeled off skin all over! You want to kill yourself? Umar asked. No, Atiku mused, my hands never got inspected before. Then, you should bathe everyday. Umar said. Where? Atiku said. What do you mean where? Umar asked in amazement, everyone knows where to take bath. Come to our house, Kabir just offered. Umar mulled over that strange meeting, as he waited. IV Kabir kept a tiny step ahead, eager to get to Atiku, while his father held him. Yakubu thought the walk was long, and wondered what brought the kids this far. Since he came to this 15

town, he had not ventured to this side. He beamed Umar in the light of his torch, as they approached the spot. Umar was busy mouth-reviving Atiku. Safiya quickly noticed what the lad was doing. She cried out. Whatre you doing? Artificial breathing, mum, Umar said, confidently. Whats that? she asked, cant you see? But mum, Umar bent down again. Stop it! she ordered. Umar stopped, but he was puzzled. Look at his mouth, come here. She ordered. He went to her unenthusiastically. She started to examine him, in dim light, wiping off the saliva from his cheeks, as he said, Im all right, mum. Our teacher said we could do it. Now, if I can have your attention, please. Yakubu said. But, Ive to clean him, look at him. Safiya excused. I dont think that is much of a problem now, really. Of course, its, she said, the boy is foaming. And so? He may get infected. She said. With what? Yakubu asked. I dont know, but it looks bad to me. Safiya said. Whats required now is to get the boy to the hospital. How? Safiya asked, seeing that the car was not around. You wait here. Ill get the car. He walked back, leaving them with the torch. Then, Safiya noticed Umar was only in his vest. Dont tell me you came out bare, like this? No mum. Umar said, shyly. Where is your shirt, then? she asked. Then, she saw the shirt spread on the boy. You gave him your cloth? she asked. He was cold, mum. Umar said. Youre just daft. She charged. Umar was stunned by his mothers tough stance; she had always said, help those in need. He was just helping, mum. Kabir offered. Shut up, you too. 16

Kabir kept quiet. From where did you get him, anyway? Safiya asked. Umar said, we just gave him some money, that day. Where did he say he was from? she asked. He didnt say. Umar said. What do you mean, he didnt say? Well, he didnt tell us. Umar said. He told me. Kabir countered. When, if its not a lie? Umar declared. Its not a lie, Kabir said, he told me, two days ago. Well, where did he say? Umar said. They sleep at their Quranic school. Where is it? Safiya prodded him. Here in Rangana. Kabir said. Where in Rangana? she insisted. I dont know. Kabir gave up. Oh, you stupid. Umar cried out. All right, Safiya concealed her disappointment. Kabir was right. Atiku had told him where he was staying. The boy had come that day to collect his food, and met Kabir; Umar had followed someone to the market or somewhere. Where do you sleep then? Kabir had asked him. In the school, Atiku said. It must be a big school, then. Kabir remembered what Aminu, their cousin, had told them about his boarding school at Birnin Shehu, a jihadist arid town far north, where they had many classrooms, large dormitories and lots of halls. Yes, it is. Atiku said. Whats it like? Kabir had asked, hoping to persuade his mother to enrol him there. Very good, but we keep changing places. Atiku said. Why? I dont know, our mallam knows. Well, I like going to places, like that. Kabir had said. It pained Kabir now, not to be able to give details on that school; I wished I had followed Atiku there. He thought. 17

Malam Yakubu flooded his family with the full-beam of his headlights, as he drove in. He parked by their side, and lifted Atiku up. He laid him at the back seat, to be flanked by his mates, Kabir at the legs and Umar to the head. Safiya sat, somehow, not quite enthusiastic. She was uneasy, seeing the likelihood of her holiday turned into hospital visits. Yakubu drove to the just resuscitated health clinic, located somewhere south of the town on an open space, aiming to receive breeze. The security-man, an ex-military fellow in a jacket full of holes, came to the car. He eagerly stooped his bald head in, had a glimpse of Atiku, and then froze. Come on, Yakubu called out, help us get him to a bed. The man stood there, aghast. Whats the matter? Yakubu asked. Nothing, sir, the security man said. Then, give me a hand. Yakubu urged. Sorry, sir, the man declared resolutely. Why? Yakubu was bewildered. Safiya eyed the man, quite puzzled. It is theit is, sir. The words refused to come out. Then, he shrunk away, retracing his steps to the gate. Whats wrong with him? Safiya asked. How would I know? Yakubu said in his frustration. Help me, here. Yakubu asked. Is it safe? Safiya asked. Of course, its, he said, whats wrong with you people? She grudgingly helped carry Atiku into the building. She was beginning to build some suspicion; but, she reserved her comments. Umar and Kabir followed them, full of concern. Wherere the nurses, anyway? Yakubu asked. His family just stared around the lobby, and waited. Hello, Yakubu called out, who is on duty? A nurse finally appeared, with her hands smeared with blood. She was an elderly woman, upgraded from midwifery. Where is everybody? Yakubu asked. There are just two of us, sir. The short nurse said. 18

Where is the other, then? Yakubu asked. She is having a stillbirth. The nurse announced, as she hurried back to her mate. Safiya was scandalized. Moments later, the nurse reappeared. I am sorry to keep you waiting, sir. She said. Thats alright, please check the boy. Yakubu said. Yes sir, the woman said, as she leaned at the bed. She looked at Atiku, briefly. Then, she gave Safiya a subtle gaze. She looked at the boy again, and tactfully withdrew, as Yakubu was saying, well come back in the morning. Alright, sir, she hurried in, murmuring to herself, see trouble, see me trouble. She grabbed her large handbag, and went out of the clinic through the backdoor, almost in a rush. V By morning, something was brewing fast in Rangana. Everything brewed hot and fast in this place, most especially rumour and troubles. The security man had gone to town that night with the hot news; one of Yakubus sons, those little cute fellows from the city, has come with it. Shortly, nearly the whole town had heard the newsflash. It is here. They whispered. Many are falling down with it. They broadcast. It is finally in Rangana! When Yakubu went to his red car, readying for office, he spotted someone far off, by the low fence of his house. Hello. He called out. The middle-aged man appeared quite shaken, not even wanting to come close to him. The chief said he is coming. The man said and retracted his steps. Almost immediately, the chiefs car was in view. The chief of Rangana was that same fat short man with bulgy eyes, now limply. He had recently gone to Minna and got himself a tenyear or so disused BMW or something near to that, one most likely to be disowned even by Bayerische Motoren Werke. 19

It was coughing smoke all the way. He had insisted, no befitting chief would go without a car. When told the council could not afford one, he said, then, give me a loan, the council surely can afford that. Surely, they had to give him, for he had camped at the cashiers. Moreover, just to discourage him, they told him they would effect deductions right away. Yes, yes, he agreed, without hesitation, after all, he had caused the dismissal of two cashiers already, and the jailing of one, for taking loans and refusing to sign the documents. Yakubu wondered what the man was coming to his house for, so early in the morning. Thus, he waited. The chief alighted from his car, barely before the driver brought it to a full stop. He brusquely walked to Yakubu. Maalaam, the chief called out. Good morning, chief. Yakubu walked to meet him. Morning, the chief responded, Maalaam. Yes chief, Yakubu was still wondering. I know you brought us good. The chief acknowledged. Yakubu was busy trying to guess what was coming next. You brought light to us. The chief said and paused. Yes, Yakubu said. You brought water. He paused again. Yes. But, now you brought us trouble. The chief announced. Trouble? Yakubu instinctively asked. Yes, trouble, big, big one. Chief, what is the problem? Yakubu asked. Though he considered the man easily hysterical, he could see the genuine concern in his present comportment. Your son is causing this town to scatter. My son? Yes, your son, Which one, Ive two, Yakubu asked, challengingly. The one with it, the chief said. Now Yakubu remembered what the security man had said, 20

It is. So he asked, with what? The boy with the curse, the chief said. What curse, chief? The curse of the weird, the chief said. Ive no idea what that is. The chief just looked at him in utter disbelief. The curse is deadly, Maalaam. What curse? Yakubu asked, almost impatiently. The one your son has brought. My son has brought no curse, here or anywhere. Please take it back to Minna. Yakubu was at lost. Then he saw, off along the road, some people as if in flight. See, see, people have started leaving already. Leaving to where? Yakubu asked. To anywhere, where it is safe to be, Maalaam, please, remove it from here. The chief limped back to his car. They left Yakubu wondering what it was about the boy at the clinic that was causing such uproar. He simply brushed it off as rural eccentricity. He went on to polish his Japanese car, wondering how much remained to offset the hire purchase. VI When he finished with the car, Yakubu went into the house, calling for Safiya, eager to tell her of his encounter with the incomprehensible chief; Safiya never ceased to be mystified by the behaviour of the man; Im surprised how anyone could make that man his chief, she once said. Yakubu was baffled to find Safiya packing up her baggage. Whatre you doing? he queried. Packing up, she said. I can see that, but where to? he asked. To Minna, of course, she stated. Minna, why? he asked. Weve to leave too, havent we? she asked. 21

While Yakubu was having his perplexing chat with the chief, some mouthy woman had sneaked into the house. The clinic is full with dying people. She told Safiya. Why? Safiya had asked the woman, in disbelief. The curse has slunk in at night. Whats that? Safiya just could not make up the jumble. The woman was frenzy, corpses are littering the streets. Safiya looked at her children and went to pieces. She wished she had not come to this forsaken place with them. When her husband invited her, she thought it was a good idea to invite them too, for them to see the work their father was doing. The kids were thrilled. They got their clothes ready, and Kabir insisted my bike too must go there to taste its soil. Now, they had been caught up in a maddening something. Look, nobody is dying of anything. Yakubu declared. How do you know? She challenged. Of course, I would have been told. He said. But, they said that was what that chief came to tell you. He did not tell me people were dying. Yakubu said. Im sure there is something wrong, Safiya insisted, look how people are helter-skelter... And so? Yakubu asked. People dont move like that unless there is trouble. All right, get to the car, Yakubu said, lets go to the hospital to find out. They went out to the car. Umar, Umarcome, Kabir sounded the alarm. Whats wrong? Umar asked. The car, dad is going out. Kabir declared. They too hurried to the car. Youre not coming. Safiya declared. Why mum, Kabir asked. Its not safe. She answered. Atiku is there, mum. Umar reminded her. Leave that boy alone. But mum, they chorused their complaint. I said stay at home. She almost shouted. 22

All right mum. Umar coiled. They watched their parents drive off. Thats not fair, Kabir said, is it? Mum was right. Umar said, reflectively. How is that? Kabir asked. Didnt you hear what that woman was saying? Nope. Kabir said. Well, she said people are dying there. Umar said. I still should go. Kabir insisted. Our Atiku is there. Well, if we catch some sickness, that wont be fun. VII Yakubu drove along, almost in an unnecessary annoyance, while Safiya sat moodily with the thoughts of frightful possibilities. The sides of the road were restive with agitated gossiping groups. The car approached the clinic. They did not see dead bodies, but they saw chaos: a man struggling with his crutches, trying to run; a cripple rolling himself down the steps; everyone was fleeing to somewhere, just to be away. I told you. Safiya broke her silence. I said so. Yakubu just looked on with incredulity. He got out of the car and walked to the entrance trying to locate the security man or the nurses. There were none. The couple walked into the deserted building and saw the boy, abandoned. On his bed were blood smeared towels and some syringes. He had stopped foaming, but his eyes were vacant. Yakubu gently touched Atikus forehead; it was very hot. He went inside the building, leaving Safiya by the sick boy. She was nervous. Yakubu came back, almost immediately, without any nurses. Help me clear those things. He said. Safiya obliged reluctantly, wondering what he was trying to do. She advised herself to restraint. He got his arms under Atiku and lifted the boy up. Wherere you taking him to? she asked. To the car, of course. 23

Then where? she asked. Minna, of course, he declared. Minna? Well, where do you think we can take him to? But, we cant sit with him that long. She said. Why not? Yakubu said, we cant leave him here. He placed the boy in the back seat. What about us? What about you? he turned to face her. What if..? Safiya was really fearful. Look, the boy is just sick, malaria, typhoid or something. Safiya eyed him, robbed of words. Just get in. he commanded, as he sat in. They drove out of the clinic, in silence. VIII In next to no time, Yakubus family was tightly packed in the car on their way to Minna, now with an additional guest who was unknowingly causing much consternation. The drive was tense. Kabir had resigned to boredom and gone to sleep. Umar was just staring at the whizzing scenery without interest. Safiya was threading too many issues to be clear minded. Nonetheless, Yakubu was throttling ahead; events had been moving too fast, even for him. Two hours or so later, he was driving into Minna. It did not have the same air to him of being welcoming. He used to feel exhilarated when he descended the edge of the vast plateau, seeing the well laid dual carriageways stretched in front of him. Now, it looked blank. He went straight to the hospital in their neighbourhood, just by the streamlet below the Paida hills, one of those new general hospitals recently built for each sector of the town. Somehow, he had a spare moment to savour the pleasure of being instrumental to such innovation. The nurses recognized him and rushed in with much zeal. 24

Good day sir. They asked. What is wrong, sir? Ive a sick boy with me. Yakubu said. Sorry sir, the nurses said, with genuine concern. Some nurses went in to prepare for a bed, while others lingered on, as the hospital porters went for the gurney. What is wrong with him, sir? The charge nurse was eyeing Kabir. What a nice boy? I really dont know. Yakubu said. Madam, we have good facilities for children now. One young nurse was telling Safiya, with her eyes on Umar. The gurney arrived. The nurses saw Umar and Kabir healthily jumping out of the car. They were puzzled. Then, their eyes met the form of the subconscious Atiku stretched on the back-seat. Their gaze changed, as Safiya was to comment later, as if they saw a ghost. They instinctively held back. Yakubu did not notice that. We will get the doctor, sir. The senior nurse said, as she stepped back, edging away towards the reception hall. He will be with you, soon, sir. The young nurse said. One by one, they oozed away and vanished. Yakubu, then, realized he was left with no nurses. Whats wrong with them? He said, in annoyance. I told you something is wrong with this boy. Safiya said. Of course, I know something is wrong with him, Yakubu said, thats why Im in the hospital. He felt betrayed. Get in. He commanded, with some sourness. He drove out, thinking of going to the next hospital, thanks to God, we have more than one, now. They went along the eastern bypass, with the dark hills to the left. They turned left at the kneecap rock-crop, going through the picturesque valley of Seyako, the birthplace of Minna. They drove over the turbulent river Suka, and went up the edge of Paida, on their way to Maitumbi. They got there, and the nurses were rather lukewarm. When finally they came around, there was no mincing word, we do not treat this case here, sir. A junior nurse 25

declared. Where do they treat this case, then? Yakubu asked, subduing his irritation. I really dont know, sir. She said offhand. Then, call anyone who knows. Yakubu said. She was more than willing, she went and never returned. Get in. Yakubu ordered his family back to the car. Safiya abstained from making comments, seeing the bubbling anger in her husband; besides, she was rather exhausted herself. Yakubu manoeuvred the car out, taking the by-pass dual carriageway to the Tunga general hospital, somewhere by the Wushishi Housing estate. The air was fresh but warm, and the tension in the car was high. Umar sat wondering what was happening. Kabir, though, was fascinated with this roundabout cruise; he wished they could go on doing it all day. He had almost forgotten Atikus need for immediate attention. I am afraid, a male nurse said, we have no spare bed. Then get me a doctor, any doctor to check him. But sir, without a bed, no doctor will see him. Whats wrong with you people? Yakubu said, then it occurred to him that question was becoming manneristic. Nothing sir, just the normal procedure, the nursed said. Well, this is not normal. Yakubu said. To be fair to you sir the nurse said. Yes, Yakubu was expectant. The only hospital for him is the Kwangila hospital. Why didnt you tell me that before? Sorry sir. The nurse said and disappeared. Yakubu did not have to tell anybody to get in, for no one had got out. They had sat, expecting to be told to move on. He drove up a ridge forming a wall east of Tunga. Just at the crest, Umar watched as the settlement suddenly revealed itself out of the horizon, as the car went down slope. Kabir, Kabir see it, see it. He called out, excitedly. Its like it wasnt here before. Yah, yah, Kabir registered the spectacle. Its thrilling. Umar said. 26

Dad, dad Kabir called out. Yes, whats it? Yakubu said edgily. Can you go back and do it again? Kabir asked. Shut up. Yakubu said. Safiya wanted to laugh, but refrained, knowing the stare of this machine. As she caught him at the side of her eyes, she wondered who coined that nickname for him, he must be quite ingenious. They finally got to Mobil roundabout, and took a left. Yakubu hissed as his car hit a bump raised whimsically by the residents. At Last, he drove into the hospital. Safiya watched him go looking and asking, being directed endlessly. He finally came back with a male nurse who came to her side, ignorantly deciding she was the sick one. No, its a boy in there, she said, concealing her disgust. He looked at the boy and went off. He took his time. Then, he came back with someone pushing a gurney. To which ward, sir? the junior nurse asked. Take him to ND ward, the senior one said. But, he does not look that bad. The junior observed. I suspect he has its symptoms. His senior said. But, the doctors said you cannot diagnose it by symptoms. Look, dont argue with me, just take him there. Alright, sir. If he is free, we will get him out, will that be a problem? Not to me, sir. The junior said. Whats ND? Safiya asked Yakubu, after the men had gone. I dont know. Yakubu said. Safiya asked a female nurse, just close, what ND ward was. ND ward? the nursed asked. Yes. Safiya said. That is the new death ward. The nurse said, casually. What? Safiya could not belief her ears. The old death ward is for road accident victims only. Why do you call them death wards? Nobody goes in there and comes out alive. 27

Is that where youre taking our boy? Safiya asked. That is where we take all those with such cases, ma. Safiya wanted to follow her new boy to the death ward, but they prevented her. Come back later, madam. IX The nurses went after Atiku to ND ward. It was a long hall coated in white, built solid seventy years ago by expatriate masons with imported bricks from England. Patients in the death ward were overcrowded, more on the floor than on beds. They were also in a varying state of despair. Yet, they had a striking commonality, a distinct grotesqueness: abnormal heads, sunken cheeks and bubbled skins; some coughed, others yelled, while most just stared up, really awaiting death! Atiku got a bed by a narrow tall window. He also had a card with a certain odd number: 221. A young nurse went to his bed. She looked at him and made no comment; she wondered what a nice little fellow was doing in this marked place. She shook her head a little, as if to wake herself up. She inserted a thermometer into his small mouth and waited. Jot it down, the senior nurse said, as she passed the admission card to her junior. The young nurse pulled the thermometer out, tried to read it, then shook it up, and put it back again. What is it? the senior nurse asked. The reading was not right, too high. Well, it is him that is not right. After that, the nurse wound the blood pressure cuff round his upper arm and pumped. Get his blood when you finish that, the charge nurse said. Yes, ma, the junior nurse said. Soon, the nurse tied a plastic string round Atikus arm. Ma, the young nurse called out. Yes, she turned to face her. 28

He seems weak, can we do oral test? No, just get the blood, and be careful, you know how Lubabatu got it. The senior nurse warned. Of course, everyone working in the hospital knew or rather heard of how Lubabatu got it. That was a charming young lady with a nice husband and three young kids, the last one born just three months or so before the momentous day. On that day, Lubabatu had just reported to work, hardly had she changed into her gown, when they rushed in victims of a road accident. She was a diligent woman; many would salute her for her care and concern. She quickly went to them and got busy sedating some of them. She reached the last one; he was a very restless fellow. She managed to stick the needle into him. Unfortunately, it went the wrong way; he bled. As she turned for cotton-wool, her elbow hit a tray on the trolley and the content came crushing down. Instinct sent her hands trying to hold them back. She could not, but she got a cut, with some measure of blood. She dressed her wound herself, and brushed the incidence off as minor. A month or so later, Lubabatu was down with a cold, so it was assumed. Nine months later, she started to change. Almost three years to the day of that incidence, Lubabatu was in a white wrap on her way to the graveyard. Her little baby had gone earlier. Her husband followed suit, and so was the new wife he got to replace Lubabatu. Alright ma, the young nurse said, as she punched a needle into Atiku. She was made a little tenser with that reminder. She stilled herself, and then sucked up a little amount of blood into the syringe. Take it to the lab. The senior nurse said. For? For antibodies, of course, the nurse said, what is wrong with you today? Nothing ma, the young nurse said. Alright, Do we tell his mother? the young nurse asked. 29

What for? the senior nurse said. Her consent, the young nurse said. No, this is just a routine test. Yes ma, the young nurse said, as she went off. You wait here, the senior nurse told another nurse close to her, until the doctor comes in. Yes ma, the nurse said. The senior nurse went out. The nurse left behind was visibility anxious. This was one ward, in the whole complex, where no one wanted to be; Lubabatu was actually not the only victim of this thing here; four other nurses had similar routine accidents with tragic ends; and six nurses had already resigned for being posted to the infamous ND ward. X Safiya went back to the hospital the next day. She entered Atikus ward, casting a glance at the occupants; the sight was appalling; the inmates were mere bony cages with thin limbs stuck in. Many were on beds awfully smeared with either diarrheal greenish fluids or clottish vomit. They looked extremely fatigued with stiff necks. The atmosphere was unreal; it was as if she had walked into a section of hell. She nearly threw up! The senior nurse called her aside. Madam, she said and paused. She was quite hesitant. Yes, Safiya responded, whats it? Um, I do not know how to say it, she began, can we sit They sat on a bench placed at the entrance of the ward. The boy is really sick. The senior nurse said. Yes, but whats wrong with him? Your son, madam, has confirmed our suspicion. What was that? Safiya asked. He has tested positive. The nurse said. Thats good then, Safiya said. The nurse was amazed at that assessment. Is it not? Safiya asked, as an afterthought. The nurse quickly said. No, no, I do not mean that. 30

Well, what do you mean? Safiya said. He is positive with HIV. What does that mean, really? though Safiya was educated, with a degree in social studies, (a rare thing for the women in her place), she was medico-lexicon bankrupt! It means he has the immune virus in his blood. Im still not very clear on this, please. Well, common cold, for example, is caused by a virus. Is it? Safiya said. Yes, but this virus attacks human immune system, madam. The nurse said. It destroys what normally fights infections in our body. All right, please get on with the treatment, then. We havent got any. Write it down for us, well go and buy it. She said, simply. What I am trying to say is there is no medicine for it. What! No medicine, no vaccine is available against it. The nurse went on to paint the gloomiest picture of AIDS for Safiya, who, at the end, left the hospital quite shattered. She was eager to get to her husband with the heartbreaking news. No wonder, Rangana was in panic, she thought, it certainly must be contagious! Suddenly, it dawned on her that Umar and Kabir had been too close to the boy; they, probably, were infected. XI Safiya drove her blue coupe very unlike her: speedy, discourteous and unsteady. She reached home, their four bedroom bungalow below the laps of Paida hill range. She came into the short curved driveway in a desperate haste. She parked, almost clumsily, under a large thorny tree. She dashed in, calling out for her boys, Umar, UmarKabir. There was no response. She went into their room. They were not there. She hurried to the backyard. They were no 31

where around. Finally, she came back to the well-furnished sitting room, and slumped down into a settee, exhausted. Horrific images, of what could be, rushed down in her mind; these were her darling boys. Umar was born on the second anniversary of her wedding night, and his junior came almost three years after that, to match her first date. They were her jewels, very rare and precious. She had refused taking pubic employment just to carter for them, now an unknown disease was about to shutter that dream. All of a sudden, she got up. She went back into the kids room, looking for the dresses they had worn in Rangana. She pulled them out, from the racks, from under the beds, from the drawers: shirts, pants, trousers, caps, socks and even shoes. She stuffed them up into sacks, and hurriedly brought them out to the dustbin. She briskly went to the kitchen looking for matches, and then, Yakubu walked in. Ive been to the hospital. She said. How was he? Hes HIV positive. She declared. What! Yakubu said. That cant be. Well, thats what they told me. She found the matchbox, and hurried out. He just followed her to the dustbin. Whatre you doing? he asked. Im burning those clothes. She said. Why? The boys were at Rangana with them. So what? Yakubu asked. So what? she looked at him, amazed. Who told you to burn them? he asked. No one, Im just taking some precaution. Did they tell you how he got it? No, but they told me it will never leave him. Look, try to calm down. But... she said. I dont think HIV is transmitted by breathing. She turned to him. 32

Then, how did he get it? Im not sure, but... Yakubu said. He too was shallow on this one; HIV was not an issue educationally discussed, yet, it was rumoured widely enough to confuse anyone. Youre just confusing me, and thats scary. All right, be calm. Yakubu too was avoiding agitation. Ill go to the hospital to find out. He said. What do I do then? she asked. Just hold on, he said, it wont take me long to get the bare basics on this thing. Ill be back, soon, by Gods grace. Safiya just stood there, feeling quite despondent. XII Right away, Yakubu was in the hospital. An elderly doctor, a short slim fellow in white hospital gown, with a stethoscope hanging down his neck, received him warmly. You guessed right, Malam Yakubu, the doctor said, HIV is not airborne. However, it is good that you came. Then how does it come about, doctor? HIV is transmitted through the body fluids, reproductive and the blood. The doctor said. What of saliva and sweat? He asked with Umar in mind. No, no, we have no evidence or even possibility on sweat, as to saliva, unless there is a wound in the oral cavity, no. How could a boy this young get infected, then? A source of infection could be either by blood transfusion or his the doctor paused. Yes, Yakubu was not sure what the hesitance was for. The doctor was also unsure how to relate such delicate fact. A likely source could be his mother, the doctor said. His mother? Yakubu asked. Yesit is just one of many possibilities. He swiftly added. Well, I dont know the state of his mother. Yakubu said. Not your wife? No, no. Yakubu said. 33

The doctor seemed quite relieved, though puzzled. Well then, a mother can transmit the virus to her baby, the doctor said, during pregnancy, for instance. Yakubu looked on, his face riddled with questions. Is his mother around? the doctor asked. Yakubu shook his head, I really dont know. The doctor was at a complete loss at this one again. Yakubu offered details. My kids found the boy in the street, and they were helping him. How kind of them. the doctor said. In fact, I knew of it only lately. It is important to find his mother, for us to build his medical history. The doctor said. The boy was from Rangana. Yakubu said. Well try to locate her. Then, it occurred to him that might well be very problematical. You mentioned something about blood? Yes, people do get infected by way of blood transfusions... You mean within the hospital? Yakubu was surprised. Yes, with blood from infected donors. I see, Yakubu said, my wife is now very disturbed, really. She should be; this virus is deadly. The doctor said. But, you dont get it through normal routine. Which is? Yakubu asked. Such as seat sharing, insect bites or hugging. Not even from mosquitoes? Yakubu asked. No, the doctor said, mosquitoes do not transfer blood; they inject their saliva to pull blood out, the doctor said, so cross bites constitute no viral transfer risk. Im still bewildered. It could not have been through adult activities, the doctor said, unless there was a child abuse by those shirtlifters. Was there any sign of that? Yakubu asked. No, no, his body did not show any evidence of such abuse. Yakubu was silent for a while. What do we do now? Yakubu asked, resignedly. We will conduct further investigations, and inform you of 34

our findings. I wished we had a clinical identification earlier. What difference does that make? Yakubu asked. Well, the treatment I have in mind may not be as effective as we would have liked. He said. Children need that detection early, for us to provide appropriate management. Yakubu left the hospital, at least, with enough to dispel Safiyas fear of her childrens infection, but much concerned with what might be looming for other children out there. XIII Umar and Kabir returned from the neighbours to find their clothes packed ineptly in sacks. Whats happening, mum? Umar asked. Are we travelling again, mum? Kabir hoped it was. She felt bothered and warned them not to worry her. But, when Kabir went to the sacks, she yelled out. Leave that alone. But mum, its my shirt. Kabir said. Go and get another one. She ordered. But, this one is good, mum, I like it. Kabir said. It was a Sallah present from their granny, Yakubus aunt; an old woman whom they had insisted must be addressed as aunty, just to prevent her becoming more boring! Then, Yakubu drove in. The kids are in no danger, he declared, just as he got out of the car. Safiya felt lightened. The boys heard that clip, and without waiting for any go ahead, they started dragging the sacks back to their room. Youre very sure of that? she asked, as they went in. Of course, Im. He said emphatically, you cant get it by sharing seats or utensils or even from animal bites, he listed. The boys were close to him, you know. All the same, he was confident, you dont get infected by bed-sharing or even eating food prepared by those infected. I mean Umars mouth was in contact with the boys. 35

The doctor said without injury, you dont get it! Well, we thank God. Safiya felt somehow relieved. So how did the boy get it? she asked. Im not sure, but his mother was mentioned, Yakubu said, a child can be infected during labour or breastfeeding. His mother was infected then? Most likely, as the doctor said. What a pity, she said. They said a quarter of babies born to women with HIV get infected this way. Yakubu said. Suddenly, they heard the sound of a car driving into their driveway in an unusual manner. Yakubu lifted the curtains to have a look. There was the chief of Rangana at his door. Maalaam, you have to come. He said, while alighting. Good afternoon chief, come and have a seat. It is not a sitting matter, Maalaam, there is trouble. Whats wrong? Yakubu asked. There are more cases of your boy, down there. Someone had gone down stream to get grass for his horse, or something, and discovered a dead body of a youth. He raised alarm. Soon, the riverside was flooded with curious spectators. The chief was told, the river is full with bodies. All right, well get you lodged for the night. God willing, Ill assemble a medical team to investigate. I cannot stay. The chief pronounced. Why not? If I do not go back, the whole town will vanish. Alright, at least eat something, then. Safiya went to prepare a quick snack for the chief. Yakubu sat by the man, as the latter ate. Years ago, before you came to us Maalaam, bad something happened to our neighbours. We did not know until later. Yakubu listened. People started to go ill, coughing hard in the night. Was it during raining season? Yakubu asked. No, during no season at all, the chief said, and that was 36

not all, some behaved like madmen, others could not even eat. The chief said. But, each sick one died, at the end. Did you report it to the authorities? Yakubu asked. I told you, we did not know. The chief said. By the time we knew, most villages had become empty. What did they call this disease? The curse of the weird. Why did they give it that name? Those with it were crude, planting seeds in wrong places. Seeds? Yakubu asked. Yes, you are a man, Maalaam. Yes, I understand. But later even babies the chief was saying. You dont call those pervert, do you? No, they are beyond guilt, those ones. The chief said. Now, our fear is that this boy of yours... Look chief, he is not my boy. Not your boy? No, not at all, Yakubu said. Then, from where did you get him? My children found him in Rangana. Your children? Yakubu nodded. Are they dead now? the chief said, with eyes wide opened. No. Yakubu said with surprise at such inference. Why? After touching him, the chief said, they should be dead. No, they are not. It is a matter of time, the thing can sleep, Maalaam. You dont catch the thing by touching people. Is that so? the chief was surprised. You are sure? Yes, Im sure, chief. Yakubu said. Then, I believe you, Maalaam, but you must come down to explain this. The chief leaned forward. I just hope the people there will believe you as I believe you now. Yakubu could well imagine the growing tension there. Alright, but well have to trace his mother, or relations. 37

You think they are still alive? the chief asked. I hope so. The chief finished his meals. He was now more relaxed than when he had arrived. He got into his coughing BMW, and asked the driver, a bulky fellow like him, to make the tedious journey back; not before he shocked Safiya, though. Um, Hajiya Maalaam, your cooking is good. Thank you, chief. Safiya said. No wonder Maalaam refused our daughters. The chief had previously bundled his young daughter to Yakubus doorstep, trying to do a wedding match. Safiya made no comment. You know how to finger your man well! Safiya was embarrassed. XIV The next morning, the sky over Minna was dull, with thick blankets of shapeless dark nimbostratus waiting to unfold over the town. Yakubu studiedly looked at the threatening clouds, then, got into his car. He drove west, crossing Bosso Road down to Lame lane, now dualised and bare; he missed the green, the magnificent canopy of the mahogany trees. He passed the banquet-less Victorian hall, marvelling at how the massive structure looked out of tune with its surrounding scantiness. He turned left onto Justice Street, going straight to his department. He went through the gate, giving a casual wave to the guards, and then parked under his reserved labelled shade. He had previously sent a memo out to all the government departments with a stake in the current situation. Ladies and gentlemen, weve a problem in our hands. Malam Yakubu announced, after observing the almost tiring protocols in their conference room, a high ceilinged long hall, with chairs round a rather tall circular table arrangement. Were also little informed on this thing. We need to know what were up against. We need to know how to fight it. 38

Hence, we expect this forum to be that informative. The introduction was to an assemblage of the top servants of the state sandwiched with experts from the department of development, DOD, and the department for public health DPH, and some representatives from the department of public finances DOF, and a newly enacted semi-department, SAB, special advisory board, with men rumoured to have access, unrestricted, to the CES. The doctor attending to Atiku took the floor, while adjusting his spectacles. Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Abdurrahman, a medical practitioner by profession. The hall appreciated this modesty. The man was a highly qualified surgeon, trained in Zaria, UI, Europe and the States. He also had a lengthy record of service. Some of the experts in the hall had also had their internship under him. We have recently been hearing certain words, which, to some of us, sound vague and strange. Even so, these words carry critical implication. Words such as VIRUS, HIV and AIDS, ANTIBODIES, POSITIVE and NEGATIVE have acquired new import. What are they, and how do they relate to us? The hall gave him raft attention; he was a man reputed for frankness, some people might add, sternness. For us to eradicate the new threat, we must not be vague. The public must know precisely what we mean, when we speak. The doctor said. AIDS is an abbreviation, just homophonous, but not the assistance that we know that sound to be; this coinage stands for the total collapse of the bodys natural defences against diseases. On the other hand, HIV is the destroyer of the defences. Without those defences, the human body succumbs to various incurable malignancies, ultimately, resulting in death. This we all know and I do not need to go into much detail on that. Lydia shifted. She wanted to say not all of us deal with the dying! She was that intelligent, though plain, lady, one of Yakubus aides whose input had helped to revive Rangana. When a persons blood exhibits the presence of such virus, 39

we say the person is positive. When the blood is free of the virus, we say he or she is negative. Blood test is currently for us the fastest means of determining the presence or absence of the virus in the body. Our aim in this short and impromptu conference is to look at this phenomenon squarely, within the time available. My distinguished colleagues will provide much insight into the different facets of the case at hand. Our prayers are that at the end of it all, those responsible for formulating policies and financing them will be forthcoming. This much, in a nut shell, is a brief on HIV, human immunodeficiency virus and AIDS, Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. The elderly doctor sat down. His audience gave him a sincere ovation. From where does this thing come, then? Yakubu anchored the meeting, but Ranganas chief popped up in his mind; he had told him, this is a vengeance from high places. High places? Yes, up there, Maalaam, He said, while raising his finger. You mean from God? Yes, he punishes those with passion for their opposites. A young doctor stood up. He was of medium height, in short sleeved white shirt neatly tucked in, with a smart tie held by a pin. He had just returned from those foreign lands, Russia, Hungary or some east European enclaves with strange tongues and acclaimed commune tendencies. To know where we are, ladies and gentlemen, we need to know where we were from. He said. There was a general murmur. There has been an academic clamour on the dating of the origin, or the transfer of this virus from animals to human. Some experts claimed it was in existence as at the beginning of the first quarter or so of the last century. There was also a claim that it started in this place. I mean West Africa. Some hypothesized that it mutated into what it is today in central Africa. However, nobody ever talked of pinning it down to them; I mean the capitalist Europe or Americas. 40

He inserted his thumbs under his belt, adjusting it up, as he continued. Equally, some people postulated that the virus was laboratory engineered, designed by the imperialists for the extermination of the black race, and their own perverts. The hall was animated with some inaudible remarks. I supposed it is of little substance to us now where it all began. Our concern should be much about what it does to us now, and in the future. So, I will not waste my time or yours disputing dates or the regional sources of the virus. Another murmur filled the hall; the old doctor was nodding his head, as if giving approval for such dismissal. In spite of this, a brief mention may be made, for the sake of argument, of what the general position seems to be. For certain, we know that it was in the Caribbean in the sixties. In the seventies, it was in the Americas and Europe. In the eighties, it was found to be widespread in Africa, China, and the other Asian countries. By the nineties, millions have already been infected with it throughout the world. At the turn of the century, the western world has managed to trim down the rate of infection, while the virus is now trying to engulf us all, here in our subcontinent. Yakubu was intensely attentive; he had to be, now that his life was intertwined with a victim of the virus. It is evident that in a society like ours, polygamous, the virus will be quite spreadable, if allowed. One married man or woman will pass it to others very easily to make victim of all. He paused to give the hall a brief glance. At present, over forty million are estimated to be under the scorch of this deadly virus all around the world. Therefore, gentlemen, we haveforgive me, and the ladies, (there was some laughter) we have a problem that is growing deeper and wider. I hope that the powers that be will treat it with the utmost seriousness it deserves. Thank you. Thank you, Doctor Jelani. Yakubu said, Ill now invite Doctor Mangara to give us his own contribution, please. Doctor Jelani called out, Comrade Jelani, sir. 41

There was some laughter in the hall. Alright, Doctor Comrade Jelani, Yakubu smiled, with a memory of their teenage nicknaming at school from foreign magazines. But, Comrade Jelani did not just pick up his from the papers; he was dead serious with his transformation. He was a son of a high somebody, smuggled out of the fallen public school to USA. He secured a fast degree and returned. A little note on a tiny card got him employed, against a general embargo. Then, his trouble started; there were no equipment, no competent assistants and no good working atmosphere. He got frustrated and got out. His father financed him again, not knowing that his son had decamped to that communist dream. Now, he was back, with much dislike for his father and a lot more hatred for anything near capitalist. Salaam Alaikum, the middle aged Doctor Mangara got up. My contribution is on how the virus is contracted and subsequently transmitted. Everyone sat up. It was as if the killer had just walked in. Rumours and facts on this virus have got mixed up. So much that it is almost impossible to know which is what. He said, as he brought out small cue cards from which he read. Firstly, what we know of the facts are that [a] the virus is found in the blood stream, [b] and in the mature fluids. There were some few mature winks. The most common of ways to get it is [a] injection of blood in transfusion or [b] mature persons contact. I hope I am not considered vague, on this last one? No, was the general chorus. The officers, male and female, whichever, knew it would be hard to discuss this issue without being this much vague. Thats alright. Yakubu accepted on behalf of the group. Thank you, Doctor Mangara said. This issue is sensitive, you know. We must be discreet, not to ruin our chances of communicating the facts to our people. There was a general chorus of agreement again. [c] The virus can be transmitted through syringe usage, and 42

[d] cuts, through shaving and nail cutting. A cut or a lesion, in any part of the body, can facilitate the passage of the virus into the blood stream. That will bring about infection. Dr. Mangara paused to have a small gulp of water. When the virus enters the body, in its encasement, it floats freely, initially. It then starts to bind itself to a human cell. It cannot reproduce on its own. It is like a bad foreign cook with a bad recipe book in search of an equipped kitchen with local cooks. He turned to Malam Yakubu and said, you will excuse my using this allegoric simile, Mr. Chairman. Malam Yakubu nodded with a smile. Dr. Mangara stepped out to a board mounted on a tripod. He picked a thin stick, which he used to point at a large picture of something that looked like the edge of a planet with a small nodule attached to it. Before it can operate, the virus, which is represented here, (he tapped the attached nodule) seeks the door of the kitchen, (he moved the stick to sweep the large image) which is the cell, and waits. Such receptive doors are found in the white blood cells. When the door opens, the encasement opens to release the content in (he pointed at a small spiral short image). The content is in single units, whereas, in this kitchen, there are double units (he touched an intertwined short image) and solitary members. The single units lack sufficient information to be the in-house cooks. Each single unit from the virus then starts to team up with stray staff, in the cell, to form a double unit. In this camouflage, (he directed his stick to a twisted thing linked with other twisted things) the virus passes its recipe. The other kitchen personnel, then, start to act upon the coded instruction, making copies of the virus. The copies (he pointed at other unattached globules) are subsequently released to invade other body cells. Finally, the real kitchen workforce is destroyed by the invader. Mangara paused briefly, and then added, in other words, these cells become factories for the reproduction of the virus. The hall waited, as Mangara walked back to his seat. 43

It is possible for a mother to pass the virus to her child Mother to child? Lydia asked. Yes madam, Dr. Mangara said. It can happen [a] during pregnancy [b] during delivery or [c] while breastfeeding the baby. Please, note that this presentation is brief. However, it must be mentioned that some preventive measures are now possible. In the case of [c], milk supplement can act as a deterrent. While Caesarean operation is most appropriate in the case of [b]. Some therapeutic measures can be taken to prevent transmission in the case of [a]. We will make details available, in writing, later. Thank you, Lydia said, we will appreciate that. We have a record of others in our profession which were known to be infected through cuts or splashes on their eyes or noses. Also, such practices as nail cutting, blood cupping or shaving, whether in the street or at home, can facilitate transmission, as long as the instrument in question has been in contact with an infected blood, and has not been sterilized. The audience had patience for Dr. Mangara. The virus does not show resilience to survive in the open long enough to be passed to others through handshaking or cup sharing. I hope this brief will help ease some of our anxiety about this virus. But, I must add a warning to this; when this cook gets in, he never gets out. Thank you. With that, the doctor sat down; the hall gave him cheers. Thank you doctor Mangara, may I now invite Doctor Taju Kekere to educate us on how we can identify the virus infection. Yakubu said. Then, he gave the room a sweeping glance, and added, in normal circumstance, we would have taken a break, for tea or rest, but were not dealing with something normal, so please, endure a while. We will be alright, sir, was the general response. Doctor Taju Kekere was a small man, which was as far as description of stature could go, but his brain and disposition amongst his colleagues was no undersized matter. He stood up; he was, well, barely taller than Yakubus oddly tall table. 44

Good day, ladies and gentleman. He paused a little, as if tying to figure out where the chairman was. Thank you, Mr. Chairman, for giving me this opportunity. Though he was short, Doctor Taju Kekere could make a great talk. They used to say he gives you as much words as your tabs. That was rather not a fair assessment. The doctor always felt ignorance of the prescription was more dangerous than the ailment itself. From the onset, we must understand the difference between HIV and AIDS; the terms are not synonymous. HIV is a matter, a living thing, though tiny, really microscopic, while AIDS is a state, a condition of the body brought about, in one of many, by the activity of the former. AIDS, then, is the collapse of a system; many other means of reaching such stage are there, but most effective and most dangerous is HIV. Even so, that a person has HIV does not necessarily mean they have AIDS, but, they may be on the fast-lane to acquiring it. For that reason, we do not identify an HIV infected person by merely looking at them. The AIDS symptoms are as common as of all diseases. In other words, the only way a person can be certified as being infected with the virus, HIV, is through testing. At the moment, we have three types of tests for that determination. These are antibody test, antigen test and reaction test. The subsequent load-test is just to determine the dominance of the virus in the body. The protein test is to show us the level of the defence fighters in the body. The hall was silent. Doctor Taju Kekere felt as if his listeners had dozed off, or been knocked off. Are you with me? he asked to be sure. Sure, we are with you, doctor. There was much laughter, but the small doctor was not amused. From what he knew of HIV and AIDS, there was certainly little to laugh about. But, he was not offended, either. All right then, he started again, the first test we normally run is the antibody test. This test shows how the body is reacting to an invasion by a foreign body, which is its first defence. That is why it is called antibody, to say it differently, 45

anti-foreign-body. The second test is for antigen; this is the substance on the foreign invader itself, which induces response from the human immune system. In other words, antibody is the first defensive bark at antigen of a sneaking alien. The HIV genetic material test is the last that is performed for the presence of this killer. This is to look for the very essence of the virus itself. This test gives more accurate reading on babies who normally will retain their mothers antibodies. They themselves may not actually be positive. The Doctor had just a moment for breath. His audience yeided, so far, without complaint. He gave the hall a sweeping glance, and continued. For those already infected, the two subsequent tests done regularly on them are: one, the viral load test, which is to show the level of the HIV presence in their body, high, low or medium, and two, the helper test, which is to show if the defenders are increasing or diminishing. The session broke for a recess, in the words of Yakubu, for those non-medical attendees to stabilise themselves. He was in reality being diplomatic; there was a twist when the Doctor simply said, everyone in this area should be tested. The hall ruptured. Why should I be tested? Did I tell you I have AIDS? Gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, please, please be calm. Yakubu fought desperately to retain some order. The doctor thinks everyone is sick! Finally, Yakubu stamped his feet and declared, well break and resume after tea, (not that anyone would drink tea, really,) please reserve your remarks until then. The complainants grudgingly accepted that ruling and trooped out. Doctor Taju Kekere, though, was not ruffled at all. He knew he had touched a raw nerve. HIV was such a phenomenon, very contentious everywhere, at any time. 46

XV Meanwhile, Safiya was in the hospital. Beside her were Umar and Kabir who had insisted they had to see Atiku. Hes our friend, mum. Yes, I know, but Please, mum, we just want to see him. Alright, Safiya yielded. They had previously bombarded her with questions. Whats wrong with him, mum? Whats going to happen, mum? She too needed some answers. Though her anxiety had diminished, it had not gone away. In fact, the more people she talked to about this disease, the more worried she became. When they came into the ward, Safiya managed to get the nurses provide a screen for Atikus bed. At least, that had saved them the horrific view of the other inmates. She was very touched when she looked at the boy on the narrow bed. Wheres your mom? she said, looking for a background. Do you know where she is? she asked again. I do not know. Atiku said in a weak voice. Do you know her? she asked. The boy stared at the ceiling trying to remember. Which was his mother, the old woman before mallam came or, was it the light-skinned one that never left her bed? He actually could not say. He shook his head gently. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Do you know your dad? Safiya asked. Same crisis went through him. Was that mallam his father, or the old man who always leaned by the tree outside the house? Which house, he could not even remember. As Safiya waited for response, she knew it would be hard to find details of parentage from not only a small boy, but also a very sick one. Atiku was not the only child in this trap, and she knew it. While coming to the hospital, she had been swarmed by many boys of similar or even younger age 47

begging through the car window. There were others shabbily dressed and ill fed, roaming the streets with plastic bowls tagged under their armpits. The other night, she saw many of them trooping towards the shantytowns where their mentors were likely to be. She reflected on how these kids had left home long ago, from unspecified locations deep inland. Many would never see their parents again. Most had, in fact, never known their parents at all. They would grow up in that condition with no education or even trades. She wondered why the society easily ignored such plight. No, I do not know my dad. Atiku declared. Atiku had had similar discussion with Umar at Rangana. He had asked Umar what the latter would like to be. What do you mean? Umar said. The person you want to be like, your mom or your dad? My dad, of course. Umar promptly said. I wish I have one, Atiku said, I will like to be like him. You know your dad? Umar asked. No. Atiku simply said. He now glanced at Safiya and beads of tears oozed out his tired eyes rolling down to the pillow. Safiya was moved. Kabir was silent. Though Atiku had seemed scary to him initially, now, he had become a pal. Umar also looked on, concerned. Do you know your mallam? Safiya asked. Atiku knew that one, yes. Safiya felt hopeful. Whats his name? Atiku felt silent. He was trying to figure out if he had ever heard the name of the mallam called by anyone. Mallam, he announced. Mallam what? Safiya asked. There was a pause. No one called the mallam by any name other than mallam. Atiku shook his head. He was dismayed by such deficiency. All right, do you know where he is? Safiya asked. There was no hesitance, this time. Atiku shook negative. The mallam had gathered lots of them at the village open ground. 48

He had only a hazy memory of cries and yelling, as they trooped out of the village. They had moved from place to place, and had finally come to Rangana. For sometime, the mallam was not sitting on his mat. Some big boys then started to teach them. Later, their number began to reduce. He did not know why. Then, everyone started to form new begging team, and they dispersed. He could not say where the others were. He could barely remember even their names. Safiya looked at the frail figure and saw that Atiku had already succumbed to slumber. She put her hand on his forehead and gave him a gentle stroke. Her eyes were damp. Lets go, she held the hands of her boys, as they attached themselves closer to her. XVI Down at the department of development, the assembled experts walked back into the conference hall. They had previously formed debating groups outside, while having their snack break, hotly contesting the issues already discussed. This doctor thinks our private lives are for display? What if a woman you want to marry asks you? Well, what if you ask her? someone asked. Doctor Kekeres presentation was mind-boggling. I suggest we give Doctor Taju another chance sir, someone suggested, before we go to any other topic. Why? Yakubu asked. He had hoped they would move on. We are not comfortable with his proposal, someone said. Doctor Taju Kekere never shied away from any talkathon. He had a teenage history of telling his taunting mates what he felt about physical brawls; why would I waste my energy boxing, when I can talk you down! that had served him well, for in his class, he was left alone for his painful words. So, Yakubu agreed, against his inclination, to let Doctor Taju Kekere say his piece, but with a caution, that they would like to close this meeting before the Asar prayers. 49

You think I can talk myself that long, Taju Kekere joked. Why did you say everyone should be tested? Lydia asked. She was that upfront, not only because the men were shy, but they felt, in the presence of women, such discussion, in fact, any discussion relating to this AIDS, was inappropriate. During the course of their free chat outside, someone had made a slip of tongue, it is the woman that is causing it. Why did you say that? Lydia heard him, and asked. Most of those affected are women. He said. I guess you dont even know that most of those dying are men. Lydia shot out. That is the work of their wives. The man sent back. Pity you, you male chauvinist. Lydia said. Ah, why, the man was surprised at the hostility. You think every bad a woman and every good a man? No, that was not what I meant, he said. Then, what did you mean? Lydia softened. Besides, it is men that have little or no self-control. What? Someone asked. Some of you go on twos and fours, without being content. Come on, it is not like that. Then what is it like, Lydia said, when you make victims of many of your faithful ones, Lydia said. It is good to test all. Doctor Taju Kekere stood up. Mr. Chairman, thank you, I will not delay you on this. We hope so. Someone commented. I mean it. Taju Kekere said. Mr. Chairman, I tendered a proposal that seemed unwelcome, but I had my reasons for it. We will like to hear it. Allow him, please. Yakubu called for order. A test on HIV has two sides to it, which is either of which. Taju continued. You can be either, but not both, positive or negative. That is almost the only positive thing about HIV. There was laughter in the hall. Therefore, having a test is the surest means of putting your mind at rest about it. Taju said. I must add that, the test 50

is confidential. It is also not a once and for all experience. However, it is highly recommended for those at high risk areas to get tested regularly. HIV is not a once nay, never yah thing, but, a once yah never nay verity. There was a general nodding. If you are negative, learn the ways to be negative, ever. Sure, someone said. But, if you are positive, you then seek medical assistance, and you also avoid infecting others. Therefore, what I propose has no shame to it. That is true, doctor, the hall seemed to agree to that. Since this thing cannot be diagnosed on face value, it is better to have a reliable test. Who would like to destroy his loved ones, children and partners, by ignorance? Doctor Taju Kekere did not wait for any answer; he simply sat down, and then added, thank you, everyone. The hall was quiet for awhile. Then, Malam Yakubu said, thank you, Doctor Taju, we do appreciate your presentation. Yes, that was great. The attendees agreed. The conference adjourned for Zuhur and lunch break. XVII So, mum, whats going to happen to Atiku? Umar asked when they reached home. I dont know, Umar. I really dont know. Hes going to die mum, is he not? Umar said. Safiya was jolty, but, she said, everyone dies, Umar. I mean now. No one knows when theyre going to die. Yes mum, but, some boys at school said... What did they say? Safiya cut in. They said its a bad thing. All sickness is bad, Umar. But this one Why? she was becoming uncomfortable. 51

They said its a woman thing Umar was saying. Well, um, that, thats not the case. Safiya faltered. Anyway, get me some water from the fridge. She said. Umar had raised what most she dreaded. How could she confront this issue with her kids? She had difficulty getting answers even from those she thought were experts. Not only had they known little of it, but they shied away from talking about it. In fact, many had tried to avoid her, on account of it. Her child gets it. They said. Then, she has it. They whispered. The first time she heard it, she nearly turned to address them back, but then, she realized it was of no use. Though the nurse had said, there are nearly three million infected people, it still felt bad to be associated with it. Even those infected hardly admit it, which is why people keep dying. The nurse said, last year alone a quarter of a million died of it, madam. Our men go about using their instruments carelessly, and that makes the virus easier to spread. Safiya was alarmed. You are a woman, madam, how damaged tools without any cover will not be a danger? Safiya realized once, there was something so crucial, yet so embarrassing to talk about. So, will he be alright, mum? Umar asked, as he handed her the water. We hope so, Umar. Safiya said, but she had her doubt. Atikus condition had improved somehow, but he looked a wreck. The nurses had said. The boy has already gone through the first stage. That was, in fact, some years back, seven, eight or nine, no one could say for certain. Being under the unsuspecting mother or the preoccupied mentor, the primary stage had escaped notice. He must have suffered just a short cold or so, which lasted for a week or two. Most of such cases would not be diagnosed as HIV then. The nurses said, he is out of the second stage. Whats that? Safiya had asked. 52

This stage normally lasts for about seven years. If the boy had been tested earlier, he could have been found positive. But without test, madam, they would not know. Safiya knew that was an impossible opening, in a place where millions had no access to any basic health care. I hopeI just hope we can get him out of it. But, the boy is in the last stage of this thing. The nurse said. His immune system is already damaged. Damaged? Yes completely, the nurse said, and he is now a prey to many infections. His prescription is for those with AIDS. Now, all that Safiya could do was to give her children something to hold on to, a bit of hope, albeit, a very weak one. XVIII Atikus prescription was soon delivered to Safiya. The treatment was something else altogether to her. Firstly, it was a long list. She looked at the long paper with strange names, some of which she could not even pronounce. What do you call all these? She asked Yakubu just as he came in briefly from his own prescribed session. I dont know, he said, tiredly, check the literature. Well, theres none. Let me see. He collected the long paper. He browsed, while she waited. I guess the pharmacist will tell you. He wondered what Safiya would have done if she had to sit through all those flying jargons in their conference hall! I hope so. Safiya said. She, certainly, was not at their prescribed talk, but she would have her own worry looking for Atikus prescriptions. Must you follow me wherever I go? she asked, as Kabir jumped into the back-seat without invitation. I want to see the town, mum. Kabir said. Youve been seeing the town since youre born. Thats not enough, mum. 53

Alright, sit properly. Thanks mum, Kabir grinned, as he was seat-belted. They drove downtown along Bosso Road, now quite busy, looking round and stopping at any sign of a chemist. What do you call it? one short attendant asked. The paper is in your hand. Safiya said, fed up with the time the chap was taking peeping into the paper. I cannot read all these tide something, nucleon thing, nucleoside thing, madam. An attendant in another shop said. She moved on. What is this, um, transtranscripttranscriptase thing? someone somewhere asked. Well, check the next store. Yet, another staff advised. So, she moved on. They drove along Airport Road, same story. They took a turn left along the Hospital Road with similar strange comments. Kabir was thrilled; Safiya was not. Why anyone would put up signboards when they cant stock simple medicine? she was talking to herself, apparently. Whats it, mum? Kabir asked. Nothing, she remembered her passenger. They came up the Lagos Street junction and she turned left again. The road was narrow, further reduced by gullied edges, which heightened her unease. The only store you can get this nuke is at Paida, madam. Someone had finally figured out what the strange list was all about. He gave Safiya such a disdainful look that stuck. She exited Lagos Street through Makera, crossed over Bosso Road, and turned right onto Kuta Road. She did not bother looking for any chemist here, for there was none. What they had was plumbing ware, building care, and rowdiness. The young attendant at the Paida shop collected the paper from Safiya. A quick glance made him raise an eyebrow. That did not escape her sharp eyes. He went into a room down the shop. She waited, as she held Kabir by the wrist. The waiting got longer than she could bear. Please, tell that attendant to hurry up. 54

Yes ma, a female attendant responded. Then, the chap appeared being led by what seemed his officer, apparently. They approached Safiya in quick strides. It is you madam? He asked. Yes, Safiya said. Sorry to keep you waiting. Thats alright, now may I? She extended her hand for her paper. She was totally fed up. I am afraid we have not got all that is written here. Give me any that youve got, please. He asked his junior to hand him over a piece of paper the latter was holding. He slid it across to Safiya. Whats this? Safiya asked. That is the cost of what is available, madam. You mean Safiya was saying. The man nodded. Im not setting a store, am I? Ah, hear madam. He laughed, as he leaned across the divider towards her, and lowering his voice, he said, this medicine is expensive, madam, you should know. Well, I dont. There are five groups of the drugs. The man said. Five what? Five groups, but each works differently for you, madam. How can a childs medicine cost this much? He was a bit puzzled, a child? he looked down at Kabir. Yes, just about his age, Safiya raised Kabirs hand. The man was now really confused, none for children. Why did the doctor write that? Safiya asked. Children are given the adults. The man said. And the price? Safiya asked. It remains the same, madam. The man said. May I have the paper, please? Yes, he eagerly handed the prescription over to her. And the estimates or price, she asked. Alright, he passed that over too. Safiya hurried out, almost pulling Kabir along. 55

XIX When the conferees resumed, Yakubu said, now, ladies and gentleman, I would like to call on Pharmacist Makun to address us. Yakubu wished he had Safiyas long list with him, but to the hall he said, Mr. Makun, please. Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Pharmacist Makun said, as he stood up. He was a tall man, really tall and hefty, one of those giant structures that dwarfed whoever came close to them. Everyone had to raise their chin up to view the man. My little piece is on the treatment for HIV and AIDS. He said and paused, then resumed. Antiviral drug is the only medicine available now for HIV. He said and paused. Unlike Taju Kekere, Makun was a slow talker, (someone was ungenerous to say, a tortoise one!) These drugs only work to prevent people becoming sick. He paused. Others waited. There is no vaccine against HIV, no cure for AIDS. No cure, you said? someone asked. AIDS has no cure. Makun repeated. You mean those with AIDS will just die? I am afraid, yes, Makun said unless they administer the drug always, to the end of their lives. There was a gloom, briefly, in the hall. The drugs act to inhibit the reproduction of the virus, but they do not kill them. Makun said and paused. The drugs are also in groups. From these groups, an informed combination is made for effectiveness. Makun said and took a long pause, because that was a long talk. The combination regime must be adhered to, he paused, then said, unfailingly as a therapy, almost religiously. Someone was bound to comment, much later that listening to that tall man was like going up a tall hill! Failure to do so will give the virus the chance to develop resistance. Makun said and resisted the temptation to go 56

faster. He could not, even if he had wanted to, he was born a slow talker! Once, his father got tied waiting for him and said, Makun. It took Makun time to say, yes baba. You think the world has nothing to do but wait for you? Of course, his father had to wait, a long one, to get no, then another pause to get, baba, as his reply. If that happens, another combination must be worked out. Makun said and paused. We have five or so groups. Most people in the hall had now found a way to support their weighty heads. Taju Kekere seemed the only one really not bothered by this slow-moving tongue; he must have been calculating how fast he could mouth-beat the man! There is the nucleus-reverse impeder. This drug limits the action of the protein. Makun said and paused. The virus needs that protein to duplicate itself. He paused. There is the nonnucleus-reverse obstructor. This drug prevents the virus from replicating itself. Therethe Makun involuntarily paused. His attempt to make a fast takeoff failed. Others waited. There is also the protease restraint. He now went by his natural pace. Then, there is the hinderer from entry. Makun said. This drug prevents the virus from entering the cells, he paused, the human immune cells. The conferees patiently waited. Normally, the virus wants to destroy the cell protein. He paused. The function of this protein is to co-ordinate the, the response of other cells. He paused. These are the cells in the defence system. Makun told himself he needed to finish this thing before he got tired, he was very near to it. The hall waited. The virus needs enzyme, integrase. This is for it to insert its genetics into our cells. He paused. The last set of drugs is to deprive the virus such facility. Makun said and paused, as usual. Now, these combination drugs are not easily available. Why not? Someone asked. 57

We are a poor country, Mr. Malamum Makun said. Haruna, the inquirer said, so, what do we get? We try to treat the diseases that come due, Makun said and paused, that come due to the weakened immune system, such as tuberculosis and pneumonia. These are bacterial. Makun paused, and then resumed. Others are toxoplasmosis and cryptosporidiosis. These are protozoan. Makun said, and paused, of course. Others are fungal and viral diseases. All the drugs mentioned are not a cure. Makun said, as he prepared to sit down, they are only a treatment. Thank you very much, Pharmacist Makun. Yakubu said. Thank you sir, Makun said. It was already a little past Asar prayer time, the session came to an end, and someone said it was as if we were given the combination double dosage, quite long and quite bitter! XX Its impossible. Safiya declared. Whats impossible? Yakubu asked. He was spent, hoping to have a quiet evening to recuperate. This medicine, Safiya said. Why? Not even Dantata could do it. She said, recalling what her father used to say, in our youth, while we had no loincloth, Dantata had a camel load of garments; thats world! Whats it? Look at it. She gave him the slip. What? He could not belief his eyes. How can we? Safiya started to say. Well, we cant, Yakubu said, theres no doubt about that. There was a pause. What do we do, then? Safiya asked. There was another short pause. Give me time to figure this thing out. Yakubu said. Alright, Safiya said. That evening, just after dinner, the whole family met. 58

The case of Atiku had somehow brought about some revolution. For the first time, Umar and Kabir were attending a budget meeting, of course, of the family. We can help, dad. Umar said. With what? Yakubu said, amazed at the offer. With our allowances, dad, Umar said. Yah, Kabir lent his support. How much is it? Yakubu asked. They just dont know whats at stake. Safiya said. Lets find out. Yakubu asked, how much are you giving? Lets go outside Kabir, to discuss. Umar pulled his junior along. Excuse us dad. Alright, Yakubu said. Whatre we going to do now? Safiya asked, realising they were in a quandary. Well give up our Sallah presents, dad. Umar was saying, as they burst in with their contribution. Thats wonderful. Yakubu said, as he gave Safiya a wink. Thatll do, dad, wont it? Umar asked. But, he too was beginning to see that something unusual had come to the family. He had never seen his father look so forlorn before. Yes, itll help, Umar, thank you. Yakubu said calmly. Now, go to bed. Safiya directed. The boys edged away to their bedroom. Kabir was wishing Aminu, their cousin, was around. When is Aminu coming, Umar. He asked. Hes doing his exams, Umar said, he may not come. I must send for him to come. Kabir said. Are you crazy? Umar said. No, Kabir said, hell tell us what to do. Were talking about money, Umar said, Aminu has none. Yes, he has. Kabir said. Just his journey money, Umar said. Thatll do. Kabir said. Shut up, Umar said, you dont know what youre saying. Why? Kabir asked. 59

Theyre talking about large sum of something, you are talking about Aminu. Still, Kabir said. Come on, Umar said, lets go to sleep. So, they did. Soon, they were snoring away exhaustion! The sitting room, though, was mute and tensive. For once, the machine was running idle, as Safiya reflected. She had never seen her husband that lethargic before. The situation was pathetic; they needed money badly, there was no ceiling to it, no time frame; there was even no lasting purpose to it, it seemed. This HIV thing must be the worst to hit mankind. Lets sleep over it, Yakubu finally said, well find a way to kick-start the boy, somehow. They too went to bed, but not easily to sleep. By morning, the financial weight had become apparent. Raising hundreds of dollars a week for this thing is impossible, really. Safiya confessed. Thats over ten thousand naira, Yakubu said. There was a pause. Its not possible. Safiya said. There was another pause, a deeper one. Any cheaper one? Yakubu asked. They said the generic or something costs half as much. Still, a perpetual bill of five thousand is beyond us. There was a pause, quite heavy. So, what do you suggest? Safiya said. I really dont know. We Yakubu was saying but paused, as Kabir dashed in. Im coming along, mum. Kabir said. Going where? Safiya asked, with surprise. To take Atikus medicine to him, Kabir said. Alright, go and wait. Safiya said just to be rid of him. Kabir took off, quite excited with the prospect of an outing. I guess the boy has decided it for us now. What do you mean? Safiya asked. Well, get the first set. Well find a way, before he finishes 60

that. Ill be off to Rangana to see what else is bubbling there. XXI Malam Yakubu prepared for his own mother of all battles; he brought together a garrison of experts: geriatricians, paediatricians, epidemiologists, physiologists, microanalysts, and so on. They packed in a whole range of armamentaria: survival kits, scopes, and instruments. They got into their vehicles and headed east out of Minna, in a convoy, set for a blitzkrieg on HIV in and around Rangana. As they drove through the sleepy villages, Yakubu was very apprehensive of what tragedy could enfold, if this virus was allowed to propagate and spread. He also mused at the resilience of the virus, a tiny thing that attached itself to its killer to kill it; it certainly was a nano-killing machine! The medical contingent soon arrived at Rangana. The place had a nostalgic feel to Yakubu as at the first time he saw it. Despite the newly surfaced roads and the new buildings, it still appeared tender, almost ready or even eager to fall apart. The chief was at hand to receive them. He had been on his newly acquired telephone since morning. He had even threatened driving down again to collect Maalaam, if Yakubu did not turn up soon enough. Weve to trace that mallam. Yakubu told him. Which one, there are too many of them here. The chief said. He always wondered how these people, with a group of ragged young children, managed to sneak into town. Atikus mallam, Yakubu said. Well, I wish you good luck. The chief said. Why? Yakubu asked with surprise. If I tell you there are too many mallams, how too many unknown Atikus would there be? the chief said. Yakubu nearly laughed, but, it was not the moment. Look around you, Maalaam, all these children you see here do not know their mothers, let alone fathers, if they had any. 61

Lets try to get the mallam first. Yakubu insisted. Yakubu was beginning to see the trouble ahead of him. AIDS or no AIDS, some disaster was bound to occur here. If HIV had come, it certainly came to a place well watered for it. Go round, street by street, nooks and corners, find out from those mallams who Atikus teacher is, or was. He said. Safiya had told him of her rather shallow scoop on Atikus memory to find out his past. The boy had described their mallam as big and tough. How was his face? Safiya had asked. Tough, Atiku had replied. She was at lost. Was he light? Yes, Atiku said. How light? she asked. Atiku was silent. Was he dark? Yes, Atiku said. How dark? she asked. He was silent again. Was he tall? Yes, Atiku said. How tall? she asked. Just like you. Atiku said. Then, Safiya thought of testing that measurement. Was he short? Yes came the answer. How short? Just like you. Atiku said. She guessed right. Atiku was either too afraid to know what the man was like, or things had got muddled up for him. Yakubu finally reckoned if that man had been in Rangana, no matter for how long, someone would fish him or his description out. The town was very resourceful in rumours.

62

XXII Not quite long, Malam Yakubu, members of his medical team, the chief, a guide and a police sergeant were on their way to a village, a little away from Rangana, somewhere down near the large river that curved the town in at the northeast. Atikus Quranic school was reported to be located there. I told you, we will find him. The chief said, no one entered into my town without my knowing it. I would like to hear what he has to say, bringing these children here to abandon them. Yakubu said. That will not be his problem, Maalaam. The chief declared. Why would it not be, chief? Yakubu asked. No one looks for these children anymore. The chief said. Well, we should care. Yakubu said. Yes, Maalaam, it is because your own has dragged the problem to your doorstep. The chief said. Yakubu was reflective, I guess thats right. If Umar and Kabir had not interacted with Atiku, the boy would have passed away unnoticed. Now, the boy was tied to him, and it was becoming quite a challenge. Before coming, he had to write a cheque for Safiya, a large portion of their savings, to cover for just a weeks medication. The doctors had warned them against taking drug holidays; the virus is a smart little thing that keeps changing. He just could not see how they could afford the drug regime, not for a week, not for a month, not even for a year, but, for a whole life span of a boy of ten! What if, what if the boy turns up to be one of those long life-spanned people, lasting eighty years or so? He would be probably the most expensive citizen of the state! Nonetheless, Yakubu knew that Atiku was not the only child with this disease or disorder. What if they discovered the whole school full of such victims? What would they do? Who would pay for their treatment? In this place where common cold could not find money for a cure, how could it cope with an epidemic of such magnitude? 63

Their vehicles rattled down and up the rugged valley with the bumpers scratching the ground. We hope this road will see some blessing, Maalaam. The chief said, after his head had hit the car roof! Yakubu smiled. The chief had been on his heels all the duration of his stay in Rangana; this road is bad, that market is bad, we need this bad, we need that bad. They hardly met with the chief before he put in a request. What Yakubu appreciated most of the man, though, was his competitive sense, no town around here should be better than my town; he might be eccentric, but he was never that self-centred. They stopped in front of an enclosure. It, certainly, was not a house by any description: half fence, half roof, just half everything, amazingly. Here it is. The guide announced, with pleasure. Where? the chief asked. He could not believe there was any such non-structure in his domain. Here, chief, the guide said, this is the school. Then, where is the teacher or his disciples? Let me go in and look. They remained outside, venturing some inquisitive glances at the far away stream. The chief turned to Yakubu and said, one day you will build a fish factory. Yakubu asked, where? The chief pointed at the river and said, there Maalaam, you can catch more fish there than you can sell. Everyone come, ah, everybody come, come. They heard the guide shouting. Whats wrong with him? Yakubu asked. That sounds like the man has stepped on trouble. They hurried in against their dignified selves; ahead of them were some of the medical personnel. What is it? the chief asked. Chief, I have never seen anything like this before. What? the chief said. There chief, look, by the bed there, the guide said. 64

What is that? A man, chief, a human man, the guide said. No, that is no man. Well, chief, I have never seen a breathing rag before. The medical staff swiftly went to work. That rag was actually Atikus mentor stricken, and one hundred percent weakened, by disease. The chief pulled Yakubu out. They stood in the open, shocked and appalled. I never saw anything like that, Maalaam. The chief was trembling. Though he heard stories of what happened in the far away towns, he was never close to a victim of it before. Soon, the staff brought out the crouched figure of once an energetic man, whom Atiku referred to as tough. Oh God, someone shouted from the inside. What again? the chief asked in alarm. Subhanallah! someone called out. Yakubu watched in horror as a-seeming body of something or a woman was brought out. What is that? The chief asked in disbelief. His wife, apparently, a medic said, she must have passed away this morning or so. The woman was a shrunken bony frame clothed in insufficient skin; she had been reduced to just a skull with tiny inhuman limbs, quite grotesque. They laid her corpse by the side, and tried to attend to Atikus mentor. They were trying desperately to find any vein anywhere, where they could stick in the needle for a drip. The man was gasping, coughing inaudibly. His shape was no better than his wifes; being once taller than her, his frame now appeared more frightening. The chief turned his face away. He had never seen anything disquietingly shocking like that before. In fact, none of those around had ever seen human being reduced to such condition before; the structure did not even allow them room to have sympathy, it drew from them a surreal feeling of fear, revulsion, anger and anxiety. Yakubu mustered some courage to say, could anyone find 65

out from him where he came from. Does that matter, Maalaam? the chief asked. It matters a lot chief, there may be others like him there. Then, they will be of no use to anybody, Maalaam. The chief was just eager to leave. We should go Maalaam. I told you chief, you dont catch it by breathing. I would like to believe that, but I am also beginning to see that if you cannot catch it, it can catch you, even by looking. Its all right, chief. Yakubu said. A medic bent down trying to extract some information. Finally, a word came out faintly, Aina. Aina, from Aina, someone announced. Where is that? Yakubu asked. That is an old place, somewhere east to us, the chief said. As they tried to get the old man to the jeep, he made a faint cranking sound and passed away. The senior doctor in the team certified him dead. We have to get people to bury them here. The guide said. Here? someone asked. Yes, all the others have been buried here. Others? Yes, look there. He pointed at the fallen fence. Then, they noticed the rows of sand heaps of varying shapes, length and duration. Now, Yakubu realised that all or most of Atikus school mates had died here. The chief turned to him and said, Maalaam, the news of this thing must be buried here. Yes chief, Yakubu could understand what panic any broadcast of this would cause. But, there would be no way to keep it under wrap. His target was to get more information on this killer; that was the only way to stop it killing. XXIII An expeditionary team was formed, headed by Yakubu himself. It included some of the medical staff and some local 66

helpers: a guide, a historian and a hunter. They set out, the next day, driving east for Aina. The road was narrow, rough and strikingly lonely. They went on for long without seeing any vehicle or anyone going in or out. Finally, as they descended a slope, they saw the outline of the wide valley with the town sprawled across as a broken birds nest. The farmable lands appeared wide and spread on the rolling hills. There were narrow valleys of streamlets with no water in between the undulating landscapes. The area was dry and brownish. Their vehicles rolled downslope, with dust trailing them. The place is quiet. Someone observed. Malam Yakubu wished the chief had followed them, no, Maalaam, rulers do not enter other domains like that. But, youre with us, chief. Yakubu said. Yes, but you are no chiefs, Maalaam. The chief said. They drove in cautiously. They saw no one in the fields. The farms were just bushes, evidence of being fallow for sometime. The first house in the suburban had fallen apart. The next house was in similar or worse state. Then, the next, and the next; as they drove in to the centre of the town, they could see that they had just walked into a dreary emptiness: no kids, no animals, no people, but plenty dry grass and deep silence! They halted at the centre and got out. The clouds above Aina were grey and feathery, gradually shifting position and dispersing. The north-easterly wind was cool but strong. Sir, one of the staff called out. Yes, Yakubu responded. This place does not look right. No? Yakubu said. The atmosphere was eerie. They walked around, not sure of what they hoped to see or even what they wanted to find. Who is there? They could not believe their ears. Who is there? They heard again. 67

Salaam Alaikum, Yakubu extended a salutation. Wa Alaikumus salaam. Someone responded. A man appeared from behind a wall and walked to them. They just eyed him in astonishment, as he eyed them with interest. He was within the range of fifties, of average height, dark, and with strong frame. He was dressed, but casually, and considering his solitude, that was very modest of him. All that Yakubu could say was, whats happening here? The man heard the question, but let it. Wheres everybody? Yakubu asked again. After a short pause, the man said, come, sit down. He pointed to a long log and said, I will tell you what happened. He seemed very pleased with this abrupt company. By the way, my name was Chetau. The man said. What do you mean, was? Yakubu asked. The man took a moment to respond, it was as if he was untying his disused vocabulary sack. You will excuse my pauses. He said. Thats alright, Yakubu said. I have been alone for quite sometime, he said. Of course, I do talk to the trees and the falling walls, but these things do not reply in words. Why did you use (was) on your name, then? Because, my friend, name has existence only if it is being mentioned. The man said. I see, Yakubu said. It dies when no one calls it, the man said. Do you call yourself by your name? No, Yakubu said, recalling what his mentor once told him, do good work to extend your life; your name will live much longer after you; bad people fade away before they die. That is why I said it was Chetau, now that you are here, it will live again to be called, is it not? the man said. Certainly, Malam Chetau, Yakubu said. So, sit here close to me, Malam Chetau said. Yakubu, 68

Sit down Malam Yakubu and all of you his companions. They sat, and waited, as Chetau leaned himself by the weathered wall. What you see here began long time ago. XXIV This was a very prosperous land, as you can see. Chetau said, everything as it should be, up until Mahe returned. Who is Mahe? Yakubu asked. He was the chiefs first son. Chetau said. I see. Yakubu said. He was a strong young man, very handsome, and with much charm. It was a pity that was not for their crops. So, he decided to leave this place to go down to Minna. When was that? Yakubu asked. Some three years before this visitation. Chetau said. I see. Yakubu said. But, what you see here started nearly ten years ago. Chetau said. Mahe had been away for sometime. Yakubu decided it was best to let the narrative run its course. They gave the man all the attention he needed to say his piece and his piece was quite a long one. Some people here used to say there is no law in Minna. Some said, Minna has no demarcation with their farms. Yet, others said, there are also wild farms; everyone is planting anything wherever they fancy. Mahes father was a noble man. He had good respect for boundaries. When he heard of what his son was doing, thats, jumping fences and spreading wide seeds, he became angry. So, he insisted Mahe must come back home. His intention was to get him married here. Chetau took a breath. After much waiting, Mahe finally arrived. The word went round the town. The dear son is back. There will be dance all this night. Musicians from the neighbouring villages converged. The sounds of drums, flutes, and the tambourine filled the night. 69

The women were there, so were their children. The maids came out in their best dresses. The youths also were polished. The chief made his proclamation. My son is back. He was happy, now that he was not put to shame; a chief whose son respected no boundaries was not worth being sung about. So, he did what he had not done for long, dancing in the midst of his subjects. Everyone was merry, including one girl called Talatu. Talatu was a girl with city manners. Like Mahe, but no one knew where she learnt her own, she had little regards for any boundary. She was a light-skinned container of sully rubbish. Some people said it was her cursed ancestry. Others countered that, and said, Talatus mother was a good one. She was a blanket only for her reserved man. Talatu, they said, must have been a bizarre thing. They wished some lost somebody had come from anywhere to take Talatu somewhere. That night, Mahe came to the square in his city clothes; those were pressed crispy yellow kaftans with bright hat. He was a handsome fellow made better with such dress. The girls were, as by their nature, captured with such values. They fidgeted and shifted about, humming on how lucky Mahes bride was to secure such a dazzle. Chetau took a breather, and then continued. The drums were as loud as they could be. The girls danced, much to release tensity, but a lot to attract lesser companions. Talatu, though, was outdoing anybody. Her loosely held wrappers were flagging and revealing unseemly details. For Mahe, with eyes accustomed to such unruly spectacle, Talatu seemed his lost companion. It was not unusual for the magnet to attract such metal. Their eyes met. As fate would have it, the town also met it own fate there. No one knew what happened later. But, many people could easily swear to it that, whatever it was they did was unseemly as to warrant what followed later. The young maid intended for Mahe was meanwhile being 70

prepared. The henna paste was stirred, and the reddish water readied. The elderly women got Zulai squeezed under their care. She was a girl, fair and knowledgeable. The chief had said he wanted someone to take his son up to heavens. Only Zulai had such much Quran and Hadith under her hair. So, the chief insisted she must be reserved for his heir. They plastered the maid with the itchy dye, and sprinkled the hennaed liquid over her frame. Then, the scent was splashed all over her skin. Her sweet smell sieved through the alleys of the town, announcing her ready to separate with her peers. Chetau savoured the recall. Zulai cried with some longings and anxiety, while her mother was also in tears. She was happy, though, her child had got somebody, a son of certain nobility. At daybreak, the town crier was busy. His Kalangu was announcing the weeding Fatiha. The invitees poured in to the mosque there. (He pointed at the rubble that once stood for a mosque.) The imam walked in with his retinue. The brides people walked in with delight, carrying the kola nuts and gifts sent to them. The representatives of the bridegroom were also there. The chief had insisted this must be something to remember; he had pitched his aging fame to it. Salaam, salaam, the crier called out for silence there. We are here to witness Sunnah in enactment. The Waliyi of the groom announced their presence. The people of the bride also announced theirs. There was consultation, and then announcement. The honourable chief of Aina has seen something in a farmers care. He desires this for Mahes custody. The farmer of Aina has agreed to let the chief take over his worries. Oh, you people bear witness. After consultation, then came the announcement, the dowry is fixed: ten bags of maize, five of rice, five rams and a cow. The dowry has been paid, upfront with no credit. Finally, the crier called out, from today, the feeding, the 71

clothing and company of Zulai are Mahes trust. Oh you Mahes people, do you take this responsibility? Yes, we do. They responded. Oh people take note. Zulai is now Mahes farm and cover. XXV That marriage was done with Zulai. But, people suspected Mahes heart was not there. He has made himself Talatu-bound. They said. But, some people, seeing how unsettled he was, said he must have missed whatever it was he was doing in Minna. Chetau sighed while closing his eyes, as if drawing out inspiration. However, not the people of Aina, not even Chetau knew that Mahe was a shopkeeper in Minna. But, he was, and it was not a big one, yet, it was notorious, at least to such people as Ngozy from Enugu, Larai from Kaduna, and Iyabo from Ibadan; all three drawn into Minna by the railway. They were its most frequent visitors, not that they did it at the same time. In fact, none of them knew the existence of the other. Well, at least none had bothered to tell him, even if they knew. They were content with what they got. Somehow, each in that quartet had complained of some body disorder. They all shrugged it, except Iyabo. Her sickness had tied her to bed. Mahe did not know it. In fact, with time, he thought the dark short girl, with wide backside, had decided to change nest. But, the short girl had developed boils, then insistent cough, and finally death. She had given her people much trouble transporting her corpse back home. The girl was no good to anybody. They had complained. Who would have thought she was a Christian? Let us just do it, now that she is dead. They conceded. They arranged a short wooden coffin for a girl that had spent a short lifetime doing trivial trips, but one. One day, Iyabo jumped on a motorbike to greet a mate that was sick. 72

The young drowsy biker took a turn without any bother and got them knocked down by a bus. That landed her on the hospital bed where she received blood bought from a tipsy hungry fellow. Though she never knew, it changed not only her life but that of many others. Soon, Mahe started missing Ngozy too. She was a girl very carefree with her frame. She used to say, it is mine, I can do what I like with it, dear. So she did. It was not actually a pretty one, just pronounced in certain quarters, enough to entice loose men. Someone had noticed Ngozy was becoming thinner, not that she was that fat before, but a least, she got some shape. Now, she was just like those lollipops. You are changing, Ngozy, the curious observer had commented. Are you alright? Yes, my dear, yes, I am just changing skin! The observer was mystified; he saw no fashion in scabby skin or one full of rashes, for that matter. Ngozy too did not last. Her fragile body was gently laid in a coffin and the lid closed down. A pall donated by a widow was pulled over the box. It gave the priest some discomfort to pray for someone who never came to church, what will the lord do with such a dead, um, he did not want to say sinner, but he had no reasonable substitute. Ngozy had no convoy, behind or in front. It occurred to her people that she had died of a bad thing. If anything, a short branch from a neem tree was enough to notify the road users of the presence of a dead with the dead-load. That way, Ngozy found her way back to the East. She had left home hoping to be a recognizable somebody. But, Ngozy was not born with ceremony, and when she died, she was no celebrity. Somehow, not even her shop-owner partner knew she was gone. After all, Mahe was not her only company. She did not tell him he was, and he had never bothered or hoped to be. The day Ngozy died, it was as if Minna did not miss her as it had not missed Iyabo or another girl called Larai. Larai was hinted to be or deceived to think Mahe was her charming partner. He said so and she believed him. She was a 73

quiet girl, shy from outside, but much talkative within. How she got into this was rather unusual. On that day, she was sent to the market. Some rogue trailed her and ripped her off. When she went home, her stepmother swore for that loss. Go, do what you have to do, but that money must return. Of course, Larai did not know what to do, thats, until a playmate said, easy. She taught her those little tricks; besides stealing, she said, there is much a woman can do. So, she did. Some few days before Mahe left for his village, not knowing what he was being called for, they met. You should come to announce your intent. She urged. Sure, he said. I mean it, she declared, otherwise, I will not come again. I will do it. But, he did not. He never meant to, anyway. So, when he did not see her, he thought she had actualised her threat. But, she had not. Rather, sickness, one she had never known before, had materialized itself in her. She stayed at home trying hard to breathe. Her skin was full of boils and her nose was a-bleeding. She was in such anguish for nearly a year. Then one night, much as an answer to her stepmothers prayers, Larai puffed out her last breath. Come morning, the neighbourhood heard the news; the girl with that disease has just died away. Will it be right to attend a funeral of such one? What is wrong with you? someone asked his friend. Why? the friend was surprised with such a response. Well, she is a Muslim, is she not? In that trap, they all went to pray for Larai. Though the people of Aina might not have known it, Mahe did not have much to return to in Minna -the shop was as good as empty, and his health was as bad as it could be; and he knew it. XXVI Malam Yakubu said, as if to stimulate Chetau, so, Mahe didnt settle down here? 74

It worked. No, no, Chetau said, a week after the ceremonies, Mahe set out for Minna. There was only a lorry that passed through here, once a week. That day, the 911 Mercedes came to view, with its trail of dust far behind. The children shouted and danced around; each went close to the luggage of some relative about to board. The lorry finally stopped at the square there, (Chetau pointed at the now overgrown park) with the driver childishly thumbing the horn. It rang through the town. Mahe walked out of his new house. Behind him, by the door, was his new wife, peeping to wish him goodbye. He did not turn back to reciprocate. He was eyeing someone out the next house, sitting unwomanly by the fence. This one was not shy, she was also not happy, not for what she was about to miss, for she was not wed, but the journey that would be done without her. Talatu had insisted for Mahe to take her along. I have always wanted to go to town. She said. But, it is not a place for women to be. Mahe replied. The more reason for me to go, she said. Why? To keep you constant company, she replied. No, not now, Mahe said. When then? Talatu asked. I cannot say, he said. Or may be you will not say, she said. No, it is just that... then silence, for they heard some footsteps. By the time they resumed, that was not that. Zulai eyed her groom, feeling something amiss. She could not say why, but she sensed that was it, if Mahe went, he would not return, if he did, it would not be for her. The travellers climbed the wooden truck. They sat, facing backwards, in rows of benches placed on the third deck, above sacks of maize and guinea corn. Under these was a basement for helpless animals such as donkeys and the like. The commission man and the driver climbed up. They asked everyone to sit for a headcount. With each fare matched to a 75

traveller, the station chief extracted his commission, and got down. The driver was perplexed; something told him he was duped again. Next time, he promised himself, I would not be that daft. Soon, the lorry was out of the town. Mahe sat, recalculating what his life would look like, now that he had pleased his old man. With capital, making money is sweet. He told the chief. The man was willing to please the child. Make sure it is multiplied. He advised. As soon as I reach the town, baba, you just wait. The lorry went down a slope. The driver was very excited this time. Despite the swindling commission men, this trip had been exceptional. He had done it faster, enough to tell the owner of the vehicle of lack of goods; what lucky him! Then, trouble loomed. The brakes were about to fail, and there was a narrow bridge ahead. There was also a cow or something about to cross the road. He marched what he thought could stop the truck. But, it did not hold. It swerved and the target was, without doubt, the ditch ahead. In next to no time, there was someone in the village making bad broadcast; the lorry that has just left has gone under the old bridge. The whole town was shocked, greatly. The chief was too unhinged to hold the peace. Yakubus narrator was touched, as he said, we raced out on donkeys or on foot, some for relatives, lovers or sympathy. Within no time, we got to them; to tell you the truth, it was not good. I have lived long enough to see quite some few accidents, even those engineered against stingy rich ones, but Malam um, what did you say your name was? Chetau asked. Yakubu, Yakubu said with a smile, quite surprised how easily Chetau was pulling out words from his lexicon bag! Malam Yakubu, that accident was different. The place was a mix-up, broken timber with broken bones, animal part with human parts. It was difficult to tell who was dead and who was alive. The darkness added to our misery. We lit those acibalbal, you know them? (He asked Yakubu, but did not 76

wait for an answer) No, you would not know, since you are from that city place. Anyway, we lit anything that would burn, not just to see the living or the dead, but to keep the hyenas far away. They came roving about; I was assigned to keep them at bay. Others got busy pulling legs and severed heads. Those hyenas got wild; we had to appease them with those bones. The people were handing me chunks of donkeys and goats, I hoped, but I could not tell. It would be bad to feed brute human flesh. The owner would be sad, waking up in heavens with his innards munched by a wicked beast. Everyone was in blood, pricked by splinters of timber or loose bones. By morning, we had got what we could of those men. We reached the village in a bad mood. The chief was stricken, waiting for the bad sight. He had already got the bad news; Mahe had not made it through, that day. Graves were dug without names. The wounded were attended to, finally. But, the nature of our town had begun to change. Now, we had more women than any would want to take. Most pitiful was the young girl; Zulai, just married, was widowed in a short time. She cried herself into illness. Chetau had a short break, his listeners just waited, quite mesmerized. Are you listening, Malam? he asked Yakubu, as he bit a kola nut, part of the presents given to him by the team. Yes, we are, Malam Chetau. Yakubu said, with a great deal of fascination and respect for their host. XXVII Zulai recovered finally, Chetau resumed, and got married again. There was someone who seemed too pleased with that accident. Zulai was a girl he had sought, for a long time, being poor and common, he lost her. He watched her whisked off to that brag. Sadly, the two of them did not last. Free Talatu became freer, this while. Her restraining brother was among the dead. So, she got busier, nonetheless. Just a month after this accident, she too succumbed to bed. 77

It is just a cold, she said to all. But, that much scared her, all the same. She spread her life and had a look; she saw it riddled with much holes. Then, she decided to stitch it up. There was a young man that would not mind her past or her future history. He swiftly gathered the minimal price and saw her parents, who also did not mind. She got married, finally. There was no fanfare or long dance, only gossips on a trespassed farm. It certainly is an over farmed place. They judged. It makes no difference, if it yields well. They said. She is not the only one with a bad past. They considered. No one knew why, but something happened fast. Talatu was expecting a big load. Then, she delivered a big boy. It looked good, healthy and blessed, but something indicated Mahe had not died. The husband, though, was not sad; he named his thing, Atiku; that was a good name. Four months later, the young fellow went to bed. A year later, he was laid to rest. No one took that a killing disease, but death here was not linked to sickness, it was writ to happen at the right time. Talatu remarried, becoming the fourth wife. Soon, she fell sick, and two years later, she passed away. She left her mother the burden of that child. Her mother decided the place was not safe. She handed the boy over to a mallam who passed by. Now, that Atiku, you said, has gone to you. Chetau said, feeling quite relieved now, he had done his bit. XXVIII Malam Yakubu stood there in awe mingled with sadness. He raised his eyes to sweep the vast emptiness that stood in place of those throbbing hearts. Equally, the other members present were moved. They had no comment on this tragedy. As they drove back to Rangana, they had a fear lurking in their hearts; no one was safe with this virus roaming around. Maalaam, what did you find? The chief asked. Yakubu gave him a brief. That was enough to put him off. 78

So what didwhat we do now? he stammered. Meanwhile, we must educate the people on this disease. That is good, but how? the chief recovered to ask. Give them information on how to prevent it. That is simple enough. Everyone should keep to his farm. What of those without any, chief? Someone asked. They should keep still. The chief said. Yakubu remembered what Chetau had told them. You see me here. I had a wife. She died long before Mahe came to us. Somehow, dowry became a hindrance. I was taunted, but being poor, I remained alone. Then widows sprouted in twos, threes and fours. I saw them. I was tempted. I looked again. They were thinning. I became afraid and I held back. At the end, I thank God. As Yakubu prepared to go back to Minna, he left the chief the task of organising some discussions with all groups. The chief instantly raised objection, you know this town. You cannot bring this mixture together without a blast. Try chief, this thing is far beyond minor interests, unless they want the place empty. He recalled what the Aina man said, when he asked him. Why are you here alone? Where will I go? Chetau had said. Out, to join people, Yakubu had said. You mean the dead ones? No. Yakubu said, with surprise. I presumed the whole world is the same. Chetau said. It is cursed with the same disease. So, why should I go to die such far away? Yakubu, certainly, would not want to have to meet the last man of the world! XXIX Yakubu came back to Minna with his team. He went straight to the hospital to check on Atiku. The doctor said, we are ready to release him now, Malam. 79

Atiku had already been scrubbed clean down to his flesh! He was polished and dressed to look anew. The boy, though, was happy, but astonished; all this fuss on his appearance was strange. Glamour was something they were taught to detest; little food, little dress, little anything was supposed to be their insignia, a mark of humility, even though God had made such much for mankind to benefit. Alright, Yakubu said, but his mind was full of anxiety. He had been to Aina, Atikus home village. He had heard Atikus history. The man at Aina had said, Atikus grandmother gave him over to a mallam, who also decided to leave town. Now, even the mallam was dead, and Atiku had become his care. It was not like he was ready for this inheritance, at all. What will Safiya say? Yakubu mused. Oh no, no... You know I cant do it. Safiya cried out. Yakubu was right. When he reached home with the boy, Safiya went berserk. She could not imagine staying with someone diagnosed with such a killing disease. Why not? he asked; he had hoped Atikus new appearance would make an impression; it was meant to deprive her of any excuse to reject the boy. Why, why not, thats not fair. She charged. Were obliged to him, you know. He said. Why? she asked. Hes young, orphaned and sick. Yakubu said. I know, she said, but how about the children? The children, Yakubu said, what about them? Yes, their health also, Safiya said. I think we know enough of it to take care. Yakubu said. What of their feelings, then, she said. What do you mean? How do you think itll be for them living with someone likely to infect them with his disease anytime? Yakubu never thought of that before. How will other people treat them, knowing that they are close to someone with such a killing thing? Safiya said. 80

Youll be surprised how many people have it. At least they have not been marked. Safiya said. And you know that even the hospital staff didnt want to take him. They were just a bunch of ignorant people. To be honest with you, this thing scares me. There was a pause. Yakubu was desperately searching for a convincing argument, any which would do. You know this thing is not normal, Safiya said, and even our neighbours will shun us. Hes now our responsibility, nonetheless. Yakubu said. How is that? We brought him here. Yakubu said. Then, take him back there. Safiya said, promptly. No, we cant do that. Why cant we? Theres no where to take him back to. He must have somebody. He has no one, Yakubu said. His mother has died, so has his father and all his relations on all sides. What am I going to do now? Safiya said, despairingly. I know its hard, Yakubu said, but he has only us now. Such a shameful thing, Safiya said, disgustingly, associated with lewdness and promiscuity. The boy is innocent. Yakubu entreated. There was a brief pause; Yakubu thought that was it. You know we cant take him to any school, can we?' He was deflated, but, he said, why not? No school will accept him. Safiya said. I dont think so. The moment they know of it, they will panic. Safiya said. Yakubu was stunned momentarily. Lets just try. There was a prolonged pause. Safiya was having a crisis: there was the instilled upbringing to be kind, and yet, there was the instinctual desire to be protective, to be safe. Finally, she said, resignedly. Well, if he stays, well isolate him. She compromised. 81

Why is that? Yakubu asked. Well keep everything separate from him. No, we cant do that. Yakubu remembered what the chief of Rangana had said, we should put a large signboard to mark those people with this curse, Maalaam. They wouldnt welcome that, chief. We dont need their consent to do that. The chief had said. Yakubu said to Safiya, surely, thatll destroy his psyche. There was a pause. Yakubu got hopeful. In that case Safiya started to say. Yes, Yakubu was eager. No! That was a bang. Yakubu felt a thud inside. You have to find where to take him, really. Safiya declared, resolutely. He was dumb for a moment. That was enough to make him reflective. He was sure Safiya had feelings for the boy, but she was equally scared for herself and her boys. Her boys suddenly, he had an idea. It occurred to him that unless he used something, well, some little manipulation, an appeal to the parental instinct of tolerance and permissiveness, exclusive towards its own, Safiya would not verge- her boys would be the key. He hoped the stratagem would not backfire. All right, I understand, he paused, and then said, but its your Kabir that brought the boy here, anyway. There was a brief moment of anxious silence. Leave that stupid boy, Safiya took the bait. Yakubu held on, praying inside. If only he had kept that restless body of hisif only So find out from them what they feel about him. Yakubu was sure he had her snared. He quietly withdrew, wishing he could watch her wrestle those little fellows! Sure mum, Umar said. What do you mean, sure? Safiya started to deflate. She had called them aside, trying to do some nice diplomatic trick as she put the proposal across. She was hoping for an upright 82

rejection, but Umars first pronouncement ruffled her, greatly. He has to stay, in our room, mum. Kabir said. Wheres the space? She was shocked by their enthusiasm. Aminu is not around, were three again. You know he ishe is sick. She now realised that subtle nicety would not work. No problem, mum. Umar said. What do you mean no problem? she said, frighteningly. Oh sure, well take care of him, mum. Umar said. She stood there dumfounded. Then, it occurred to her that she was just not smart at all in asking them; she should have known better! XXX Subsequently, Atiku got a bed in the kids room. Kabir had insisted the bed should be by the window, for him to get fresh air, mum. Safiya, though, had her own concerns. She made special arrangement for him; no loose nails, no sharp objects, no glass, just to prevent him getting hurt in any way; no one wanted to see any scratch on his body; the boy was surprised to see himself elevated to such precious position. Make sure you do not play with knives, razors, stone Alright mum, well take care. Umar said; he could see that Atiku was becoming uneasy with the elaborate restrictions. Shut up, Im not talking to you. She was irritated, and she knew it. Umar was surprised. He recalled her agitation at Rangana, and he could not understand why. Their mother had taught them to be helpful, always, to those in need. She never gave them a list of those to abandon. They knew how sick Atiku was, and they felt obliged to help him. When you feel any pain tell me, she said. You hear me? Yes ma, Atiku calmly said. And dont follow them on those bikes lest you get wounds. Yes ma Atiku said, submissively. Atiku got a list of dos and donts as long as his prescription 83

paper. No matter what, he felt much more at home, having Umar and Kabir around. His first night was best imagined. It was peaceful, quiet, and filled with green-garden dreams. It did not take long for him to gain some of his confidence back. Soon, he was giving Kabir a bit of his times gone by; Umar was not at this session. Our mallam takes us to Birnin Kebbi. Atiku said. The boy had certain peculiarity with language; at times, he spoke in tenseless fashion, dropping the past or the pluperfect; it was as if the past was a continuum, highlighting of which had no real significance; equally, what could have been made no difference, now that it was not; and to him, the present and the future did not have such a strict delineation. His listeners soon attuned themselves to such tenseless-ness. What? Kabir asked in surprise. Birnin Kebbi, Atiku repeated. I thought you said Birnin Shehu. That was Kabirs favourite city. But he was amazed that there was another place called Birnin again. Well, any big new place of the owner is Birnin. Well call ours Birnin Minna, then. Kabir said. No, you cannot. Atiku said. Why not? Kabir asked. Your town is not from anther place. Atiku said. Kabir was not sure if he understood how towns moved to other places, so he said, but our people did. Still, you do not get permit. So, whats the story? Kabir gave up. Each time we settle, we erect rooms of zana. Atiku said, The bed of mallam is of corn sticks put together. How could you how anyone can sleep on, what was it you called itzana or something? Kabir asked. Zana, yes you do. Atiku said. Alright, but thats new to me. Kabir said. The big boys boil sugarcane syrup, and add lemon. Kabir just eyed the narrator with cocked ears. 84

When it is thick they draw it on hooks. Then, it twizzles into patterns. When it is brittle, they break it into pieces. Then, they arrange them on reed plates. We, the small ones, carry it to the town, starting from Makeran Gandu, to sell. Was that thing sweet? Kabir asked. Aha, Atiku said, but it is best when it is warm and soft. You sure enjoyed yourselves, then. Kabir was fascinated. Yes, we do, and we return in the evening. You made lots of money, then? Kabir asked. Not much and it is not ours. Atiku said. Whose was it? Kabir asked. May be mallam, Atiku said. You got paid for all that round about? Kabir asked. No, Atiku said. They bought food with it? Kabir asked. No, we beg for our food. What of mallams wives, they did not cook? Yes, they do sometime, but only for mallam. Atiku said. What about you, the kids? Kabir said. No, we beg. Why? Kabir asked. Mallam says for us to be simple Atiku said. Well, thats not fair, then, Kabir said. No, we are students, Atiku said. Where was the school, then? We stay below the Dukku hills near the river. You were not afraid? Kabir asked. No, we sit round a bonfire at night. What did you do, dance? Kabir said. No, we read the Quran with our tablets. Still, you should be sacred. Kabir said. No, we can call Bawan Tarasa, if we see bad people. Whats Bawan Tarasa, again? Kabir asked. He is a strong boxer. Who did he box with, the big boys? Kabir asked. No, he boxes with Shago Dandunawa. 85

I never heard of those before. Kabir said. You never listen to Dan Anache? Nope, I never heard of that one. Kabir said. I bet you do not hear of Narambada also? Na whatno, I never heard of it. Kabir said. He is a singer. Atiku said. A singer, what of? Yes, he is like Danmaraya, Shata and Dankwairo. I dont know them, Kabir said. I guess even Umar doesnt know that Kwairo something. It is because you stay in a barrack. Atiku said. Why do you say that? Kabir said. Your town is a mix-up of people. I guess so. Kabir asked. Umar entered, later. They all turned to go to sleep. Atiku felt very happy. Now, he had a home and a people he could relate to. Since the day he saw these two, he felt certain attachment to them and to people, in general, such that he had never had before, not even to those elderly people at Aina or the boys in his begging team. Therefore, he decided the mother of his good friends would be his mother also; Rangana would be indistinguishable and fading, like those colourless places visited in a dream. XXXI There was nothing dreamy about Rangana, especially, to its chief. It was real, and it was facing significant danger. The chief had invited the heads of all groups: religions, tribes, and any other. Our town is on fire, come with any bucket to quench it. He knew that was risky; he had told Yakubu so. You do not gather two people here but they tear themselves apart. Yet, he had to do it, hoping all those heads would come along with their eyes to see reason. It was like he was mistaken. He was soon honoured with the presence of an assortment 86

of very important persons for a meeting, he stressed, was very crucial to the town. He got for himself a nice stool to symbolize his growing eminence. Then, he asked everyone to sit down. The meeting was about to start. Suddenly, everyone started to complain; no place to sit on or the seat should be higher, or in the front, or away from this, that or those opponents. Subsequently, the chief realised he had made not one, not two but three big mistakes; the first was that he had invited too many important heads. That was inevitable though, because Rangana had quite a number of these important people. They all had a record of important service. Yet, when they retired or were forced to it, they came back looking for important names. Well, Rangana had a lot of them, those titles. Everyone could pick and stick what they wanted -the chief despaired; he could see no winwin in this arrangement. Please, hang on anywhere, just for today. He pleaded. After certain adjustments, the dignitaries appeared to have agreed to that inconvenience, but not to the composition. How come we are meeting with these people? Maude whispered to his friend, next to him. Maude was a dark fat man, who was neither fat nor dark before. Now retired, he had got himself elevated to head the motor park, as Sarkin Tasha; I want to serve my people, he said, while hotly contesting for that post with another pensioner. Which ones, the Ibos or the Yoruba? the head of drivers asked. He actually drove nothing but his extortion tray, and he was an ex-service man with a fat record of all service also. He had now come back to serve his people, in the best of his ability, as leader of T.O.U, transport operatives union. All of them, what is their difference? Maude said. I dont know. the drivers leader said. Strangely enough, these two had no better company, before or now, than those they indicted; the latter serviced their vehicles, while the former supplied the parts, and the two exmen enjoyed their commissions under the shade. 87

On the other side of the divide was Nwako, fuming. He was a short man dealing with all wares: secondhand everything. He was once a professor of micro-financing or something. When he was retired, he decided to boost his earnings and to implement his theories on rural economy. As a result, all acknowledged, Nwako had become a shrewd man, but most shoddy, who had bankrupted his competitors, all of them, his town mates. You think these people get head? Nwako said. Which people? Obi asked. Obi was not a short man, but he was square, in shape and in trade, dealing in anything business. He was also not a retired anybody, just an orphan at youth, who swore to be worth noticed, by all means, and he had done it, earning lengthy jail terms for dealing in all goods. Who other than these savannah people, Nwako said. What is wrong with them? Obi asked him. Everything, they want to bring that their religion into this. I think we are here to discuss AIDS, not faith? Obi said. Yet, they needed to discuss both; Nwako was most close to risk zone, and Obi was really not religious in anything except his business. He was also such crafty as not to hate anyone, thats, if they could connect in business, and that was liberal enough to accommodate all those at the fringe of any group. The commotion did not stop there; at the far end of the multipurpose hall, one of Yakubus seven basics, other important heads had their grievances. Why are these foreigners here? someone was saying, they spread this thing. He must be very short, because no one could figure out who said that. Look chief, if they dont want us here, we will go. Bola responded. He knew, even without it being said directly, it was his people that were being addressed. Bola was by nature a quiet person, but he and his people had learnt to survive in Rangana by going in-between; yet, no one could say of which groups. They followed the railways to Minna, and got stuck. When their mates smelt their progress and trailed them, his 88

contingent moved on. They finally got bogged down here. We cannot discuss our secrets with them. The anonymous voice rang again. Now, everyone could identify who was speaking. It was Ankara, a short framed man most fitting to be called a dwarf, but no one dared say so, at least not to his face. He was also a man with double cause for bitterness; being once displaced from the forests then turned refugee, and now a recent convert with a much more lingering attachment to his tribe than to his new conviction. Please, this thing is important to us all, the chief said. We know that, what do you want with us? Maude said. Finally, it seemed, the dignitaries had accepted even the composition, but they were unsure of it purpose. Chief, this disease is man to man thing, why do you call us here? Mai-Samari said. How did the women in Aina get it? someone said. How you ask that question, who is a woman here? MaiSamari was no woman; he was a hefty man with youths available for hire, of course, to enhance thuggish politics. Then, it is woman to woman, not Rangana problem, therefore, chief you should allow us go to our businesses. Obi said. He was most likely to have an urgent rendezvous. Why is it not? someone said. Which woman you see following another woman here? If they do, you think they will invite you? someone said. The chief got busy shouting, on top of his voice, we need to teach people how to avoid this thing, please, people. The end of the world is here, then. Labbo said. He was an old man with a view that enlightenment was exclusively for men; women and children should be spared such headache. Why? someone asked. You want us to talk to our children about adult work? If you do not talk to them, what if they bring it to you? Kai, that is an insult, Labbo said, you must apologize. I am not apologizing for anything. The man replied. 89

Please people, we are supposed to have a mature discussion on how to save our community. The chief was getting angry, and he indexed his mistake, number two; he had hoped these people would come along with their eyes to see reason, they did, but they had left their heads at home! In that case, the leader of the herbalists declared, chief, there is no disease without its medicine here. Sure, where is it? the chief was sarcastic. My spirits tell me to go through virgin land for cure. That sure is disbelief. Malam Na-Korji said. He had been waiting for this opportunity to square it up with the herbalist; the man had given him some concoctions, weeks back, which made the toilet for him a residence! You call my ancestors disbelief. The herbalist cried out. What are they if they advocate such abomination? Malam, if not for my love of peace, you wont see peace anytime soon. The herbalists leader said. You will be the fuel for hell. The chief was finally exhausted. Yet, the haunting image of Atikus mallam would not allow him give up. He also figured out his third mistake; the meeting was not going according to agenda; well, that was nonexistent. He wished Yakubu were here to fix it. Please, our community is in trouble. He said. Then, the hunters leader hijacked the meeting. Chief, this thing is meant to kill bad people, so we have no problem here. The hunter said, allow it kill the bad people. The hunter was a man of the jungle. People said he was cruel. They also said it was the company of the beasts that robbed him of his humanness! It is good for the bad people to die. Some people shouted out. It appeared the hunter had not yet monopolised that trait. The hall erupted into laughter that kept going louder and wider. That was typical of Rangana; it had the tendency to easily agree on anything wicked and violent! Order, please order, the chief was saying, but, it is now killing the good ones. Please listen. 90

No one seemed to notice the chief, anymore. The meeting closed itself with that finale; everyone had something to take home to talk about. The chief was left alone, quite drained. He just wished no one found another of Yakubus boy in his town again. XXXII In Minna though, Yakubus boy could be said to have some improvement, but, as the nurses said, he was still on the danger list; they were courteous enough not to say death list. This afternoon, as with all noons, Atiku sat alone by Safiyas flowerbed. He had no school to go to, and not many kids to meet, let alone to play with; his was a-quarantine. Once, he had ventured out, alone, to the kids of the neighbourhood playing soccer. They did not notice him approach. He got a place not far and sat, watching them, wishing he too could play. He knew he was weak, and he knew very well, he was sick. Then, the ball rolled towards him, he instinctively stood up for a kick. Another boy was also coming for it. They collided. The boy got up earlier, leaving Atiku struggling to get up. When the other boys realised what had happened, they panicked and ran off, away from the killer, they shouted. The boy with whom Atiku collided burst out, yelling on top of his voice, that the killer-boy had killed him. His mother heard the cry. She rushed to his rescue. When she saw Atiku, her guts oozed out. She retracted, in quick stride, forgetting her screaming child. Later, she went to Safiya and raised a row. Safiya got bitter at the woman, at Atiku, at her husband, at everyone and everything. Well, Atiku was warned finally to leave everyone and everything alone. He obediently complied. Now though, he got busy looking at the tender plants around him with interest. There was a small insect jumping from one petal to another, making a house-to-house visit. Hey, whats up? 91

Atiku turned. It was Umar who spotted him consumed. What are you doing? Umar asked. Nothing, Atiku said. That was his usual answer to that query, for he had been told to do nothing. Just sit around. He was never on errand like either Umar or Kabir. In fact, other than these two, it was as if no one noticed him much. Why were you smiling then? Umar asked. Am I? Atiku was surprised. Yes, you were. Umar said. The kids were now quite used to Atikus tenseless manner of speech. I remember something then. Atiku said. What? Umar said. The house with some girls. Atiku said. Umar, Atiku, whats it? Kabir spotted them. What happened? Umar asked Atiku, as Kabir sat by. On that day, we come out begging, our group goes west, some other groups take the other ways. He said, the big boys always warn us not to go to their pasture. Whats their pasture? Umar asked. That is the house where they normally get alms. So, my team, we are six, just small people, we go round. We go from one house to the next, mama, please help the beggar, mama please food even without soup. Atiku said. What? Kabir asked in disbelief. Food without soup? Atiku said. Yes, Kabir said. Well, most of the time that is what we get. When people are eating and the soup finishes they easily give it up. That is where our luck is. Atiku said. Its bad, Umar, is it not? Kabir said. Well, Umar was somehow reflective. If we go to other houses, they may have soup only. Atiku said. But that day, we get no good response from the houses. They keep asking us to move on. We start to be hungry, because we have nothing since the night before. Why? Umar asked. 92

The food we get is small and the big boys land on it. They finish it. So we become very desperate, please help us, for Gods love, we have nothing to eat. But we get nothing. Those people were mean. Kabir said. No, no, Atiku quickly countered. Why do you say that? Umar asked. You see, many people do not have food in their houses too. We see them sitting without cooking anything. And their kids do come out empty belly also. So, if they ask us to move, we move. This day though, our luck is low and our hunger is deep. Atiku said. We come to a big house, beautiful like this house. Umar felt pleased with that compliment. There is the flavouring smell of chicken. We stand outside, shifting our noses to the direction of the smell. Atiku said, while smiling. That made his listeners aware of the sweet smell coming from their mothers cooking, which they were all waiting for. We inspect their dustbin first. Atiku said. What for? Umar asked. Food, Atiku simply said. In the dustbin? Umar could not belief his ears. Yes, Atiku said, simply. Thats dangerous, is it not? Not to us, Atiku said. Why? I do not know, Atiku said, but, that is how we feed. Its still bad. Kabir said. People throw away food like that and it is food for us. What a shame! Umar said. Atiku let the abhorring comment go; such sentiment had no bearing to him, it seemed. So, he continued, we stand in front of this house and beg. No response, they have their radio sound, or something, going loud. So, we go further in and beg. No one seems to hear us. We go in a little and beg. Nobody seems to notice us. Some of us tire of, they want to 93

give up. If we go, what are we going to eat. Therefore, we linger, raising our voices higher. His listeners just eyed him, in disbelief. Then a small girl comes out. Atiku said. How lucky you were, then. Umar said. Not quite, Atiku said. Why? Umar asked, in surprise. She comes to us and says, go away. What! Yes, but we refuse to go, we cry out louder. The girl tires of telling us to go away, so she goes away. The three burst out into a prolonged laughter. Some say we go, others say we stay. Then, two other girls and a boy, bigger than the first one, come out with bowls in their hands. Thats good. Umar said. No. Atiku said. No? Umar asked. Well, they sit where we can see them. The bowls contain rice with tomato stew and plenty of meat. They sit eating and making faces at us. What! Umar said. We are very hungry. We wait. Someone says grab it and run, some say no, that is stealing, some advise that we go away. Atiku said. Sure, they were mean. Umar said. But, we see this, a lot. Atiku said. Then, the boy and the girls start to throw some pieces of bone to us. Like dogs? Umar asked in disgust. Atiku simply said, yes, as if no offence had been done. Thats bad, surely. Kabir said. You didnt beat them? Umar asked. No, no. Atiku quickly said. Why not? Umar was amazed. You see, it is their house, it is their food, and we will have to go there again and again, Atiku said, so we cannot spoil it. 94

What a pity. Umar was really touched. We start to pick whatever piece they throw at us. They finish eating. They lift the bowls for us to see what remains. Then, they turn the bowls upside down. What! Kabir was shocked. Thats disgusting. Umar said. Not for us, Atiku said. Why? We rush to it; we scramble for it, some of us falling down. Atiku bared his teeth in a very big smile, nostalgic of the competitive excitement of that incidence. That was what previously caused Atiku to smile, when Umar sighted him. Umar and Kabir were totally aghast. Soon, we pick up all the food. It pleases us very much, now we have something to eat. Atiku said. Umar was appalled. Atiku, though, was just reminiscent. Such incidence was one out of many. It was a routinised process, evolved, supposedly, to instil humility by curving down human pride. Yet, it had left in the participants nothing but the basic instinct to survive. Then, the boys heard Safiya calling out for them to come for their meals, and for Atiku, an addition, his usual dosage of the antiviral drugs. XXXIII Safiya sat Atiku down after their meals for his medication. He always looked frail and resigned, as he awaited her. It was not a moment he looked forward to. But, he had made up his mind to be an obedient son to her. He had been told that the medication was essential to him. Even so, to him, the drugs were not a matter of death, whatever that was, or life, no matter what that would be, they were just the irritable part of having some caring guardians. Actually, the drugs were very bitter, very many and very big. Therefore, they were much unpleasant. 95

Are you ready? Safiya asked. Yes ma, Atiku calmly said. Alright then, she said. She spread out a wide sheet of paper containing the drugstables, and started moving her index finger within the cells: multi-class combinations, NRTI, NRTI combination, NNRTI, PI, Fusion, and integrase. Then, she started to bring out the nukes: BC and 3TC, ABC, AZT and 3TC, AZT and 3TC, TDF and FTC. Then, she started to look at the measurements: g this, gr that and gtt these; gram this and gram that. Then, she went to the shapes: tablet this, capsule that. Then, the conditions: take this with these, take these with food, take these without food, take these before food, take this after food, and so on. Then, she went down the prohibitions: dont do this, dont do that. Then, she moved to the dos: you do this, you do that, and then, you do this after that. By the time she reached the bottom of the paper, Safiya would feel totally knocked out. She always seemed bored and resigned, as she prepared for this chore. It was not something she looked forward to, at all. Yet, she was committed to be a good carer to him. She had been told that strict adherence to the regime was essential. Nonetheless, to her and the family, the medication was not a matter of cure, for there would be none for Atiku, or life, she could not envisage what kind that one would be; but, it was the necessary part of being humane, caring for one who was weak. Are you ready? She asked again. Yes ma, he calmly said again. Then, he started receiving and swallowing this drug, that capsule, this powder and that syrup. He did not complain, but his face was worn out. Soon after this, he would fall asleep; he would wake up with a bad headache, a sharp stomach pain, and a terrible feeling of being sick all over. This had been his experience since he started receiving this medication, and he had been told that would be his lot to the rest of his life. If Atiku had been stoic enough to swallow the bitter pills, 96

his new family had not mustered the wherewithal to bear the rising bills. Malam Yakubu had got his bank statement and it was not good. I cant believe this. He said. What? Safiya asked. My balance is this low. He was shocked to see the deep hole in his accounts. All his savings had depleted. In fact, he would soon be in the red. That was quite a frightening prospect. He had tried hard to get the government bear, or share, the burden of these cases, but, he had failed to stir even their sympathy, let alone their money. How can we divert money meant for education or water to cater for a disease that has no cure? his immediate boss said. Its impossible for the individuals to bear, sir. What is the point of giving these people anything when they are bound to die, anyway? Its not such inevitable, if they are catered for, sir. No, no, Malam Yakubu, it is not a reasonable preposition. Thats what the citizens expect from the state, sir. They are not the only ones we have got, and these ones brought it onto themselves, they should pay for it. The majority of those affected are children, sir. Well then, we do understand, but our concern should be with the living and not the dying, Malam. The officer said. Yakubu walked out of that fruitless encounter, gloomily. He recalled that just last week, Safiya too was complaining. I dont think I can cope really. She said. She was finding the drug regime impossible. The routine was zombifying, exhausting and seemingly endless. Just try. He told her. Even then, he realized these two words were becoming his manneristic catchphrase; he just repeated them, but they ceased to have any meaning. Till when? she said, this thing is hopeless. she faced him, it is just living to be nothing but a drug administrator. It might build his immune system to be strong again. That 97

was technically or therapeutically achievable, he believed, but he doubted if he had the financial ability to get there. To live to infect others? she said, making reference at their first attempt to get Atiku enrolled into school. No madam the head teacher said. Why not? Safiya challenged. The P.T.A members had already heard of your boy. The mistress said. They all resolved that if we enrolled him, they would definitely withdraw their kids from this school. Safiya was not angry with the old headmistress, nor was she mad with the parents or the teachers; she just withdrew herself back home, feeling quiet frustrated. Not necessarily, Yakubu said. But, he knew he sounded hollow, as he remembered what happened the previous week. He had left Rangana feeling down cast just to get to Minna to meet a bigger trouble waiting for him. XXXIV That day, Atiku had had his dosage of the unpleasant antiviral drugs, and the subsequent giddiness followed. He missed a step and fell. It did not seem hard, but there was a long thorn from the large thorn tree in the driveway. It punctured his tender skin. Then, blood gushed out. He sat there trying hard to conceal it rather than to stop the flow; he was more concerned with what ma would say than what he felt. Umar came and saw it. He swiftly went about to help. He extended his arm, but Atiku quickly drew his leg away. Why, Umar asked in surprise, let me help you. No, do not touch it. Atiku said. Why? Umar asked. It is not good. Atiku said. What! My blood, Atiku said. What do you mean? Umar asked. They tell me that in the hospital. Atiku said. 98

What did they tell you? If anybody touches it, he will be sick like me. Atiku said. Alright then, Umar said, let me get you some cotton. He got the cotton-wool and gave it to Atiku to dress himself. The blood stopped running. Then, they heard Safiya coming, they quickly left the spot. She came and saw a red pool. It was blood. That stirred her consternation. She called out. Kabir was just behind her. Yes ma, Kabir answered. Come here, Safiya said. Kabir went to her wondering what she had for him. Where is the wound? she asked. Which wound, mum? Kabir was disappointed. You did not hurt yourself? Safiya asked. No, I did not. Kabir said, with surprise. Whose blood is this, then? Where? Kabir asked. Here, she said. He went close, about to touch it. Stop, she yelled at him. I just want to see it, mum. Kabir said. Get away from there. She pulled him back. Mum, you are hurting me. Kabir protested. Alright, where is Umar? Safiya asked. I dont know. Kabir said, hoping to get away from her. Kabir was gradually feeling that their mum was becoming edgier, tougher and rougher. They had actually started to keep their distance from her. Though she did not realise it, the liberality of the family was ebbing away. Umar, Umar Kabir called out as he dodged away. Umar came from the back, quite nervous. Whose blood is here? Safiya asked him. Where? Umar said, pretending ignorance. Here. Um, he hesitated. I said whose is it? Safiya said, And, dont lie to me. 99

Safiya too was beginning to see that, since Atiku arrived, her kids were wavy in their statements; and it concerned her. He kept quiet. Its not yours, is it? she asked. No. Umar said. Whose then, Atikus? He hesitated; she stared at him. Call him. Safiya said. Mum, he fell, he was dizzy. Umar tendered on Atikus behalf. He knew Atiku was very touchy; a little reprimand would keep him awake all night, with quivery chest. They never told her, but it worried them a lot. Call him, she shouted. Yes. Umar went grudgingly, and returned with Atiku. Is this your blood? Safiya yelled. Yes ma. Atiku said calmly, as he lowered his gaze. He became very apprehensive. It was dreadful for him to face her. Even while they were under mallam, Atiku was of the few never lashed. Yet, worse for him was verbal reprimand; a pain in his heart was more grievous than any on his back. You want to kill everybody? No ma. Atiku said, as his heart throbbed. His chest heaved. Then, tears rolled down his cheeks. He sensed that ma was sad, but he never meant to hurt her. He wished accidents never happened, at all! Swiftly, Safiya realised she had been overtly nasty. She softened. Well, I really dont know what to do, Atiku. Im sorry, ma. Atiku said. He looked frail and helpless. She was in confusion; she hurried away to her bedroom and sobbed. It became apparent to her that their home had changed. It was losing that renowned tranquillity. I really cant take it, she told Yakubu when he returned. I can understand that, just try, please. He urged. But you know itll never leave him. Yes, but he may function. Yakubu said. And do what, when no one will work with such people. 100

But, we cant give up now. And we cant continue either, she said, its a trap. That was last week. But, this kind of tension was becoming the norm in the house, since Atiku arrived. This week though, the matter was more basic, it was finance. Kabir had come back from school with a long list of what he was to buy. Well, where is it, mum? Kabir said. I said, later, Safiya said. Then, I wont go to school. Why not? Our auntie is going to smack me. Kabir said. No, she wont. Yes, shell. Kabir said. He pestered her, so much that, she had to yield. When she checked all that she had left, she discovered that, if Kabir had his items, Atiku would lose his drugs! She debated, and went aborrowing, something unheard of in the family! To be honest with you, I had always avoided being in debt. Yes. Yakubu said. But now Im. she finally opened up. What? Yes, Im in debt. Safiya declared. How is that? Well, the last cheque was returned. Why? Yakubu said. They said your salary had not been cleared yet. You could have waited. No, were not supposed to have any drug holiday. Yes I know. Yakubu felt his legs surging. He could not stand. He went to a seat. Despite his desire to help, he was beginning to see a disaster looming his way. They just could not sustain Atikus medication. There was also no way, not the slightest chance of turning him out. Atiku was not a piece of furniture that could be thrown away. He was real, a being, so young and tender, in desperate need of sustained care. Even Safiya would not turn him out, now. After her initial 101

objections, she had come to have a certain corner in her heart for Atiku. His tenderness and apparent helplessness had drawn much sympathy from her. She realised why Kabir dragged the boy to them; Atiku was like a tiny wild flower that just had to be picked, what you did with it afterwards was something else. The more she saw him, the more she felt for him, and now that sentiment was enslaving the family. Certain amount of silence filled the room. Each was busy, weighing the predicament. Once, since he joined the civil service, Yakubu was beginning to lose control on his finances. It was becoming evident that he would soon be unable to meet his obligations as a householder. Aminus feeding allowances were late being paid; Safiya had shown him the letter the boy wrote, pleading for immediate relief. The childrens school fees were yet to be settled; Umar had come back from school with a tiny piece of paper meant to be a reminder for unsettled fees. Atikus medicine was about finished. Safiya was in debt and he was just about in the red. He could not imagine what the future would be. He recalled how he used Kabir to entrap Safiya into accepting Atiku, now he wondered what trapped him into it. What started from a small insignificant incidence was turning into something catastrophic. He felt as if fate had drawn him to Rangana just to ruin him. That night, the parents bedroom was not asleep. The occupants kept turning on their sides, and then asking one another if anything was alright. They were courteous to tell each other, yes, nothing wrong, and then to turn later to say, try to get some sleep. When in the morning Malam Yakubu walked to the nearby mosque for Fajir, with Umar, Atiku and Kabir trailing behind him, he had a long list of requests to ask of God. Immediately after the prayers, the imam began his usual tips of the day. Much of that escaped Yakubu; he could only catch some phrases, the people before you had been warned, and they had been tried. The slim man was saying, do you 102

think you will be left alone, just like that, without God testing you, to separate the bad from the good? Yakubu was really preoccupied sorting out his entreaties. He was figuring out which ones to bring to the forefront, as he heard the imam say, a heedless society is doomed for its own destruction, and even the good ones will not be immune to the ensuing aftermath. Therefore, prevent evil with your own hands, if you can, with your tongue, if you lack the means, but shun it, if that is all you can do. The man concluded. Yakubu tarried in the mosque, much longer than usual, trying to get his desperate request through. When he returned home, he was at least refreshed even if not sure of what Gods answer would be to his prolonged petition. He got into his car and, with a bye dad, bye darling from the children and their mother, respectively, he headed to Rangana once again. Safiya went in quietly to chew her fears; she had not told all to her husband, for they were in more trouble than she could reveal -their food store was virtually empty! Safiya pondered; since she got married, over fourteen years or so ago, she never had to worry about what to cook or how much of it. Now, she had to measure her rice by spoons and her expenditure by kobo! She marvelled at how she got stuck with a boy that could not be turned away, with a disease that would not go away, and with anxiety that would not melt away. For once, she wished Kabir was a much tamed kid. That was just a wish, though. Certainly, she knew, even while the kid was in her womb, it was a restless thing that caused her some worry. It was the same, while he was a baby. Now, he had grown bigger, big enough to bring big trouble home. XXXV Kabir, Kabir Umar called out. Whats it? Kabir responded from somewhere. Come here. What! Kabir had got himself entangled with a net or 103

something in the now almost empty food store. Hurry up, Umar called. Kabir finally freed himself and dashed to Umar. Here Im, give me. Give you what? Umar said. Whatre you calling me for, then? Kabir said. Um, listen, were going somewhere. Umar said. Now? Yes. Umar said. Where? Kabir asked. Some office. Umar said. Dads? Kabir asked. No. Umar said. Where then? Listen, were going to get help for Atiku. He said. Umar was young, but perceptive. The coming-and-goings of his parents had not gone unnoticed by him. He knew very well Atikus presence had brought certain difficulties to them; he did not blame the boy, he did not blame Kabir or himself. But, he could see that his parents were in a fix. His mind soon got busy. It soon unzipped what his teacher had once said, the welfare of the people is the concern of their government; well then, Umar deducted, Atiku is one of a people. Alright, wherere we going to? Kabir asked. Social welfare. Umar said. Social what? Kabir asked. Downtown, they have their office there. Lets go. Kabir was itchy. Wait, weve to write a letter, first. Umar said. A letter? Kabir asked. Yes, asking them to help him. Umar got his pen out and did some scribbling on a rough sheet of paper, which he thrust into an old envelop that had previously been addressed to their father. Lets go. Umar said. Soon, they were on their bikes, coming down Sankira Street, 104

through the Gidan-Makafi. Umar had seen the social welfare signboard somewhere there. They got to the signboard and saw no office. Well, wheres the place? Kabir asked as he perceived Umars perplexity. I dont know. Umar said, disappointedly. You said you knew. Kabir said. Well. Umar said and paused. Then, an idea cropped up. He got down from his bike. Ill find out. You wait. He went, and finally got directed. Lets go. Umar said, enthusiastically. They got onto their bikes and cycled, crossing Katsina Street, through the over bumped Bida Road. Umar, why is everyone bumping their road? I guess they like it. Its not right, though, is it? I guess not. Then, Umar saw the large billboard of the welfare office. There it is. The building was large and imposing, almost inhibiting; his nerves left him. He just stood there, undecided. Lets go in now. Kabir urged. Wait. Suddenly, Umar did not know what to do. There was a pause. Give me the letter. Kabir said. You know what to do? Umar asked, doubtfully. Yah. Kabir said, resolutely. Umar had no alternative. He thought he knew what could be done, before coming. Now, he was empty. Kabir parked his bike and headed for the gate. Hey. Kabir heard, but, he forced on, confidently. Where to? Kabir heard from a guards cabin by the gate. To dad, Kabir said, mistakenly, by instinct. Dada? The man thought that was what he heard. Yes. Kabir just said. Well, go in, turn right. The man directed. 105

Alright. Kabir went in with his letter. The door to the office indicated was ajar. He slipped in. There were two men talking, one on seat and the other facing him; they did not notice him. Then, the man standing turned round and saw Kabir. Your son? he asked the man on seat. My son? The other asked, wondering. Nice boy, the man standing commented. Yes? the seated officer responded. The man turned to Kabir, whats your name? Kabir. Kabir announced. The man on seat got up, and saw Kabir. Who are you looking for, boy? he asked. I thought you said he was yours? No, the officer said. What do you want? Kabir simply dropped the letter and dashed out. Astonishing, the man said. Yes, the officer said, as he stooped to pick the twisted envelop. He pulled the paper out, and tried to go through. Deer master Our brother is sic. He is AIDS. Plisse hep him re-caver, quick You sons Umar n Kabir Yakubu D.O.D What is it? The visitor asked. A strange appeal, the officer said. Appeal? Yes, the boys want us to help their sick brother. Where? the visitor asked. I am not sure. The officer said. The only particular things are AIDS and D.O.D. Aids? the visitor asked. Yes, in capitals, the officer said. The boy is suffering from that, and DOD, their fathers place of work, I suppose. 106

What is the name? the visitor asked. Yakubu, the officer said. That is the HOD, I think, the visitor said. That is a big one, then, the officer said. We will find out. XXXVI Umar had sternly warned Kabir not to tell their mother anything about the letter they had written to the social welfare. You understand? he cornered him. Not even a small of it? Kabir had asked. I said not anything, cant you hear me. Umar said. AlrightI hear you, see, my lips are closed, Kabir said, as he pressed his closed lips with his index finger. They also did not tell Atiku. In fact, by late afternoon, the issue had almost gone out of their immediate recall. Umar sat on a low wall with his legs dangling, and the golden rays of the sun radiant on his face. Atiku was by the wall under the shadow of the thorn tree, while Kabir was busy playing with sand. Atiku raised his chin up at Umar and said, if you teach me all ABC123, I will teach you something. Whats that? Umar asked. I will not tell, Atiku said. Why not? Umar asked. Until you promise to teach me, all of it, Atiku said. Alright then, Ill teach you. Umar came off the wall. True? Atiku asked. Of course, Umar said. Promise, Atiku said. I promise, tell me, then. Umar pledged. Well, Atiku said, say Say what? Umar asked. Atiku answered, say, my prayers and my offerings. Umar repeated the words, not sure what for. My life and my death all are for him. Atiku said. For whom? Umar asked. 107

For God, the lord of the worlds, Atiku said and paused. Is thats all? That is a lot. Atiku said. Why? Umar asked. Because, it shows he has no equals. Atiku said. Why do say it? Umar asked. It is an order. Atiku said. What do you get then, when you say that? Umar asked. You will yield, much. Atiku said. Then Safiyas voice came through. Kabir, mum is calling you. Umar said. Now? Kabir asked. Yes, cant you hear? Umar said. Then Kabir heard it; coming, I am coming, and he took off. There was a moment of silence. Then, Atiku said, Umar. Yes. Umar faced him. When people die, where do they go? I dont know, to the sky? Umar said. Do you know? Our mallam says when good people die, they go up. When bad people die, they go under. There was a brief pause. I hope to go up. Atiku said. Umar looked at him, reflectively. Then, Atiku said, where do you want to go? Up, of course, Umar said without hesitation. There was silence. Then, Atiku broke it, Umar. Yes, Umar said. Am I going to die? Umar turned to him with surprise. Why do you say that? I do not know. Atiku said. There was a pause. Then, Atiku said, someone says that. Who? Umar asked. In the hospital, Atiku said. Hes not serious. Umar said. They say everyone with my sickness dies. 108

I suppose everyone dies someday. Umar said. But, I will like to know ABC123 before I die. Come on, youre not going to die. Umar said. You are sure? Atiku asked. Umar hesitated, a bit, and then said, yah, Im sure. It does not matter, then. Atiku said. What do you mean? Umar asked. Well, even if I die, I know I have friends who care. Umar felt a thud inside. He turned his face away. XXXVII On the contrary, down there at Rangana, its chief could not be sure if he had citizens who ever cared for anything or anybody but their self-interests. No group agreed within itself let alone with others, on any issue, big or small. Sometimes, he wondered how he got himself into the mess of being a chief for such a stiff-necked people; wherever he wanted to turn them they went the opposite, as if deliberately wanting to hurt him. He briefed Yakubu of his nightmare during all those meetings. No one cooperated with any other, in a good way. He insisted Maalaam should be around for any subsequent encounter, may be you have a charm with bad people. Ive no charm, chief, only bad luck. Why do you say that? he said, you have been good to us. Well, I dont know if that has been good to me. No problem, if this thing does not kill us, you will enjoy. Its most likely itll kill me first, chief. You get the disease, Maalaam? the chief asked. No, no. Yakubu said. Then, why do you talk about death? Chief, therere millions other ways to die. I guess you are right, but none as shameful as this one. Why? Well, you get it; you get no cure and no care. You die of it, you get no sympathy. The chief said. I tell you it is a bad 109

thing, Maalaam. I know. So, you will come to these people? No, chief, youre their leader, you should talk to them. I guess you are right there. He said, I will see you later. The chief went out with much confidence and certain determination to be a leader for his people. Yakubu, though, was not in the same mood about himself. As he sat in his office, a modest setup with a table by the window overlooking the hills to the right, while facing the door with the view to the main road, he mused over his fate. He was beginning to see this case as a turning point in his life, which reminded him of what his father once told him. In everyones life, there is a crossroad. Mine was years back. Yakubu waited, anxious to hear it. There was something I had always wanted. My parent had it; he never bothered to take it. When it came to my time turn, it became problematic. He paused briefly. We were straightjacketed, financially; all my brothers had no job worth the name, and my sisters were critically in need of everything. I was the only one with a semblance of a job. Yet, what I wanted had nothing to do with boosting my income. It was much about my ego, really. If I had it, I would lose my job. If I did not take it, I would lose my dream. I was in a dilemma. At the end, the resolution came, but, it had nothing to do with my income or my dream. Yakubu asked. What was it? His father took his time, and then said, that kind of solution is unique. When your time came, you would know. Now, Yakubu could well understand why his father did not tell him; it was not a kind of thing you copied. He knew it; the financial burden of Atikus medication was beyond him. At the same time, he could not see how they could be rid of that boy. While he was in this appraisal, the Chief drove in again, looking very exhausted. The towns meeting had abruptly come to an end again, without resolving anything. 110

Only the Gods people seemed to agree, but very small. He said. He was baffled why the Imam and the Bishop, who had very much in common, hardly agreed on anything. Well, until now, when AIDS arrived, thats. Now, they came up with a proposal for him. But, not many of their followers wanted to be in tow. This time, the two faith-leaders went to the alphabets, the very basic, to see where they could meet; they agreed up to D, and got muddy a little after that! A- Avoid entering into any farm, unless you own legal one. B- Be envious; when you own a farm, stay put, do not allow anyone else get into it. C- Cover for the tools -both did not buy the idea of covering the farm or the tools. They argued that, either way, there would be no fruits from the farm. D- Death for farm trespassers. They all had been taught that in school, but they conflicted on implementation. After this dark letter, consensus was hard; they finally got stuck, ending their presentation with praise be to God, who visits sinners with a vengeance. What did the other leaders say? Yakubu asked. They kept shouting till the meeting broke! the chief said. Yakubu was not surprised; it seemed to him Rangana was a hurried amalgamation that would take more years to stick. I wished you had not found your boy here. The chief said. But, Yakubu could not enjoy that luxury of wishing he had been free. He recalled, Safiya too said something similar to her kids. He would not have been our problem, if you had not dragged him here. It wasnt me, mum. Umar said. Why didnt you stop him? Safiya said. He wanted to help. Umar said. Well, he did. she said, now, see where he got us. Yakubu could not blame Umar or Kabir. They did what they were taught to do, giving help to any that needed it. He was somehow even proud of them. All these wishy-washy excuses were irrelevant; as long as there was anybody anywhere with 111

this virus, it made no difference; it had to be the concern of everybody, everywhere. So, Maalaam, what happens now? I dont know, chief. You have to stop this thing getting to us, Maalaam? I really dont know how. Yakubu said. As the chief was leaving, he said, since you fixed us before, you can fix us now, Maalaam. You are good with bad people. Yakubu managed an ironic smile. Two days afterwards, Yakubu received a letter from the social welfare office at Minna. They invited him for a chat on Atikus medical situation; a certain non-governmental body, one of those new organisations taking over most governments, had indicated interest to help. He was quite astonished, when he was told of what his boys had done; he had much cause to appreciate their efforts. He looked forward to Friday for a drive out of Rangana, eager for Minna. XXXVIII Minna, too, was eager for Malam Yakubu. All of a sudden, Atikus health had taken a turn for the worse. Safiya was on edge again. I am cold. Atiku said. Whats wrong with you? she asked. I do not know, Atiku said. He was shivery. The boy had not been feeling well, all this while, but he had refrained from telling anybody, because he was afraid. He did not want to upset his new mother, and he did not want to be taken to that hospital again. That ward, the one with those people of his sickness, was a nightmare. When last time he stayed there, he had many bad dreams, haunting images of flying lollipop ghosts. So he kept quiet. His condition got worse. Umar and Kabir could not sleep that night. They sat by his bed, quite anxious. They finally went to their mother, and said, something is wrong, mum. 112

With whom? she asked. When they said, Atiku, she almost panicked. She quickly rushed him to the hospital. Straight away, they bundled him into that ghostly hall. Atiku was traumatised; he looked very much like an animal being led to the slaughter house. His CD4 level is very low, far under 200, the nurse said. Why? Safiya asked. She was not sure if she knew exactly what that CD was, but now was not her lesson moment. The viral load is extremely high also. Why? she asked again. Viral load was easier to figure out. May be he has developed resistance to the drugs. How? Safiya was totally distraught. This virus is very tricky, it keeps evolving new strains. Just like that? Safiya said. Yes, but most especially if the dosage was too low. Well, we tried to give it as indicated, Safiya said. Nonetheless, factors had militated variation; child dosage was not an exact science to Safiya. Equally, her household chores and the crunching financial position had forced her to actually suspend administration at some times and to give a little less at others, just to stretch out. She still felt that was the best she could possibly do, all things considered; she did not blame the nurses, and she did not blame herself, either. It was like in the case of Atiku no one was to take blames! Atiku was diagnosed with acute pneumonia. In the very early hours of Friday, while the ward was quiet, but for occasional groaning of some inmates, Atikus little limbs started to stretch out. His heart was faintly heaving. His lungs were blocked. His breathing was hard. His eyes opened involuntarily, drowsily. The light from the lamp high above his bed started to wave. Then, the sounds started to fade down. The lights too began to fade out, gradually. His neck jacked and his weak limbs slumped. He could feel something sieving out of his body, making it lighter. At his hour, the breath lightly and soothingly fused out. Atiku was gone! 113

Almost the same time within the long hall, two kids of his age, an elderly woman and three young men were going through the same or similar experience. By morning the nurses turned up. How many today? The senior nurse asked. Just seven, ma, the junior nurse announced. Get the attendants to move them to the morgue. Yes ma. Dont forget to fill up the forms. Yes ma. With that, the nurses had finished their usual compliment for the dead. It was the procedure. Yesterday, it was ten. The day before, it was twelve. That was the trend in ND ward; by the end of the year, they would have an impressive statistics to show to the task force on AIDS, for onward transmission to the WHO; they probably would have a medal for it! Atikus tiny frame was lifted up, placed on a gurney and pushed out. His bedside card identified him only, and simply, as number 221. He had come and gone, but not yet to Safiya or Yakubu; to Umar and Kabir, his impact was much to be gone so soon or so easy. XXXIX Kabir woke up early that morning, Friday, to demand, we must go to Atiku now, mum. Of course, well go. Safiya said. Now, mum. Kabir insisted. What do you mean, now? I want to see him, now, mum. Kabir said. But, this isnt the time we usually go there, Kabir. All the same, mum. Kabir said. But, weve not eaten, Kabir. Safiya said. Im not hungry. Well, Im, Kabir, you must wait, hell be alright. She served the breakfast early because Kabir had pestered 114

her. At the table, Atiku was the main issue, if not the menu. Umar, you remember what Atiku said? Kabir said. Yes, Umar said. What did he say? their mother asked. Hell like to be put into our class. Kabir said. He said so? Safiya asked. Yes. He said hell like to read and write, mum. Umar said. I see. He always asks me to teach him ABC and 123. How is he? Very sharp mum, Umar said. Yah, he can get to fifty, mum. Kabir said. Is that so? Safiya said. Soon, Safiya was driving along the narrow congested Hospital Road, off Airport Road. Kabir was busy looking for what to take to Atiku; Umar was hoping to see him well again. Are we not stopping for shopping, mum? Weve already done that last night, you forgot? Yah, where is it? Kabir asked. Well, its all here. Safiya said. Safiya turned left, going through a busted gate into the hospital. She parked, and her passengers scuffled to get out. No, you wait here. Safiya said. But mum, they chorused their protest. Look, just wait until I find out where the nurses are. She actually did not want them to enter that death ward again. The last time they were in there, Kabir kept them awake the whole night in nightmarish screams. Alright mum, they gave up. She went briskly towards the death ward at the back. Her initial surprise was to see, through the window, that Atikus bed was empty. Then, she simply assumed he probably had got better enough to go down the benches at the front of the ward. She took a turn and went into the ward. The bed was empty. She had forgotten to check the benches. She came out. Atiku was 115

not there. She went in again, looking for a nurse. There she was, applying some make-up. Safiya marvelled at how anyone could be that wasteful as to be beautifying in such a bleak place. Hello. Safiya called out. The nurse turned to her. Please, where is the boy? Safiya asked. Which one? the nurse asked. The one in that bed, the one by that window, Safiya said. Oh that, he is in the morgue, the nurse said. What? In the mortuary, the nurse repeated. Why? Safiya asked. Why, he is dead, of course. The nurse said. Safiya could not belief her ears. Look, the boy is just about ten, short. I know. He is number 221. The nurse said. Well, I dont know about that, so where is he? I told you he is dead. When? Safiya slumped down in a chair; she could not hear the nurse telling her the time or the cause of death. Her chest heaved heavily. Her heart dropped. Tears rolled. Atiku was not just a number; he was a rare phenomenon in their house, in her life. Safiya recovered. Suddenly, she realised what her main problem would be; how would she break this bad news to her children. Though she would like to see Atikus body to ascertain, it would be impossible with Umar or Kabir around. As she walked dazedly back to the car, her mind was busy threading schemes; would it be, Atiku had been taken back to Rangana; could she or could she not tell a small or a simple lie to her children. Nothing seemed to equip her for this role. She got to the car without realizing it. Can we come now? Umar asked. Mum, wheres he? Kabir asked. She said nothing, as she drooped into the car. Yet, Umar 116

was able to register her sombreness. Then, he saw the tear globule at her right canthus. He felt silent for a moment, then, he said, he is dead, mum, is he not? There was a short but deep pause. Yes, Umar; it just came out. With it, the tears flowed. Kabir did not register. Umar lowered his head and his heart started to throb, then tears. Why are you crying, Umar? Kabir asked. Atiku is dead. All of a sudden, Kabir turned hysterical, negating that fact. Atiku is not dead. No, hes not dead. No, hes not dying. Kabir cried himself to sleep, as Safiya gently drove out of the hospital, homebound. She wished her husband was around; he would know what to do. What next Later, Malam Yakubu drove into Minna, feeling quite relieved and exuberant. He headed straight home to share with Safiya the good tidings of what her little fellows had done. He was as happy for Atiku for this NGO offer, as he was for Safiya for the alleviation of her anxiety. He knew Atikus case had been quite demanding on her; it had made her touchy, melancholic and atypically unromantic. He came into the house and found it depressingly quiet and dull. He went into the bedroom and found Safiya in gloom. In between sobs and tears, she told him of Atikus demise. He felt sapped. He never realised how much that frail little boy meant to him, emotionally. Atiku was a twinkling little star that tired you gazing at, yet irresistible. Finally, he went to the hospital, and made arrangement for the burial of Talatus son. Atiku had come, had suffered the consequence of the exploits of others, and had finally died. How many of his type were out there? 117

Yakubu joined his family to mourn the passage of a boy they knew just recently, and for such a short time, yet with such significance to all of them; he had impacted deeply into their hearts. Years to come, this episode would be much to the boys, most especially. Adieu Atiku, the kid beyond guilt! Usman Aliyu 2008

118