A Little Bit Of Sunshine

The morning was colder than the day before and the dusty wind that usually accompanied the harmattan in their part of the north had Aliyu hugging his blanket tighter and tighter. They never had any visitors so he was surprised when minutes later over the howling of the wind; he began to hear a banging on the gate. In the event you loved this information and you would like to receive much more information concerning chung cư Đất Xanh (sunshineavenuedatxanh.com) please visit our site. At first he thought he had imagined it so he dug deeper into the pocket his body had made in the blanket but the banging got louder and more insistent so he jumped out of bed and stumbled out of his cubicle and into the cold. "Wait, wait, I'm coming." He insisted as he struggled to work the padlock open. He was about to poke his head out and ask who it was when a large box tottered his way and almost crashing into him, came to lie at his feet inside the doorway. "Who is this? What is wrong with you? Wrong house, wrong house!" He managed to grab the big box by its handle and began pushing it out. He poked his head out again just in time to see another box, much smaller this time, making its way towards him, a young girl pushing it in front of her. "Hi" She was all bright and bubbly as she pushed her way past him and into the house. "Thanks for helping me with my box. It's crazy heavy that thing." He stared at her, speechless. First off she wasn't dressed for this part of town. She had on a really short black skirt, tights, shoes that had straps all the way to her calves and for a top she had on an orange strapless thing. It was o so obvious that she had gotten the wrong house. "This is Alhaji Imam's house is it not?" Aliyu's face fell as he nodded, still speechless. She was not at the wrong house at all. He watched as she clapped her hands and jumped up and down in glee. "I knew it; I knew I'd get the house." He held the big box and dragged it away from the gate a little bit. He still wasn't sure; he might have to kick her out soon. "Young girl, who are you?" Her bright eyes searched his as if she was searching for recognition. "My name is Mimi, I'm Falalu's girlfriend." He looked clueless for a moment as he pondered in his mind, then it clicked. "Falalu, ohh!!!" His mind raced back as he remembered all the stories he'd heard about the young Falalu for Aliyu had never met him. But her presence still did not make sense to him. "Ok, you're Falalu's girlfriend, so?" Her bright smile waned a little. "I've come to see Alhaji. Falu and I are getting married in a few months and I couldn't just do that without telling his father, could I? Didn't Falu tell Alhaji I was coming?" Aliyu shook his head. He didn't know many things, but one thing he knew was that Falalu couldn't have told his father anything. Falalu hadn't spoken to his father since he left the house fifteen years ago. Mimi's smile faded completely as she looked round at her immediate surroundings. Apart from the effect of the dusty wind, there was something about the house, the compound. It looked deserted, unlived in. There was dry grass in places she didn't expect grass to be, and desert like sand in places sand wasn't supposed to be as well. The cold was biting into her skin but that was the furthest thing from her mind. "Where is he?" She asked, a look of concern on her face this time. "Where is who?" Aliyu asked, his fingers still wrapped around the handle of her box. "Where is Alhaji, I need to see him. Is he alone in that house?" Aliyu nodded sadly. "You'll find him in his study." If she was Falalu's girl she might as well see the old man, he Aliyu didn't have much of a say on matters he didn't know much about. He turned round to lock the gate and made to follow her up the stairs and into the house. The old man had just finished making a call to a nearby hotel for breakfast when she walked into the upstairs living room which he could see from his study. Aliyu stood behind her for a minute, hesitant to introduce the guest. The old man was surprised to see the large boxes and immediately collected his medicated glasses from the reading table and expertly perched them on his nose. "And who is this?" He asked in a stern voice that automatically brought Aliyu closer to him. He watched her walk towards the study door in her funny not all together there clothing. "She just got here Alhaji," Aliyu said, his eyes to the ground. "She says she's Falalu's girlfriend." "Falalu's girlfriend." He repeated after Aliyu, then frowned. "And so?" Mimi who had been watching the old man closely, averted her eyes to the ground immediately as well and dropped to the floor on both knees. "My name is Mimi Sir." She said, raising her head to look at him. Her clothes were funny but she had an innocent looking face with full cheeks. "Get up, get up." The old man said gesturing with his free hand. The other was holding the arm of his chair tightly. "We don't greet like that around here. Where did you come from? Lagos?" The girl stood up immediately and nodded her head. "Hmmn, so that is where Falalu resides now. I do not see how your being his girlfriend is any business of mine. Since you have come this far you can spend the night, but you must leave in the morning." The girl shook her head. It did not make sense. "But you are Falu's father are you not?" The old man sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing a leg over one knee as he did so. He was slight and tall and it was obvious that he'd turned a lot of heads in his day. "My dear girl, I ceased being Falalu's father a long time ago and if he sent you to me for any reason... " "No, no, no" She cut in immediately. "He didn't ask me to come, I came all on my own. I'm not even sure he knows I'm here right now. I just wanted to meet you. If I'm really that much of a bother and have to leave tomorrow, I'll be out of your hair as soon as possible." Alhaji nodded and motioned for Aliyu to move closer to him. "Go to the hotel and get three continental breakfasts. I ordered for two but we have a guest now." Aliyu collected the money that was put in his palm and quickly shuffled to the door. "And while you're there find out what they have for lunch." He called after him. He took of his glasses and placed it on the table, turning to stare at his game of solitaire on his computer for a minute, drumming his fingers on the table. Mimi still stood by the door wandering what her fate would be. "You'll go to the farthest room to my left. I think it's clean enough." He said without turning his head to look at her. "Aliyu will bring your breakfast to you." "Thank you sir." She said and quickly exited his presence, dragging her boxes behind her, her heels clicking on the exquisite marble floor. The old man turned sad eyes to the door as he listened to her leave, her perfume wafting in the air behind her. She smelled familiar, like a flower. Her presence had brought him pain and memories he had tried his best to extinguish forever. His immediate and extended family had run away, kept their distance over the years as people died around him, but there was one person who hadn't run, one person who was sent away even before the deaths. Falalu was a son he never had. He had tried in his heart to love the boy then but the love had never come naturally to him. His mind went back to the day they had decided to take in the boy, no, she had decided to take in the boy because he hadn't supported the decision at all. But she hadn't been happy with just him and she'd needed a child. They had been married five years and the strained relationship between them hadn't allowed for the conceiving of children and suddenly her sister had died leaving behind her bastard son. The boy's father was married to someone else at the time and didn't want him so mama, like they all called her, had insisted they take the boy in and adopt him formally as their own. Falalu had been a gift from Alhaji Imam to her, an Dự án Sunshine Avenue for peace to reign in the house since he clearly wasn't making her happy, but the boy's presence had brought anything but peace. It didn't take long for her to realise he didn't like the boy even a little bit. He yelled at him for no reason at all and generally didn't want him around. Their marriage relationship worsened after that but his own joy came when she bore him their first biological son. Falalu had been five then and had noticed the love being showered on his younger brother by his father, a side of the man he rarely got to see and so Falalu grew up a rebel, a thorn in Alhaji's flesh. Alhaji's fingers trembled as he massaged his forehead, his mind zooming in on the last day, the day Falalu had left his house. He had been fifteen years old. A very bright youngster, he had just been admitted into the university and his mother just couldn't stop insisting that her son was too young to leave home again; he had just returned from high school abroad. The old man looked round the study as he remembered this was the exact room in which they had argued. He had been standing behind the table and mama had been on the other side, the lines on her face had begun to show signs of stress but she was still pretty and he still secretly admired her. "Let the boy go." He remembered a younger, more handsome him saying. "Haven't I suffered enough already? Hasn't Falalu given me enough headache already? How much do I have to go through for taking in this boy?" "Stop it!" She'd warned her eyes stern. A petite fair skinned woman with distinct features of the Fulani tribe, she always knew how to talk back at him, put him in his place. She twiddled with the edge of her fuchsia hijab between her thumb and forefinger, something she did a lot, unconsciously. She'd been on her way out to the market when she stopped to talk to him. "Stop it Alhaji, I won't take this from you. Falalu is our son and you will stop speaking of him as if he is not." She leaned closer to him, her palm on the table, the rings on her slim fingers gleaming. "And so you will bear him one more year. Maybe, just maybe this year he's at home the two of you will learn to get along." She turned to leave his office, her handle on the door but his next words stopped her in her tracks. "Falalu's no son of mine mama na." He said, adding a note of endearment to the name they were used to calling her. She turned to him eyes blazing. "The boy is no son of mine." He continued, ignoring the look in her eyes. "Look how he turned out. If we'd only been patient... " "If my son turned out different from the others it is because his father treated him different." She said bitterly, moving closer to him and dropping her hand bag on the table. It was obvious she wasn't going to the market anymore. "Why, why did you have to make it so obvious that you didn't like him Imam?" she asked crumpling into a chair. "He was just a child." "He was just a child mama, but he was not my child, how did you expect me to treat him?" He leaned a bit closer to her, both his palms on the table this time as she raised her eyes to stare at him. "Now you will listen to me very carefully. Falalu will leave for school as soon as they resume next month. Immediately after school he will leave for youth service and if we manage things well I won't have to see his face for a very long time." At that point the door to the study burst open with a crash and Falalu strode in in a long white kaftan that was stained in quite a few places. A dark handsome child, he had the same Fulani features and curly soft hair as his mother but he was also slight and tall like his foster father, a bitter irony. There were tears in his eyes and it was obvious that he had been smoking something. He was high and panting like he'd been running. Mama noticed he was heading for his father and stood up quickly to stop him. "Falalu, no!" She pleaded. "You're tired of seeing my face; you don't want to see me anymore?" He asked, challenging the man behind the desk, straining against his mothers hand on his chest. His eyes were bloodshot and angry, his face sweaty. The air between them was tense and thick. Alhaji did not flinch for a second. "You think I'm not tired of seeing your face too? I know I'm not your son, aren't you tired of saying it? You're not my father either. You need me to leave as soon as possible ehn? Don't worry, I'll leave right now. Next month is too darned far. Leave me alone mama!." He yelled extricating himself from his mother's grasp. Mama sobbed as she removed her grip from his sleeve and let him go. "Don't make this boy pay for all the things he knows nothing about." She cried turning to look at her husband. His face was calm and his eyes were cold. "Falalu!" He called sharply, and the boy stopped just short of the door. "How many times have I told you to knock before entering my study? If you walk out that door right now, don't expect a dime from me for your school, you hear me?" Falalu laughed cynically without turning round. "And how many times have I heard that? You're so full of shit old man." He marched off towards his room without looking back once. Alhaji had rushed to the door immediately, disbelief on his face, yelling. "Falalu, Falalu!"