MUST READ: Alkyabba SEASON ONE (PART ONE)

By Miryamah AQ
miryamah230@gmail.com

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The humid and cold air of early July hit me square in the face just as I descended the airplane. My head getting fuzzy and light with each step and my Louboutin heels making clanky sounds as heels meets with the metal stairs.
The airport was beautifully lit with Lights, the runway especially.

Moving in the crowd of passengers who just alighted from Air France,I headed into the building of Nnamdi Azikiwe international airport . I waited patiently through all the security checks,which was painfully slow,till it was my turn. After I was done with security, I quickly rushed to the ladies room and changed out of my comfy jeans and yellow knit sweater into a loose atamfa gown with bright embroideries. I later picked up my luggage and headed out searching for my ride.

The airport was filled with laughter and a lot of screams. Families reunited, soulmates meet. I was supposed to be happy because I was returning home to my family,but reverse is the case. I wasn't in the slightest excited about returning to Nigeria. On an honest note,I never wanted to return to this place. Its been four years and I still don't regard it as a home after all the person I'm supposed to run home to is back in Marseille. I clutched her ruby red chiffon hijab tighter as I pulled my luggage,my heart getting heavier with each step.

Abba Waziri already informed me that he sent the driver to fetch me at the airport,and when I saw a man dressed in a black suit holding a cardboard that reads 'HRH Maryam Suleiman' I knew he was the one. I rolled my eyes. First,am not Her Royal Highness, I so much hate the fact that people have to regard me with that title. I didn't choose to be the Waziri's daughter and if I ever had the chance to change that,I'd rather be a daughter of a college professor. On a second note,people forget the fact that my name is French and its spelt 'Miriam' not Maryam. I pulled my trolley towards him and smiled politely.

"Hi! I'm Miriam Suleiman" I said with a smile. He immediately stood upright and acknowledged me.
"Welcome to Nigeria your royal...."
"Thank you" I interrupted him before he could say anything that'll piss me off. I moved aside as he picked up my duffel bag and trolley to the car while I followed him behind to the black SUV.

Few minutes later we were on the road heading to Maitama District where the guest house was located. Since I arrived a few minutes past 9pm,Abba decided I spend the night in Abuja in his guest house and then I'll be leaving to Zaria the following morning. He detests road trips in the night.

I rested my head on the headrest and sent an instant message to my Ma letting her know I've arrived safely. I waited a bit for a reply and when I didn't get one,I knew she was probably asleep.

Half an hour later, we arrived at the guest house. I can remember few years ago,it was just a plain white house that stood in the hills of Maitama with shrubs and creepers running all around making it look like an old castle from the 80's. But now,it has been transferred into something spectacular. I couldn't keep staring at the view before me. It was enchanting.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The crystal clear water fountain, the huge French windows and the perfectly cut shrubs. Everything is so exquisite.

Two uniformed maids picked up my luggage ,which was retrieved from the trunk by the driver and I followed them inside. I was greeted by two spiral staircases and an enormous chandelier that hung in the middle which was housing almost 150 crystal bulbs. The view was beautiful. I was led up to my 'suite' which had a single bedroom,a bathroom,a kitchenette and a living room with a mini study. Everywhere is decorated in rich Versace furniture.

I sighed as I bounced on the four poster bed,my legs swinging from the edge of the bed. I felt a little much better after the long 13 hour flight. The maids arranged my boxes on one side of the room and left. I was lost in my train of thoughts. I was already missing the bedroom I shared with my half sister,Leilah. She had all the white stuffs and I had everything that screams 'color'.

The intercom rang,interrupting my thoughts and I quickly answered the call.

"Good evening ma'am. What would you like to have for dinner?" A voice with a heavy British accent asked. Wow. This is amazing. I feel like am In a 5 star hotel.

"Just...anything" I stated. "With a lot of cheese" I added,my mouth watering at the thought of cheese.

"Cheddar? Mozzarella? Feta? Tellegio?"

This chef is a professional, I thought.

"Just the Feta will do" I smiled.

"Very well Mi'lady" he said and hung up. I squealed and jumped up in bed. Coming back to Nigeria wasn't bad after all. I decided to freshen up a bit before my dinner.

I pulled my trolley into the bathroom. I was amazed at the sight that awaited me. I never wanted to get out of the bathroom even after my shower. The bathroom was slaying. Lol.

I had a warm and cozy shower. I changed into a loose cotton shirt that went past my knees and black leggings. I tied my brunette hair in a high bun. I took my reflection in the full length mirror that was getting fuzzy due to the steam from my shower. I looked exactly like Dahlia Omair,my mother and a high school teacher in Marseille. The curly shoulder waist line hair,the slim brows and of course the tiny mouth that never shuts up and the subtle pale skin. My eyes of course are that of Suleiman Adamu,the crowned Waziri of Zazzau. The long eyelashes too. And let me not forget the nose.

I could hear my bedroom door being opened and so I exited the bathroom. An appetizing aroma crashed with my olfactory system as I walked into the room. A maid was just removing the food from the food cart and placing it on the oak wooden center table. I thanked her as she finished and I sat on the floor to eat my food.

A plate of Bouillabaisse lay alongside another plate of fluffy croissants. My sliced Feta cheese lay seductively by the side and the appetizing aroma of crème brulé was driving me insane.

How did this guy knew I was French? Well...half French. But really the four years I've spent in France has turned me automatically into a full raised French woman.

I was hungry as a lion and surprisingly, I finished every single thing on my plate. The Bouillabaisse tasted exactly like how Ma makes it.

So delicious and creamy with the right amount of shrimps and Congers. Oh how I miss her....

After my meal, I decided to Skype my idiot half sister who didn't even call to check up on me. And as I guessed, she was online on Skype.

"Conne(Idiot)!" I called in french as her annoying face appeared on the screen.

"Miriam!" She squealed and jumped on her study chair,her ponytail bouncing behind her "Comment allez vouz?(How are you?)" She said smiling sweetly,her braces showing.

"Salut(Hi)" I rolled my eyes "ça va bien(I'm fine). Oú est la maman?(where is mom?)"

"Elle dort(she is sleeping)" she replies as she bites her nails. I hate it when she does that.

" Pourquoi vous n'avez pas dormi encore ?(why haven't you slept yet?)"

" Arrêtez d'agir comme une grande soeur(stop acting like a big sister)"

she rolls her eyes at me. That's the only thing we have in common.

"Je suis une grande soeur(I am a big sister) Leila" I reply in a 'duh' tone.

"Whatever .J'ai l'école demain( I have school tomorrow),goodnite" she waves at me.

"Bye. I hate you"

She laughs softly. Her beautiful laugh.

"Je vous aime(I love you)". She blows a kiss and smiles.
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