So it's a few days to Valentine's day and the mood is picking fervor. All the stores are packed with red hearts, scarlet petals and assorted chocolat boxes. It's the biggest consumer gaffe of all time! Create an atmosphere, build the mushy feeling to its peak, then unleash your goods into the market and watch the bucks roll in. And it works!
But did you know that more hearts are broken on Valentine's night than any other night? If you don't believe me ask the babes who's boyfriend's are changing their ring tones from P-Squared's "You must chop my money" to MI and Waje's "Whether na One Naira" or guys whose babes suddenly had this family 'emergency' that they had to travel for.
Antagonistic? No am not. The season always held a very significant meaning for me until Hauwa happened. Hauwa came and gave it what I now call the Valentine blues...
Three years ago I was in Abuja for a leadership summit organized by GOTNI. The venue was NICON Hotel. We had ended the module for that day quite early and it was a Friday. I thought about doing something spontaneous. Certainly not clubbing, God knows I was too tired to burn any more energy that evening (not to mention staying up the better part of the night to have my ears blown up by some enthusiastic Deejay).
I called Craig and Efeturi my Abuja wingmen. They were just closing from work and heading to Aqua Nightclub in Sheraton, Ladi Kwali Way. I had guessed right. Unfortunately, I already decided I didn’t want to club. I still recall my last Aqua Nightclub encounter. There was supposedly a ‘Girls Gone Wild’ theme that night and we had gone there expecting to see exotic dancers from Asia and the Virgin Islands as promised. Only when we got there, the women we saw were far from exotic. Someone later joked that they were from Papua New Guinea. Simply put, they looked like they were all related to that Chinese man “Ug Lee”, if you understand what I mean.
So it turned out that I was alone. Well maybe not...
I took out my phone and dialed Chioma’s number. Chioma was an old friend I met in camp years before. We never really dated but whenever I was in Abuja, I always checked her out and she was indeed
good company.
Me: Babe
Chioma:
Richy Rich. What do I owe this call, are you in town? Her voice was really drowsy-dull, like she had just woken up. But it was only just 6pm.
Me: For a few days. Wanna come around, am at my usual place?
Chioma: Hmm, is that so? I didn’t like the tone of her voice. It was quite unlike her.
Me: Are you okay? You sound funny, and I don't mean 'ha ha'
Chioma: Actually, I have the cramps... I could still come around though. We’ll only just cuddle.
Me: Umm, I wouldn’t want to bother you then. Maybe it’ll be a good idea if you just stayed in, you know...get better?
When the call ended, I hoped she would see how
understanding I could be.
So, again I was by myself.
I made up my mind to see a movie and call it a night. I flagged a cab and asked the driver to take me to Genesis Cinema at Maitama. When I got there, it appeared I had already seen most of the movies available except the horror movie;
Drag me to Hell. I don’t know why but I must have been quite desperate that night to have bought that ticket.
I got my Shawarma, pop-corn and bottled water and entered the cinema. At first I thought I had the wrong room because of the number of Indians there. If there were forty people in that room, twenty-five of them must have been Indians, seriously. I double-checked my movie ticket to make sure it wasn’t some remake of
Drahmenda or
Nagina. But it wasn’t.
I settled into one of the far corners of the hall and prepped myself for a thrilling experience.
When the lights dimmed and movie began, I noticed one of the two heads in the seats in front of me had disappeared. And I didn’t remember anyone standing up. I shrugged, I couldn’t care less. I chewed my pop-corn in handfuls.
Some minutes and a few scary screams later, someone tapped my shoulder and I had to adjust myself. Though it was dark, I could make out the features of a young woman. She had on a shawl and she draped it over her shoulders. She sat beside me and smiled... or I think she did. I wasn't sure because it was dark.
“Sorry, was it long it started?” She whispered
“About twenty minutes ago”, I whispered back.
Oh”, She mock-groaned, “have I missed much?”
“Not really, but if you are good, I promise to fill you in”
She merely laughed.
I liked where this was going.
After that, the rest of the movie was more fun than I anticipated. She had the finest sense of humor I had ever seen in a woman. And more often than not, I felt her grab me when the scenes became too scary to bear. I didn’t mind very much.
We laughed a lot at the movie. It was simply as hilarious as it was supposed to be scary. It was one of those horror flicks that aren’t supposed to be taken seriously. Eventually when the credits rolled up we were laughing so hard I could barely stand.
Outside the cinema, I was able to see her face properly for the first time. And she was really very pretty. She told me her name was Hauwa.
Hauwa had a very dark complexion, so dark it seemed almost indigo. But in contrast she had very white small teeth like a child. And unlike many Hausa women, her hips were accentuated to the point that it almost looked obscene. And her
nri nwa was of voluptuous proportions. I was love-struck.
I didn’t want her to leave like that so I suggested we had ice-cream together. After all it was only a few minutes to 9pm. And she agreed.
During the treat I found out she was the daughter of a strict naval officer who had re-married after her mother’s death. She had two little step sisters whom she baby-sat nearly all day.
Her father, the officer was a staunch Muslim and never condoned any male visitors coming around to see her. In fact, according to her she had never dated. Her father would kill her if he knew she was out with a boy at that time. Fortunately he was on a trip for the weekend and wouldn’t be back until Monday.
Soon enough, Hauwa decided it was getting too late for her. I walked her to her car, a massive Prado Jeep that almost seemed to swallow her as she got behind the wheel. We exchanged numbers and as she started the engine I leaned forward (through the window) to kiss her but she put her delicate fingers over my mouth and laughed.
“What?”, I asked slightly embarrassed.
“I am a traditional Muslim; sorry we don’t kiss on the lips”, she explained.
And she touched her fingers to her lips and placed them on mine. I watched after her as the smoke from the monster engine clouded my face. But I hardly noticed... I was already smitten.
I woke up early on Saturday morning and the only thing was on my mind was Hauwa.
Hauwa this and Hauwa that and when I couldn’t take it any longer I picked up the phone and dialed her number.
She answered on the first ring.
I asked what she would be doing that day and she said she would be taking her half-sisters to their Grandma’s. I asked her what she would be doing after that and she said prayers... and after that?
Finally towards mid-day I got her out of the house. Her naval Dad wasn’t back yet...
We spent the rest of the day touring the whole of Abuja’s fleshpots, from Maitama to Garki. We went to Millenium park, the National Ecumenical Center and the Three Arms Zone. I saw Zuma rock from a whole new angle, through Hauwa’s eyes. By the time it was 7pm, I had no idea that much time had elapsed.
She dropped me off in front of my hotel and just before I could get out of the car, she reached out and gave me a passionate kiss right there on my lips. Several minutes later when she had driven off I was still stunned! I walked up the stairs to my lonely hotel room and dropped heavily on the bed. I must have been like that for a few minutes because I didn’t hear the first knock. It persisted and so I stood up unsure, I wasn’t expecting anybody.
When I opened the door, Hauwa was smiling at me.
This time I didn’t let her pull my face to hers, I did the pulling. The door slammed hard behind us and the best part of the evening began. For a traditional Muslim, Hauwa had so many tricks up her sleeve that even I had no idea whatsoever of. The rest of the evening moved on to places where religion and tradition had no influence over, just instincts and pure primitive desires. It wasn’t until 3am when we wore ourselves out.
When I got up by 10am I was alone.
I got myself refreshed and placed a call for room service. Then I dialed Hauwa’s number. No answer.
I went about my other activities of the day but I couldn’t concentrate much. Not till I had spoken to Hauwa.
I dialed her number again and still no answer. That was strange. It was almost 4pm now and I was starting to think things. Finally when I called for the hundredth time that day she answered.
“Richard, please let me call you back again. Something has just come up. I’ll explain”. And the line went dead.
She never called back.
The next day was Sunday. And ironically it was February the 14
th, Valentine’s Day.
I went to Ceddi Plaza at Abuja, got a whole box of chocolates, Ice-Cream buckets and sweet treats you name it, hired a car and drove all the way to Hauwa’s family home. I was ready to damn the consequences, naval officer or not. That was exactly how I felt that morning.
When I got to the house gates, some security detail stopped me and asked where I thought I was going. I told him I wanted to see Hauwa and he looked surprised.
“You no fit see Madam like that. She dey expect you?”
I was about to start cursing when a familiar Prado Jeep drove in from behind me.
Hauwa came out and looked at me with surprise like she wasn’t expecting to see me. She was dressed in a flowing gown and looked somewhat more sophisticated this time, with all the jewellery and accessories. Her hair was done back in a band and she appeared more mature.
‘Yes, who are you and what do you want?” She asked like she had never seen me in her life.
“Hauwa?” I was flabbergasted. “You said you were going to call...”
“You must be mistaken. I am not the person you are looking for”
At that moment, two little girls came out of the car and one of them asked,
“Mummy who is this man?”
Mummy? I was speechless. That was the last straw.
She retreated into the Jeep and drove into the compound. The security man began to approach me but I told him I would leave on my own.
He saw the genuine confusion on my face and he explained to me, what I never expected could be true.
Hauwa, whose real name was actually Zainab was the second wife of a Rear Admiral. She had two children and had a habit of prancing around at the slightest opportunity she had whenever the Officer left town. I just happened to be some guy she had picked.
That night at the Cinema was no chance meeting. She had probably watched from a distance and decided I was a good mark; lonely and opportunistic.
I was angry, I felt used. But that was all I could do about it. So much for Valentine’s Day! I got back to my hotel room and checked out. I didn’t even bother to call my friends.
Tomorrow will make it exactly three years since the Hauwa (or should I say Zainab) experience and I still kick myself at that folly. I don’t hate Valentine’s Day, I just hate the woman who spoiled it for me.
Maybe someday that will change but for now chocolats and red hearts will have to keep hanging from the shelves of Cakes and Choc creams.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
