Hearts On Fire

One: Court Case

The hot wave of the afternoon caressed his cheek and he closed his eyes, it was so hot that he could feel the way sweat was forming into beads on his forehead. He looked through the mirror and watched as they moved past the green plants and people walking on the road in a blurry vision. He felt nothing, not even the one he saw nearly thumped upon by another driver. All he could feel now was the hot air wafting through his nostril and caressing the pores of his skin. His heart was the same as it was, yesterday. Ten years back, and will be, forever.

The driver drove into the palace and he parked in front of the chamber his mother lived, before he looked at him. “We’re here, sir.” He nodded his head before the door was unlocked for him and he placed his legs down and stared at the palace. It was the place he hated to visit the most, at the same time the place he loved to visit the most. He loved it because he was able to see his Umma, and he hated it because he had to follow the ethics of the palace.

The two police officers saluted to him and he walked past them without even acknowledging them. The maids he met on his way knelt down to their knees and he didn’t spare them a single glance. He was finally at the main living room of her chamber, where she was always seated. He heard as the maids announced his arrival and he walked directly to where she was seated, his mother.

She looked up and her eyes fell on his khaki cladded body and she turned away, he felt nothing. He sat down and smiled at her, all that she thought him had never went into the drainage, he was still practising. She knew he wasn’t truly smiling, but she was glad he did, nonetheless.

“Good afternoon, Umma. I hope I met you in good health?” She sat upright before she crossed her legs and held a stoic expression. She seemed to be so much like him whenever she was together with him, because that was the only way he could truly understand what she meant.

“How many times do I have to tell you this? You can’t come to the palace wearing khaki, Al-mustapha.” He took a brisk look at her before he diverted his attention back to the television and spoke.

“What’s wrong with me coming here with Khaki? Everyone knows, Umma.” He shrugged his shoulder, and eventhough he looked at her, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Don’t just speak, read my mind first, Al-mustapha.” He stood up from the chair he was sitting and moved closer to her, she looked deep into his eyes and then he began reminiscing the knowledge he was taught, which he only used when he was together with her.

She had her brows lowered, her lips were pressed firmly and she had her eyes bulged. Her right hand was clutching onto her knee, Al-mustapha thought and he blurted the words out even before he got a hold of himself. “You’re angry at me, Umma. And you’re trying to hold yourself back from an outburst.

She pushed him away from her and straightened herself on the chair, “You have to read people’s mind first before acting, Al-mustapha. Don’t ever let anyone know who you are.

He sat back on his chair and shrugged his shoulders once again, “I don’t see anything wrong with me coming to the palace with my uniform. I’ll take my leave,” He excused himself and stood up from where he was seated and curtly nodded his head at her before he walked away.

Yet again, the hot air of Sokoto embraced him and he found himself squinting his eyes from the blinding rays the sun shone on him. The two officers saluted once again before they opened the door for him and he entered the car. “I have a case in the court, let’s head there.

“Okay, sir.” Was the only response that came, as he expected.

They drove along the streets of Sokoto and Al-mustapha watched as the people walked around. Some where in their various vehicles while some were hawkers, trading their goods. He had never wished to live like them, feel like them, because he was more than grateful with the life he lived. The kind of person he was. They got to the court and Al-mustapha walked down to the main entrance, he turned and looked at the throng of law students walking towards the entrance as well.

‘Acp. Al-mustapha Muhammad Maccido.’ All the students hushed as they backed away from him and waited until he entered before they did. He had no time to look into their faces to read their expressions, and when he was about to enter when someone walked past him, her shoulder brushing his; taking him off guard.

“What are you waiting for, Jamila? Let’s enter,” she called out to her friend and enthusiastically walked into the court.

The friend called Jamila looked at him and he began reading her facial expression. Her eyebrows were raised and pulled together, her upper eyelids were raised, lower eyelids were tensed. And also, her jaw was dropped open and her lips were stretched horizontally backwards. She was afraid of what he would do. He straightened himself and walked past her quivering, “I’m sorry.

He wanted to see the girl that bumped into him and nearly took him offguard. He sat down on the front row and the case began, of an armed robber that killed a man together with his two daughters and stole all his valuable assests. He was the one that took care of the case and proceeded it to the court, he had to be in the court for all the sittings.

The wife was called for witness, and she was terribly crying while begging the judge to avenge for her family’s destruction. Al-mustapha turned around and saw as alot of people in the court were shedding tears for her, but he felt nothing. Not even a bit of empathy for her. It was nothing to him, just because she lost two daughters and a husband? He shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes, annoyed at the sound of her cries.

When the case was finally over and it was adjourned until two weeks time, Al-mustapha stood up and walked over to the entrance, yet again. As it was when a case was over in a court, everyone rushed out of the court. And again, this time, her shoulder didn’t just brush his, but she shoved him aside and took a hold of her friend before they walked out.

As soon as he was out, Al-mustapha called onto his seargeant and ordered him to bring the two ladies over. He did, and when they came, he looked at them and spoke, with a voice that was peirce and straight. “Seargent, I’ll like to take them to the station. No, this one, the other one can go.

Jamila looked over her friend and shook her head at her, “You have to apologize to him, Fatima Zarah.

The one called Fatima Zarah put her hands at akimbo and she stared at Al-mustapha with an expression that spoke her confusion. “What have I done that you’ll take me to the station for?” She inquired, glaring at the two seargents that walked upon her and were about to get her into the back of the hilux. “What? Don’t even come over here, please.

Al-mustapha sighed and rubbed his temple before he spoke, “Ask your friend what you did.

Fatima Zarah glared at him under the thickness of her eyelashes before she looked at Jamila, “What have I done, Jamila?

“You pushed him on our way in, and while we were going out; you shoved him aside, Fatima Zarah.

Fatima Zarah held a stoic expression on her face and turned to glare at the seargent once again before she looked at him directly in the eye as she spoke, “You probably got in my way…” She let her word trailed off as she read the name that was pinned on his right breast, “Acp. Al-mustapha Muhammad Maccido.

Al-mustapha laughed, a humorless laughter that sent a shiver down Fatima Zarah ’s spine but she was so presumptous that she masked her fear with a brave expression. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry, I need to go.” She took a hold of Jamila’s hand and walked away.

Al-mustapha looked at the two seargents and thundered, “Get her to the station no matter what!” And they rushed to Fatima Zarah.

She was so adamant about getting to the back of the hilux and the seargent didn’t know what they would do to her. One of them walked towards Al-mustapha that was now seated inside the car and spoke, “I’m sorry sir, but she won’t get into the back. What should we do?

“Why won’t she? Small…” he looked at him, the seargent. They called him small because of his physical appearance. “Why the hell won’t she get into the back? Don’t get me angry this afternoon, unless you want to spend your night where I planned for her to stay.

Small scratched his nape and fixed his eyes on his boots, “I’m sorry sir, but she’s a woman, she can’t get into that. May be I’ll take a bike to the station and she’ll sit in the front. It’s against the ethics, for her to sit there, sir.” He was fiddling with his fingers as he spoke, because he knew it would be difficult for Almustapha to understand what he meant. Because he had never understood. Never knew what was right or wrong for someone apart from himself.

Al-mustapha closed his eyes and leaned onto the chair, he could hear Umma’s words ringing into his brain, “Don’t ever let someone know you’re not like us, Al-mustapha. Make sure you act like everyone should.” He opened his eyes for a brisk second and muttered, “Get her in here.

He felt as she was brought into the car and she sat beside him, and through his peripheral view; Al-mustapha watched as she brought her phone out and she dialed a number. “Hello, Ammi,” she said with a soft and slow voice.

“Ammi, I don’t know what I did, but from the court I’m being taken to the police station.” She was silent for a moment before he watched as tears rolled down her cheeks, “I really did nothing, Ammi. Please Amm…”

She wasn’t able to complete her sentence when Al-mustapha snatched the phone away from her hand and he spoke, “This is Acp. Al-mustapha Muhammad Maccido. Your daughter will spend her night in the station today, you can come and get her tomorrow.” He ended the call even before her mother was able to reply him.

Fatima Zarah turned to look at him with a fiesty expression, “What do you mean by I’m going to spend the night there? For what reason? Look, I’m a law student, I know of my rights. I did nothing wrong that called for that, let me out of this car.

He handed her back her phone and looked directly into her eyes, and for the first time, he read her expression. She was afraid, and he gained the pleasure he wanted. “Keep shut, or if you feel you can do something about it, call anyone you think can get you out of my hand.

She opened her mouth to speak when he cut her off, “Small, if she speaks again, shut her up.” And he leaned back and closed his eyes. Fatima Zarah looked at him and gulped down a lump in her throat, he looked all sort of maliciousness, and she had to be alive for Ammi. She knew it would be easy for this man to kill her and discard her carcass without anyone knowing. This monster, in the body of Acp. Al-mustapha Muhammad Maccido.

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