Narrator’s Name: Unknown, Still
XVII. Sign Your Death Warrant
Hint/Confession: You might think I’m Jameel the son of Alhaji Shatima Mukhtar, because Jameel just told you he wrote to his mother or, as he argued, to himself. Because he told you he wrote about some tales of time that revolved around him like I do. Take it or leave it, I’m not Jameel. I know Jameel better than he thinks he knows himself.
The first time I met Jameel is the year Abubakar almost missed his flight. And then a couple of years later, I came to be in possession of Jameel’s emails to himself.
Umar had many things going through his mind ever since Jameel told him about his brother. Umar knew what his next step should be but he thought it over. There is no way Saleem is behind this, that’s for sure, Umar thought. Perhaps Saleem went through the same thing – the messages and the threats – while he was working on his book. Perhaps it’s all unrelated and he was simply searching for things he knew Safiyya loved and it was no secret that she loved books and had a habit of scribbling words on the back page of books she has read.
Umar picked up his phone and called his brother. After the pleasantries, Umar asked Saleem about Abba and said that he felt they should really do something about his situation. But the truth of the matter is, they couldn’t do anything but worry or pray. Saleem told his younger brother that prayer was what Abba needed.
Umar asked Saleem whether he had left Dihaara and Saleem told him that he had. Saleem told him that he is in Kano with umma and would be coming to Zaria with his wife and Hafsa. When Umar heard Hafsa, his amazing niece, would be coming home to him, Umar forgot why he called his brother. The last time Umar saw her was the day he left Kano for Zaria. That was twenty days ago.
The day that all of this began.
And he didn’t want that reality to harm his niece especially since the psychopath seemed to be capable of murder. And thus, for the first time, the thought of having his mother, his brother, his brother’s wife, and Hafsa here in Zaria scared him. And that was when Umar told Saleem everything and they spoke in great length. Saleem seemed too calm but then he had always been like that: being calm even when frightened, angry, sad, or concerned; and having the distinct ability to calm others down. Saleem got that from his grandfather.
Saleem had always been like that: sharing everything he was or had: Love, happiness, success. But never sadness, worry, or doubt. He kept those to himself. Naturally, keeping those things from your loved ones makes you emotionally distant, maybe even a psychopath; if I didn’t know better I’d say that he is, as Umar entertained the idea for a micro-second, capable of murder. But I don’t think Saleem's calmness bordered on crazy.
“Saleem, you there? do you think we should tell umma?”
“There's no point in spreading doubt or worry just so you won't feel alone,” Saleem said. “It takes courage to bear the burden that worry weighs all by yourself, Umar. We are not telling anybody about this. Have no worries, nothing will befall the family of Ja’far. I don’t think R wants to kill you. If he wanted to, he’d have done it a long time ago. Just play along and be smart. I’ll be in Zaria soon.
“And I didn’t steal anything from the library as Jameel had told you. But I understand why he thought I did. Actually, it was Safiyya that did the stealing. She stole the last copy of an old book. Come to think of it, I don’t even know how she broke into the library or whether any breaking in was done to steal the book. The book was authored by King Abdullah’s grandfather. Alhaji Abdullah Yunus Naba’u. He was our grandfather’s older brother. He was among the people who played a major role for Nigeria’s independence. She believed his book didn’t belong in the library so she stole it, read it, kept it for a while then sent it to King Abdullah long before he thought he’d be king. This was about a year or two ago. She believed he should have it since it is the work of his grandfather. That was also when Abdullah started showing interest in Safiyya.”
“Safiyya stole??” Umar was still surprised to hear that piece of information.
Saleem laughed, “She wasn’t perfect, you know. I was also surprised when she told me and showed me the book.”
“Interesting,” Umar said, not too sure which category of his memory of her he should store that information. “But why were you kicked out of the library.”
“I was lucky that it ended there. When I was writing about her in my book, I must admit I started becoming a little like her in that regard. I picked up her habit of scribbling thoughts and ideas in books. Apparently, the library had been trying to catch the person who had been writing in their books – the ones I did and the ones Safiyya did. So when they caught me, they blamed me for both and threw me out,” Umar felt a bit envious. He wished he was a little more carefree and unafraid.
“Is there any book in the library that has her words written in them?”
“I don’t think so. The library might have gotten rid of the books or painted over her writings. The only book that has her writing is that old book she sent to King Abdullah.
“What did she write?”
“I don’t remember. King Abdullah is swarmed right now with a lot of work, but if you can reach him, ask him. And if he still has the book, you can ask him to send it to you.”
“I’ll do that insha Allah. By the way, what’s the name of the book?”
“Sign Your Death Warrant.”
Umar couldn’t believe his ears. When Umar heard that, he felt as if he was in a nightmare and he was falling into a bottomless pit. He was frightened and those words laded his breath and brought that horrible Friday back. It brought R’s text messages to life. “What did you say?”
“Sign Your Death Warrant by Abdullah Yunus Naba’u.”
Umar realized that that was what R meant when R sent him the last text message. It was also the same thing R said on that horrible Friday night:
“But to find life you have to Sign your death warrant.”
It made sense now. He didn’t tell his brother because as his brother rightly said, there was no point in making others worry. He thanked him, acted casually, said goodbye, and called King Abdullah but didn’t reach the king.
***
Umar kept calling King Abdullah’s mobile, still no answer. He called Junaid, thinking he was still the King’s aide and so must be in the company of the king – no answer either. It was then that Jameel’s text message popped up on his screen.
Jameel: Morning buddy, need any help. I’m at your disposal.
Umar: Hey man, I’m good. Nothing now but would let you know. P.S thanks for telling me about Saleem. We talked.
Umar was at the library rooftop and Ahmadu Bello University looked beautiful from up there. He saw Maryam and called her phone. She picked up.
She didn't know Umar could see her. It was nice to see her hit what seemed to him like pebbles with her foot as she talked to him. She was happy to hear from him. And two minutes into their conversation, she told him she had to go.
“I –I really should go,” she said. “I’m meeting my supervisor and she’s seated in her car. I think she has already seen me.” Umar noticed the parked car a few feet away from Maryam.
“Oh yeah? Then you simply must go, Maryam. I wouldn’t want to keep you. Well that’s a lie but it’s okay, you should go,” he said.
“…” silence but he could hear her smile even before he saw it as she turned – from the top of the rooftop.
“Maryam, I adore you now and I'll adore you more later insha Allah.”
“…” Silence. Utter silence and then after five seconds, “… I adore you too,” then she hung up too shy to hear what his reply would be.