Le Déclin de l'empire américain directed by Denys Arcand (1986)

I could not admit this in the reaction paper I wrote for this film, but I walked out of the first half of the film (which our professor stopped early because he had to be at a meeting) reeling. Walking home, I kept being afraid that the people I passed would leap up to make some bizaare sexual confession. When I stopped off at the bank, I expected the teller to burst into a confidance of an orgy. The film leaves you in a bit of a fog, especially since it is set in a university. Seeing it, one starts to madly wonder if this sort of hedonism actually occurs regularly, and somehow one has just been blind and naive. Hopefully not. Set in a Montreal university community, gender roles are switched as the men stay at home to cook a gourmet meal, while the women work out at a local gym. The subject of conversation among both parties is unrelentingly about sex: promiscuous sex, S&M sex, wild orgy sex, interspersed by brief comments about the contents of the refrigerator or the well done-ness of the fish pie, which inevitably turn out to be sexual innuendos. The men are boastful: the history professor gleefully relates picking up “two American girls” one night and then taking the drugs they gave him when he sleeps with his wife the next; the women are ironic: Remy’s wife Louise tells of being stuck with a somewhat lethargic partner at an orgy that Remy persuaded her to go to, and Dominique tells of a under-endowed Italian policeman she once bedded. In both sets, there are innocents who are being educated in the hedonistic ways of their more sexually-experienced friends. The young male PhD student, who initially seems somewhat askance at the confessions of his professors, begins to test out his own dirty stories and ends up laying the recently published chair of the history department, Dominique. The somewhat naïve housewife, Louise, who knows her husband has affairs but has no idea the extent has a more upsetting night when Dominique reveals that not only has she slept with Louise’s husband Remy, but that Remy is the most sexually voracious and promiscuous man in the department. She seeks refuge in the arms of her gay friend Claude, a “cruiser” and art history professor who is worried about the blood in his urine. Claude holds her all night, and the ménage all join each other for breakfast again the next day. Fortunately for a squeamish viewer like me, most of the sex is talk; there are a few flashbacks to illustrate the sexual tales, but they aren’t as alarming as they could be—in fact most of them are rather funny, in a disturbing sort of way. The film is remniscent of Boccaccio’s Decameron—in which a whole party of men and women sit around eating, going on walks in the countryside, and telling bawdy stories.

And perhaps this Boccaccio connection is a good way to open my reaction paper since neither my queasy prudery or my summary of the film will be of interest to my professor. So, here is what I turned in:

The Decline of the American Empire directed by Denys Areand (1987)
The medieval Italian writer Boccaccio opens his collection of tales the Decameron with a reference to the black plague, “…in the illustrious city of Florence, the fairest of all the cities of Italy, there made its appearance that deadly pestilence, which, whether disseminated by the influence of the celestial bodies, or sent upon us mortals by God in His just wrath by way of retribution for our iniquities, … had spread into the West.”Boccaccio’s reference to the Black Plague invokes the end of an epoch—the death of an “iniquitous” society. Fleeing the plague a group of young people seek refuge in the country and spend ten days together eating, going on walks in the countryside, and telling bawdy stories. There are echoes of the Decameron in Denys Areand’s film The Decline of the American Empire, which opens with a long tracking shot that finally focuses on the chair of the history department Dominique being interviewed, by the graduate student Diane, on tape about her new book. Dominique’s interview sets up the philosophical underpinnings of the rest of the film; she speaks of a society in decline, later positing that Marx and Freud based their theories on guilt and jealousy over sex. When their grand theories don’t pan out then, people have nothing to base their lives on. In the face of doom, the reigning order seems to be to eat, have sex, and to, as Louise puts it, intellectualize their misery. The wild sexual tales the groups of men and women tell are devices to combat a “suburban” boredom—the meaninglessness of growing into old age, of pursuing an academic career when there are “17,000 scholarly articles published a day.” The household of bawdy storytellers in the Decameron is reflected in the household of intellectuals who seem to belong to a type of commune, living in neighboring houses and eating meals together. The apocalypse, which has already struck in the Decameron, has not yet occurred in The Decline of the American Empire, but it hangs over the Montreal party like a dark cloud. In the first half of the film as the characters carelessly relate tales of casual group sex and S&M, there is an impending sense of doom. The gay character Claude laughs along with the other men about the STD’s their wives and lovers complain about (“Disease is a part of sex”), but privately agonizes in fear over the blood in his urine. When Claude tells of how he is often robbed while “cruising,” and a little later Dominique tells how she has also been robbed in foreign countries after sex with strangers, I felt uneasily that these intellectuals are living dangerously—that something is bound to go terribly wrong. But then, they know they are living dangerously—the uncertainty is part of what gives them pleasure. Diane, who is experimenting with sado-masochism with her brutish boyfriend, says of their connection, “We could kill each other.” When the sinister boyfriend shows up outside the house and eavesdrops on the men’s dirty stories, it seems as though the “real” thing has showed up and caught them at their game. He embodies the sense of foreboding I felt through the first half of the film. The characters seem so caught up in their dangerous pursuit of pleasure that they have lost any connection to each other. The women sneer at men’s small penises and their obsession over them. The men scoff at women’s desire for romance before sex. Remy delights in “knowing the dinner is on and stopping off on the way” or in “not mixing his sex life with his marriage.” The characters seem to constantly act out of disdain for each other.

However, Dominique’s revelation to the group of friends that she has slept with Remy and Pierre is somewhat of an anti-climatic moment---apocolypse has not happened—she’s just burst what she calls Louise’s self-delusional attempt to find happiness. The reappearance of the sinister boyfriend, ends not in a murder but in a cutting through all the pretence: “They were talking about sex all day. I was expecting an orgy, but now the big deal is a fish pie. When I want sex, I fuck.” His declaration opens up the way for more confessions. Although in the segregated bravado found in the reversed role chatter (the men at home cooking while the women work out at the gym), the men and women seem to joy in putting down their spouses or lovers, glorying in the details of abstract sex, when the party comes back together, we see that there actually are strong emotional connections between them. Suddenly, the sexual talk becomes intellectualized and sentimental confessions are made. Pierre confesses that these friends are his family. Dominique confesses that she has slept with Louise’s husband. Alone with the young PhD student Alain, Dominique confesses that she resents women with “cute little husband and cute little children, who don’t live in reality.” Pierre, who has spent all day boasting about his sexual exploits and his emotional disconnect from his lovers, confesses to his young companion Danielle that he loves her but that he is too tired for sex. The suddenly disillusioned Louise weeps herself to sleep in Claude’s arms, and Claude confesses to Diane that he is worried about the blood in his urine. Even Diane’s rough lover unexpectedly pulls out an absurd gift wrapped in heart-covered wrapping paper, attached to a bobbing heart-shaped balloon. The tough exterior bravado conceals a vulnerable desire for intimacy. The bluster of the day before fades away to reveal connections so deep that even after feeling betrayed, Louise finds herself unable to leave the house, instead joining Danielle to play a stormy piano duet. It was at this moment, that I realized what the piano music bursts at intervals throughout the film reminded me of. It reminded me of Jane Austen films—of those repressed stories of society and manners and the search for love—the house parties of young people who fight boredom by playing piano duets and proposing, as in Mansfield Park, bawdy plays to wile away the time. Perhaps the boredom that the characters express isn’t so new but is, in fact, built into the structure of the American/ European empire.

Edward Said has noted that the genteel life Jane Austen describes in Mansfield Park would have been impossible without the slave plantations that Fanny’s uncle owned and the profits made from a budding British empire.[2] Patricia Rozema has further explored Austen’s references to the Caribbean in her film adaptation of the novel, delving into the wounded psyche of the eldest son Tom who has witnessed and sketched slaves being raped on his father’s plantation. Throughout The Decline of the American Empire are similar sexualized references to the “other”—which conceal objectifications of different races similar to that statement Fanny’s uncle makes in Rozema’s film that “mulatto women are like mules. They cannot reproduce.” Remy opens the film with leering references to a Vietnamese girl in his class. He catalogues the distinct pleasures and scents experienced when sleeping with women of various ethnicities. When the young Alain good-naturedly accuses him of being racist, Remy laughs that “there is no better friend to the Negro,” relating a time when he took a distinguished visiting professor from Burkina Faso on the hunt for prostitutes and tried to haggle the price down by claiming it would be “aid to Africa.” On the women’s side, Dominique smirks at what she sees as the social climbing of the two Martiniquean men she paid to sleep with her, and Diane maintains that she likes the “African blacks” better. These distinguished professors speak knowledgably about oppression and racism in South Africa; yet their academic concerns seem merely a sham (as Dominique theorizes on Marx and Freud) to cover their ravenous sexuality. That their racist sentiments slip out along with their tales of sexual escapades indicates that perhaps their identities are as much caught up in the ideologies of superiority, as Jane Austen’s characters. Since these characters are Quebecois who are themselves postcolonial figures, in the struggle against being incorporated into an “American empire,” their “colonial” language is doubly ironic. Even more than the unihibited sex talk, this need to define oneself against the “other” marks the fundamental weakness in their society.

[2] Edward Said. Culture and Imperialism. New York: Vintage, 1993

translation of chapter 1 from Kaico! by Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino

The following is a working translation of chapter 1 from Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino's novella Kaico! The novel is originally written in Hausa. Although I cannot change the trajectory of the story or the paragraph order, I welcome feedback on wording and minor editorial issues. For example, I don't know whether I need to keep all the to-ing and fro-ing--descriptions of people kneeling and rising etc, that is in the Hausa original (but then maybe it is important to preserve cultural values). My translation process is to do a handwritten metaphrase--translating pretty much word for word on my first round. Then when I type it up, I pretend as if it is my own story and I take more liberties with changing sentences around, deleting redundant phrases, and reworking wording--and occasionally adding an explanatory detail (trying to keep it as unobtrusive as possible). Because I'm trying to stick as close to the original as possible, especially the use of proverbs and colloquial language, I think that what in the original is rich and mellifluous, sometimes comes across as stiff in translation. (Case in point being the first three or four paragraphs of the chapter--also sections of conversation between Kabiru and Baba.) I'd appreciate any feedback on sections that sound particularly stiff and any suggestions on how to improve them. Also, I've tried to keep quite a few Hausa words in the translation with the intention of having a glossary in the final version. However, I'd like feedback on where the Hausa might be distracting. For example, would it be better to just say "prayer beads" rather than "carbi"? Is it ok to intersperse "Allah" with "God," or should I be consistant with one or the other? How many stock phrases like "God protect you on the road" should I translate or just leave in the original?

When I finish the translation, I will likely delete these working sections from my blog before publication.

T-C

Kaico! [1]

By Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino
Translated by Talatu-Carmen

Original Publication information:
Ado Ahmad Gidan Dabino. Kaico! Gidan Dabino Publishers: Kano, 1996.

CHAPTER 1


Anya jama’a, how can we keep living like this, as the very life is being squeezed out of us? Every day, prices climb higher and higher. Times have changed, so that now it is every man for himself. We struggle so for money that now everyone just looks out for himself and his children. No one bothers to help his relatives or neighbors anymore. The rich no longer pity the poor. Although Allah has placed on us the duty to give alms to those less fortunate, now people give alms only if they are bothered. Others fly into a temper and energetically refuse to give anything, so that their wealth keeps increasing to no end. On the other side, the poor man has become envious in his heart; he doesn’t want to get up and find work for himself. He prefers to keep hanging around the houses of the wealthy, begging. When he sees beautiful houses or cars, he bites his fingers and says, “If only they were mine.” After he’s gone on like this for a while, you’ll hear him lose hope and say. “Kai, I could never hope to own any of this.” Kaico! What a disaster it is! He who puts his hope in the Merciful Father will enter Heaven. When will he stop loving the things of the world if he doesn’t stop thinking about them? [CK]
Then, too, see how the education and public health systems have collapsed. The government schools don’t have enough qualified teachers. They don’t have enough supplies or work materials. The government hospitals don’t have enough medicine or qualified staff. Most of those who can do the job leave government work and go back to private businesses. Why does this happen? Why is the government less concerned about making things work than those in the marketplace?
Really, there’s nothing left for us to do but pray, because thugs and robbers and thieves and con-men—that is 419—those the government thieves who steal with the pen get away with it easily. If you own a nice car and a lot of money, you can’t sleep at night for fear that robbers will come in the dark and steal them from you. If you are a trader, whenever you travel to another city with money, you can’t rest in peace until you see that you’ve arrived safely and that no armed robbers have attacked you. It’s as if all the stories we’ve heard of other countries are now happening here. The things we’ve seen happening in foreign films have become a part of our own lives.
“Thief! Thief!! Thief!!!” The shouts woke me from a deep sleep. I quickly jumped out of bed, still half asleep, and stumbled to open the door of my room. Outside, people were shouting.
“Just now we followed him, but he disappeared down that ally. Shi ke nan. We looked up and down, but he’s gone. The bastard! It’s as if he had a disappearing charm.”
“What did he steal?” I asked rubbing my eyes.
“He stole a video from Alhaji Sadi’s house.”
“He got away with it?” I asked.
“Since! Ai, it’s easy to take off with a video.”
“God help us,” I said, going back to my room.
Even after I closed the door, I could hear their animated discussion. “Can you believe the brazenness of this thief? It’s only 10:20. It’s not that late yet. We only just got up from watching the video. And he didn’t even break in. The door was still open when he came in. The children saw him when he took it.”
Thoughts buzzed around in my head. It hadn’t been long since I’d emerged from a dream about our country’s problems. So I began to think to myself. “Now after the worries I’ve been having about thugs and robbers and 419 con-men and larceny, it’s happened right here! Yet, all the same, people aren’t bothered by it?” I lay in my bed, listening to the chattering of the voices outside my door until sleep carried me away. I didn’t wake until sahur, the breakfast that we do during Ramadan. After I finished eating, I went to the mosque with Alhaji do the early morning prayers. When we came back to the house I picked up the holy Q’uran to read. At 6:30, I prayed and went back to bed.
“Baba! Baba!! Baba!! Come Hajiya is calling you.”
This summons pierced my sleep. I looked at my clock and I realized that it was past 8:00. Sitting up, I saw my junior sister Bilkisu at the window. When she saw that I was awake, she said “Baba. Come on. Hajiya is calling.”
“Ok, I’m coming now now.” I got up and rinsed out my mouth before going into the house to greet my dad, Alhaji. Then I went into my mom’s room to greet her.
“Here I am, Hajiya.”
“Hurry up and get ready. I’m sending you to Malam Buhari.”
“I don’t need to get ready. I can go like this.” I told her.
Hajiya looked me up and down. “Oh, so you don’t need to get ready, do you? Get out of here and go wash your face. It looks like you just woke up. And put on a hula and babbar riga.”
I looked down at myself and said. “Ok, I’m going.” I went to wash my face and then went into my room to put on a babbar riga and hula. I came out and locked the door. When I arrived back in the house, I found Hajiya sitting on the couch. I sat down and said. “Here I am, I’ve come back, Hajiya.”
Hajiya gave me the message, and said that when I got there I should greet Hajara. I left and got on my Vespa motor bike and headed for Malam Buhari’s house.
While I was on the way to his house to fulfill Hajiya’s errand, I met with a terrible accident that made me weep with pity. A car had run over a little boy and crushed his head. It was an awful thing to see. Everyone who saw it was weeping.
In this state of mind, mulling over the terrible accident, I arrived at the house. “To, God preserve us from disaster.” I thought to myself, “These days, people are always dying in accidents.”
After I parked the bike, I went into Malam Buhari’s shop. We greeted, and I bowed down as I gave him the message from Hajiya. Out of respect I bent my head and averted my eyes.
“I’ll go inside the house and greet them,” I told Malam, as he fingered his carbi.
“Ok, fine,” he said.
I went into the house and found Hajara sitting on a plastic mat. I kneeled down and greeted her.
Tugging her dankwali modestly over her head she called out, “Hindatu, bring a mat for Baba to sit on.”
“Ok,” I heard a voice respond.
Hindatu immediately came out from the room with a mat in her hand. She spread it out for me beside the wall. After I sat, Hindatu kneeled down and greeted me. After she went back inside the room, I continued my greetings with Hajara.
“Hajiya sends her greetings.”
“Ok, tell her I answer,” said Hajara. “When you greet Hajiya Binta, tell her thank you,” she said as I prepared to stand.
“Greet everyone in the house,” Hindatu called. “Allah protect you on the road. Greet Bilkisu for me. Tell her I’ll come soon.”
Since I had finished what I came to do, I said goodbye to Hajara, and I went back out to tell Malam goodbye. He sent me off with a greeting for Hajiya.
I got back on my motor bike and headed home. Exactly at 11:00am, I got back. I went in and told Hajiya that Malam Buhari and his wife Hajara sent their greetings and that he answered the message. Hajiya was very happy to hear Malam’s answer. I also gave Bilkisu the message from Hindatu.
After I finished talking with my mother, I went in to bathe and get ready. I put on a long riga, a cap, and white shoes. Then I went in to Hajiya and told her I was going to the market. She blessed me, praying that God would give me luck and protect the road. After I had gone out and gotten on my bike, my little sister Bilkisu came out and said, “Baba, don’t forget my message.”
I stared at the sky without saying anything, trying to figure out what Bilkisu was talking about. After a minute I looked back down and faced her. “I forgot what you told me. Which message was it again?”
Bilkisu bent her head, showing signs of embarrassment.
“Oh, come on, tell me. What do you mean. Don’t be shy,” I said, revving the bike.
She pressed her hands against the bike and stared at her fingers. “Shoes and a bag like we talked about two days ago,”
“Oho, I forgot. That’s it then. Is that what you were embarrassed to tell me? God willing, I’ll bring them for you today.”
I revved the bike again and headed for the market. She went back into the house, her face covered in smiles to hear that I would bring her what she had been wanting.
As I sped along on my bike, I thought to myself. “What kind of sillyness is this, Bilkisu? You’re embarrassed to remind me of my promise to bring you something you need? Since you’re the baby of the family, is there anything you want that we won’t give you? Unless we don’t have it… but we won’t ever say that since our dad, Alhaji Abdu has lots of money and houses and rental cars and imports clothes like shadda and boyel and waxprints and the rest.”
There were five of us children, two boys and three girls. Zainab and Hadiza were now married. Out of the girls it was only Bilkisu who had not yet married. Of the boys, the elder one of us (Umar) had married. Alhaji Umar lived in a different neighborhood, and he had his own business. I hadn’t married yet, so there was no one left in the house but me and Bilkisu. All five of us had the same mother, same father. And of all five of us, there was none whom my father favoured like me, since he had named me after his father, Muhammadu Auwalu. That’s why the people in our house call me Baba, so as not to say my name. Now, I run the family business with my father. From time to time, when there is travel to buy goods abroad, I go along with him. When my older brother got married, our father let him go into his own business, but I don’t know whether it will be the same for me if I get married. Also, my sisters didn’t stay long after secondary school before they were married. It’s only us boys who stay to do all the study we need before we go into business. My senior brother got his degree before entering business. I got my diploma, but now I’ll continue. Bilkisu is now in senior secondary 5, so she only has one year before she finishes. She is at the same school as Malam Buhari’s daughter, Hindatu.
I gathered my thoughts as I arrived at the market and entered our shop. I greeted Alhaji before sitting down in my accustomed place.
As was our habit, if I was around, he didn’t handle the money. I was the one who did that. In this way we continued with our business until closing time was near. Then, I went to buy Bilkisu the things I’d promised I’d get her. I also got her a few things she hadn’t asked me for and I hadn’t told her I’d get. After I finished up, we left the market.
After drinking water and praying asham prayers, I sat down in my mother’s parlour to watch television. When Bilkisu came in to sit on the couch, she kneeled and greeted me. I answered.
“Go to my room and bring me the large black plastic bag that is close to the door,” I said to her, while she stared past me at the television.
“Ok, (to)” Bilkisu got up cheerfully and excused herself.
She came back holding the bag and kneeled slightly as she gave it to me with both hands. “Here it is.”
I opened the bag and brought out the shoes and handbag and gave her. “Look, here are your things.”
She grinned and put out her hands to collect them. “Thank you,” she said gazing happily at the bag and shoes.
I put my hand back into the bag and brought out a necklace, earrings, bracelets, and a ring and another kind of cloth that women like to wear and gave her. “Here you go, add this to the rest.”
“Oh thank you! God bless you!” She got up excitedly and headed for our mother’s room calling, “Hajiya, look at what Baba bought me.”
They came out of the room together, and Hajiya said, “Thanks be to God who meets all of our needs.”
“Amin,” I answered her. Hajiya and Bilkisu sat down, and the three of us continued to chat.



**

On Monday, the 23rd day of Ramadan, my good friend Kabiru visited our house, after a rain. I saw him as he came into the room, and I quickly got up and grabbed his hand.
“Kai, look who we have here in town today. Kabiru, ashe, are you around? Long time no see!” I said, holding on to his hand.
As we sat down, Kabiru said, “I traveled for a week, that’s why you haven’t seen me. You know that if I hadn’t traveled, it would have been hard to go for seven days without seeing you.”
“I was thinking maybe the fasting was keeping you from going anywhere,” I answered. “You know how the fasting wears you out when the sun is beating down.”
“Well, the sun may be hot, but there’s no sun at night. I was told that you came to my house looking for me while I was gone. Have you forgotten?”
“Oh, I know. I just asked to see what you would say.” We both smiled.
Kabiru looked at me. “Oho, so you want to cross examine me do you?”
“Oh, you know me. If you take the bait, it’s not my fault.”
“Ok, well, jokes aside. I have something important I want to talk to you about.”
“I’m listening. What’s up?”
Kabiru was quiet for a minute and then he turned and looked at me. “You know that if a man’s parents are still living, it is good if he keeps improving and keeps following their commands to the utmost and does not avoid their laws. If he does this, he will find blessing and live in peace with everyone. If his parents give him their blessing or if they die happy with him, all that he attempts in this world will find the greatest success. Most people if you see them fighting against an evil life, you can be sure that they have followed the example their parents have shown them. Then there are others, who don’t respect their parents. They don’t listen to anything they tell them. They don’t consider what they want. It’s because of this I came so that we could discuss what’s going on in my house. While I was on this trip to my senior sister’s place, she told me that they have been discussing with my parents, saying that I should get married since I’ve finished all the things I need to do before marriage. I’ve finished school. I’ve gotten my diploma. I’ve entered the world of business. So, there’s nothing left for me except to marry. At the time, my sister was talking to me about one girl, but I told her I didn’t trust that girl.”
I looked at Kabiru in surprise. “Why didn’t you trust the girl?”
Kabiru smiled. “There is a cause for alarm. The first is that I’m always seeing her with all kinds of different boys, rascals as well as respectable ones. She has no shame. If she quarrels with a boyfriend, you will hear her abusing him and insulting him, and saying all kinds of disrespectful things. Then, too, this girl really wants to enjoy her life. She craves a rich man who has a beautiful house and the latest car. She’s as greedy as a fly. She’s also full of lies; she tells one after another. And, she is not clean. Kai, if you see how slovenly she is. They say a man shouldn’t marry a woman like that. And finally, the parents of this girl are not respectable. They say one thing and do another. One time, they set the date for her to marry one boy. About three months to the marriage another one came along who had more money, so they sent back the kaya the other one had brought. In the end, the girl wound up quarrelling with the second boy. She abused him so much that he picked his things and left.”
“E gaskiya, this definitely is not someone you want as your wife. A man of good character wants to marry a woman of good character. So what did you tell your sister?” I asked.
“What I told her was that she should stop talking about this girl, that I’d look for another one that I liked and I approved of. Then I told her if they discussed the issue again, she should explain to my parents what I told her. Since they didn’t talk to me about it, it’s not me that should talk to them. No matter how far up you throw something, it will still come down. Since they didn’t talk to me now, they will talk to me later. My sister was just clearing the path for me. So, I want to think through my course of action before they come back to the conversation. When they come back to it, you know, I’ll know what I will say to them. We know the direction to face for prayer."
“Everything you say is true, and I think you are thinking things through wisely. So now, since you don’t want the one they picked out for you, who do you love, or maybe I should ask who have you chosen to talk to them about.”
Kabiru laughed and shook his head. “I give you one thing, and you keep begging. Ai, every fool who rushes in will wait to find out. Habba, Baba, you know that I know how you spoil things when you are reckless. Since we were children together, we’ve been lucky that we’ve always gotten along. As the Hausas say, you’ll be close friends only if your personalities mesh. You know as well as I do that there is no girl who can go around beating her chest and saying that I am her boyfriend. I know that you, too, are in the same boat, because we don’t have girls on our mind, we are to busy with other business.”
Before he was finished, I interrupted him, “Daman, what’s the use of going to girls’ houses if you aren’t ready to get married? Two wrongs don’t make a right. You waste your time and you waste the girl’s time. Then also if you play the trickster—today you go to this place, tomorrow you go to that place, you’re always in a different girls house, ai, then you’ll lose respect. It’s better for a man to look for someone to marry when he is ready for marriage. If it is not the proper time, or if he doesn’t know how to settle down with one and be faithful, he shouldn’t keep running around between lies and truth.”
“That’s true, Baba. This is why I don’t want to get mixed up in looking for a girl until I’m ready. So, now, since talk of my marriage has been brought up, what do you advise me to do?”
“My advice?” I think you should tell them the one you love, if there is one. If there isn’t anyone, let’s start looking now. Also, when we go looking, we mustn’t just think about her looks. No, there’s only beauty if there is good character. If she doesn’t have a good character, then her beauty is like a snake. There are other things that we should look for. In the first place, religion and education, knowledge and a good upbringing. Also, we should make sure that she has family who keep their promises and parents who are pleasant and respectable and humble. If we find all these things, then we can talk about other things we may want. If we do not find these things, nothing we search for will please us. So anything else we look for should come after these—it should just be 10 out of a hundred. The attributes I have added on top are 90 out of 100. If a man finds 90 out of 100, he has done well on the exam. If he gets only 10 percent, then he fails.”
“I agree with you. And actually, I’ve got to tell you… There is a girl who I am in love with. I’ve completely lost my head over her.”
I grinned. “Ai, it’s all falling nicely into place. Since there’s one that you love, why not tell them about her if they start talking of marriage again.”
“Yes, yes, I will,” said Kabiru. “But there is one thing I want to be careful of. I don’t want to rush into things because I don’t know if she’ll agree or not.”
I turned and looked at him. “What would keep her from accepting you” I asked.
“Well, there’s a certain relationship that I think might complicate things and keep her from accepting me. On the other hand, if you think about it in a different way, this same relationship could also make her accept,” said Kabiru.
“Who is this girl, and what type of relationship are you talking about?” I asked him.
“It’s a friendship,” Kabiru answered. “Her senior brother is my friend. This is what I think might cause trouble. Since she thinks of me as a brother, she might not be able to think of me as a lover, as well.”
“Oh no, Habba. This type of friendship won’t prevent anything, unless she has been promised to someone else, or if you aren’t equally attracted to each other. But how many times have people in the same situation gotten married, and you see how strong and trusting the relationship is?” I smiled reassuringly at him.
“The girl I love is Bilkisu,” Kabiru blurted out.
“Which Bilkisu?” I asked.
“I mean, your Bilkisu,” said Kabiru.
I didn’t say anything for a minute, as if I were waiting for him to say something else. After a moment, I looked at Kabiru and smiled. “Don’t think anything of it. This is an easy thing. Give me two days and I’ll let you know what she thinks.”
Kabiru’s face showed his delight at my words. “Ok,” he said “Shi ke nan. Everything in God’s good time.”
As we finished up, Bilkisu brought me food. She sat down and greeted Kabiru and saluted us on the breaking of the fast. After we answered her, she looked at Kabiru and said. “So, here you are, now. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”
“Oh I’m around. It’s business that kept me away.”
After we chatted with her for a while, she went back into the house, and Kabiru told her to greet Hajiya for him.
“To,” Bilkisu said and went back into the house. We chatted as we ate, and around 12:15 we said our goodbyes. Kabiru got on his motor bike and went back home.
The next morning, I went into the house and greeted Alhaji in his room and went into Hajiya’s parlour to greet her. After greeting, I went to my chair and sat. Before I could say anything, Hajiya said, “Yesterday, Kabiru came but he refused to come in and greet. He just sent Bilkisu in to greet me.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that he refused to come in. We were talking, and before we knew it, it got late. When he left, you were already asleep; that’s why he didn’t come in to greet you. He was intending to come in, but when he saw how late it was, he said that I should apologize and tell you the reason.” I told Hajiya this so she wouldn’t be offended with Kabiru since she knew that usually every time he came for a visit, he would go in and greet her. I knew what kept him from going in. It was this talk of Bilkisu.
“Hajiya, I was talking with Kabiru and he told me that his parents are pressuring him to get married. It’s gone so far that his elder sister proposed a certain girl, but he told me he wasn’t happy with the girl for a lot of very good reasons. In truth, I agree with all the reasons he gave me. So, now his family is pressuring him to find another one that he likes, since he didn’t like the first girl. At the end of our discussion, he told me who he really likes.”
After I told her this, I stayed quiet and didn’t say anything else.
“So, who does he like?” Hajiya asked me.
“He’s in love with Bilkisu.”
“Which Bilkisu?” asked Hajiya.
“Our Bilkisu.” I said, watching Hajiya’s face. Her face showed signs that she was agreeable to talk of Kabiru.
“Ai, shi ke nan. This is no problem. If she is sure that she also likes him, then he’s already one of the family. Let me talk to her and hear what she says. If luck has it that she’s interested, then we’ll discuss it with Alhaji.”
“To, shi ke nan. I told him if he gave me two days, he’d hear what was going on. He was doubtful about whether or not she’d love him, since he’s my friend.”
“Habba, friendship does not prevent marriage. It happens all the time,” said Hajiya.
Since Hajiya was showing all the signs that she supported the matter, it was only left for Bilkisu to tell us her mind.
After I finished discussing with Hajiya, I got on my bike and headed for the market.

**

On Wednesday, the 25th of the month of Ramadan, in the morning, Hajiya told me that Bilkisu was agreeable to the intentions of my friend Kabiru. Hearing this put me into an excellent mood. It would be no small problem if your best friend said that he loved your sister and she said that she didn’t love him. As the Hausas say, “it’s a lucky find, if you come across leftover chicken in the bowl.” Others also say, “It’s a lucky find if your neighbors pay for your wife to go to Mecca.”
I left the house, and headed straight for Kabiru’s house. I called out my greetings as I entered his room. When he saw me, he got up quickly and extended his hand. After we sat, he asked me. “Where are you going from here? I see signs that you have somewhere else to go.”
“I’m going to the market from here. But I came this way to tell you that I’ve passed on your message. And all is set. Hajiya has already told Alhaji, and he is very happy to hear the news.” I grinned as I saw his expression.
Kabiru burst into happy laughter. “Alhamdu lillahi. Allah has assured me his blessing. Now that I’ve found a strong support to lean on, I need to tell my seniors. It’s important that nothing is started until they know. Since the negotiations have already gone far, I’ll inform my senior sister. Once we discuss, then I’ll tell the others.”
After Kabiru and I finished this discussion, I went in to greet the house. From there I came out to say my goodbyes and left.
No doubt about it, I was filled with happiness about the union we were plotting to build between my little sister Bilkisu and my best friend Kabiru—if not for anything else because I know his character.
Kabiru and I had been friends since we were children. We had gone to primary and secondary school together and also to the College of Education, where we both got our diplomas. He is an extremely religious man, putting nothing before his devotion to God. Worldly things have no place in his life. Our friendship had connected our parents in friendship because when we were children, I’d go to Kabiru’s house and spend the night, and he’d come to our house and spend the night. His father Alhaji Sani was a businessman. His mother’s name was Hajiya Nafisa, and her co-wife was Hajiya Habiba. He had lots of brothers and sisters. In fact, there were ten of them in the house.
On Friday, the 27th of Ramadan around 9pm, Kabiru came to our house. He came into my room, and we greeted as he found a place to sit. We talked for a while before I went into the house and sent Bilkisu out to him. Before Bilkisu finished preparing to go out, Kabiru came in and greeted Hajiya. Then he went back to my room. Bilkisu finished getting ready and went out to Kabiru, while I kept on talking to Hajiya.
Around 11 o’clock, Bilkisu came back into the parlour. “Baba, go, you’re being called.
Bilkisu sat down and I got up and headed to my room where I found Kabiru. We chatted until around midnight, then we said our goodbyes. Kabiru went back home, and I went to bed.


END OF CHAPTER 1

[1] Kaico translates something like “Disaster!” Or “Alas!” But I think it would be better to keep the title the same in the English and Hausa version, and put a footnote in the introduction about the meaning.