It was a very large beach — the only beach with a name that gained world recognition; the world even named it the World’s Best Beach in 2018. You could see fishing vessels (boats) moving on the blue water. A tall, fair young man was standing in front of the boat. He had a slightly muscular, well-built body — the thick-bodied type associated with strong men. He was wearing a brown shirt and short men’s shorts that were a little tighter than they should be. His feet were in a nice pair of white bathroom slippers that fit his feet well and gave length to his stance. On his head he wore a red cap. His mouth (or the area around his mouth) had a small bunch of something attached to it that shone — he was standing looking at the blue water as fish jumped out and went back in. He stood like that for nearly two minutes before letting out a warm breath. He reached out his hand and took the fishing rod leaning against the black metal of the boat. He lifted it slowly, held it, untangled the line, then lowered the fishing rod into the water. A small smile appeared on his face for the first time — you could tell he loved what he was doing.
He pulled the rod out a little, then remembered and looked to his side where there was a small plastic sachet that had a fish drawing on it with “fish food” written on it. He picked it up, opened it, put his white hand inside, and took out one piece of fish food that looked like a cheese ball but was harder than a cheese ball. He hooked the food onto the fishing hook and attached it so it wouldn’t fall off. He returned the fishing rod to the water and started turning it, aware that now he was about to catch a fish. After almost thirty seconds, he let out another kind of smile and in a very soft voice under his breath said, “got you.” Quickly he tightened the spring of the reel and the line began to come back in. His phone, in the pocket of his shorts, started ringing. He closed his eyes slightly, then opened them just as the line holding the hook came up holding a huge live fish that was struggling to free itself from the hook but couldn’t. He tried to pull the fishing rod in, smiling as he watched the fish; he put it down and walked toward a deep basket. All this while his phone kept ringing but he ignored it and threw the fish into the basket, then placed the fishing rod down. He slowly took his expensive phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen, pursed his lips like someone who didn’t want to answer the call, then pressed to pick up. On the screen the name shown made him frown and he answered in a strained voice, “Dadddddd,” dragging the name out like someone about to cry.
From the other side, a voice that sounded older said, “Don’t ‘Dad’ me here. You know what you did. You know Aliyu. Where are your bodyguards?” the man asked with anger in his voice. He frowned, speaking quietly as if he didn’t want to talk: “I know — you already know. Why are you asking again?” “You ate at your house Aliyu, your aunt I mean. Am I the one speaking like this? I already know where they are; I started communicating to check on the child’s health before calling you. And man — turn that boat and come back to the shore where you left them. If you want to go fishing, take them along with you. Go fishing since it’s your hobby, while they watch over you. I hired them just to protect you for me. Do you know how much I spend on your security, aye?” He was also angry, like he might swallow his heart, and said, “I told you I don’t want them. I don’t need them. I am old enough to protect myself, Dad. Besides, Allah is the protector of all mankind. Stop treating me like a toddler. I am not that baby you used to feed Cerelac and gaber rice. I am 29 years and 7 months — I’m an adult and I don’t know security or bodyguards or whatever their name is. Leave me free, Dad, please.”
On the other end the man said, “Alright Mr. Aliyu Adult — when did you grow that much? You go out fishing without a sweater and I’m sure later you’ll start sneezing up and down. Turn that boat and go back, or I’ll beat you — I’ll thrash you. I’ll beat you so badly Gadanga you won’t recognize yourself. Go back now and next week you’ll return to Nigeria under my watch so I can rest — I’m tired of calling your security every single minute and asking them. It would be better you come back in front of me so I can see you every day and my mind is settled. Turn the boat around, go and find something to cover yourself — am I clear?”
He fell silent and wouldn’t speak. He set his face tightly and, without taking the phone from his mouth, the man asked, “Am I clear Aliyu?” In a soft, low voice he pushed his lips and said, “Yeah.” He cut the call off, his spirit in turmoil. He put the phone back in his pocket and looked at the fish that looked like it was about to die. He slowly walked toward the engine of the boat, started it, and drove. He started moving and went for almost twelve minutes, then reached the beach. His eyes were on his two bodyguards standing on the shore where he had left them, dressed in black suits — one holding a big blanket, the other carrying nothing. They had reached the water’s edge before he parked. After he parked he got out and without even looking at them he began to walk. The one holding the blanket approached and extended it: “Sir, your Dad asked us to give you a blanket to cover your body.” In anger, without looking at the blanket, he said, “I don’t want it,” and kept walking. They hurried and followed him. In front of a large jeep a door opened and he got in and sat in the back, sighing quickly. The guard who came to him handed him the blanket: “Sir please take it — you are catching cold already.” He gave them a severe look and said, “Get in the car and drive me home or I’ll leave the car for you, Mr.” Quickly they all got in, started the car, and left the place. He closed his eyes; he felt cold and was unwilling to have the car AC turned off even though his Dad had insisted that cold would affect him. He had been so happy earlier but Dad ruined everything with the stubborn security people that came with him. He sighed in frustration, hugged his arms around himself, and they drove about twenty minutes then parked in front of a large, well-furnished house. They quickly got out — before the gate was even opened the gatekeeper looked at them and let them pass. He went into the house and opened the door himself.
Inside the Mansion
There was no one in the grand parlor. He hurriedly climbed the stairs, sighing, and opened a luxurious room painted sky blue inside. He sat on the royal bed feeling the cold down to his bones. He reached out and took the AC remote that lay on the pillow, the phone was also on the bed. He let the remote ring once, took it, and turned off the AC before taking the phone from his pocket. Seeing his Dad’s name on the screen his face stiffened as if compelled to answer. The phone demanded to be cut off, so he put it to his ear and remained silent. In a calm voice the man said, “Are you angry with your Daddy or Gadanga?” He remained silent and said nothing. Slowly the man said, “Come on Ali, Gadanka gusar yaki — your father’s son, get up and wear something warm.” Ali gave a small smile because he knew his father was teasing him. “Alright, get up and wear it.” “Uhm,” he replied as he slid off the bed and walked to the wardrobe mirror on the wall to look at himself. His nose was red from the cold. He pushed a button and opened the wardrobe door, placed the phone on a stool, took out a dark sweater that looked good, put it on which looked very nice against his skin tone. He took the phone, returned to his ear, and said, “Wear a sweater?” He laughed lightly and said, “Yeah.” “Good — you’ll see the cold will reduce now. Stop acting stubborn, listen Aliyu — I know you better than anyone. I know how fragile you are; you don’t like strong winds, you catch colds easily. You need to take care of yourself, okay? I even said you should come back to Nigeria so my mind can be at ease.” He sounded like he would cry: “Dadddd.” “Come on — don’t ‘Daddy’ me, my friend.” In a voice sweet and soft he said, “Nigeria’s weather is super harsh, Dad. I don’t want to come back please, leave me be.” In a firmer voice Dad said, “No, you will not be left — I won’t allow it.” He paused then softened his voice and said, “Come on Gadanga, yes my son Abba, finish your project then finish everything. I’ve missed you badly — come home and let me arrange everything. If there’s any available flight tomorrow, come straight back to where your roots are. When you return we will look for you a wife and settle your life.” He lay back on the bed, pulled the blanket over himself and closed his eyes. He set the phone to his ear and said, “Don’t talk to me about marriage; if I’m forced I won’t come back. Women are so lousy — I don’t think I can ever live with one.” Quickly Dad said, “No, no I will not allow that. Never mind the talk, just come back.” Slowly he replied, “Alright but not tomorrow — I have something to do; how about the day after tomorrow or rather Friday only.” “Even Friday? Today is Tuesday Aliyu — you mean in three days? Please return on Thursday, Gadanga.” He fell into thought then said, “Ok Dad.” His father laughed with relief and that made him smile too, happy that his father was pleased he agreed to return.
“Did you eat pancakes today?” Dad asked. He pursed his lips and said, “No.” “Why? Who stopped you from eating your favorite?” He sounded like he might cry: “You ruined my day Dad.” With a little urgency Dad said, “Will you recite poetry for me?” He smiled without saying anything. “Don’t worry — when you come back there is a pastry shop that makes the best pancakes, I can testify. The other day I ate their pancakes and the taste was amazing. I’ll send for you to buy some and even a velvet cake; you will eat until you’re full. It’s better than California — it’s delicious, I promise. Nigeria is moving forward too.” He smiled lightly, closed his eyes, and in a soft voice said, “Okay Daddy.” “Are you sleepy? I hear your voice low.” He nodded and said, “Yeah.” “Alright son, sleep then. Please allow your bodyguards to do their job. I’m paying them to take care of you — you are too fragile so stop preventing them from looking after you. Now sleep — I’m about to enter the chamber. I love you.” In a low voice that gradually faded he returned, “Love you too Dad.” He ended the call; extremely tired, he could hardly pull the phone from his face. He turned over and wrapped himself in the blanket, falling into a very deep, wonderful sleep.
Description
The Beach and the Fishing
It was a very large beach — the only beach with a name that gained world recognition; the world even named it the World’s Best Beach in 2018. You could see fishing vessels (boats) moving on the blue water. A tall, fair young man was standing in front of the boat. He had a slightly muscular, well-built body — the thick-bodied type associated with strong men. He was wearing a brown shirt and short men’s shorts that were a little tighter than they should be. His feet were in a nice pair of white bathroom slippers that fit his feet well and gave length to his stance. On his head he wore a red cap. His mouth (or the area around his mouth) had a small bunch of something attached to it that shone — he was standing looking at the blue water as fish jumped out and went back in. He stood like that for nearly two minutes before letting out a warm breath. He reached out his hand and took the fishing rod leaning against the black metal of the boat. He lifted it slowly, held it, untangled the line, then lowered the fishing rod into the water. A small smile appeared on his face for the first time — you could tell he loved what he was doing.
He pulled the rod out a little, then remembered and looked to his side where there was a small plastic sachet that had a fish drawing on it with “fish food” written on it. He picked it up, opened it, put his white hand inside, and took out one piece of fish food that looked like a cheese ball but was harder than a cheese ball. He hooked the food onto the fishing hook and attached it so it wouldn’t fall off. He returned the fishing rod to the water and started turning it, aware that now he was about to catch a fish. After almost thirty seconds, he let out another kind of smile and in a very soft voice under his breath said, “got you.” Quickly he tightened the spring of the reel and the line began to come back in. His phone, in the pocket of his shorts, started ringing. He closed his eyes slightly, then opened them just as the line holding the hook came up holding a huge live fish that was struggling to free itself from the hook but couldn’t. He tried to pull the fishing rod in, smiling as he watched the fish; he put it down and walked toward a deep basket. All this while his phone kept ringing but he ignored it and threw the fish into the basket, then placed the fishing rod down. He slowly took his expensive phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen, pursed his lips like someone who didn’t want to answer the call, then pressed to pick up. On the screen the name shown made him frown and he answered in a strained voice, “Dadddddd,” dragging the name out like someone about to cry.
From the other side, a voice that sounded older said, “Don’t ‘Dad’ me here. You know what you did. You know Aliyu. Where are your bodyguards?” the man asked with anger in his voice. He frowned, speaking quietly as if he didn’t want to talk: “I know — you already know. Why are you asking again?” “You ate at your house Aliyu, your aunt I mean. Am I the one speaking like this? I already know where they are; I started communicating to check on the child’s health before calling you. And man — turn that boat and come back to the shore where you left them. If you want to go fishing, take them along with you. Go fishing since it’s your hobby, while they watch over you. I hired them just to protect you for me. Do you know how much I spend on your security, aye?” He was also angry, like he might swallow his heart, and said, “I told you I don’t want them. I don’t need them. I am old enough to protect myself, Dad. Besides, Allah is the protector of all mankind. Stop treating me like a toddler. I am not that baby you used to feed Cerelac and gaber rice. I am 29 years and 7 months — I’m an adult and I don’t know security or bodyguards or whatever their name is. Leave me free, Dad, please.”
On the other end the man said, “Alright Mr. Aliyu Adult — when did you grow that much? You go out fishing without a sweater and I’m sure later you’ll start sneezing up and down. Turn that boat and go back, or I’ll beat you — I’ll thrash you. I’ll beat you so badly Gadanga you won’t recognize yourself. Go back now and next week you’ll return to Nigeria under my watch so I can rest — I’m tired of calling your security every single minute and asking them. It would be better you come back in front of me so I can see you every day and my mind is settled. Turn the boat around, go and find something to cover yourself — am I clear?”
He fell silent and wouldn’t speak. He set his face tightly and, without taking the phone from his mouth, the man asked, “Am I clear Aliyu?” In a soft, low voice he pushed his lips and said, “Yeah.” He cut the call off, his spirit in turmoil. He put the phone back in his pocket and looked at the fish that looked like it was about to die. He slowly walked toward the engine of the boat, started it, and drove. He started moving and went for almost twelve minutes, then reached the beach. His eyes were on his two bodyguards standing on the shore where he had left them, dressed in black suits — one holding a big blanket, the other carrying nothing. They had reached the water’s edge before he parked. After he parked he got out and without even looking at them he began to walk. The one holding the blanket approached and extended it: “Sir, your Dad asked us to give you a blanket to cover your body.” In anger, without looking at the blanket, he said, “I don’t want it,” and kept walking. They hurried and followed him. In front of a large jeep a door opened and he got in and sat in the back, sighing quickly. The guard who came to him handed him the blanket: “Sir please take it — you are catching cold already.” He gave them a severe look and said, “Get in the car and drive me home or I’ll leave the car for you, Mr.” Quickly they all got in, started the car, and left the place. He closed his eyes; he felt cold and was unwilling to have the car AC turned off even though his Dad had insisted that cold would affect him. He had been so happy earlier but Dad ruined everything with the stubborn security people that came with him. He sighed in frustration, hugged his arms around himself, and they drove about twenty minutes then parked in front of a large, well-furnished house. They quickly got out — before the gate was even opened the gatekeeper looked at them and let them pass. He went into the house and opened the door himself.
Inside the Mansion
There was no one in the grand parlor. He hurriedly climbed the stairs, sighing, and opened a luxurious room painted sky blue inside. He sat on the royal bed feeling the cold down to his bones. He reached out and took the AC remote that lay on the pillow, the phone was also on the bed. He let the remote ring once, took it, and turned off the AC before taking the phone from his pocket. Seeing his Dad’s name on the screen his face stiffened as if compelled to answer. The phone demanded to be cut off, so he put it to his ear and remained silent. In a calm voice the man said, “Are you angry with your Daddy or Gadanga?” He remained silent and said nothing. Slowly the man said, “Come on Ali, Gadanka gusar yaki — your father’s son, get up and wear something warm.” Ali gave a small smile because he knew his father was teasing him. “Alright, get up and wear it.” “Uhm,” he replied as he slid off the bed and walked to the wardrobe mirror on the wall to look at himself. His nose was red from the cold. He pushed a button and opened the wardrobe door, placed the phone on a stool, took out a dark sweater that looked good, put it on which looked very nice against his skin tone. He took the phone, returned to his ear, and said, “Wear a sweater?” He laughed lightly and said, “Yeah.” “Good — you’ll see the cold will reduce now. Stop acting stubborn, listen Aliyu — I know you better than anyone. I know how fragile you are; you don’t like strong winds, you catch colds easily. You need to take care of yourself, okay? I even said you should come back to Nigeria so my mind can be at ease.” He sounded like he would cry: “Dadddd.” “Come on — don’t ‘Daddy’ me, my friend.” In a voice sweet and soft he said, “Nigeria’s weather is super harsh, Dad. I don’t want to come back please, leave me be.” In a firmer voice Dad said, “No, you will not be left — I won’t allow it.” He paused then softened his voice and said, “Come on Gadanga, yes my son Abba, finish your project then finish everything. I’ve missed you badly — come home and let me arrange everything. If there’s any available flight tomorrow, come straight back to where your roots are. When you return we will look for you a wife and settle your life.” He lay back on the bed, pulled the blanket over himself and closed his eyes. He set the phone to his ear and said, “Don’t talk to me about marriage; if I’m forced I won’t come back. Women are so lousy — I don’t think I can ever live with one.” Quickly Dad said, “No, no I will not allow that. Never mind the talk, just come back.” Slowly he replied, “Alright but not tomorrow — I have something to do; how about the day after tomorrow or rather Friday only.” “Even Friday? Today is Tuesday Aliyu — you mean in three days? Please return on Thursday, Gadanga.” He fell into thought then said, “Ok Dad.” His father laughed with relief and that made him smile too, happy that his father was pleased he agreed to return.
“Did you eat pancakes today?” Dad asked. He pursed his lips and said, “No.” “Why? Who stopped you from eating your favorite?” He sounded like he might cry: “You ruined my day Dad.” With a little urgency Dad said, “Will you recite poetry for me?” He smiled without saying anything. “Don’t worry — when you come back there is a pastry shop that makes the best pancakes, I can testify. The other day I ate their pancakes and the taste was amazing. I’ll send for you to buy some and even a velvet cake; you will eat until you’re full. It’s better than California — it’s delicious, I promise. Nigeria is moving forward too.” He smiled lightly, closed his eyes, and in a soft voice said, “Okay Daddy.” “Are you sleepy? I hear your voice low.” He nodded and said, “Yeah.” “Alright son, sleep then. Please allow your bodyguards to do their job. I’m paying them to take care of you — you are too fragile so stop preventing them from looking after you. Now sleep — I’m about to enter the chamber. I love you.” In a low voice that gradually faded he returned, “Love you too Dad.” He ended the call; extremely tired, he could hardly pull the phone from his face. He turned over and wrapped himself in the blanket, falling into a very deep, wonderful sleep.