Season of Crimson Blossoms by Abubakar Adam Ibrahim Page A

things Fa’iza reads and now she even dreams of writing them someday.’ Binta’s eyes danced over the tops of the girls’ bowed heads. ‘And she had wanted to be a doctor, you know.’
    When the girls said nothing, Binta asked after little Ummi and seemed satisfied when she was told that the girl had gone to the neighbour’s house to play. Kareema and Abida rose and stiffly walked off to Fa’iza’s room, carefully placing one foot directly in front of the other and resolutely keeping their hips from swaying.
    â€˜Let me see them.’ Fa’iza shut the door and hurried over to the girls standing in the middle of the room.
    Abida was amused by the desperate look in Fa’iza’s eyes as she held out the books to her. Fa’iza shuffled through the titles: So ko Kiyayya? Me Ne Ne Aibi Na? and Bilkisu Mai Gadon Zinari . Fa’iza’s shoulders slouched and she pouted. ‘I’ve read all these, apart from the part two of Mai Gadon Zinari .’
    â€˜Oh, well, you are in luck.’ Kareema sat down on the mattress. ‘That woman who rented the second part has just brought it back. I will send one of my sisters with it later.’
    From their bedrooms, the sisters ran a lucrative lending library of soyayya novellas, stacks of which they had accumulated over the last two years, renting a book out for the price of a box of matches per day. But with Fa’iza, they were generous and let her borrow whatever titles she wanted for free.
    â€˜Have you finished the others you borrowed?’ Abida took her place on the mattress beside her sister.
    Reluctantly, Fa’iza handed over the books and sat on the floor opposite the Short Ones. ‘The others? Finished three. Will finish the rest soon. Don’t you have anything else by Anty Balki Funtua?’
    â€˜Oh, sure.’
    â€˜Sure, she’s good.’ Kareema nodded. ‘But sometimes she can be – a bit far-fetched.’
    â€˜Sure, what with the glass floors and all.’ Abida agreed.
    â€˜I like her stories anyway.’ Fa’iza smiled. ‘Get me some of her latest.’
    â€˜Sure thing.’
    â€˜Sure, why not? But you have to give these ones back. Other people have been lining up for them.’
    â€˜Sure, and we need the money, you know. My aunt in Kano will be sending new books and we need to pay up.’
    â€˜ Kwarai, kwarai .’ Kareema was looking at her henna-dyed fingernails.
    Fa’iza kept shifting her eyes from one sister to the other to keep up with their sure-sure. She wondered why two people would want to be so similar. Yet she admired them for it, as she envied them their army of siblings and their living parents. The thought made her lonely.
    â€˜What?’ Abida looked into Fa’iza’a face.
    â€˜Oh, nothing.’
    â€˜She’s missing her boyfriend,’ Kareema laughed.
    Fa’iza gaped. ‘Of course not.’
    â€˜Sure.’
    â€˜Yeah, sure. She still doesn’t have a boyfriend.’
    â€˜Sure she does.’
    â€˜Sure. Bala Mahmud.’
    Bala Mahmud was the adorable boy in her class who always seemed desperate to help Fa’iza with her assignments and was eager to lend her his notes if she fell behind with schoolwork.
    Fa’iza shrank at the suggestion. She had never thought of him in that light, really. Thoughts of Ali Nuhu had not left room in her heart for the likes of the boy who could barely express himselfwhen in her presence. Not that he was much of a talker to begin with. ‘Bala Mahmud? He’s just a nice boy.’
    â€˜Sure. As if we are kids.’ Kareema smirked and waved her hand dismissively.
    â€˜Sure.’
    â€˜He’s not my boyfriend.’
    â€˜Sure, all right.’
    â€˜She’s in love with Ali Nuhu,’ Abida laughed. Kareema joined her and the sisters high-fived. Fa’iza laughed shyly and denied her infatuation with the actor.
    â€˜Sure. That’s