AYAT, THE OVERCOMER

EPISODE FOUR: UNSPOKEN PAIN

Back to Ayat and Bint.

Bint interrupted Ayat, making him glanced at her curiously.

"Wait, please. Can I say something?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, sure. But don't judge." He reminded her.

Bint leaned forward and adjusted her seat. "But why did your grandpa beat your mom like that? Didn't he know she was pregnant?"

Ayat rested his chin on his arm and chuckled softly. "Did I mention that my grandparents had discovered my mom's pregnancy? Stop jumping to conclusions, Bint."

"Okay," she said in a defeated voice. "But...?"

"But what again?"

"I just feel sorry for your mom. Actually, I cry when I get angry. If your dad hadn't rejected your mom in the first place, she wouldn't have been beaten like that."

Ayat cleared his throat and leaned forward. "You need to understand something, Bint. I never volunteered to tell you my story, you asked for it. And now I'm telling you. Do you want me to stop?"

She wiped her tears with her palm. "No, I'm sorry. Continue," she said in a teary voice.

Just as Ayat was about to resume his story, Bint burst into tears. She put her head down on the desk, sobbing.

Ayat felt a mix of frustration and concern. How could someone cry over another person's pain, especially when the owner of that pain had already moved on? Why was she taking it so seriously? He knew he had to do something. He couldn't just let her cry like this. What if someone passed by and saw them? They might think something was wrong when, in reality, he was just sharing his life story.

He reached out and patted her back gently. "Please stop crying. Should I stop? Or do you want me to join you in this crying business?"

She raised her head, her face wet with tears, and shooked it vigorously. "No, I don't want that."

"Then can I ask why you're crying?"

"I really don't know either. I just got emotional. But I promise not to cry again."

"You promise?"

"Yes, I do." She nodded.

Back to the story.

---

Zaynab sat on the floor, crying, until exhaustion pulled her into a restless sleep. Not long after, a chilling cold woke her up. She was shivering. No wrapper to shield her from the biting night air only the gown and small hijab she had on, which did little to keep her warm.

She tried to endure it, but the cold became unbearable. Weak and aching from the welts her father's whip had left on her body, she forced herself up. Every step was painful, especially her toe, which she had injured on her way to Youssef's house.

She staggered into her room like a drunkard. One of her younger siblings had taken her sleeping spot, but she carefully moved her aside. She reached for one of her mother's wrappers hanging on the door, then lay down between her siblings and covered herself with it.

The next morning, she woke up to find the room empty. Her siblings had already left. She sat up, relieved that the pain in her body had eased a little, but her toe still pained and it had swollen. Curious, she glanced down at it and gasped. The big toenail had completely detached.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered the events of the previous night. She reached for an old rag behind the door, tore a piece, and carefully wrapped it around her wounded toe. The makeshift bandage gave her some relief.

She stepped outside, limping. Her mother was outside, cooking.

Zaynab knelt down. "E kaaro, Maami."

Her mother, sitting on a small wooden stool, was busy crushing herbs and tree roots in a bowl probably preparing agbo. She never joked with the health of her children.

"Kaaro, oko mi, Arike. Se daadaa lo ji?" she responded.

Zaynab nodded. She hadn't slept well, but lying seemed better than admitting the truth. Her mother wasn't fooled, though. The bruises on her face, the swollen lip, and the cloth wrapped around her toe told her everything she needed to know. Still, she said nothing and continued preparing the herbal medicine.

After a pause, she suddenly looked up. "Have you greeted your father?"

Zaynab hesitated before shaking her head. "Ah! No."

Her mother raised an eyebrow, and Zaynab turned back toward the house. She entered her father's room and knocked.

"Come in," his gruff voice answered.

Her heart pounded as she stepped inside and knelt before him. "Good morning, Baba."

Her father's frown deepened. He was still angry. He ignored her greeting and spoke harshly.

"Lazy girl. Are you just waking up while your siblings are already helping your mother in the kitchen or have gone to the farm? Your mother has spoiled you. And if you think I'll sit back and watch you disgrace this family, you're mistaken!" His voice grew louder. "Why did you sneak out last night? If you had nothing to hide, why would you disobey me? I won't let you drag my name into the mud. Now, get out of my sight, stupid girl!"

Zaynab's vision blurred with unshed tears. When her father barked "Get out!" she scrambled to her feet. In her haste, she stubbed her injured toe on the floor. A sharp pain shot through her leg, making her whimper, but she bit her lower lip and limped out of the room.

She went straight to her room and unwrapped the piece of cloth on her toe. Blood had soaked through the fabric. She grabbed another rag and wiped the wound, but before she could wrap it again, her mother entered.

She gasped at the sight of the open wound. "Zaynab! What happened to your leg? Can't you see it's bleeding? Why didn't you tell me?"

Zaynab looked up at her mother and burst into soft cries. "I hit it on a stone, Maami."

Her mother wiped her tears with the edge of her wrapper. "It's okay, my dear. I'll take care of it."

She left briefly and returned with some mashed akintola leaves. As soon as she applied the juice to the wound, Zaynab winced in pain. Her mother gently pressed the leaves onto the wound and wrapped it with a fresh piece of cloth.

"Now, go and bathe. Make sure you wrap your foot in nylon so water doesn't touch it. When you're done, your food will be ready, and you must take some medicine."

As she turned to leave, Zaynab called after her.

"Maami?"

"Yes?"

"I haven't fetched water, and I noticed that the pot is empty."

Her mother smiled. "Don't worry, dear. Your sister fetched water before leaving for the river to wash clothes. She knew you were sick."

With that, she left the room.