Married To A Tyrant

Before The Wedding (Part 8)

SALMA

The call of the adhan woke me up from my slumber. His shrill voice pierced through the cold and damp morning air, making me sit upright instantly. I rubbed my eyes to clear my vision, and reached for my phone. The alarm clock was just a few inches away from the phone, but I'd gotten so used to checking my phone that I didn't feel like checking it.

5:30am

I rolled off the bed and ran my fingers through my hair. I was too lazy to switch on the light, so I shuffled my feet towards the bathroom. Pushing the door open, I switched on the light and stared at my reflection in the mirror. The image staring back through the mirror looked nothing like me. My eyes were red and puffy, and my hair was an awful mess. There were tear stains running down my face, and my nose was stuffy from crying myself to sleep the night before. And the night before that. And the night before that.

I turned on the tap and splashed some water on my face, staring at my reflection once again. I only managed to make the situation worse. Now I looked like a drowning mouse. My hair looked even worse, and my eyes looked more red than before.

I brushed my teeth and performed wudu (ablution). Stepping out of the bathroom, I pulled on my hijab and laid my prayer mat in the direction of the Qibla (the direction of the Ka'aba, which Muslims face when praying).

I performed two nafil (voluntary) rakahs (units of prayer) before performing the Subhi prayer. On the last sujood (prostration), I poured out my heart to my creator, telling him all my problems.

"Ya Allahu, Al Gaffuru Al Raheem, Ya malikul maut, you know the situation I'm in better than anyone ever will. You never place a test on a person if You know he or she can not bear it. I choose to view everything that's happening to me right now as a test from You, for no one's faith is truly complete until he or she has passed any tests set by You.

Ever since I was young, I've been praying for a partner who will be a good role model to others. I have always prayed for a husband who is pious, intelligent, religious, understanding and respectful. Someone who would cherish me, and who will make me happy everyday for the rest of my life. Someone who will uplift the Muslim Ummah, and who shall abide by every decree set by the Almighty Allah and the prophet Muhammad (S.A.W).

Ya Allah, Mansur possesses neither of these qualities. He is not a responsible man, neither is he religious. I know that I have no right to judge any of your creatures, and even I do not claim to be a saint.

Ya zul jalali wal ikram, you commanded us to obey our parents. You instructed us through your humble Prophet Muhammad (S.A.W) to obey our mothers. He instructed us to obey our mothers, three times before he instructed us to obey our fathers. A mother is a symbol of respect and reverence to all her children. I'd never even think of disobeying my mother, which is why I decided to obey her command without arguing. Even though it's against my wish, I will not argue with her.

Ya Allah, I place my predicament before You. You alone know what's best for me. If Mansur is the right person for me, then I pray You bless this union which Mama has proposed. But if it's not my destiny, then I pray Ya Allah that You'll distance me from Mansur. I pray You'll keep me as far away from him as possible. Ya Allah, I ask you that my future partner be an example for the entire Muslim Ummah and the non Muslim Ummah alike. May he be a role model to myself and my future kids. May he bring a smile upon my face everytime I look at him, and I pray that I'll be proud and happy to call him my husband forevermore.

Subhana rabika rabbil izzati amma yassifun, wassalamu allal mursalin, wal hamdulillahi rabbil alameen."

*****

"Salma," Jafar called. banging his hand on my drawer. I pulled my duvet down and glared at him. I was so tired that I didn't even bother asking him how he got into my bedroom. "What?" I grumbled, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Have you been crying?" he asked, picking a bubblegum from my drawer. Thief. He knew that I always kept a stash of bubblegum in my drawers, for emergency purposes. It had become a habit of mine since I was 10 years old. Baba had been the one who started the habit for me. He'd always give me a pack of sweets every weekend, and I'd started collecting them in my drawer ever since. I had virtually every flavor of bubblegum that existed on this planet stashed in my drawer.

"I'm not crying, you dummy. Why are you in my room?" I asked, sitting up. My bones cracked into place as I sat up.

"I'm bored, so I came to disturb you." he smirked, sitting on the drawer. He pulled open the bottom drawer again and grabbed a handful of bubblegum, which he began to shove his ugly little face.

"I'm not in the mood for this. Please leave my room. And shut the door on your way out." I said, pulling my duvet up once again. I snuggled into the mattress, sinking into the comfort.

"Kina fishi akan maganar da Mama tayi, ko (You're bummed because of what Mama said, right)?" he asked, sounding serious all of a sudden.

"I'm not bummed. I'm just tired." I groaned. pulling the duvet down slightly so I could look at him.

"Don't worry. Ki dauka a matsayin qaddara kawai. Allah yace mu dauka duk abunda ya faru a rayuwar mu a matsayin qaddara (Just accept it as fate. God said we should regard everything that happens to us as fate)." he said, chewing the gum noisily. The sound was beginning to irk me.

"You don't understand. Mansur is a very irresponsible person. Didn't you hear about what happened at Halima's party?" I asked, sitting up once again. This time however, my bones didn't make a sound.

"Of course I heard. Everyone in Abuja heard about it. He's a disgusting man." Jafar said, scrunching his face in disgust. "Probably the most disgusting man in the whole world."

"Don't exaggerate like that." I giggled. But in a way, he was telling the truth. Mansur is utterly disgusting. The one thing I hated about him more than anything was the drinking. I hate any man who drinks.

"I'm only stating the fact. Do you think he will ever be invited to any party again?" he asked, reaching for more bubblegum. I narrowed my eyes at him, and he withdrew his hands.

"Well..."

"I meant a responsible party. A man like Mansur can only mingle with other disgusting people like him." he said.

"Can we please stop talking about him?" I asked, climbing out of bed. "I hate talking about him."

"Salma, if you don't talk to me, who in this world can you possibly talk to?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe my parents. Or my other siblings. Or my relatives. Or my best friend. Or the neighbours. Or anyone out of the seven billion people on this planet." I said.

"Do you actually believe you can talk to anyone of them?" Jafar laughed. "Even if you do, none of them will understand you the way I do."

"L O L." I said sarcastically.

"Yaya Salma!" Nana suddenly ran into my room, looking very excited.

"Woah, slow down. What's wrong?" Jafar asked, putting his hand out to stop her from colliding into me.

"What happened? Why did you barge into my room like this?" I asked, crossing my arms across my chest. It seems no-one in this house has any respect for my privacy.

"Mama tace ki fito parlor yanzu (Mama said you should come to the living room right now)." she said. "And wear something nice." she added, turning towards the door as quickly as she had come.

"Why? What's going on?" I asked, utterly confused.

"Mansur's family is here." she said.

Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi rajiun.

My heart suddenly stopped beating.

This can't be happening. Why are they here? What did they come here to do? I'm not ready to face anyone right now.

"I thought I advised Mama against this decision of hers." Jafar muttered. I whirled around and faced him. "Dama kasan zasu zo (So you knew they were coming)?" I asked, my heart rate shooting up at the thought of Mansur's family downstairs.

"Wallahi ban sani ba (I honestly didn't know). I advised Mama against it when she suggested that I should call them to ask when they will be ready to come for the formal engagement."

"Couldn't you have mentioned it to me at least?" I asked, running my fingers through my hair in exasperation.

"How was I supposed to know that she wouldn't take my advice?" he asked, throwing his hands up in the air.

Ya Allah!

Where do I even start? I haven't even taken my bath. And I don't even have a clue of what I'm supposed to wear. But most importantly,

I DON'T WANT TO SEE HIM.

"Don't worry, sis. I'll stall them for as long as I can. You can get ready in the mean time." Jafar said, jumping off the drawer. "You can't count on me." he beat his chest.

"Thank you." I smiled at him, heading for the bathroom.

"Oh, and sis..." he called. Jafar always liked to have the last word. I turned around and faced him, blinking back a tear that was threatening to fall.

"If he tries anything stupid, I'm going to beat the s**t out of him. The worse thing Mama can do is to stop talking to me for a week...maybe two. But if he ever tries anything stupid, I'm going to kill him. Believe me." he said, looking deep into my eyes. I nodded silently and slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

Once I was alone, I let the tears I was holding back slide down my cheek in a silent continuous stream. My whole body shook from the tears.

I can't do this... I can't do this... I can't simply walk down there and pretend everything is okay. I don't like Mansur. Not even a little bit. I can't go down there and consent to this union. It's impossible. Utterly impossible.

"SALMA!" Mama called, banging on my bathroom door. I flinched from the shock, standing up immediately.

"You'd better come down this instant, or I'm going to come in there and pull you out myself." she said, hitting the door once again. "Five minutes. That's all you get." she said, turning to leave the room.

I wiped my tears and banged my head against the door, swallowing back the tears that were pooling in my eyes. "I can do this." I muttered to myself, standing up.

A quick shower later, I stepped out of the bathroom with my towel wrapped around my body. To my surprise, Mansur's sister Rukayyah was sitting on my bed, staring down at the tiles.

"Rukayyah?" I said, looking at her puzzlingly. She looked up at me slowly, forcing a weak smile to her face. "Assalamu alaikum." she said.

"Wa alaikum as salam." I replied, wrapping the towel tighter around my body.

"I'm sorry. You were in the shower when I came in." she said quietly. My eyes went down to the black gown laid on the bed beside her. It was definitely not mine.

"Umma said she would appreciate it if you wore this." she said, running her hands over the sequined dress.

"I hope it's my size." I tried to joke, but she kept looking at the gown.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Everything is fine. I'll give you some privacy to change into the dress." she said, standing up as she headed towards the door.

"Oh, and Salma..." she called, reminding me briefly of Jafar. I looked up at her, surprised to see a tear running down her cheek.

"I'm sorry." she whispered. I shook my head in confusion, staring at her. "For what?" I asked.

"Everything." she whispered.