Chapter ten[ the question]
1174 Words
On a stool at the center of the house just below the big tree, sat jiddah with a handful of spinach leaves. She placed it in between her thumb and index finger and held it well as she placed the sharp knife on it cutting it.
She washed the pumpkin and cut it into smaller piece and put it aside. She made her way to where they used to keep firewood and picked four sticks of it. Putting it between the three stones, she poured kerosine and lit up the matches and set it ablaze.
'Grrrrrrrr' she heard the thunder which means it will rain any moment from now. She pouted and sighed angrily because she knows all the efforts she used to lit up the fire will be gone in vain simply because if it rains, she must use the stove in the kitchen.
The sky had frowned and became very dark followed by a very smooth cold air and the sweet smell of sand which indicates it had started raining somewhere not far.
"jiddah! Put the soup on a stove and come in, i am sure you won't like the rain to fall on you" her mother reminded.
"yes mummy, I'm coming" she spoke like someone who is dead but living.
It had been complete four days she did talked to muhammad due to the lack of constant electricity.
She had created alot of lies so that she will be permitted out atleast to charge her phone somewhere in her friend's house but her mother refused and she don't want to tell her that she don't have enough charge in her cell.
"what's wrong with you, you have finished your exams and i think you are supposed to be happy and worry less" her mother who could not hold her question anymore asked.
"yes mum, I'm thinking of results"
"don't worry you will pass insha'a Allah God willing.
•~...
"why had your phone been switched off since last three days" Muhammad asked.
"i told you earlier that the battery went dead due to the lack of electricity we went through " she explained.
"albishirinki guess what"? He asked
"tell me" her eyes lit up.
"no guess it"
"I'm not good at it you know" she pouted.
"I'm coming back next week" he announced, with joy evident.
"yeeeeeeeee" she squealed.
"don't damage my eardrums please" he jokingly said and they bursted out laughing. They talked about random things and bade farewell.
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"you guys should pack and leave this house before dawn" the alhaji barked.
"alhaji please and please and add some few days to us. We promise to provide the money in a week time."
"poor woman,! You must be joking i see, look at me do i look like someone who has a spot of pitying people like you in my heart ...... Someone as rich as me"?
"alhaji please, look at me and my children, i gave birth to ten of them. Three died last year due to a certain sickness because we didn't have the money to take them to do hospital. Four of them are now sick.... " she pointed at thr three skinny ones on the floor.
"The little i get from washing clothes i use it to feed my family...... You see my husband got paralysis day two years back, he can't do anything for himself. His other wives left. But i stayed alhaa-..jjii p-...leasse... Help...me" the poor woman broke .
"all these you have stated, how is it my business? I'm the one who ask you to gave birth to several children? I'm the one who cause the death of your children or the paralysis of your husband? You better look for my money before tomorrow morning " he draped his big babbar riga over his shoulder and left fuming.
"umma stop crying. Our teacher told us 'innallaha ma'assabireen' God is with the patient ones. And 'inna ma'al usry yusra' and with every difficulty comes ease" her daughter around the age of maybe fourteen years patted her.
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His muscular and rigid body stood by the corner of his room. He leaned his body on the wardrobe beside him as he began to comb his sporting waved silky hair.
He reached for the comb on his so called vanity table. He used the comb and brushed his side burns leaving them looking neat.
Placing his cap on his head, he sprayed his heavenly scented perfume on his caftan.
His long nose, charming eyes and perfect eyebrows are the image reflection on his mirrow.
I'm not looking bad i think he murmured under his breath.
He picked his phone and started typing away as a soft knock came on his room. Standing up he paced to the door and opened it.
"brother muhammad good morning " his sister, ikram's face came into view.
"little sister how are you" he hugged her.
She pushed him away and said "I'm not a little girl fah I'm fourteen now but you will never stop calling me little. "
"okay naji i heard you" he defended raising up his hand.
"bring your ears let me tell you something wata gulma "
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"good evening Abee" he greeted his father in his room.
"good evening muhammad, welcome back once again my son" his father smiled.
"thank you abee "
"meet me in my parlour at the night, i and hajia your grand mother want to talk to you... I'm going out now"
"alright abee".
"Maami what do abee want to tell me"?
"muhammad i don't know too, your grandma is back i hope you have greeted her"
" nope i went to her apartment but i didn't see her"
"I don't want trouble dae go and check now"
"Assalamu alaykum " he knocked at her door.
"waalaykumus salam, whhoo.. Is on the door" she asked standing up stuttering due to old age.
"hajia, its muhammad"
"ah ahh mutan turai... Lale lale jabbama jabbama miji na ya dawo oh oh welcome my husband (its in the culture. Teasing between grand parents and their grandchildren. )
"jam na hajia " he greeted her.
"jam koo duume" she answered and continued talking.
"hajia, mi nanata fulde sosai hajia i don't know fulani very well" he stopped her.
"adon nana mana " you know it now.. " she replied.
He laughed and they continue to chat. "call abdullahi for me" she stated. Muhammad kept quiet thinking who abdullahi is. "ka kira min ubanka nace. Call your father for me is it that you have forgotten your father's name? " he laughed and stood up leaving for his father's apartment.
"well muhammad, your father here, my son, told me your intention of getting married as his mother. " hajia spoke.
Muhammad raised his head up smiling, looking at everyone in the parlour, his grandmother, his father and his mother.
"yes hajia" he spoke his head bent low.
"Good, who's the girl"?
"her name is jiddah"
"who is her father? "
- Writer
