Tale In The Red Sand

Chapter One

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Hibaaq watched out of her bedroom window after Fajr prayer, basking in the rays of sunlight as she leaned her elbows on the raised window pane, viewing the dune like hills rolling in the far distance. They were obscured by a mirage of heat, heat, she didn't want invading the slight breeze that still moved in her part of the vast land. So, she quickly closed the window before it reached. She folded the prayer mat that still lay on the floor before tossing it into a corner, all the while whispering her daily dhikr under her breath.

Hibaaq tried pondering over things big and small as she went about her morning, but she just couldn't contain the excitement at the fact that her father would be returning from his prolonged trip around the continent come noon. With brimming motivation, she hurried down the marble curved staircase to get breakfast started for her grandmother and herself for they were the only two, occupying the enormous abode. She began to ready the Canjeelo mix, occasionally looking over the pot of spiced tea on the burner stove.

"Ayeeyo?" She called out, hearing the sound of shuffling slippers on the marble floors outside the kitchen. Soon after, her grandmother replied with a questioning grunt.

Hibaaq swiped the stray curls from her bed head bun off her face as she continued to beat the batter with the other hand. Aeeyo Warsam went on her way to the back patio of their home, using her wooden walking cane for extra support as she huffed and puffed at her granddaughter's insolence.

"She could've at least helped her grandmother down." She grumbled to herself. "I'll have my Shaa in the back." Ayeeo Warsam called out weakly to Hibaaq.

"Haye, Ayeeyo macan." Hibbaq acknowledged sweetly. However, the old lady could only scowl with detest at the sweet gesture. The permanent scowl forever adorning her aged face. After receiving no reply, Hibaaq hastened making breakfast before carrying it out on a wooden tray. She placed the dish on the round coffee table between their basket chairs as she eased down after it.

Ayeeyo Warsam adjusted her baati, sceptically eyeing the meal before her as if she could sense poison by simply staring into the swirls of the crisped delicacy.

"Where's the hilib?" She questioned challengingly, looking down at the honey and butter covered canjeelo.

Hibaaq inaudibly sighed at this. "Ayeeyo, the doctor said to cut down on the meat remember, in sha Allah, we'll have plenty for dinner tonight." Hibaaq reassured, taking a large bite out of her triangular folded canjeelo, following a well needed gulp of tea.

The old woman muttered in disagreement before she too began to eat her breakfast, unable to ignore the incessant groaning of her stomach.

There was an awkward silence between the two women as they ate, up until Hibaaq suddenly clasped her hands, frightening Ayeeyo Warsam beside her as she gasped in joy. Her father would be returning in a few hours, she recalled, and she couldn't sit still with giddiness. It had been six whole months since she last saw him, and besides Allah swt, her sanity depended greatly on her father as their relationship was that of an incredibly strong one. Her father was all she had in this world that was her own flesh and blood, and who loved her dearly.

Of course, she had her grandmother and wider kin, but the so-called connection was never present, not since she was a little girl.

Her grandmother rolled her eyes and simply demanded more tea be poured into her cup. 

"Ayeeyo, Aabo is coming. Are you not excited?" Asked Hibaaq, pouring her grandmother another cup from the warm porcelain tea pot.

"He's only going to leave again that foolish boy," Ayeeyo Warsam tutted, shakily raising the cup to her lips. "Always travelling."