Tale In The Red Sand

Chapter Seventeen

Every year, ever since it's formation, the people of Mogadishu would come together to raise zakat in any way for the less fortunate. As the time of the event approached the more people contributed into giving in hopes of securing an abundance of hasanat from the Almighty, securing their banks of the hereafter. This way the beggars and the poverty ridden villages could sustain from the charity they received, and after the year worth of donations, the welfare event would take place in the city hall, where all were invited to commemorate.

"It's time for you to go on." Layla tittered beside Hibaaq, her arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulders. She nudged her head towards the raised podium, lit with a dozen spotlights and overlooking the gathered crowd.

Hibaaq quietly gulped, she was anxious. Layla was the one who gave the welcoming speech every year, Hibaaq had only done it once and that one time she'd managed to humiliate herself. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can." She said, shaking her head. They stood what would be the 'backstage' of the podium, a dimmed corner to the left of it where a few steps up would make one the centre of attention.

"Come on, you can do it, just make it short and simple. A few words is all." Layla encouraged, moving them closer to the short staircase.

"I could barely speak properly the last time, Layla I stuttered. Not once or twice, but three times." Hibaaq palmed her forehead. To somehow crush the cringe to bits, the recollection made her grind her teeth uncomfortably.

"Trust me you can do it. Quickly, the people are waiting."

This caused Hibaaq to cautiously survey the mumbling crowd, patiently waiting, and she loathed how cowardly she felt at that moment, refusing to simply go up and relay a few words as Layla put it. 'How pathetic.' She remarked inwardly, her fists balling tightly by her sides. Even if she stuttered, Hibaaq did not desire to succumb to her withdrawnness for there was plenty of time to be as anti social as she wanted to be. Now was not the time. She needed to make the effort, if not for herself than for her late mother.

"Fine." She agreed, nodding reluctantly.

"That's my girl." Layla offered a coy wink.

Hibaaq covered the steps in quick strides but at the top she wavered for a few seconds, eventually she had to step into the light. She walked to the microphone stand with as much purpose as she could muster, the sound of her clicking heels filling her ears, and demanding the attention of the audience. She could already feel the countless of eyes probingly watching her, she could feel herself slowly caving. Hibaaq caught the familiar brown eyes of a certain man, their gazes locking for a brief moment, although she swore it felt like a lifetime. Suddenly her task seemed way more strenuous than she thought before, she couldn't dare stutter now.

From across the hall, leaning steadily on a wall, Ercole gave her a slow nod of acknowledgment, one she discreetly returned with a simple raise of her eyebrows.

"Good evening everyone." She began after a deep breath. "It's an honor to be here tonight with you all. After a long year of giving back to our people, we're gathered here to celebrate the power of kindness and generosity. In sha Allah, I hope that tonight's event will inspire us all to continue to make a positive change in our communities. Thank you for being here and for supporting this important cause for as long as I can remember. May Allah reward us all for this, akhira iyo aduun." Hibaaq concluded.

A prolonged beat later, the entire hall of guests, young and old, began applauding and enunciating simultaneous 'ameens'. Hibaaq whispered an ameen of her own as she stepped away from the microphone and walked off the podium with a sense of fulfilment now swelling in her heart. Layla let out an elated squeal at the bottom, throwing her arms around Hibaaq once she was close enough. "See, I knew you could do it, you were amazing." She praised, tightening the hug before letting go.