TRIALS (Completed)

Thirty-two

When Barakah opened her eyes, she saw the sky, cloudless and bright. She gasped in surprise. Where was her creaky bed? She spread her palm to feel the bed underneath her. Instead, strands of grass nestled between her fingers. She stood up quickly, eyes widened. Was this a dream? She scanned her surroundings: she was in a field, beside a stream, birds chirped from the tress across her, and the air smelt of strawberries. 

When she looked behind her, that was when she saw...Salsabil in her usual grey gown, a crown of flowers around her brown shoulder length hair, smiling widely at her. She watched her, mesmerized, until Salsabil held out her hand, beckoning. “Come.” She said. 

Barakah blinked, unsure. “Come home.” Salsabil started moving towards her. Barakah felt her feet moving before her brain could realize. Closer, closer, until she felt Salsabil’s soft hands in hers. All of a sudden, Salsabil’s face transformed into a frown, “Wake up.” 

Barakah watched in shock as Salsabil tugged at her hand, as though to pull it out. She cried out in pain. “Wake up now.” This time, it wasn’t Salsabil’s voice, but Aunty’s.

She opened her eyes. It was dark, she couldn’t even see her hands; It was cold, her legs were numb. She noticed that she was sitting up. And she noticed a small beam of light by the corner of the room. Aunty was mumbling, shuffling through a Ghana-must-go-bag. 

“What happened?” She asked, voice surprisingly clear. 

Aunty turned around, beamed the light on Barakah’s face. “We need to go. Pack your things.” Barakah slid off the bed. Her mother was right. She was really going home. 

…
Atinuke couldn’t remember the last time she felt such fear, such urgency to get away. The cold bit at her bare arms, despite the long hijab she was wearing, She steered Barakah towards a faded green Volkswagen, hoping the sleeping pill she had put into her brother’s morning tea would give them enough time to go far. 

After settling in the car, she turned on the ignition, grateful he had left the car here the previous night for her to warm it. As the car rumbled, she let out a breath and turned to Barakah, finding her bright eyes, obviously glad she was going home. “Put on your seatbelt.” She instructed, and moved the gear into drive. 

Forty minutes later, as the clouds began to give way to the sun, and as she drove towards the LASU bridge, Atinuke noticed the vehicles gather up ahead. She hissed and glanced at Barakah, whose head was tilted on the seat. sleeping deeply. 

She smiled. Good. 

One hour later, she thumped the steering wheel in frustration as the vehicles around her tried to get in the smallest space in front of them. They were still in Volks, a very notable place for holdups. 

She sighed and leaned back against her seat, the leather rough against her cheek. She regretted not sleeping the previous night and hoped she doesn’t sleep now. But with the warm air fanning her face, she couldn’t help herself.

It wasn't the loud beeps and honks of vehicles that awoke her, but the hitting against the back of her car that sent her almost flying off her seat. 

She sat up quickly, scanned the place. Then she noticed that the yellow bus in front of her had moved a few feet further. As she turned on the car, it whirred and died. She tried again, nothing. Hands shaking, she tired again, praying fervently, ignoring the louder honks and beeps behind her. 

Oh God. Oh God. She stopped to gulp in air. This shouldn’t be happening. She heard a bang to her left, against her door. A bald round head, with wide red rimmed eyes glared through her half-open window. “Wo, Iyawo. Clear road na. Abi, sho fe wa pami–do you want to kill us?!"