TRIALS (Completed)

One

Dedicated to Zeynerb Muhammad, alpha reader of life. 😍

"And Allah does not test man (with hardship), except to cure him."     – Ibn Al-Qayyim.

Kano, Nigeria.

Walida slowly opened her eyes to greet the new day. She sat up shivering, as the room had turned chilly due to the heavy rain that fell the previous night. Putting on her slippers lying by the right side of the bed, she walked across the room to close the window.

As she returned to the bed, she let out a gasp: today wasn’t just any Monday, but one that marked a year since her late husband’s demise. 

It never fails to amaze her how death could wipe away one’s existence in a second, leaving behind only snippets of memories that receded as time goes by.

Walida knew she’d never forget Habib: the man who opened her heart to love and held her hand through it all. Her chest heaved as she recalled his last moments on earth. “Be happy.” He had whispered. And she wished him the same.  She’d have wanted to stay single so they could reunite in Paradise.

But as fate would have it, she married again, uncertain about spending the rest of life with someone else, but hopeful anyway, for it was Shamsudeen, her brother-in-law. Life with him was different, but she realized that it was just what she needed. 

She turned to his sleeping form beside her, as a smile made way to her lips and gratitude filled her heart. With him, she found a new home; with him, her boys were able to move on from their loss. 

•••
Forty five minutes was all it took to prepare breakfast, but Walida wished it would be enough to prepare the boys for school. It would’ve been easy if they didn’t have to bicker and fight all the time. 

“Ma, see Abdul o!” Five-year-old Uthman (her first born), called from the bathroom.

Walida shook her head while stirring a hot pot of Kunun gyero (millet gruel) on the gas cooker. 

Then there was a loud splash followed by a shriek: “Ma!” said three-year-old Abdullah, his shrill voice startled her so much that she almost bathed her white sleeping robe with the kunu.

“Kai!” Shamsudeen bellowed from the bedroom—a few feet away from the boys. 

Walida smiled, That ought to keep them shut.

…

Shamsudeen grabbed his seat at the round oak brown marble topped dining table which complemented the brown cushioned chairs surrounding it, while the boys settled across each other, leaving one vacant chair for their mother. 

After having his share of hot akara balls with kunu, He rose and picked his brown cap next to his plate to cover his soft brown curls, leaving a peek of the black smudge (mark of prayer) on his forehead. He was wearing a light brown jumper with dark brown leaf designs on the collar and wrists. 

"Uwargida, sannu da koqari–well done. ” He smiled at Walida, who stood at the shoulder level of his six foot three frame. Her custard-like complexion a shade lighter than his.