Tale In The Red Sand

Chapter Eighteen

Abu Abdullahi Karim was preeminent and renowned amongst his people. He oftentimes travelled his country and it's neighbours, endeavouring to unfurl Islam to the hearts that remained unconscious to its light. Hibaaq was beyond thrilled to have him here as a special guest, to have everyone come and listen to his delicate reminders of faith. He was compelling in the most softest way, and his words were gentle, leaving everyone instantaneously transfixed in his storytelling. The middle-aged man shared tales of zakat in the peak ages of Islamic Arabia and its everlasting benefits, much pleasanter and capturing than Hibaaq could've ever done in her welcoming speech. She was relieved that Layla and herself thought again about buraanbur. Her gaze was fixed on the man on stage, her ears caught by his words and her mouth mirroring the proud grin displayed on his bearded face as he spoke with vigour.

Although, it was her idea, Layla had similar notions as she listened. Hibaaq was always the more reasonable one. Their closeness seemed unusual to others as Layla was reckless, sometimes her actions spoke louder than her words, and one could easily tell it wasn't quite well thought out. Hibaaq, however, was level headed and responsible, she seconded almost everything that came into her head, and in spite of that, their odd friendship is what kept them together. They considered each other like sisters, bound by trust and love instead for blood. When they briefly cast each other a knowing glance, they knew they had made the right decision inviting Abu Abdullahi.

A timid call of her name caused Hibaaq to pause her focus on the khutbah and her attention turned to a young member of staff. The skinny fellow with a metal name badge that read 'Bashir' attached to his pressed white shirt, pointed towards the exit to the end of the venue, agitation clouding his face.

Hibaaq rose her eyebrows, smiling kindly, hoping to ease the panic that burrowed in his features. He looked no older than she was, perhaps a year or two younger. "What is the matter?" She asked in a quiet  tone.

"The new order of drinks for the dinner haven't come in yet." The boy hurried out, threading his slender fingers together in attempts to stop his trembling. Hibaaq couldn't quite grasp why he was so frightened before her, maybe he was afraid of losing his job to such a silly inconvenience that was surely not his fault, though a situation like this had never occurred previously, an apprentice in the kitchen wouldn't be the one to blame.

She offered him another reassuring smile.

"I'll only be a minute." She said before getting up from her seat, trusting Layla to oversee the event in her absence. She prayed the delivery van was on its way or already in the parking space behind the building, loading in the carts of soft drink. Hibaaq was at her father's side in the back row in no time, tapping his padded shoulder. "Aabo there's been a delay with the drinks, I need to go and help out, please see that everything stays smooth." She stated calmly, even though inwardly she was panicking in progression.

Nothing quite like this had ever happened before, the drinks would be pre-ordered and would usually arrive a day earlier. The lack of explanation on the matter caused droplets of stress induced sweat to gather on her cupids bow.

Warsame voiced Hibaaq's thoughts. "Shouldn't it have come yesterday with the rest"?

"Yes, but there was clearly a problem with that." She shakily answered.

"I will come with you." Warsame shook his head, on the verge of rising from his chair when Hibaaq held his shoulder down with a soft firmness.
Warsame stared up at his daughter, wide-eyed, slightly floored with the concealed strength she possessed.

"I need someone beside Layla in case anything else comes up, I can handle this Aabo, don't fret." Hibaaq laid a palm across her chest as if she were swearing an oath, her hand placement only making her sweat harder the faster her heart jumped around in its cavity.