BECOMING MRS BUGAJE (COMPLETED, 2019)

CHAPTER 1: THE BACKPACK

KATSINA, NIGERIA. 

MAY, 2007

She'd chosen it for the acceptance. It wasn't perfect, but to her, it was the best. The best dress to wear when she met him, her mother had said. 

"Marriage" she tested the word with distaste on her lips, she clutched the dress to her chest and stood in front of her tall frameless mirror, and tried it with a little chivalry. "Wedding," she whispered faking a grin.

She covered her head with her veil, trying a coy "Nikaah". 

Nope, nothing was working. No sparkles, or butterflies, no rumbling fear or excitement; like it always happened to her. She flung the pink dress carelessly over her bed. 

Pink, it was supposed to bring out the beauty of her dark skin. Her mother said pink did that to her. It brightened her complexion and made her glow. But Maryam loved black more. She didn't know what was wrong with black. Or what was wrong with her relationship status that her parents wanted to courier her to a world afar all decked up in pink, yelling "take me, accept me because no one wants me."

She grunted.

It wasn't a secret hidden tightly in the Pandora box,  it was well known that Maryam Muhammad Maigoro was a drag and a nuisance. At least someone would have her. She huffed out some air. Just a nuisance.

That was Maryam's thought on Monday. Monday was the worse day of her life. But it may become the best day of her life from now onwards if they wanted her. 

She was startled when her door flew open.  The wall forcefully stopped it with a thud making her wince. 

"Maryam you are not taking a backpack to Europe!"

Hajiya Aisha stormed in the room looking horrified. There she found her daughter sprawled on top of her bed. Everything was in its place. The room with twin separate beds, mostly brown with a cream smooth bedspread on both beds. On the one her daughter occupied, except for a tiny dent made by her daughter's small derrière the room looked untouched, a brown and creme rug covered the floor- no suitcase in sight- unlike a room of a twenty-two-year-old girl travelling to Europe for the first time,  the next day.

"Where are your things?"  She asked, her eyes wide, were fixed on the sole bag in the room.

"Mama, I'm not relocating there, do you want me to pack the whole house? They will send me back from the Airport."

Hajiya Aisha pushed into the room, her eyes roamed the small room two of her four daughters shared.  She opened the closet door to see if her daughter had her things stashed somewhere in there that would be worthy of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity they'd gotten.

"What will you use there?" She flipped through the first rows of black jilbaabs. "Ya Allahu. Are these what you used to wear? You have no clothes! You don't have a single coloured dress, Maryam."

"I have four, and I've packed all four of them. I've also packed a toothbrush, some underwear and a deodorant, you need not worry about that. Besides, I can always shop there." Seeing that her mother would soon go hysteric on her, Maryam moved forward and held her mother's shoulders tentatively with both hands, who despite being of moderate height, was a head shorter than her.

"Breathe, Mama, I've read somewhere that I can mix and match and get to wear six pieces of clothes for 3 weeks. You see? I'm covered. I got two extra outfits. They are new and coloured too. I can use some time while there and shop a bit to last me the days until I got settled."

Hajiya Aisha placed her fingers on her forehead as if to support it from falling off her face. 

"Maryam, look at me, you will not ruin this. Not this time, not this one. Do you get me? So now will be the right time to drop all the drama, and get things done the way they should be." There was finality in her mother 's voice.