JANNAH

1: PAIN

You are my happiness,
My sadness,
And all things in between.
-Sheikh Abubakar Daggash.

For all the rape victims,
You deserve to be respected
You deserve to be treasured,
You are not alone,
You are undeniably beautiful.

Nigeria, Kano state.
January, 2015.
10:35am.

The sun above Jannah was so fierce and bright, the heat unbearable. It almost matched the pain in her heart, there was no noise around her, it was as if the world itself was mourning her misery. Jannah felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes as she thought of the way her family's life took a drastic turn. Her family used to be so happy, they were the definition of happiness and contentment before dame fate decided to snatch everything away, leaving them only with an intense sorrow. She missed them, her family, how they took qur'anic lessons from abbiey every Monday and Thursday nights, how amatullah always overpraised the incredibility and perfection of Jannah's sketches, the way she always filled their tiny three-bedroom flat with her giggles and over long winded stories, how they all sat in Abbiey's small living room to eat dinner everyday immediately after isha prayers. They were the essence of a perfect family really, but everything was just memories now, It was a little over two months since the devastating event that changed their lives and every minute of those days, they mourned, their wound became more painful and overpowering, filling every crevice inside of them, every limb. She wondered if one day, perhaps, years from now she would turn back and smile because everything was history and they were only left with the remains of the memory with no charged silence hanging around every nook and cranny of their flat and they were finally happy to call it home again.

A sob escaped her lips, her heart twisting with an agonizing affliction, she knew it was almost impossible, for Amatullah was traumatized beyond fix and that distressing silence will linger around them till the end of their days.

Her tears only subsided when she remembered her father's words, "This world is a whirlwind of chaos and it isn't always easy. This is not a punishment, it is Amatu's test, a way of purifying her and wiping out her sins, our lord is Ghafoor at-Tawwab-ar-Raheem."

With a quick scrub of her hand over her face, her tears were wiped, she felt ashamed of herself for seeing the impossibility of her family getting happy again. Where was her Eman and Tawakkul? How could she have forgotten that her Lord can make the impossible possible? Everything that happened in their lives, whether it was for the better or worse, it was always part of their destiny; part of a Divine plan, a story written by Him, the Best of Writers. Some day, their wound would be knitted, their hearts mended because Allah is the Mender of Hearts and the Disposer of all affairs. That should be on repeat in her head. That should be their therapy.

A loud horn of a car forced her back to reality, and when she turned and saw the car speeding towards her, the driver clearly not having any intentions of stepping on his anchors, she knew she was going to return to her lord today.

She clutched her eyes shut, rooted to her spot, waiting for the life wrecking knock. Maybe, just maybe this would be the end of her misery.

There was an ear piercing crash but Jannah felt nothing. Her bones were supposed to be dismantled, her skull cracked, her soul taken, the sandy ground spattered with her blood. But she didn't feel even the slightest pain in any part of her body, and that only meant one thing, the car didn't hit her.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she let out a long shaky breath, wondering if her legs could hold up her weight. Her eyes scanned the place until they landed on the car which had crashed into a fence of an opened space land, 'for sale' written boldly in red spray paint on the cemented blocks. She let out a gasp, her hands flying to her mouth.