Note: As this is a first draft, errors shall abound. So do bear with me.😋
•••
"Alhamdulillah, finally." I moan as I open the car door.
"Finally, indeed." Badr says from the front seat before climbing out toward the booth.
I hiss slightly, then stand. But my legs are as heavy as the yam tubers we brought on the way, and my back aches like crazy. I can't walk like this sha. I decide and plop down on the seat, still holding the car door open, legs out on the tarred pavement.
"Ahn ahn, zawjati, what's up na?" Badr asks, standing before me, two bags in his hands and a glint in his eyes.
The big head is mocking me.
I hiss loudly. "Better drop those bags and come and carry me." I eye him.
Badr gapes at me, then exchanges a look with someone at the driver's side. His cousin, Mutallab. "Akhi, see me o."
"You heard the lady, go and drop them." He says, appearing from my window.
" Subhanallah! Even you?!" Badr accuses.
"Yallah, akhi!" Mutallab claps, jingling his car keys."
Badr shakes his head and ambles toward the two-storey building shielded by a black gate: our new home, chosen by fate.
Six days ago
"Barak Allahu lakuma wa Baraka alaikuma hmmm hmmm..." Kauthar sang as she danced into the room. I looked up, squinting through the purple net lace covering my face. Before I could speak, she jumped beside me on the bed, "Congrats, amaryan Malam Badaru."
I smiled. It had happened. I was really Badr's wife now. Alhamdulillah.
Just then, another string of sound erupted. The door opened, Ummi came in, followed by three other women, all singing a Yoruba song I had never heard before, but liked instantly.
They sat on the bed, congratulating and showering prayers on me. Looking down, I whispered ameen.
"Make way. Make way." A young female voice sang. I looked up and rolled my eyes. It was Bushra in her orange embroidered gown with someone towering behind her.
"Ah, welcome." Ummi greeted.
Her smile as white as the lace she was wearing, Ummu Badr, Mrs Maimuna Kamarudeen nodded in reply.
Kauthar quickly scooted off the bed so my mother-in-law could sit beside me. I looked down, swallowing my nervousness. Since she arrived over a week ago, we hadn't sat this close before. And it was completely my fault. Honestly, I was just shy. Judge me all you want, but I couldn't understand why, which was funny because she had been trying to sit alone with me, but I kept dodging. What would we talk about? Badr? Me? Us?
But now, as we smiled at each other, I wondered what all the fuss was for. She looked utterly harmless.
"Welcome to the family, dear." She said, her light voice just right for her youthful face. Without a word, I hugged her. And it felt just right: Home. Alhamdulillah.
Present
When Badr returns, I am already out of the car, leaning against the door, eyes and fingers on my phone.
"Okay o," Badr says, lifting his kaftan and drawing up his trousers. I pause the message I'm sending to our family WhatsApp group and stare at him, eyebrows raised.
Suddenly, he stands before me and bends slightly. I look around. It's only 08:10 A.M. The area is quite, as though nobody lives inside the gated houses lining the street.
"Are you okay?" I say, resisting the urge to hit his back.
"Didn't you say I should carry you?"
"Ohh," I exclaim, laughing, "eyya, and in your mind, this your bony back can contain me?"
"Ahn, you wan try?" He challenges. "Climb and find out."
I shrug, "okay," and jump on his back.
"Ya Allah!"
Later in the evening, after settling inside our newly renovated and freshly painted two bedroom bungalow, situated beside the main building, I plop down on the couch in my living room, my hand running along its soft velvet texture. Badr and Mutallab just left for the masjid.
Alhamdulillah. I muse, shaking my head. Never in my life did I think of not living in Lagos after my wedding. Like, it was practically a dream of mine. But as usual, God has other plans.
Six days ago
"What do you mean the apartment is no longer for rent?" Ummu Badr bellowed at her son, eyes wide.
Badr sighed, his shiny green agbada now looking as dim as his face. "The agent just informed me that the landlord doesn't want to rent it out again."
My heart dropped, as our relatives, the ones that stayed behind to escort me murmured around us.
"But why? Why are they telling us now?" She asked.
Badr shook his head. "He said he sent me a text, but I didn't receive it."
"You didn't receive or you didn't check?" She spat.
I winced. I had never seen her so agitated.
"Okay, let's calm down and think of a way out." Abu said to mother and son.
"What way out? Everyone is already prepared and waiting. What do we tell them? What do we tell them?" She asked the second question, eyes on Badr, as though it was his fault. I felt sorry for him.
Ummi shushed her by patting her back and leading her past me, back into the house. I turned to follow them.
"I have an idea," Someone called out. We stopped, turning towards the voice. A young man in round framed glasses stepped out beside Badr, "My mom is currently renovating our boys' quarters to put out for rent. I can ask her to rent it to you." He said to Badr.
"But is the house not in Abuja?" Badr asked.
Abuja! My heart leaped. I didn't want to go Abuja.
"Yeah, bu-"
"Muti, dear, thank you. But I don't think that is necessary. And again, Iftar is not even in the country. Apparently, she didn't think this was important."
I frowned. There was something in her tone. Behind me, someone snickered. I turned. It was Bushra. She covered her mouth before whispering 'Iftar'. I shook my head. But come to think of it, that was a strange name. I had never heard anyone bearing Iftar before. What next? Sahur? Lailatul qadr?
"Really, she won't mind." Mutallab was saying. Ummu Badr shook her head again, frowning.
I moved my weight from one foot to another. My heels were killing me. The shoe strap Shukra tied was biting into my skin.
"Ummi, I want to go and sit down." I whispered to her.
She perked up. "Oya o, our iyawo wants to rest from all the standing. She guided me back into the house. But not before I caught Badr's eyes. Sorry. He mouthed. I smiled.
"What do we do now?" I asked her.
She sighed. "I honestly don't know. But just rest, okay? We'll sort it out, in sha Allah." At the end, they decided that I stayed at my husband's family house. And I agreed.
Two days later, Badr received a call from aunt Iftar who ordered him to move into the apartment in Abuja immediately. According to him, that was her gift to us. And he should be there before she returned.
Present
"Aunty Meena, I mish you." Kauthar cries in a baby voice.
I laugh, "you're not serious. Let your husband and the girls hear you."
She laughs, "but seriously, Lagos is a wasteland without you. I'm here, bored out of my soul, no light, the girls are at Islamiyah, Isma'il has gone out. Wayyo Allah!"
I laugh again. " So it's because everywhere is dry, that's why you remembered me, ba?"
"Kai, no, I've been remembering you since Monday. And today is Saturday. I no try?"
There's a knock on the door. I sit up. "Na you sabi. So how's work na? How far with the new designer?" I ask, heading for the door.
I open it and see a petite woman covered from head to toe in black, including her face. "Umm, babe, let me call you back."
"Assalamu alaikum." She greets in a deep voice.
My eyes widen. I reply, then peek over her shoulder to see if she has come with someone else. "Umm, are you looking for someone?"
She chuckles, "looking for someone in my own house?"
I frown. Wha-oh! "Aunty Iftar!"
She raises the veil of her burqa, twinkling deep set eyes on brown skin staring at me. "Glad you could recognize me without seeing my face. A plus for you." I smile and let her in.
"I didn't hear you come into the compound." I say.
"Good, I didn't want you to." She sits on the couch I sat on before, looking around, from the white and blue patterned walls to the POP ceiling down to the floral rug, which matches the red designs on the furniture. "Nice house." She comments, then faces me. "but are you a nice girl?"
My smile freezes. What?
A knock sounds on the door, then it opens with Badr saying the Salaam. His eyes land on aunt Iftar. And, before I finish replying, he goes and kneels before her. My eyes widen at this. As for aunt Iftar, she nods proudly.
I watch them converse in hush tones. Mutallab comes and sits on the arm chair beside mine. Why isn't he kneeling down too?
Badr sits up, sees me, and says, "did I mention that she sponsored my education right from nursery to Madina?"
Oh. I shake my head. I only know that his father died when he was only three years old. So his mother had to work multiple jobs to cater for him and his two elder sisters.
He nods, smiling like he just won a million dollars.
"So, how do you plan to work from here?" she asks him.
"I've applied for transfer."
She nods. To her son, she says, "And you, when is your wedding?"
Mutallab smiles, "right after yours, ummi?" She swipes a hand at him.
I laugh, only for her eyes to land on me. I freeze. If Ummu Badr makes me shy, aunt Iftar scares the heck out of me. "And you, house wife or career wife?"
I swallow. "Umm," I look at Badr who shrugs. "I haven't decided yet."
"Well, you should." She stands, "I need answers by tomorrow." She covers her face, says salaam, and saunters out. Badr follows. Just then, the electricity goes off. Did she take it with her?
Badr returns, smiling. "Aunt Iftar is something else, right?"
I shake my head. "No, you mean, something else is aunt Iftar."
He laughs. "don't worry, you'll come to like her.
"Hope so."
His phone rings from his pocket. Bringing it out, he looks at the name and goes mute. I frown, checking the name. It's his mom. He clears his throat, "I should head in." He says, eyes still on the phone. Is he afraid?
I watch him go. I hope he'd be okay.
Minutes later, I hear shouting, and the phone is not on speaker.
Oh.
•••
Oh, indeed.😋
So, what do you think about the chapter?
And aunt Iftar?
And Badr's mom?
Next update will be on Friday, in sha Allah (ameen).
Hoping to see you here again.
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