WIND.
It paints my canvas
Grey with emptiness
Black with coldness
The colours of grief.
Sometimes it paints
A soft blue
Or the bright yellow of the sun
A striking golden orange
Or a joyful red
The beautiful colours of love
The wind paints
With all its colours on the canvas.
That is my life.
~~ Phirdausy Ameenu
2000.
"Okay, now say "Mami". She said with a large smile.
Safa giggled and clapped her hands.
"Maaami." she said finally and almost immediately, Mami picked her up and swirled around the living room. Dancing with joy.
"I told you. Oh my dear baby." she said.
Lubna simply smiled at her and continued eating her food. Her level of consumption had increased drastically due to her five month old pregnancy.
Safa was four years old now and at the end of her nursery three. Her education had started quickly as she was a very fast learner. She'd sit with Jidda through her assignments and cry when it was time for school. In the end, daddy had decided to enroll her too. And it didn't surprise them that she was happy to go to school.
"Okay, it's time for evening bath. Let's go darling." Mami said as she headed to their room with Safa in tow.
She'd been in Kano for three years, going back to Katsina during holidays and as promised, daddy had funded her education. After much persuasion, Her father had agreed to let her further her education. Mami had chosen mass communication.
Lubna looked at their retreating figures and smiled. She was happy and content with her life. Baba's choice wasn't wrong. It wasn't wrong at all.
She'd gradually gotten used to her husband's company as much as he'd gotten used to her. Talking to him had become easier for her with time and now, they were closer than they were before.
"Mama, I can't find my crayons." cried Jidda with a pout, ending Lubna's thoughts.
"Kuma dai. Have you checked your bag, under the bed and the bathroom?" she asked Jidda.
They had once, turned the whole room upside down looking for Jidda's missing crayon. Eventually, after an hour of checking, they'd found it in her bag. Lubna had declared then that her baby has poor eyesight.
Jidda shook her head as if she'd remembered and ran back to their room.
Life had continued very well for the whole family. Daddy's businesses were thriving, Ibrahim had finished secondary school two years back and had started studying Accounting in Bayero University, Kano. Sadiq, was in his final secondary year. The only disturbing factor was that, they seemed to care only a little for their younger ones. Especially Jidda. Once, Daddy had travelled to Sokoto with Ibrahim and his heart sank when he noticed that Ibrahim had gotten gifts for Khairi and Ali, leaving Jidda out. The little girl had jumped and hugged him when they arrived.
Alhaji Muhammad was dismayed and since then, he'd personally seen to it that Ibrahim buys all gifts meant for the children. He wanted him to feel responsible for all of them, leaving none out. One day, he wouldn't be there to make him.
Ibrahim on the other hand, had acted impulsively. Without thinking. After what he'd been told about Jidda's late mother and Lubna, he'd simply felt angry at everyone of them. Including his father. He had decided then to take care of his siblings, those from the same womb as himself only. He couldn't believe it when his mother told him. He'd never thought his father would do that to her. He'd also never thought people could be that selfish, to the point of trying to separate a man from his wife with whom he had four children already.
When she told him, he had looked at her with a sheen of tears in his eyes, anger almost dripped from his voice when he spoke and he promised himself never to take more than one wife.
~•~•~•~•~•
They say Slow and steady does the job. That had been her motto for the past years. It wasn't easy at all to pretend to like something or someone, but she'd done her best. And her best meant it was highly believeable, Only, she'd never seen an indication that Lubna believed her. Zubaida smiled and sipped her Zobo (Hibiscus drink). The girl's smart, she knows that, but Zubaida believed she was smarter.
The small tray had cakes beautifully arranged. Cakes that were made by Lubna, without thinking, she stood and walked to the bin. She threw them all in and placed the tray in the sink.
Some would say Zubaida was getting dangerously desperate to get rid of Lubna.
"And now, the pest is having another pest." she said with disgust. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Breathe Zubaida, breathe. Soon, it'll be over soon." she said to herself softly, as if she was consoling herself.
At some point, Zubaida felt tired of all the pain, the hate she felt and the farce she'd been putting up. For a split second, she found herself wondering what could be if she was in good terms with her co-wife. But almost as soon as the thought came, she brushed it off. There was no way she'd give up now, there was no backing out of it. Not after the progress she'd made.
On her watch, Ibrahim had isolated Jidda from his other siblings and she had felt inexplicably happy. Even after everything she'd told him, she had been scared that somehow nothing got to him. But it did. Indeed, it did.
Zubaida had spent hours thinking of what to tell Ibrahim and finally, a beautiful concoction of several lies, tiny truths and some tears had set the wheels in motion.
She had watched as his expression alternated between disbelief, pity and finally, anger.
At that moment, the whole world seemed to be filled with light in her eyes.
~•~•~•~•~•~•
Alhaji Muhammad reclined on his chair and sipped his hot lemon grass tea, the hot liquid warmed him up. The rain poured harder and harder, sliding down the windows and painting the earth with its drops. For three consecutive days, the rain poured down, alternating between mere drizzles and heavy downpours. The whole city was cold and damp.
"I think I should refill your flask." Lubna said teasingly. Ever since she brewed the tea leaves for him, he'd been stuck with it. He couldn't go a day without taking at least a cup or two.
"I think you should. And I also think you don't get how delicious this is." he answered her with a smile of his own.
"Oh I do, I made it for you remember?" she pointed at herself with her index finger.
Daddy chuckled and raised the cup to his lips again. He relished the taste once more before he spoke.
"How are you doing today?"
"I'm fine Alhamdulillah. Just little cravings here and there." Lubna averted her gaze and pretended to tidy up the already clean room. He grinned and before she knew it, she burst out laughing. Now, that sound and his tea combined felt like the perfect dose of warmth on a very cold day.
"I believe you're craving for a plate or two of pepper soup and boiled potatoes, aren't you?" he said amidst their laughter.
Lubna nodded and grinned at him.
"You take that too much Umman Jidda. Baki gajiya da shi ne?" (Don't you get tired of it?)
"Bana gajiya da shi. (I do not get tired of it.) Chicken is evergreen." she said with a small shrug.
He shook his head.
"Toh shikenan. Eat your chicken well." he said.
A comfortable silence ensued then, wrapping them in pure satisfaction.
His mind had took off again when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"A flask of lemon grass tea for your thoughts." she said softly with a smile.
He smiled a bit too and touched his long fingers to hers. A sigh escaped his lips.
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Normal thoughts of a father whose wife is always craving chicken. I think I should start the poultry business." his tone was teasing but there was an underlying tension and Lubna didn't miss it. But then prodding wouldn't make him talk now so she simply let it go.
"Yes, that's a good idea. Then we can even roast them ourselves." he laughed at that.
And for the umpteenth time, the sound echoed in her mind, carving it's own place in her heart.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Mami dried her hands with the small towel, looking around to make sure everything was clean. Her kind of clean, which meant sparkling clean. Not a speck.
Even Lubna thought she was too much sometimes, that is, despite the fact that she was a clean freak too.
She placed the towel on the rack to dry then carried the tray she'd arranged and walked out of the kitchen.
"Jidda get your food, it's in the kitchen." she said to Jidda who was busy with her cartoon.
"Okay, Anty Mami zaki bani choco din? (Anty Mami will I get the choco).
"Yes, J. Eat your food first, all of it fa." she had to scream the last part, Jidda was already on her way to the kitchen.
Mami and Jidda shared a beautiful connection. Sometimes, even Lubna gets fascinated by how close they were.
She closed the door behind her and headed for Zubaida's flat. Lubna and Mami cooked tuwon shinkafa da miyan taushe da kaza and Lubna had asked her to take some to Zubaida, out of courtesy.
Personally, Mami wasn't in support of that. She thought Lubna was being overly nice and to some extent, it annoyed her. But then, she knew her sister was simply a lover of peace. She didn't have much of a choice and so, she went with it.
The door was slightly open when she got there so she pushed it some more and stepped in with a salam.
Her hand was only an inch away from the door when she heard voices, whispers. She turned a little so she could hear better, just to be sure it wasn't her hallucination. But it came again.
"I had to leave the house. I was so angry and devastated, my own family wouldn't talk to me Abba." a sigh escaped her lips.
Mami's kohl lined eyes widened.
"Hm, at some point your father wouldn't even answer my greeting. All because of her. I was a slim line away from being divorced. She had told people unbelievable things about me, all the way to Sokoto." she continued.
In her mind, Mami was warning Zubaida, let it not be Lubna she's talking about.
~•~•~•~•~•~•
Ibrahim saw the hurt in his mother's eyes, the pain. And at that moment, he desperately wanted to hit something.
"Once, they'd called me a witch. That I've had your father wrapped around my fingers for too long and it was time I give up the space. I cried for days. There was no solace, my own husband wouldn't even look at me." her voice broke at the end.
"I never noticed any of these, Subhanallah." his voice was slightly above a whisper.
"You were in school mostly and I wanted you to concentrate on your studies." she answered almost too quickly.
"They hurt you Mama. She hurt you."
"I know, but they are family Abba." the words left her mouth tentatively. When he kept quiet for some minutes, she began to fear. It's not good enough, she thought.
"No. She is not." he said. Now, he realized why his mother always said to be careful. One way or another, he'd show them that she is valued. And that nobody has the rights to step on her.
For a split second, her eyes lit up and a ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. Bingo, she thought to herself.
"They'll see. One day, that you are the pillar he leans on. And no one can take that away. She may have tore you apart, rather, tried to. But she'd tried once and failed, and Insha Allah it would never work." his eyes bore into the floor like fire.
This time, she smiled.
"Thank you Abba. May Allah bless you and protect you from the evil of this world." she said.
"Ameen Hajiya."
"Toh, you should go greet them before you leave for school din." She looked away from him. It was a test. She wanted to know if her drill had gone deep enough, she'd worked on it for months.
"I'm sorry Mama, I cannot do that. I will go to Baba but not her. Please don't tell me to."
Zubaida smiled inwardly. Of course she wouldn't force him to, no way.
"Toh shikenan. Allah Ya bada sa'a. (Alright then. May Allah grant you success.)"
~•~•~•~•~•~•
Her feet were stuck on the floor, hands clutching the sides of the tray she held. She couldn't believe her ears.
The nerve of that woman.
How could someone so blatantly lie like that? Anyone who listens to her would most likely believe her, it was so real.
She heard shuffling from the room and as fast as her feet could take her, she ran to the main door, closed it and opened it again with a salam. In a split second, she composed herself. Just then, Ibrahim walked out of his mother's room and answered her salam reluctantly.
Mami didn't miss the glare he sent her way when he passed, she simply smiled
Yaro man kaza. (A hausa proverb which means: The young know nothing. Sort of.)
"Oh Mami, when did you come in?" Zubaida asked.
"Just now. Good afternoon. Um, Ya Lubna said to bring this." she kept the tray on the table.
"Ayya, tell her I said thank you very much Mami." Zubaida's face held a cool smile.
"Toh, Insha Allah."
Before she could say anything else, Mami was out the door. She inhaled the fresh air sharply. One more minute in there and I would have just squeezed her... she thought.
"Ya Salam, Ya Rahman." she rubbed her palms together.
"Didi has to hear this."
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Salam. Good evening. Hi.
I hope you're all good? Toh, good.
Whew, I am officially, mentally drained. Sooooo, how was the chapter? Worth the wait?
Ayya, sorry oo.
I wanted to publish this sooner because of two lovely people buuut.... Better late than never koh.
This chapter is dedicated to Humylash and Sholi. Happy birthday to both of you honeybunches. 😘😘😘😙
Oh and what do you think of that Poem? Very good, yeah? Yeah.
Pleaseee
VOTE.
COMMENT.
SHARE.
thanks for reading ...Of Time and Tears. God bless.
❤💖💗BabyAmeenu💗💖❤