By Maryam Altine Baba
Chapter Nineteen
The early morning sun poured its vast rays in to room, the faint smell of antiseptic hung in the air, a quick reminder to Zainab that she was still in the hospital. The single room that served as the female ward contained four iron beds that were so rusted one could contract tetanus by just looking at them.
The mattresses were bare, mostly stained with unimaginable fluids. Every patient, and there were only three of them, had a clean sheet that were brought in by their relatives spread across the bed.
The hospital management which comprised of the doctor, a nurse and two attendants lacked in facilities and asked patients and relatives to provide all the needed items to get the required health care.
The wall paint gave a new definition to white, as it transformed it to brown. Tiny spots of blood stains from mosquito murder were spread across the wall. The tattered mosquitoes net that hung from the low ceiling above each bed gave a clustered look to the room. There were no window blinds or curtains, though some of the window panes were broken. Some sills rusted, which made the windows stuck.
Laying on the bed, Zainab felt extremely weak and was indifferent to everything as she lamented, reflected and realized she didn’t want to face another painful ordeal.
She wasn’t suicidal, and the atmosphere wasn’t bleak, but she was faced with the feeling of shame for her failure, her stubbornness. She couldn’t fathom the idea where people would tell her ‘I told you so’, where they would mostly laugh at her. She didn’t want where everyone in her family will be proven right and she, wrong.
“Good morning.” Hauwa’s cheerful voice cut short her thoughts.
Zainab painstakingly turned her head and looked to where the voice had come from. There she stood by the bed side together with Asma’u, smiling. Almost immediately she was engulfed with a sense of grief and wanted to out rightly ask them to leave so she wouldn’t be more ashamed than she already was. She clenched her eyes shut abruptly that the sensation of pain sliced through her head. She wanted them to leave, wanted to be forsaken by them.
“Open your eyes Zee.” Asma’u implored. “No one is here to judge you or chastise you. We’re all here to support you, to help you get better.”
“That’s right.” Hauwa concurred. “We’re here as a family.”
Zainab’s voice was a little above a whisper, weaker than theirs’, “I don’t want to be pitied. I don’t deserve to be.”
“Don’t be silly.” Asma’u brushed her comment and walked up to her side. She gently took her hand and clasped it in her own palms cautiously, “I know I am the last person you’d want to see or talk to on earth. Our relationship over the last months have been strained due to my unguarded utterances. I should have been more supportive, rather than be a pessimist. We all have made mistakes and deserve a second chance.”
Zainab opened her eyes and the tears she held back came down streaming on her cheeks. The pain wasn’t in her battered body, but in her heart. She had realized in her stubborn will to get what she wanted, she’d only ended up hurting herself. She loathed to think that everyone was happier without her and she was miserable without them.
Asma’u sighed as she sat beside her, taking care not to touch her lest she brought more pain than she already was feeling. “Look Zee, your health is of paramount importance to us right now. Get well soon, and we shall support you in whatever decision you will take against Ali. Even if you decide to go back to him, we will support you. As from now henceforth, we will be in everything together. But right now, we want you to let us take care of you and we will make sure you will never be alone again.”
Their expressions held so much compassion that Zainab ached inside out. She couldn’t stop the tears from gushing from her eyes and streaming down her bruised cheeks continuously.
She was surprised that Asma’u’s words were soothing and gave her more relief than she cared to admit. She was tired, tired of being alone, fighting, grieving and enduring all. She’d had enough share of torments to last her a life time. Her sisters were an integral part of her, and her decision to alienate them in her life had not only been folly, but downright stupid.
A part of her longed to confess how terribly wrong she’d been about Ali, but her situation surpassed her in that regard. It hurt to know she was the one that had placed herself in that awkward position.
Both sisters hugged her ever carefully and warmly. “I am sorry.” was all she could sputter. “I am bad, aren’t I? I have caused you all great pain.” The tears continued to flow like the Gaji River during the rainy season when it was filled to capacity.
“You shouldn’t be, silly.” Asma’u consoled. She’d let go of the hug and looked at her sister lovingly. “We have both made grave mistakes that we’re not proud of them. At least you had a whole room assigned to you with a physical husband. I burnt down Garbati’s house and was rewarded with a phantom husband with a spooky undertone. I had no room to call mine at all.”
The banter was aimed at lessening the awkward situation of course. But her wounds were still fresh and she was still vulnerable that it had still hurt.
“Now that I have turned myself to Allah and asked for His forgiveness, I have also asked of Malam’s and Umma’s. You cannot begin to imagine the tranquility and peace of mind I have attained presently because of that.”
Zainab thought to herself. If she trekked down the path Asma’u had treaded, would she be able to gain such tranquility? Would she be accepted back home by her father after what had transpired between them?
