By Maryam Altine Baba
Chapter Twenty
Three days later, she was discharged and was gripped with strong apprehension and reluctance to go home. But her mother had insisted she went with her family since after the incidence, none of Ali’s relative turned up even to check up on her, let alone take up proper responsibilities for her medication.
Same went with her father. He had not been to see her even once. And now that she was forced to face him, she didn’t know what to expect from him. Was he still angry at her? Had he disowned her for real?
“I have fulfilled your wish. So, go and let us be. You have to bear it in mind that you are the bearer of the consequences of your actions. I wish you all the best.”
She remembered every single word he had uttered that fateful night he had given her in to matrimony, if that could be termed so. She had marveled at her newly found love and freedom that she almost didn’t bother. Now she knew better.
The past days have been torments. People came almost in troops to see her at the hospital, pretended they prayed for her well-being. But she knew better. They only cared to satiate their curiosity. Other bold ones had babbled away, either calling Ali different unflattering names or blamed his shrewd father.
She’d also had nightmares, where a very high Ali had subjected her to all kinds of abuse. In some dreams which felt like reality, he had tightened a grip on her neck in a bid to strangle her to death. She had awoken with a severe throbbing head ache afterwards.
So, home would be nice to return to. And as she took the bold steps there, she decided it was better to face the devil she knew. She’s got her sisters now to support her, to help her pick up the pieces of her shattered life again.
Together, they were one formidable force and nothing would stop them from beating the odds staked up against them.
The air around the house hadn’t changed since she’d last vacated it. Though she had noticed some changes, the wall that separated the once large compound, the new silo building and kitchen, as well as the rooms occupied by Asma’u and the new toilet.
Apart from these, everything about the house was relatively the same. The few ducks and their ducklings, the goat herd which comprised of about ten of them and a few sheep. The chickens had hatched and their chicks sprawled all over the compound.
“Do you remember ‘yar gurguwa, the disabled hen?” Hauwa asked Zainab enthusiastically. When she nodded, she continued, “She’s hatched half of all the chickens here. Some were even sold off by Inna, while some ended up in our pot.” She gleefully narrated.
Zainab felt a sense of belonging and smiled weakly. At least she had left something that impacted on their lives meaningfully. If it were in the past, she would never have consented to any of her things being touched or used by anyone. Not even her mother.
Especially her mother.
Now she hadn’t minded at all, especially now that she had learned to view Khadija in a new light with a renewed sense of respect. During their stay at the hospital, she’d seen her retreating form when they had hugged each other the morning after her admission at the hospital. She’d known she had seen them but decided to allow them a bonding time.
She had also observed how caring she really was, her motherly warmth, not holding back at all, had permeated through to her. And most of all, she really understood her now; her distancing herself to shield her pain from them, her helplessness at some point in their lives when they needed her most.
Khadija had steered herself towards redemption, showcased herself as a caring parent and tried so desperately to make up for lost times with them. Zainab accorded her the second chance she needed and let her become one. She’d learnt that life was incredibly short. One’s got to grasp at happiness before it eluded him.
Neighbours, friends and family members were all present to welcome her, except of course, Malam. Looking at the sun as it crept across the sky slightly from high noon, she was certain he was at the mosque, as always at that time in particular.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to meet with him yet. But she knew it would definitely happen someday. She might as well brace herself for that time.
The Neem tree in the middle of the courtyard had grown inches taller and wider with some of its roots visible underneath the ground. Two large crude benches made out of tree trunks were situated under its vast ever-green shade. It gave the occupants of the house a quick gateway and protection from the harsh heat weather before the rains. A large mortar sat next to the bench upside down, as Mallam always ordered them to keep, with its pistil nestled beside it.
The aroma of Khadija’s delicious cooking made Zainab’s stomach to rumble in anticipation, in spite of her being a convalescent. She missed having a decent meal since she left home. She has missed home entirely, she realized contritely.
Their room was how she’d left it, with few minimal changes. There were twin beds now that sat at both ends of the small room and the new window that was created during the earlier renovations of the house gave more light to the otherwise darker room.
The room definitely welcomed her, but would she be allowed to bask in the euphoria of its warmth and accept all of it? Would she be accorded a place back at her father’s house at all?
She was still married to Ali and doubted if anything could be done sooner to change her status. But she needed to get away from him for now and let Allah take care of the future for her.
“Where is she? Anty Maijidda asked with a smirk on her face as she walked in to her brother’s compound. Seeing Zainab on the bed in their former bedroom made her day. “I see that the renegade daughter is back from her dreams with a heavy dose of reality.”
She made sure the smug on her face was visible to all. Oh, how she was gladdened by the news of Zainab’s predicament that she couldn’t resist paying a victory visit just so she could say to her face ‘I told you so’.
“What happened ehh, smart mouth? Have you had a fill of your exciting marriage already? Or did your so-called husband got tired of your antics and taught you a vital lesson?” She shot series of insults when Zainab had not responded.
Then she twirled around and danced on her heels and pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a victorious shrill.
“Ayyururui! Oh, this is so much better than the revenge I envisaged. How I wish I could see Aliyu now. I would have patted him at the back for making my day.”
“I am so glad you’re having fun at the expense of my daughter.” Khadija spat at Maijidda with a dangerous trail to her words. She wasn’t the Khadija that once sat back and watched her daughters being ill-treated.
Aunty hadn’t minded. Infact she became more invigorated in her new-found joy and victory that she cared less about whoever listened. “I am not surprised at all. Coming from a low life like you, the girl was bound to make profound achievements in the worse places. Like mother like daughter… so typical!
Zainab winced, not due to her physical pains, but her emotional. Her Aunt was one of the reasons she dreaded going back home. She didn’t want to face the old hag.
“Let her be mother. She might throw us in jail for daring her.”
Great! Zainab clenched her eyes. The assembly was just missing the Devil himself. Imran walked up to his mother and looked at Zainab with disdain. “For I am sure she still loves her husband and still will defend him. Love made in Gaji.” They all laughed like sinister hyenas.
Strangely, Zainab didn’t care what they thought or said. She had made great strides and wouldn’t slip back. It had been an excruciatingly painful experience, but now she’d been trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered life together. the loss of a man who’d lied to her and caused her more pains than the freedom she craved.
She needed time to grief the loss of her baby though. Knowing she was carrying another life was the only consolation she took in her messed up life. Now with the loss, her world had come crashing around her ears, almost deafening her.
Aliyu Hamza was a foul man, if he could be called a man at all. She had loved him with all her heart and now she loathed him. Faced with the prospect of facing a battle of love gone sour with him for her freedom, she didn’t care what her aunt or anyone thought.
Her mother gave a comeback, “Yes, Imran. She still loves Aliyu, and she might have made a few mistakes and may be faced with the stark reality that life isn’t always as one plans it, I am glad that at least she gave it a go. She has lived her life the way she wanted even if it was miserably.”
Imran huffed, “You call that living?”
“Let them be Imran. They call this miserable life living.” Aunty Maijidda guffawed and looked at Zainab indignantly, “You are as shameless as your mother. If you had any decency you would have buried your head deep down the ground in shame. After bringing shame unto this family you should be banished.”
“Well, I don’t think it is as dramatic as being made to dance the shameful dance of tabakaka in the market square, or even caught fornicating with the wife of a Fulani man who still roams around with his sharpened machete, waiting for my slip.”
Oh, she loved this new angle to her mother, the thoughtful, no nonsense warrior queen that was ready to defend them against all odds. She just touched the right button, which made Aunty Maijidda frown. She loved seeing such reactions on her aunt’s face.
But much as she revered the moment, Anty Maijidda scowled, “Ke Dija, I see that your mission is set out to destroy my son’s image ko? In your dreams!”
Khadija’s tone was a little softer, with satisfaction etched in her voice, “Oho dai, daga kin gaskiya, sai bata. If one deviates from the truth, he will certainly go astray.”
“Who are you referring to as going astray? The nerve of you!” Surprisingly, her expression softened a bit, “Well, you can think of whatever you want to. But Imran is not a woman beater.”
Zainab let out a dry laugh, and for the first time, retorted, “Asma’u will beg to differ on that.”
And slowly she saw the unmistakable antagonism on Mr Perfect’s face. She couldn’t help but smile inwardly at herself.
Aunty Maijidda looked like she’d jump on her with a strangle hold till her last breath left her body. “Ke! Who are you to talk back at me?!”
Perfect! Now she’s taken offence because Zainab had retorted. But she saw no qualms with Imran’s rudeness directed at them earlier.
“Let us go mother, obviously this bunch are best ignored. We should leave them to their shame.”
“We thank you for the visit. Do come back and update yourselves anytime. Apparently, that is all you two are good for!”
And they walked away, without a comeback. Zainab was as surprised as her mother. It wasn’t like them at all. In the past, the whole village, or at least, a lot from the grapevine populace would have witnessed another ugly spat. But since the Fulani fiasco with Imran, he had been more edgy and agitated.
Everyone knew that the Fulanis were unforgiving and would go to any extent to exert revenge on anyone who had crossed their path. And for Imran to have an affair with the wife of a Barori Prince was the ultimate folly. He had treaded on dangerous path and he always looked over his shoulders all the time. The prospect of an ambush was highly expected, even though Yaya Ibrahim had intervened on the matter and tried to resolve it amicably. Despite everything, Aunty had stood by him, for him as was expected.
Zainab was plagued with her own problems, she could not help but feel some sort of emotion towards the duo. It wasn’t resentment, and certainly not hatred. Hate was ugly. Hate gnawed away at someone and destroyed him. She knew that because hate had been her motivation to revolt, had acted out differently to break away from the norm.
No, hate was not what she felt towards her aunt and her son. It was pure pity. They have all tied their pitiful existence at the expense of people’s happiness. They were selfish, always thinking of themselves and feel the world revolved around them.
That in itself could be so exhausting. She wondered how they lived and not choked on themselves.
“You should try and get some rest, dear.” Khadija had admonished. “I have mixed up some fura da nono for you. I know you might not feel up to it but taking it will help you build more appetite.”
Zainab gave a teary smile. She was completely overwhelmed with strong mixed up emotions. All she could wrap her head around was that she was getting her mother’s attention and love. Even though something warned her that it could be temporary, she still took what ever she got.
Life had taught her to live one moment at a time, grasp whatever it offered and move on to the next. Unhappiness was no longer her potion.
With a smile on her face in spite of the rumbling within her, Zainab laid on the bed to rest her tired body and closed her eyes. It was a moment to cherish!
