By Maryam Altine Baba
Chapter Twenty two
“Are you still going to keep on pretending your daughter doesn’t exist, Mallam?” Khadija spoke ever so softly as she placed a faifai (medium sized platter made of straw) that held various types of religious books next to Mallam. He hadn’t acquired western education but his exposure and experience taught him well to read and write the scriptures in the English alphabets.
He looked up from his book. His eyesight was getting weaker by the day, but he stubbornly maintained the routine of reading that book every evening, after prayer. It was one of the few books he loved to read. He had memorized it by heart but he still read it.
“Oh? Why would you say that?” The question was more rhetorical.
His response angered her, but she didn’t show him. “You know why. You haven’t asked me about her, not even once.”
His attention went to his books again, at least he wanted her to think so. “I had no idea there was any need to.”
She was stunned. “How can you say that? She’s our daughter! You can’t just discard her like she was garbage.”
This time he looked at her, his eyes were narrow and voice thick, “Why do you think I am to blame? Do you think it was easy for me to endure everything; the public humiliation, verbal assault?”
Now that he had started, he couldn’t stop. He was hurting and she needed to see that. He had expected support from her as usual. But if she decided to choose her daughter this time, he wasn’t going to let them toss him around.
“I cannot remember the time you ever said anything about it with such brazen honesty! You were silent through it all. I had my name dragged down the mud by our two daughters, became the laughing stock of the village. Zainab dragged me to court all because I refused to give her what she wanted! I had to bear it all in silence.”
The room fell into utter silence. The air was so thick and tensed. For all the twenty-two years of their marriage, the subject of the circumstances that led to their union never cropped its head up for discussion in this manner. It was too sensitive.
The reason Malam bore all the humiliations, he told himself, was because he had put someone through it before. So, for him to go through it was justified. But he had suffered enough in silence!
Khadija looked at the man she’d vowed to love, for whom she had forsaken all relationships and willed herself not to hate him. “Silence?! Hmmm! You gave Asma’u away into a loveless marriage, something we fought against in our youth; I didn’t say anything. Then you married Zainab off in the middle of the night by the market square, cut off all ties with her, I still stuck by you while I died a thousand death, silently. I couldn’t even give her a proper send forth, couldn’t go to her.”
He fell silent. Agitation dripped in every single word she’d uttered, “No Malam, I was the one that bore it all in silence! You did what you had to do, not considering my feelings even once, while I just looked on quietly.”
His eyes were shrouded in pain, “Look Dija……”
She didn’t stop at that. The words came flowing, “I strangled my voice, squashed my rights as a mother and just pretended I didn’t exist. So now that I am asking for your support, suddenly, you can’t endure more blows to your ego? No Malam, I have had enough!” she bellowed lowly.
“I don’t remember you saying anything when Asma’u was assaulted by your mother, sister and nephew. Do you know how that had hurt? I was there all the time, saw how she was beaten and tossed like a piece of trash. And just when I couldn’t take it any longer and went in to defend her, I was half beaten to death and sent away with nowhere to go to. You didn’t say anything against that, never stood up for me. Yet, I came back and reasoned that you had your reasons for your silence and still stuck by you.”
She dropped down by his side, her heart squeezed in her chest. She felt his free hand touched her shoulders. She stiffened and looked up to look in to his eyes. He kept his book aside and took both of her hands in to his. He continued to watch her in silence.
The hand spoke of the man himself. It possessed strength and gentleness. The hand that held their daughters when they were born and had lovingly stroked them, one that got rough due to outdoors activities that he engaged in once in a while.
Unlike most Malams of his stature, he didn’t wait for alms to be given to him. He worked as hard as his friend Malam Shehu, the Sarkin Noma.
That same hand held on to hers, years ago when he had pledged his undying love and support. He hasn’t gone back on his words since then.
She was trying hard not to lose all her control and will power. That tore him apart. He cursed the day he let his silence override his better judgment, that day he had deserted her.
He recalled his mother’s threat to disown him, to separate and destroy his family if she didn’t have her way. He didn’t let anyone know about it, because he thought his wife would understand his dilemma.
Looking back now, he realized he didn’t tell her because he knew it went against the promise he made to her on the day of their marriage, and on the day their daughters were born.
He was unfair to her utterly. He made her disobey her parents and yet, he didn’t hesitate to follow his mother’s bid, despite knowing he was possibly destroying his daughter’s life emotionally.
That made him a hypocrite of the highest order. He couldn’t face her with that shame, didn’t mean to hurt her then, or even now. He wished she would open up and tell him how she felt. Bottling everything up wasn’t healthy at all.
“Let it all out Dija, you know you can tell me anything.”
She looked at him, something deep etched her face with agony, raw emotions haunted her red puffed eyes. It took all of his will power not to hug her then. He wanted her to spill her guts, to haul all the expletives in the world at him. He would gladly welcome it than have her silence. It gnawed at his conscience.
She didn’t speak for a while as the tears that escaped against her will and slowly moved down her cheek spoke more than words. He reached out with his hand and wiped them gently with his thumb. Without a word, he was saying a lot to her, connecting emotionally in a way that was peculiar to them alone.
She drew a ragged breath. Giving in to her desire to hold him and be held, she wrapped her arms around him and put her head on his shoulder. They had both suffered, but she, with more pain that could not be matched.
“I have never questioned you nor asked for anything. If there was any reason for my silence it was because it wouldn’t have made any difference just like it didn’t all those previous years. I realized I have lost my voice the day I went against my father, the day I decided to fight the world to be with you.”
“You’re saying this like you regret your decisions Dija, our decisions. And I’ll understand if you feel so for I have failed you. Remember that I stood by our decision then, fought against the society because I felt our love was real, our feelings were sincerely mutual.”
“Yes, they were, still are. But it wouldn’t change the fact that I’d have to live with the rejection of my family all my life. That is not what I want for my daughter, our daughters. Yes, she had done the unthinkable to your reputation and had crossed all limits. But now that she’s at a crossroad, trying to sort herself, then I beg you to give her another chance.
“On our wedding day you have implored me to ask you for anything as a gift and I had told you I was going to take you up on your offer one day. Until today, I have never asked for anything.”
Still in his embrace, she’d looked in to his eyes with all the vulnerability and innocence, “Today, I implore you to support our daughter. I want to accept Zainab back in to our lives, I want her to feel loved and accepted.”
When he didn’t respond to that plea, she pushed to her feet, wiping her face and tears with the ends of her wrapper, and almost croaked, “You’re a learned scholar, as well as a father. I hope and pray that you find it somewhere within your heart to forgive and forget.”
When she left, Malam remained in the state of daze. Khadija had never allowed herself to be consumed by her emotions, let alone show it. But that day she had shown him her weak and soft side. Something that rarely happened. She didn’t know how that had appealed to him. She was the stronger one, he knew. He’d derived his strength from her. And if she was this shattered, he stood no chance. He’d fallen apart completely.
Huffing out the air in his chest, he pushed to his feet and walked out of his room and almost bumped in to Asma’u. she retraced her steps and squatted down to greet him. He nodded curtly in answer. Then he noticed the rest of her sisters all in same pose, with their heads hung low.
He had never seen them all three with so much humility and poise. He gave them his full attention and curbed down his enthusiasm. Life had tested him in the most gruesome way. He could handle anything, he thought.
Asma’u talked first, “Mallam, we are here to see you.”
He looked at all them and then past them to where Khadija feigned interest in her chores. It was difficult to ascertain whether they’d heard parts or all of their conversations from earlier. He’d certainly hoped they hadn’t.
“We want to seek for forgiveness from you.” Asma’u took the lead. “We are truly sorry for all the grief we have caused you both. We have realized our mistakes; hence we didn’t want to delay in asking you to forgive us, lest we’d be struck by the hands of death before we do that.”
Malam Tijjani was dumb stricken by hearing his daughter. He was tongue tied for a moment, then untied it, “I am glad you have finally realized your mistakes. I have never held anything against you, but if it will make you feel relieved, then I forgive you, may Allah forgive us all.
“However, it is important to me that you all should make peace with your Creator, Allah (SWT) and continue to seek for forgiveness from him. When sincerely repent and try getting closer to Allah, He would open the door to His rahama for you. The opposite applies when you continue to sin knowingly.”
“Mun gode Malam.” They all thanked him uniformly.
That had given him joy. He had looked at Zainab and walked up to her. Without a single word, he had just reached for her hands and grasped them both in his hands. Hers were cold and a little bit shaky as his actions had clearly baffled and surprised her at the same time.
You have through a lot. I hope you will.
