So Much for Love 23

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By Maryam Altine Baba

 

Chapter Twenty three

“Assalamu alaikum.”

Khadija looked up from the pot of soup she was preparing and smiled as she answered her visitor’s greeting. “Wa alaikumus salam.”

She went straight in to her room and brought out two locally decorated wooden chairs and handed one to her guest. They both sat on the new verandah. There wasn’t much heat from the sun, but out of habit, they found it proper to stay under the shade.

“Lale, Tabawa, welcome.” Khadija welcomed her guest genially.

Tabawa beamed as she sat down, “Gaskiya, it has been a while since the last time I was here.” She commented, looking about her and trained her gaze at the spacious room behind her. “Kai Masha Allah, Malam has really made notable great changes to this house.”

Khadija offered her a cupful of a cool kunun zaki, “Yes, he has.” She agreed, her voice resonated with love as she smiled with pride.

Tabawa took a sip of the spicy millet drink and her face held a mischievous glint, “But with the way Malam is expanding and renovating the house, I hope he isn’t planning on taking another wife.” She deliberately lowered her voice like she wanted to divulge the biggest secret of the century, and looked around before adding, “Such information cannot be shoved aside you know. Rumor has it that he has been offered the proposal of a recent divorcee presently.”

Khadija felt like laughing at that. Her husband had told her about Zakiyya, the divorcee at Malam Audu’s house. But letting Tabawa know that Malam had already told her about their little chit-chat with Malam Audu at the mosque would only fuel the agitation in their already condescended mindset that she had bewitched her husband.

“Well, rumor or not, everything happens by Allah’s will and everything He does is best.” She said instead before adding, “You still haven’t told me the reason for your visit.”

Tabawa was already taking another mouthful of the drink and gulped at once. From all indications, it was the reaction she’d hoped to get.

“Oh Masha Allah, this is really well prepared and sweet.” She commented as she looked in to the rest of the mixture inside the cup. “You no longer serve tukudi to visitors.” She added casually. “With buildings here and there that needed decking, I’d hoped to get tukudi freely. So, I am counting on the day you would invite our group for your decking ceremony. I surely miss that milk drink especially served during such occasion.”

“Well, you know Mallam abhors such practices. He doesn’t approve of them and says they are haram.”

“How can he say that? It is our heritage Dija, and we have an obligation to pass it down to our children.”

“Well, with all these modern buildings of cement I don’t think the children will be worried about that. They hardly value our aged long tradition of inviting women to deck their houses, let alone serve expensive milk drinks to them.”

Tabawa sipped her kunun zaki again, “Well, you are right. I just wish you weren’t. But let me enjoy my refreshing drink before I lose interest in it since you won’t serve Tukudi to me.”

Khadija smiled politely and said, “No one ever serves the drink any more. Times are hard, you know.”

Tabawa eyed her, “Look who’s talking? How would you know what hard times are when you have Malam at your beck and call? You have him wrapped around your fingers and talk about hard times, hian!”

To that Khadija maintained utter silence. She was tired of rebuffing such small accusations from small minded people that don’t matter but didn’t know that they don’t. Her being the only wife of her husband wasn’t her plan but Allah’s design, coupled with her husband’s decision of not taking in another woman. People like Tabawa, who unfortunately constituted more than half of the village hardly understood that.

Tabawa’s eyes sparkled as she took another sip of her drink, “Oh come on Dija, I am hardly a stranger to your house. The fact that I haven’t visited in a while does not mean I am no longer a good friend. I have just been busy recently.”

Khadija broadened her smile but it wasn’t deep. Of course, she was busy. Why wouldn’t she be when she was the head of the grapevine and a certified rumor monger?

Tabawa could tell what happened in every household daily in one breath. Her information was so accurate that she’d put BBC Hausa to shame. She always knew everything about everyone, whether their affairs concerned her or not.

Now she was in her house to discuss only Allah knows what. “Yes Tabawa. You’re not the only one in that regard.”

There was an edge to Khadija’s voice that Tabawa did not miss. After one last gulp, she put the almost empty cup aside and contorted her face with genuine concern, “Well, I am actually here bearing good… no, great tidings!”

Khadija didn’t want to know what that tiding must be, not sure she would like it. But she still sat down and faked a smile.

Tabawa still said it anyway, “Marka has sent me to you on behalf of her son Uzairu, with a marriage proposal for Hauwa’u.”

That wasn’t an unusual request given their setting, but it had taken Khadija completely by surprise. “Uzairu?”

“Oh, don’t be surprised Dija. Your daughter is already smitten by the hardworking young man. I mean, what girl in her right senses wouldn’t be? He is a big catch. Half of the village young men cannot match his strength. Not to mention that he owns a large banana plantation. And did you know that he had a bumper harvest last farming season alone? Fifty bags of rice, ten bags of groundnut and twenty-two bags of maize! If you ask me, that is quite a feat. I wouldn’t be surprised if he is our next Sarkin Noma.”

The blabbering went on and Khadija excruciatingly bore it all. She seriously felt tempted to scream. Her head pulsated with a blinding pain. “Was he not the one that almost married Hassana’s daughter last season?” she commented at last.

Although Khadija seldom went out of her house, she was pretty sure almost everybody, if not all, knew of the failed marriage, had talked about the issues surrounding it for days. Out of politeness, she didn’t bring up the pregnancy issue involved as well.

Tabawa shifted, but without batting an eyelid, she rushed to his defense. “You know girls of nowadays are adept. They have their eyes glued to the few good men especially in this village. Well, I am sure Asabe thought she had pulled her every act together in order to trap Uzairu and coerce him in to marriage. That was why she’d used the pregnancy story to get what she wanted.” She let out the sound of indignation, “Hmph! Oldest trick in history.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “Nothing surprises me any longer.”

Khadija looked at her incredulously. Was that absurd explanation supposed to cajole her, win her over in order to agree to their proposal?

“Look Dija, if you ask me, I’d say you go ahead and accept this proposal because opportunities don’t come knocking at our doors twice. With the way things have been in your family….”

Khadija felt hurt, but she didn’t show it. She wouldn’t dignify Tabawa’s comment to that extent. “I thank you for considering my daughter despite our family’s shameful escapades. However, I am in no position to accept or refuse any proposal, especially that of marriage.”

If Tabawa noted any sarcasm, then she didn’t show it. She continued talking in earnest, “Oh come on Dija. You’re a woman. And women are the most powerful beings on earth. We control even the most powerful amongst men. Use your power, flaunt your gait and get results. There’s no harm in you presenting this issue in a very captivating manner to Malam later. He would actually give in to your wishes without knowing he did.”

Well, that’s different from the usual bewitching story every one accused her of. She supposed she should be grateful for that, at least.

“It really isn’t up to me Tabawa.”

Tabawa snorted, “Unless you don’t want it to be, of course it is up to you.”

Khadija sighed heavily. It was exactly what she’d feared. Engaging in long vain talks that led to nowhere. It was like hitting one’s head to a brick wall.

“I thank you for everything. Please extend my equal regards and gratitude to Marka. Tell her that I have received her proposal, but I would have to wait for Malam to discuss it further with him.”

With that, she didn’t say anything further. Thankfully, Tabawa took it as her cue to leave. Or maybe she’d rather be somewhere her cheap talks would be appreciated.

As she stood up to full height, she pleaded her case once more, “You should thank the Almighty Allah for this proposal. Marka has accepted Hauwa’u as a daughter-in law. Of course, she’s willing to do anything for her son’s happiness. She has assured me that if you accept, she promised to embrace Hauwa’u as if she were her very own daughter.”

When Tabawa had left to tell Marka what transpired between them, Khadija wondered what was in for her in all of that. What did she stand to gain from everything apart from the fact that she would witness everything first hand so she’d give the whole village every news update?

Knowing Tabawa well, that’s as good a reason for her to be involved as any.

Going back to the proposal, did she like the boy? Personally, no. Not that she kept track on everyone in the community, but she knew enough to deduce that he wasn’t the right choice for her Hauwa’u.

But then, like she said earlier, it wasn’t up to her to make the decisions. She didn’t have the rights to choose a suitor or husband for that matter for anyone.

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