By Maryam Altine Baba
Chapter seven
“What are you saying? What do you mean you got her married? Does anyone ever get married at that odd hour of the night?” A flabbergasted Khadija threw at Malam Tijjani. It was the first time she had voiced out a protest against him since their marriage.
“Listen to me carefully Khadija.” Malam tried to explain himself. Although his wife had been a great companion whom had never raised any objection regarding whatever decisions he had made in the past or present, he didn’t like that he had married off Zainab without her prior knowledge. He didn’t like what he had done either. But that was the only way to save his battered honor.
“Zainab gave me no choice but to do that. Allah knows, it was the best I could do at that crucial moment. How do I explain to the world that my daughter was found at the village market at that odd hour? Think about my position in the society, think about how people will react to everything. So, I had to act like a helpless father and not an Imam. I gave her the rogue she wanted.”
“Don’t call him that Malam.” She was quick to switch to defensive mood. “He’s now an in law to this house, and our daughter’s choice. We may not agree with her but the least we can do is to pray for them, to have a successful marriage.”
“I seriously don’t understand you sometimes Khadija. You’re a sort of mystery. You know how I despise that boy. For Allah’s sake, he is not fit to be anybody’s son in law, let alone ours!”
Khadija closed her eyes and let out a sigh, “But she chose him. And it is our duty to look out for her even if she had made a mistake clearly.” She opened up her eyes and looked at the piles of books that filled half of Malam’s room. “I don’t want her to be an outcast, because I know how an unhappy marriage ruins a spouse.”
She sounded bitter, desolate. It was as if she was talking to herself rather than him. Yes, history was definitely repeating itself. And once again, they were at the core, left to deal with its aftermath.
He looked at her narrowly, “Do you regret getting married to me?”
He knew that when he met her all those years ago, her father must have said the same thing about him and about their union. Did she ever regret being his wife? He needed to know.
She looked at him as a smile hinted her face, “You are the love of my life, Malam. Every day I give glory and gratitude to The Almighty for the opportunity He had given me to be part of your life. Love might be a beautiful feeling, but it doesn’t necessarily keep a union as complicated as marriage together. I’ve had my fair share of happiness.” She then looked away, avoiding his gaze, “But this isn’t about me or us.”
With that, she went out and performed an ablution, went back in to the room and performed two raka’ats or units of nawaafil salat. She always did that, especially when there was a serious problem at hand.
Malam also left early to the mosque, before the Ladan even called the first Adhan (call to prayer) to the Fajr prayer. He usually stayed in his room during those hours to pray and recite the Holy Qur’an. But he needed the seclusion even if it were briefly, to ask Allah for forgiveness, and a slight ray of sunshine to lighten the dark and dangerous trail that made up Zainab’s life.
He wanted her to be happy, even if she never showed up at his doorsteps again.
