Fiction

Mindless Games  - Except

By

Binta Shuaibu

5

            Ahmed’s wedding was a small ceremony - to a young graduate from his faculty. He had mourned Maryam for a stretch of eighteen months and he did not want to hide beneath the pall of his grief any longer. This resolve came from his love for his little girl, Zahra, for whom he wanted to provide the stability of a home.

          Ahmed knew that Sauda, his new bride had embraced the idea of working hard to form a bond with the increasingly withdrawn Zahra. After the wedding festivities were done, he sat Zahra down and talked to her about how to respect and love her new stepmother. He spoke for a long time and when he was done, Zahra only gave him a nod. He was however surprised to come back from work days later and find Sauda straightening Zahra’s hair with a hot comb. As soon as Zahra saw him, she smiled and Ahmed knew the ice between his women was thawing. He knew also that thanks to Sauda, the sensitivity in his relations with Zahra was also warming up.

          Later that night he brought up the topic with his wife;

          “I can see that you’re getting along with Zahra? How has it been so far?”

          “I am sure with time she’ll adjust and warm up to everything, don’t worry about us Ahmed. Remember, my younger sister is just the same age as Zahra, thirteen; we’ll be fine” Sauda reassured him.

          “She has been through a lot; both of us have been through a lot. I have a lot of blame for the way she has turned out over the past year. I completely shut her out to cover my grief for Maryam and absorbed myself into my work. It used to hurt me greatly to see her,” Ahmed said, his face briefly saddening before he looked away from her.

          “Zahra needs a mother and sister and I shall try my best to fulfil the role. I’ll be glad if you could quickly put me through her routine, likes and dislikes, and everything else. I’ll take it up from there. It’ll make the job much easier. Besides, I’m glad you put in so much time into your work, otherwise how would you have noticed me?” Sauda raised a mischievous eyebrow.

          “I was your project supervisor, remember?” Ahmed smiled and moved closer to Sauda.

          “How could I forget, but we all know that you are not the type that dates your students until I bewitched you”

          Ahmed smiled and felt young at heart. Sauda reminded him so much of Maryam, and at the same time, she had her own identity. But with this girl, thoughts of Maryam did not make him sad anymore. He moved closer to her and pulled her into his arms. 

***

          Zahra sat on the front seat of her father’s car the next morning; she smiled at the sight of her father. He had the radio on and was listening to some music; he asked her to sing along which she did all the way to school. The wind blew her long tresses secured by colourful hair ribbons - gifts from Sauda. Imran and the boys remained quiet behind.

          Zahra waved back at her father with a broad smile across her lips as he waved back, his outline gradually becoming smaller as he drove out of sight. She turned around and saw Imran waiting behind her.

          “Why are you standing there?” she asked him, her expression vacant

          “I was waiting for you so that we could walk into school together,” Imran explained, his voice much deeper than the last time they spoke.

          “Why? Don’t you have your friends to walk with anymore?” Zahra asked, her voice laced with an edge.

          “I know Zahra, I’ll explain, I am sorry for everything . . . can I still come over to your house?” Imran pleaded.

          “I never stopped you from coming over . . . you simply vanished when . . . after my mother got sick,” Zahra felt her eyes tear up.

          “I know . . . and I’m sorry . . . I didn’t vanish because your mother was ill. Come I’ll explain everything to you on the way to your class,” he took a hold of her hand and wiped her tears with the other as they walked to her class.

***

          Florence had worked with the Ahmed’s for a long time now. Her aunt- late A’ba’s neighbour- had introduced her to Maryam when she came over to Kaduna from Zaria after Zahra’s birth. Maryam had looked her over thoroughly before making the decision to employ Florence as her house cleaner and cook. Florence had been cautioned by her aunt not to fail her mistress but rather to put in all her strength into doing her chores properly.

Months later, Maryam, introduced her to a lesson teacher who taught her how to read and write after her chores while the Ahmed’s were away at work. As the years rolled by, Florence’s dedication to the family that gave her a home, education and life grew strong.

          One day she stood behind the kitchen door after Ahmed had told her to retreat to the kitchen. She heard her mistress as she wept and told her husband the terrifying news of her cancer, and how she had a few months left to live. Florence stood; immobile with shock as she absorbed the details, weeping silently in the kitchen. Subsequently, as Maryam’s condition deteriorated she helped Ahmed to feed her and clean her up while Zahra was away at school.

          Now, with her departed and beloved mistress replaced by Sauda, Florence felt she had to make her place from the perspective of the new family member known most importantly to Sauda, making it clear, albeit subtly, that she would always be loyal to Maryam. With a heavy heart, she rearranged the tumblers and juice on the tray, picked it up and went in to serve Sauda and her ‘hip’ university friends.

          There was a lot of noise and shrieking coming from the living room; Florence frowned when she saw Sauda’s friends all talking at the same time, their comments all showing their marvel at their friend who had married her lecturer. Some even went over to touch Sauda’s belly to feel if she was already pregnant. Florence served the drinks and left, hiding behind the kitchen door and listening in on their conversations.

          “So how does it feel to be married to your lecturer?” asked one of the girls.

          “He used to be our lecturer, remember?” came Sauda’s voice, “It was indeed because of questions like yours that we decided not to get married before my graduation, just so that we could avoid such nosy talk. Looks like we didn’t avoid it like we should have”, Sauda added in a semi mocking tone as they all laughed.

          “You simply sit down here, doing nothing except ordering your maid to serve drinks and refreshments to guests - looks interesting,” added another. “Ni ma yakamata in dan taba aure nan - to have a taste of what it’s like!”

          Florence pursed her lips in annoyance. I should add more pepper to the soup I’ll soon be serving, she thought, that way, they know what a maid could do. Silly girls.

          “It’s not really like that. I also help with the cooking some times, especially with Ahmed’s meals even though she knows more of that than I do. Her name is Florence by the way and she has been with the family for a long time as I’m told. She’s very hard working.” Sauda said evenly.      

            Florence’s lips began to relax.

          “But why does Ahmed still have a huge picture of his late wife hanging in the living room?” asked another.

          Sauda remained quiet before she answered.

          “I would like to believe . . .” she said, hesitating, “I believe that he still loves her and misses her even though he has not said so to me. Sometimes, his body language conveys more than words could; it was so even before we got married. She died of cancer; it was slow and painful, and the whole process took a toll on Ahmed and his daughter Zahra. I can tell that he really loved her and still does in a way that is different from the way he loves me. I can feel it. I need to take one-step at a time; perhaps if she was still alive, I may not be jealous of her and now that she is no more, what need is there to compete or raise issues with the dead? Her picture can rest here for as long as it takes as I’m sure Ahmed would put her somewhere safe when the time comes, for now I am just happy with the way things are.”

          Florence’s frown broke into a smile; she was beginning to like her new mistress.

***

          Zahra woke up from the twinge she felt in her lower belly, she turned around and tried to go back to sleep but then she felt it again only that this time it had been more painful. It was seven in the morning and she had wanted to help Sauda and Florence in the kitchen with breakfast. She turned around again on her bed and lay on her belly; the hard knobs within her slightly protruding breasts made her position worst, the lumpy feeling within as though they had been suspended in a jelly mass; she shifted places and her chest throbbed in a dull pain. She moved her hand and reached down to touch her belly; she pressed down hard and felt some relief. Her fingers slightly brushed down on the curly hair below her belly. The relief gave her some few minutes of sleep before the pain came back in full force. She came down from the bed and knelt down on the carpet, her breath short and heavy as she held on to her broadening hips.

          And there she saw for the first time, as she looked up at her stained bed sheet, that her fingers were smeared with brown and red thick stains.

***

          Sauda and Ahmed sat down at the table and began to eat their breakfast.

          “How was the ante-natal clinic yesterday? Was Pamela helpful?” Ahmed inquired.

          “It was okay and Pamela was more than helpful even though she’s stationed at the paediatric unit. Told me to extend her regards and that she’ll soon pay us a visit,” Sauda said, taking a mouthful of scrambled eggs. Ahmed remained quiet. Sauda decided to continue the discussion from a different angle. “I still don’t understand why women at the ante-natal clinic are being made to sing those horrible songs before the clinical sessions commence? It’s so irritating.”

          Sauda saw Ahmed’s face loosen, the tension gone as a slight smile played on his lips.

          “I can see that the hormones are beginning to take over you my dear: take it easy. Are you still going to the hairdressers with Zahra today? Speaking of which, where is she? I hope she is still not in bed at this time. Could you go and wake her up?” Ahmed asked.

          Sauda stood up and headed for Zahra’s room

          Sauda entered Zahra’s room and saw her on the floor holding her lower belly and moaning in pain. She looked over at the bed and saw the sheets stained with blood. She closed the door and helped Zahra unto a cleaner part of the bed. She went out and came back with a pain reliever and a glass of water which she made Zahra to take. Minutes later, she noticed that Zahra’s face had relaxed, an indication that the intensity of the pain had reduced. She helped her out of her nightgown and into the bathroom where she instructed Zahra to have a warm bath and then she closed the door to give her some privacy.

          Sauda came back to the room and changed the sheets, taking the stained ones out with her to give to Florence before she went back to inform Ahmed that his little girl was no longer a little woman.  

***

          Imran checked his time: it was ten in the morning. He picked up his scrabble board and headed for Zahra’s. They had made an appointment to play scrabble in the morning, a game she had always beaten him at with words he had never heard of but had turned out to be indeed in existence whenever he cross-checked with a dictionary. He met Zahra’s father outside

          “Ina kwana, Good morning” Imran greeted

          Ahmed remained quiet. Imran tried again.

          “Ina kwana”

          Ahmed turned around slowly and looked at Imran before he answered.

          “Lafiya, Imran. Is there any problem?”

          “No, just came to play some scrabble with Zahra” Imran said.

“She has gone out with Sauda,” Ahmed lied. “Should you be playing games? Don’t you have your exams coming up soon?”

          “Yes, I do, sir,” answered Imran, as he scratched his head in confusion, puzzled at Ahmed’s coolness.

          “Then you should go and study, not play games. Zahra will also study when she gets back”

          “Okay then, bye.” And Imran left, his brows creasing in confusion when he saw Sauda’s profile on the inside from the living room window he had passed.

          Why was Zahra’s father preventing him from seeing her? He wondered.

***

          Zahra woke up and saw Sauda standing at the doorway of her room. She watched her close the door behind her and Zahra slowly sat up on the bed, she had no idea for how long she had slept but her body was stronger than it had been earlier that morning.

          “How do you feel now? Better?” Sauda asked, she sat on the stool next to the dresser. Zahra nodded.

          “What you experienced this morning is called your monthly period or menses as the old fashioned would like to call it,” Sauda began to explain slowly with a gesture of her hand towards Zahra.

          Zahra let out a little laugh, goose pimples appeared all over her skin and she drew the blanket closer to her chest; the conversation now put her in an awkward state. Sauda continued, “I am sure that this is not the first time you have heard of it. You must have being taught about it in school, am I right?”

          “Yes, I have being taught about it in school. It’s not as easy as they made it sound”.

          “No, it isn’t. But, it gets easier with time. Here, come closer, let me show you how to anticipate your next period.” Sauda stood up and sat on the bed next to Zahra. “You begin to count from the day you start your period through to the next twenty-eight days. The twenty-eighth day would be the day your next period should start, give or take a day or two as you grow older. Now, on the fourteenth day you may or may not experience pain similar to the same you felt today.”

Zahra’s eyes widened in horror and Sauda laughed at her naïveté.

“Don’t be afraid, it’s not as bad as it sounds or as bad as what you felt today. So, on the fourteenth day, one of your ovaries would release an egg, a process that may cause you some slight discomfort. Therefore, you would require some pain medication for that day and most likely for the entire duration of your monthly period as well. Your ‘period’ . . . as we would like to call it back at school . . .” Sauda mocked, and Zahra laughed. “. . . could last between three to seven days, so let me know once you notice that the blood is replaced with a brown paste and I’ll teach you how to have a cleansing bath according to Islamic rites. You should also know that for the periodic time you’ll be on your period, you are religiously excused from the five daily prayers or fasting during the month of Ramadan or any obligatory fast. Smile Zahra, don’t whimper in pain, men do not have such privileges!” They both laughed.

          “The most important thing here also is that you keep away from boys and men altogether.  The trickiest of them are boys around your age for now or those slightly older. Men on the other hand can be quite misleading. Therefore, Zahra, it is of the utmost importance that you guard your pureness and virginity because those are sacred. Once robbed of those, you can never retrieve them no matter how hard you try. It would be like crying over spilt milk. I’ll leave you with a copy of this book: it’s called ‘Everywoman’, read through it as I know you love to read books and ask me any question you might find confusing in there, Okay”

          “Okay, thank you” Zahra said, her voice sounding more vibrant than before. She took the book from Sauda and after a moment of brief hesitation, wrapped her arms around her in an embrace.

          Sauda held on to Zahra for a long time, her protruding tummy preventing them from locking in closer, touched by Zahra’s gesture of trust and tenderness. She later pulled away, and told Zahra to come out for dinner soon.    

***

          Time flew by with ease as Sauda gave birth almost exactly nine months after the wedding. Ahmed named the boy Hisam. Meanwhile, Sauda’s bond with Zahra grew stronger. Zahra had just having turned fourteen.

          Hisam was a happy child who gurgled with glee around his big sister, his affection for Zahra evident. Hisam slept in a separate room because Ahmed was agitated with the baby’s crying at night. Zahra found herself sometimes with Hisam in her arms, as she often sneaked into his room to comfort him when he cried at night. It had been a long time since there was a baby in the house, since Zahra had been an infant to be precise, and Ahmed found it hard to adjust. On one of those days the crying was so much that Zahra thought he had fallen ill and although she tried her best to pacify Hisam, he would not stop. She decided to wake up Sauda, but before she could knock on the door to their bedroom, she heard strange clamouring coming from the room.

          She smiled, remembering some of the books she had read that described sexual encounters and hazarded a guess as to what she was hearing but the crying baby would not let her dwell on such thoughts, the crying became even more deafening with each passing moment.

          Zahra knocked loudly so that they could hear her while rocking Hisam in her arms, trying to get him to stop crying. The noise from the bedroom stopped, some whispering and furtive movements heard, and then Zahra spoke.

          “Hisam will not stop crying Mama, I think he’s sick,” Zahra continued to shake Hisam.

          Seconds later, Sauda emerged drenched in sweat with a wrapper tied around the chest and took Hisam from Zahra’s arms.

          “Thank you,” she said with a smile, adding “You can go back to sleep now”. She closed the door and went back into the room.

          As the months rolled by, Zahra thought of her mother often and wondered where she might be now- definitely in heaven, she felt. She had slowly transformed into a spitting image of her mother; with the same smile- perhaps that was the reason why her dad would stare at her intently sometimes.

          Zahra hid her budding upper body beneath a bra and a vest before putting on the school shirt; she had gotten very shy and uncomfortable at school for the past few months. Her breasts had become fuller and her hips boarder, as was normal for a maturing young woman. The progress of growth was evident with even little Hisam growing up so quickly and developing a new habit of hiding her things away where she could never find them. She spent most of her time with him after school beneath the eucalyptus or neem tree with Imran.

          Zahra still cherished the moments she spent with Imran. She stared at him as he helped her watch Hisam. She smiled at him as he looked up from Hisam, who was playing with some carton contraption.

          “Congratulations on your exams. Which university have you applied to?” Zahra asked.

          “Obafemi Awolowo University, Ife,” Imran beamed, then a guarded expression crossed his face as he got ready for what he anticipated: Zahra’s verbal attack.

          “What?! Why are you going all the way down there?”

          “Because, my father’s contract would be over soon and he could be posted back to Lagos. So, with the university at Ife, I would just be a few hours away from my family. But, my second choice is here, at Zaria, that way I don’t have to change my environment. You’ll be going to the university too here isn’t it?”

          “Of course, where else would I go to? I’ll always be here, home sweet home”.

          “I’ll be going to Lagos with my mother for two weeks and will use the opportunity to see for myself if I’d really like to attend a university around there. If I don’t, I’ll simply just stay here, in Zaria”

          They had reached Zahra’s gate and she saw her father removing a twenty five-litre plastic keg from the trunk of his car. She walked in with Imran and they greeted him before she took Hisam back and went into the house.

          Late that night as the house was silent, everyone deeply asleep and wandering in the plains of their dreams, she wondered at mysteries the outside world held. Inchoate images and disconnected thoughts swirled within her head.

***

          Sauda watched Ahmed as he got into bed, exhausted.

          “It’s Friday, a half day’s work, how come you’re so tired?”

          “I have been on the fuel queue for three hours and I could still not get fuel. Barely got the car to bring me back home, had to buy twenty five-litre black market petrol”.

          “I thought the petrol sold at black markets is mostly adulterated? Hope it won’t leave you with an engine problem at the end”.

          “I hope so too, as I won’t use it until Monday morning to take Zahra to school and for me to be able to go to the office. It’s safely stored in the garage or would you prefer Florence to move it outside in the morning?”

          “In the garage?! That is suicide, and dangerous. Ah, Florence: I almost forgot, she went home on a family emergency this morning, her ailing aunt wanted to see her. I told her to take the week off.”

          “Oh, in that case, don’t worry about anything, this is Winston avenue, I can personally assure you that it’s safe” and he drifted off to sleep.

Front Page | Fiction Index | Page 1/1

Top of page