MY HOME! MY CAREER!!! – Episode 16

As-salaamu’alykum warahmatullah wabarakaatuhu readers! I’ve been known for my disappointment and I know. Still I’ll always beg for your pardon. Life jes hasn’t been easy as I still have to earn my keep. So I’m very sorry!
Now to my true fans: As you’ve known that this is my third online uploaded story and the first two weren’t uploaded completely for the fear that you guys won’t patronise my published book when they are out – after all, you’ve read it all online! Or might be pirated. While I’ve gotten many comments and pleas concerning this; people who are assuring me that even when they read it all online, they are still buying my book when it’s out. Even though my main aim is daw’ah and for Allah’s sake, people who are investing also have to earn their profit and if more is getting to my own pocket too, I may become a full-time writer cos to be honest, I have a lot for you!
So with MY HOME! MY CAREER!, I’m performing an experiment and the outcome will determine if you are seeing the next episode or not. I want your suggestion or opinion about this; simply send me a message on my e-mail: kafayatolubukola94@gmail.com. For follow up, you can visit my facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/jayeobagal/
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MIKHAIL

Finally freeing the tears, they slip through the innocent face uncontrollably, sending rays of ache to my heart. I’m not sure of how to comfort her; should I pat her on the back, wipe off her tears with my hand, draw her closer for an hug? No! She is another man’s wife and a non mahram to me, even a strand of her hair I must not touch. My staying alone with her in the vehicle isn’t only uncomfortable but has also been on alert. What will be her husband’s reaction if he ever witness this scene?… But I’m only giving her listening ears and figuratively, a shoulder to cry on – the precious character every husband must possess! Women love to be listened to, even if their whining is baseless. But no matter how convincing these excuses might sound, they can’t be used to justify my transgression. No man should sit alone with a woman who is not related to him, that was the instruction of the best of mankind. Therefore, this is total transgression!
“Madam, what do you now want me to do for you? How can I help you?” I gently ask, showing great concern.
“I… I…” her voice shaking, she sniffs, “I really don’t know. I just think I should talk to someone and I thought of no one except you. Hearing this, others would mock me. They would scoff me behind my back, saying isn’t my husband doing enough? Yes, he is really doing enough! He opened one of the biggest shopping mall for me, he is very good at transferring money into my account even when I least expect it but money isn’t everything brother Mikhail. Money won’t husband me, will it? This is the eleventh year I’ve gotten married to him, no child! How will I even have a child when he barely spends a month with me? I’ve held it in since these years. People think I’m still happy despite my childlessness but I’m not! I’ve just been living an ironic life…”
Here we go again, I heave a sigh.
“…look at me brother Mikhail, I’ve clocked 40 this year… He prefers staying with that old woman and his children outside the country to staying with me. Maybe because I’m childless. There are times I even think he will never return to me…”
Again, she bursts into tears.
“See madam, the conclusion you’ve drawn is groundless. You introduced me to your husband and for the mean time I’ve been working for him, I’ve known him not to be that kind of man. Perhaps, he has more business over there than here. Perhaps… Whatever reason it might be, you shouldn’t think he cares less for you. We men are sometimes like that, we don’t say it when we care even most times, we refuse to put it to action, all because of our ego. Also, I don’t want you to be self-absorbed. Instead I’ll like you to introspect; what have you been doing to keep your man by your side? What have you been doing that makes him want to leave earlier always? Allah has already created you women in a way that you can tame your man to your desire. You are naturally endowed with the charm to enthrall your man whenever you wish. But many of you fail to realize that or let me say you are also affected by ego because you would think by doing that, you are stopping so low and beyond, which can never favour you because that’s what can soften our own hearts and make us become tender loving care. Even when you ingratiate yourself with us, though we would know, we will still appreciate… This isn’t about your childlessness madam, if it is, then he would have gone long ago and I’m very sure he is worried as much as you are. You are still beautiful madam, you also possess so many characteristics to make your husband stay and justify between you and your  co-wife. What has been your action towards him whenever he is around? Do you also have time for him?  Do you treat him like a king? How have you been making him feel the difference whenever he is home with you? Do not loose hope in your Lord madam, all you need to do is to keep praying and I’m very sure Allah will bless you very soon. You are special to your husband as much as your co-wife, so do not think otherwise. Give yourself a peace of mind, eat good food and rest whenever your body requests for it. Chairman will soon come home, think about yourself and what you want alone. Verily you shall soon laugh.”
Her face tearstained, assuredly, she looks at me straight in the eyes with unintended endearment. It’s now becoming more uncomfortable that my heart wants to pick up a race… Verily this is zina of the eyes! I have to leave now.
“Madam…”
“Are you sure if I stop worrying I will conceive?”
Of all I’ve said, she could only grab that?… I just have to leave.
“I only know Allah answers prayers of whoever call unto Him sincerely. Increase your act of worships, pray tahjud (night prayer), give more charity, be good to people especially your relatives, neighbours and children… The time has gone madam, you need to return home.”
“Home? Okay…” she sighs, putting on the melancholic expression, “you also have to return home because I’m sure your wife will be waiting for you. But as for me, I’m a lone bird. I have no one to wait for neither do I have anyone to wait for me.”
“Stop worrying madam. I would have loved to drive you home but as you’ve said, my wife would have been worried because I’ve told no one my whereabout…”
Out of the blue, my phone rings.
“That should be your wife. You can go now, my own house isn’t far from here.” she suggests.
Definitely not my wife – this evening, I brought a new sim card of another network which is known for its regular call-promo, to keep in touch with Iya Awa as often as not. From what I’ve learnt in life, people tend to modify their ways of living when there is persistent external force that won’t just leave them alone. Most of us aren’t raised to be good or religious, but along the way we meet that thing or that person that logically compel us to be. Even though every heart is in Allah’s hand for He alone has the key of control, we are still asked to encourage goodness and forbid evil in each other.
“You should go now madam.”
She nods continuously.
Getting off the car, “I’ll only go after you’ve gone. So put off the sad mood and have a good night rest.”
She nods again and drives off.

Driving back home, holding the earpiece to my left ear, I converse with Iya Awa who I’ve now known to be Nasroh by name. Just like an onion, each time we talk, I discover new things about her. As my wife has done while seeking admission into the university, she has also learnt tailoring but unlike my wife, she did the tailoring job for a while even after her college program. I like it when a woman endeavour to be independent; the only way she can be strong to stand whenever the world hurls its turds at her…
“As-salaamu’alykum warahmatullah wabarakaatuhu” entering the sitting room, I greet.
I get no response. I’ve known everyone would have slept and as I’ve expected, here is dormant Azeezah waiting for her prodigal husband on a single-seater. Tapping her once, I realize how tired she must have been so I stoop to carry her. As if she knows I’m carrying her, she clings unto me tighter and passionately. It’s been a while, she weighs lighter. And up the stairs, I trudge, counting every steps and appreciating every moment she is spending in my arms. Undressing, I want to interrupt the sound peaceful sleep and invite her over to my love garden tonight but instead I lay her gently like a baby and watch the beautiful glowing face till I also start catching some z’s.
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Hurtling down the stairs, furiously mumbling my discontent in her early morning assertion incoherently – why do women think like snails? I wonder if their thinking faculty can be measured up the tse-tse fly’s, mosquitoe’s or even bedbug’s. What’s going on with me? – Absolutely nothing, I’ve been my humble self as ever! Who is Iya Awa? – just her call she saw, which isn’t enough to raise such loud suspicion. I’m a business man and an expert, anyone can call me anytime, anyday! What’s wrong with that? Nasroh is just a pathetic woman I’m trying to help. And I’ve only been keeping it from her basically to avoid this kind of unnecessary obscene suspicion, to save her from the stress of the emotional sensation of insecurity. All for her own good! Is she the woman I went to meet last night? – of course not! Who on earth can help me tell Azeezah that there are many deplorable women on this earth? Women who only have husbands and not partners. Women whose matrimony are in jeopardy because of some kind of irrational reasons. May Allah safeguard us and our marital lives.
After the morning adhkar, I pick up a Qur’an to read when the memory returns to me that Nasroh has called me this morning. Checking the time of her call history, my eyebrows draw together by immediate perturbation – it was so early, why has she called? I quickly close the Qur’an and return it to the masjid shelf where I’ve picked it up. Then I start dialing her number which keeps repeating that it has been switched off… My stomach growls and I feel some pain around my abdomen.
“Wait! Did I eat supper yesterday?” I murmur, asking no one but myself.
“Oh no!…”
On the verge of rushing home, my phone rings; Abbey is calling and I receive.
“Ògá, where are you?” he asks.
“I’m in the masjid, going home. Hope no problem?”
“Iya Awa called me, in fact her call woke me this morning. She was crying saying one of her daughter was rushed to the hospital during the night and she needs immediate surgery which will require them some amount of money…”
Interrupting his sentence, “no wonder I saw her calls, but missed them. How is she now? Hope she has gotten the money?”
“She hasn’t o ògá. She also told me you weren’t picking when she called you. I’m on my way to the hospital, I could only get five thousand naira for her which I know can’t get her to anywhere.”
Instantly, I’ve started thinking of how to get her the money. My first salary in the automobile company will be paid next week and the surgery won’t wait till then. The salary of two hundred thousand naira which I’ve budgeted to give from it to Azeezah for the housekeep and liberate Nasroh herself from the burden of debt so she can start living her life freely like a bird. My other means of earning are transportation business and my workshop but as Azeezah has helped in planning, those are used to settle the monthly mortgage for our house while my co-operative loan is scheduled for next month.
I sigh, “Honestly, I also don’t have any means now. But let’s see. Where is the hospital so I can meet you there?”
He describes the location of the hospital and I also set off. The only way now is to borrow from my wife. But how? Because I rarely do that. Not long ago I borrowed for Ummy which I haven’t returned. Let’s say the shopping costs is for the family, I can pay that when I’m at utmost ease. What if this time she asks what the money is meant for? I won’t be able to explain neither would I lie. To her, I suppose to be the best of husband and not a deceit.
At the hospital, inside the child’s ward, Nasroh wearily reclines against the wall – she has given up her chair for me to sit. An old woman who is introduced to me as the mother of the child’s father is sitting close to the child’s bed. Beside me is also Abbey, lopping on my chair. Silence dominates as each and everyone is thinking of getting a sum of seventy five thousand naira only as quick as possible for the child’s appendicitis operation – she has said to be in severe pain since yesterday night and only resting now after given an injection.
For the mother and grandmother, it has been so hectic. And the irresponsible father is said to be nonchalant about it. Tears won’t stop rolling down the mother’s cheek as she keeps repeating that her daughter mustn’t die. Her daughter, Awaw!
Abbey calls me aside, asking if my wife can be of any help. And I explain to him how I’ve owed her a lot of money.
“But she is your wife, her property is yours! Moreover apart from the money you borrowed for your mother, others are spent on the family. Isn’t it? She is playing her own part as the wife and mother, you don’t need to return that ògá. As the popular yorùbá cliche says that Àyáàsan ni owó olólùfé (money lent from partner isn’t meant to be paid back).” he expresses.
“Abbey, do you want to know the secret behind a man’s prosperity? It is to squarely face and fulfil his responsibility as the father and husband. Islam has expatiate everything to us and we have a good role model to follow. My wife’s property is hers and not mine, point of correction.  The responsibility is mine to fulfil and not hers except I’m incapable of doing it which isn’t the case on ground. More so, I borrowed the money and promised to pay her back, she didn’t willingly give me; not a gift! So I have to return her money.” I explain.
He breathes in and out, “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m like totally ignorant about principle of Islam especially on marital affairs. I don’t know what else we can do to help this woman” he concludes and we return to them.
My wife’s name and number appear on my phone’s screen, she is calling. Oh! She must have been worried, today is Sunday which she has promised to spend with me. But how can I enjoy my stay with her when someone’s daughter is dying here?… I seek an excuse and go outside to receive.
Dropping the call, I mop back to the ward – what’s wrong with Azeezah these days? She makes decision and executes it without seeking my consent even after I’ve warned her. Doesn’t she know that is an innuendo to me as her husband?
“Ògá, what’s wrong?” Abbey whispers into my ears after I’ve sat down.
I want to talk but seeing Nasroh paying attention, I shake my head, telling him nothing is wrong.
A nurse enters and asks if the father of the child has arrived. Nasroh shakes her head in reply, tears streaming down her cheeks. The grandma pacifying her with words from where she sits.
“Don’t kill yourself with cry this woman. It won’t solve anything but complicates it.”
Then she turns to me, “babaà mi (my dear), please help us see the doctor on his father’s behalf. I’ve accepted my own faith, please I don’t want to be seeing Nasira hurting more.”
Abbey looks at me, encouraging me to go. Then I follow the nurse to the doctor’s office.
After formal introduction, he asks why the money hasn’t been paid as the child is in severe pain. I explain to him my plan to help the mother and my expectations. So he brings out to me a form to fill and sign, promising to pay the money as soon as I receive my salary. We shake hands and the surgery is scheduled to commence as soon as possible. Saving a life is like saving the humanity. Alhamdulillah! I save a life today.
When I return to the ward, I explain to everyone what has transpired between the doctor and I and immediately, the old woman and Nasroh kneel before me, expressing every words of appreciation. Abbey and I try to urge them to get up but they insist on saying everything while kneeling. How can I explain to these ignorant people that kneeling is for Allah and not me? Then I threaten to leave if they insist, they quickly get up…
A woman rushes in, “I’ve seen twenty thousand naira, where is the doctor’s office.”
The grandma explains the progressive situation to her and she also attempts to kneel in gratitude but quickly stopped by her sister. Then I ask them not to kneel for me because Allah is the only one worthy of such submission.
“Instead you should thank Allah and say Jazaakallahu khairan to me, which means, may Allah reward me with goodness.”
Then they repeat, “Jazaakallahu khairan.”
“Aameen, Wa antum fajazaakumullah khairan.”
They all grin. Happiness evolving more on Nasroh’s face.
She taps her sister at the back and whispers into her ear but I have a longer ear, I can hear everything.
“You don’t need to do that Nasroh. Do not deposit any money because I’ve filled a form and signed. You can keep that money for the necessary drugs to be administered after the operation.”
They smile and thank me again. So, this woman can smile today!
I’m now left alone, Abbey has gone back home after receiving his wife’s call. Where can I spend the rest of my day?

I return home. Bread and cocoa tea waiting for me on the dining table, I’m about to start devouring when I think of punishing Azeezah for what she has done – she was promising as if the whole of today will be no one’s but mine alone. Though reasonably, she has to satisfy her children but what about me? I’m the only person who is going to feel her absence most! Has she ever sat to think about that?
Now, I’ve got to think of myself alone for a while. I also want to feel the happiness of being egoistical. So I dump her food and opt to cook noodles for myself. Afterwards, I wash all the cooking utensils I have used so as to leave a sour taste in her mouth. I wash up, put on one of my nicest native dress and set out to meet Akhy AbdulWaheed whom I’ve called and has sent me the description of where he is – I’ve known he would never stay at home.

Even though the gathering is filled mostly with indolent men who spend most of their days playing games, reading newspapers, talking about football and politics, wining and dinning together, it still seem fascinating enough to while away today. The merriment, the mirth and the laughter make it lively and worthy.
As the overall giggling dying, brother AbdulWaheed raises his gaze at me. As if I’ve known what will come next – the question I’ve been expecting since which I know won’t elude me.
“Akhy Mikhail, this is very unlike you. This is past 5 and on Sunday particularly. Have you been sent out from home?” he asks, hilariously.
They laugh at me and I feel embarrassed. How can I be sent out from my own house? Maybe the question is just to get me talking of my home but in the midst of who? These irresponsible men? What possible advice will they give me?
“Well! It’s my house, no one can exile me. I just feel like spending today out, is it bad to do so.”
“It’s not bad my brother. Sitting with those women at home brings men nothing but irreverence.” says a man whose whole face is almost covered with tribal marks.
A man with a bushy hair, who looks like a learned man contributes, “irrevocable contemptuous irreverence!…”
“Hn!…” exclaims another man wearing only agbádá (ample male traditional wear) on a short, “English man!”
He continues, “…not only the wives, even the children. Firstly, you will loose your domineering capability. Secondly, your ratiocination is going to be reduced to rubble. Man! You won’t be able to think far, your exposure will be limited. Then you will start to behaving like a woman. Don’t think we are lackadaisical by sitting here…”
The youngest man in the midst cuts him short, “Imagine last week Sunday I intended to rest at home, my wife brought a bunch of ewédú (drawing soup plant) to me asking me to quickly help her to pluck the leaves simply because I helped her in picking beans the night before the day.”
“Wait young men please!” this from Brother AbdulWaheed, “my friend still hasn’t talked. You see, this brother Mikhail you are looking at, is a kind of man who will never leave his house to sit idly here especially on Sunday when his beloved wife will be at home. What’s wrong my brother?”
I smile, “nothing! They all went for shopping and I’m also out on my own. So what’s wrong with that?”
“That stated reason is enough to know something is wrong. I don’t know what’s wrong with you sunnah brothers, you tend to misinterpret the be-kind-to-your-wife moral instruction to servitude. I have one beside my house, he would fetch water and even go to market for his wife?” says the man in agbádá.
Some condemningly shake their heads.
What is this man saying? What does this have to do with the matter on ground?
“I know you won’t talk…” says brother AbdulWaheed, “anyway, how is your wife. I think I need to see her for something. There was this girl… now woman though…” he puts on a mischievous grin, “she was her friend back then. I saw her recently, she appeared unmarried so I want to enquire if they are still in touch.”
Shaking my head, “you want to marry her too?… Anyway, after today, you will only be able to see my wife next month. She is going abroad on a business trip.”
“She is going or has gone? No wonder!…” he bursts into laughter, “wait akhy, is she going with her handsome boss that came to your workshop that day?… Subhanallah! Akhy, it’s high time you started planning for thaniyyah so one woman won’t increase your blood pressure.”
He continues laughing while others are putting in their jestful words. I’m tired already, as well as frustrated. However, I still don’t want to leave now, not until it’s almost maghrib time so I can stay in the masjid till after isha prayer… Even if my wife is going with her boss, should there be any cause for alarm? After all they spend almost all day together… But shouldn’t I worry if it is really so? Suddenly, I become nervously agitated. I’ve never thought of it and she has never talked about it. Apart from her elegant personality, my wife is a woman of great cultivation which could impress any son or daughter of Adam. But his boss is a non Muslim while she is a cautious woman who has loved me even when I was nobody, the woman who even turned down the proposal of her school ameer who was also a rich Islamic law student; just to be mine in the end. Her deen, faith, taqwa (fear of Allah) and goal as a Muslim woman…
“If you are having problem with the trust you have in your wives, keep it to yourself and do not judge others with it akhy. I trust my own wife and I’m not ready to take in another one…”
Remembering I still have to check on Nasroh’s daughter at the hospital – good timing! I stand,
“Please I have to leave. As-salaamu’alykum!”
The bushy head man holds my hand as I’m about to leave, “there is no need to get so worked up over this. Your brother is simply concerned so do not be solicitous about it. The day is still young, stay a bit longer.”
Others also contribute, mostly asking me not to get angry and stay longer. But this brother AbdulWaheed’s face is blank as his silence, he folds his arms and continues looking at me. Then I have to tell them I’m no more angry but I still have to leave because I want to stop by a hospital to check on a sick child. Then I become free and leave.

The operation was successfully done and the child, Awaw is sleeping peacefully. After getting assured that everything is fine, I drive off to the usual masjid where I pray, very near my house.

On my way home, Ummy calls and I put on my earpiece.
“As-salaamu’alykum mother.”
“Don’t mother me, you can’t even call me. It’s been more than a week I heard from you, can you do that to your wife?”
“Ummy I’ve told you to stop comparing yourself with my wife. You are two different people in my life… I’m very sorry, I was just occupied. Will you now reply my teslim?”
“Wahlykum salam, how are my kids? Hope everyone is fine? Is Azeezah there? Give her the phone, let me greet her.”
“So you just have the chance to greet your daughter-in-law ever since. Ummy, this isn’t fair you know that.”
“I was also occupied so give her the phone.”
“Anyway, I’m driving. I’ll call you when I get home.”
“That will be tomorrow then because I’m about to sleep.”
“Oh I’m sorry, you won’t be able to reach her tomorrow. She has to go on a trip overseas, for her company.”
“You mean America? Ehhh… So she is traveling to make more money while you babysit the kids for her? For how long will she be gone?”
I heave a sigh – another frustrating comment, “Ummy, I am the husband! I’m not babysitting anyone for anyone…” I exhale through my mouth, “her sister is around to take care of them. Can you please stop minding her for a while?”
“OK o. since her sister is there, I think I have to send your brother too. He will be through with his examination tomorrow and has been disturbing me to get him an apartment. You know, as a university student, I also think he needs more befitting environment…”
I become psyched up as she talks. My brother staying at where? My house? Under the same roof with my wife? – a brother whom I barely know. The last time I saw him, he placed his Jean trouser on his buttocks, revealing his underwear pant – the popular style known as sagging. Although I corrected and admonished him, who knows if he yielded. And why does he want an apartment of his own when he is still fully dependent?
Even Hafsoh stays is already a thorn on my own flesh which I’ve got no choice for and now my brother? Then I’ll be choked by overcrowding!
“Ummy, Habeeb can’t come here please. You know our house isn’t bigger than that.” I say, in a persuasive tone.
“Why can’t your own blood when your wife’s sister is there?”
“Hasfsoh is only here for the mean time, maybe two weeks, till my wife returns. She isn’t here on pleasure but to help!… Let’s do this then, I’ll send you money to get him the apartment he wants when I have it. So please ummy, do not bring this up again.”
“Heard you o. Please don’t forget my allowance too.”
“It’s okay…”
We exchange pleasantries, asking about her health and ibaadah before ending the call.
Now home. Azeezah is the only one in the sitting room but I’m hearing the kids rampaging and giggling with Hafsoh, they must be rough-playing. We exchange teslim and she leaves for the kitchen while I head to the dining. My abandoned food is still there untouched and without no one reprimanding me, I feel remorseful. I want to utter the words ‘I’m sorry’ to her as she packs it to the kitchen and replace it with hot àmàlà with ewédú and ègúsí soup accommodating two big sliced fish, looking inviting!
My head hangs on my palm, I stare at the food, avoiding to see the look on her face, I almost curse myself. Immediately after serving me, she leaves for upstairs without a single word. My eyes straining after her, my mouth agape, my hands clenching – is she angry or what? For what? I should be the angry man here! She made a promise and broke it, not even single call I saw!
“No… No… No! I won’t tolerate this. We’ve just started, let’s see the first person to be exhausted.” I murmur.
Hafsoh down the stairs, she says tasleem to me and I respond, watching her entering the room I’ve thought of secluding myself.
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Note of the chapter: Narrated Ibn ‘Abbas: I did not see anything so resembling minor sins as what Abu Huraira said from The Prophet (may peace be upon him), who said, “Allah has written for the son of Adam his inevitable share of adultery whether he is aware of it or not: The adultery of the eye is the looking (at something which is sinful to look at), and the adultery of the tongue is to utter (what it is unlawful to utter), and the innerself wishes and longs for (adultery) and the private parts turn that into reality or refrain from submitting to the temptation.” (Sahih Al Bukhari)
“It is not (attributable to) Allah that He should lead a people astray after He has guided them; He even makes clear to them what they should guard against; surely Allah knows all things.” (Qur’an 9:115)
“…help one another in goodness and piety, and do not help one another in sin and aggression; and be careful of (your duty to) Allah; surely Allah is severe in requiting (evil)” (Qur’an 5:2)