MY HOME! MY CAREER!!! – Episode 19

As-salaamu’alykum warahmatullah wabarakaatuhu my brethren fi Deen. Thanks for reading and please do not forget to drop your comments, they mean a lot to me! Are you reading this story for the first time? Looking for the first episode, then do not worry bi iznillah. Just tap here

                            AZEEZAH

Letting my worries aside, I laugh subduedly with the old man, my stomach compresses until I feel I can’t breathe anymore. On the seat beside me, the old man also giggles.
“That’s just it Azeezah! I disqualified everyone and picked only the young man. Some said they couldn’t help the old woman because they were anxiously waiting for the interview. Some said they were afraid their clothes would get stained… Series of excuses! Not knowing that was the end stage of the interview.”
“You should know it’s funny sir. I can’t just imagine you dressing like a woman, carrying crates of eggs and stumbling before those applicants.” Clapping my hands, “it sounds awful but it’s awesome!”
He grins, “Thank you my dear. You should know in this industry, we have to hire for attitude and train for skill! We deal with money my dear. We need total honesty and diligence. Skill level can be changed through training but attitude my dear…” Shaking his head, “…you can’t make a leopard change its spots.”
“Sure! Even my religion says good character is half of religion.” I nod.
“Now tell me, what do you, as an individual, see as good industrial attitude?”
My hands in motion as I talk, “I think someone is said to have good industrial attitude if he or she is confident enough, enthusiastic without being obnoxious, and not a sadist, eager to help, enjoy working with people, likes learning new things, demonstrate initiative and ready to accept responsibility. Also do not blame others for his mistake.”
“Really! But how will you know all these? It isn’t written on applicants faces.”
I shrug, “it’s simple. Simply ask questions like ‘why are you interested in the job? Do you have any business life success story? How did you achieve that?…”
He giggles, “some people are endowed with sweetcandy-quoted mouth. You’ll always hear truth whereas they are lying. That’s why we have to add practicals. Like that one I did. Take down their addresses, meet their families and friends anonymously, even on their social media world.”
Convincingly, I nod. “You’re smart sir. I still have a lot to learn.”
“Just a few more to learn, not a lot! You are also smart Azeezah. I respect you and I hope you can do more. We need women like you at the top in this country. Do you like politics?”
Curiously I ask, “are you also a politician?”
“No. I’m a businessman, a tycoon. So I know and associate with almost every politicians in this country. None I would give my recommendation about you that would reject it.”
I shake my head, “no sir, I’m not interested in politics…”
Interrupted by the radio’s voice, “brace for impact… Brace for impact.” I reach for my belt.
“We are landing madam.” Says to me, one of the cabin crew, “assume brace position. Use your seatbelt.”
The radio continues, counting numbers which I think are for the descending altitude. “…10 – retard… Retard… Retard…”
The impact is felt, as the plane lands, moving fast on the runway till slowly, it comes stop. Disembarking on the tarmac, finally, we’re back to home – Nigeria!

I’ve told no one that I’m coming home this early, boarding time changed. Even if it didn’t change, is there anyone to pick me up from the airport? I give off a snicker… My husband who supposed to do so is there wherever he is, caring not about my return. A friend? Who is that friend of his that could keep him out of his family for a night? Or… Is it that woman? Oh Azeezah! Stop going crazy… You shouldn’t go crazy! This is just a conjecture, calm down. I sough, letting out a deep breath…
“Azeezah! Hope no problem?” She briefly stares at me, then turns her gaze back on the road.
I shake my head and respond softly, “Nothing.”
If not for Lateefah – who has been at the airport to pick up my boss but was turned down – I would have stood there, foolishly expecting my husband before resolving to taking taxi.
“Don’t you think my boss is going crazy?” Lateefah glimpses at me, “he clearly texted me yesterday night to come and pick him up at exactly 6 a.m. Why did he text his friend at the same time?”
I stare at her incredulously, “really?”
She looks at me briefly, eyebrows crease to frown. “Don’t tell me you don’t believe me. I’m not that obsessed with him!”
“I see!”
She brings out her phone from her purse and throws it on my lap, “check my inbox.”
Really! The message is there but why did he denied sending such message? “Maybe he made a mistake.”
“Or he was drunk!” she adds
We break into sniggers. I don’t know what they were up to yesterday night, he might really be drunk.
“Thank God you’re finally laughing. What’s wrong Azeezah? You look pathetic?”
Looking sideway, blankly through screen. I choose not to reply her because if I do, I can cry.
“Azeezah! But why was your husband not there? He supposed to be the one to pick you up, right?” She asks again.
“He is not around.” I manage to reply.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“If so, then tell me about your voyage. Your exploration. I need full gist.”
“Please I’m so tired Lateefah. Another time please.”
Silence takes over the mood. I try not to think. Please Azeezah, do not think! You are almost home and won’t want your children to see you devastated.

I take them by surprise; they all rush out as they hear a car driving into the compound. Straight onto my neck, Khalid jumps, his forehead almost knock my mouth. Maa’sha’Allah! He is now stronger. While Nusaybah holding on tight onto my legs as if she wants to enter me, she screams happiness. I feel ecstatic. Seeing my children again, as happy as this, I’m also happy again. Hafsoh starts offloading my bags into the house.
“I see that your children want to eat you alive today. Please I’m leaving now, I have a lot of things to attend to at home.”
“Release me Khalid. Won’t you guys greet ummu?”
“Who is your ummu? I’m auntie. Call me auntie”
“You suppose to add your name too. Auntie Lateefah. You better have your kids on time so they can call you with your child’s name…”
“As-salaamu’alykum Ummu Abdillah!” Khalid cuts in.
I smile, “alhamdulillah! My son has found you a kunya. It suits you very well. Ummu Abdillah.”
She laughs, “you and your children won’t waste my time.” She turns to my daughter, “Nusaybah my dear, it’s been awhile”
Nusaybah walks closer to her and she plants a kiss on her cheek.
“Bye.” She waves, and adds, “I know this your happiness is just a facade. You must tell me in details what is happening when you resume work.”
Waving her goodbye, she enters her car and zooms away.
“Are these all you bought? Wh…” Hafsoh enquiries.
“Where are what you sent me? They are coming, I used a shipping company. Can I relax now?”
While relaxing, my eyes keeps glaring at the clock. It’s almost 8 a.m. my husband still isn’t back. As different thoughts bouncing on and off my head, I find it difficult to earn a sleep…
A knock answering on my door, haven’t I told Hafsoh not to disturb me anymore? I’m tired!
“What again Hafsoh?”
“It’s better you come out. I think you have a visitor?”
Visitor? Who could that be? We aren’t expecting one.
Wearily, slipping into my blue jalbab I ask her. “Who?”
“He said he’s Abu Khalid’s brother.”
Without any particular reason, my heart jumps in curiosity. Habeeb, why?… Why is he here? He is here for his brother of course… Maybe us too.
I plod downstairs and really find him sitting on a sofa, relaxing already as he surveys everywhere with his eyes. His bag and baggage tells he isn’t here for a visit, probably a holiday.
I approach with smile, “Ohhh… What an August visitor! As-salaamu’alykum brother Habeeb. Longtime.”
Smiling, he responds. “Wahlykum salam. Good morning ma.”
We exchange pleasantries. I quickly go into the kitchen to boil rice for him to eat. On returning, serving his food on the dinning, the kids have joined him in the sitting room and Nusaybah is sitting on his laps. I feel somehow uncomfortable but seeing the smiles on their faces, I dismiss the horrible feeling; it’s just a family get together…
“As-salaamu’alykum warahmatullah wabarakaatuhu.” enters my husband as he greets.
“Wahlykum salam warahmatullah wabarakaatuhu” I mumble.
The kids run to greet him. His demeanor changes as he sights his brother who has already risen to greet him. He switches his gaze at me, not minding him, I return to the kitchen to serve his food. It’s clear that Habeeb’s visitation is unexpected, even to him – his brother.
I leave them to eat while I enter the visitor’s room to meet Hafsoh. She has been packing her belongings already.
“I think I should leave this room for your brother in-law. I can manage the kids’ room. Nusaybah’s bed can contain the two of us.”
“That’s sweet of you my sister.” I give her a clap on the shoulder, “no one knows he would be here.”
Helping her up the stairs with her luggage, I take a quick glance at them – the dinning is as silence as a grave yard. I know they aren’t talk-pals but why would he come here without informing his brother? Lest I add their problem to mine, I go inside my bedroom and lie to rest because tomorrow, work starts.

Just waking up hungrily to the sunny morning – I’ve slept after observing fajr solat when I read a message from my boss, telling me to rest for today and resume for work tomorrow. I’ve woken with serene composure. Checking on the time, it’s 10 a.m. –  I don’t even think I saw my husband before he left for work neither did I see my children. What to do with today? I think of going to the market and on my way, call on my friend, Kabeerah. Dropping my legs from the bed, since my brother in-law is now around, I put on my hijab. For the periods he would stay here, no half-dressing around the house.
Crossing the threshold of my room, immediately, I want to run back as I see Habeeb walking towards me with no cloth on, except boxers.
“Please wait ma!” He calls and runs torwards me.
Then I wait, avoiding to look at him.
“Please can I get… like 500 naira change from you? My stomach is craving noodles and eggs. And I’ve searched the kitchen, I couldn’t find any.” He humbly asks.
“Have you asked my sister where they are? Because I remember I stock the store with all kind of food before I travelled.”
“She took the kids to the school and she isn’t back.”
Wondering why Hafsoh has stayed so long, I enter the room to check in my purse for money. I sense him following me inside and without a second thought, I politely ask him to wait for me outside. I think this is a simple adab (etiquette) every Muslim man supposed to have – to know how to live around every women, either mahrams or non-mahrams!… He leaves after giving him the money.
After eating, I have my bath and prepare to go out. While standing behind the rail upstairs, Hafsoh returns, followed by Opeyemi.
“What took you so long?”
“I’m sorry, I quickly stopped by somewhere.”
“And why do you look so… as if you’ve just been through a nakba.”
“I’m just having headache. Which is why I even stopped by their shop…” She points at Opeyemi, “…so she can help me out today.”
“Oh sorry my dear! You can see, that’s what I’ve been dealing with every day.”
“It isn’t easy. I’ve been wondering about how you could cope with your work and home.” She yawns and wants to enter the guest’s room, “oh! I’ve forgotten I’ve been kicked out of here.”
“You also know we have no choice… I just checked the kitchen and found we are short of some food. So I’m leaving for the market now.”
“Alright! Greet the market for me.” She drops on a sofa and lies down.
I climb down the stairs, “It’s better you go upstairs, you know we now have a male around.” I turn to Opeyemi who has been trying to greet me “and you, I’m coming back to you. First, don’t let me see you removing that head covering. Haven’t I told you to always wear an ample longer skirt?”
“I don’t have a longer skirt”
I mimic her. That has always been her excuse and alhamdulillah, I’ve thought of her while shopping abroad and I’ve bought her enough clothes for hijab.
“Leave the little girl alone. She will soon understand.” Hafsoh contributes as she climbs the stairs up.
“Don’t bother about the kids, I’ll pick them up today.” I leave for my car.

Here I’m stopping by my friend’s shop after shopping.
“Oh my blessed friend!” Screams Kabeerah as she hugs me so tight.
“I can’t breathe!” I exaggerate and she quickly releases me.
While giving me a chair to sit, she expresses her feelings. “But I’m mad at you. You couldn’t even call me. Since last week Friday, I’ve been trying your number to know if you’re back. It’s unfair, Azeezah and I’m extremely mad!”
Patting her cheeks, “oh I’m sorry friend! You should know I’ve just been busy over there. Meeting here and there.”
“I thought as much… That my program, you missed a lot!” She adjusts on her sit, closer to me. “Seeing other women, listening to their stories made me count myself among the lucky ones. Alhamdulillah! No marriage is perfect but one is always better than another. Still I could see some women who were ungrateful to their Lord. Although I don’t blame them, some women are just too much emotionally fragile. There is this woman that came to me immediately after the program. She started by narrating about how she has struggled with her husband to attain maximal success, she supported him with almost everything within her power. And just last month, after eleven years of marriage, his husband announced that he’s marrying a second wife… No, he has even married her. It came to her like a blow that she almost got mad! Her family was asking her to divorce her husband, which she was considering when her only friend promised to provide a solution. The solution is to diabolically make her husband always submit to her wishes and commands. You know what that means? Turning her husband to a semi-moron. Also, her husband hasn’t been helping the situation, he keeps flaunting the new wife to the world. ‘There was a time I even wished I could kill both of them.’ she has said. Even though I was only hearing her own side of story, I could feel her pain. When will our men learn to treat us as women? Inspite of the fact that polygamy is a legalized institution by Allah, we have the right to be treated fairly!  Why flaunting your new wife when you know the other is still unhappy about the situation? They should know It’s natural for us to feel indisposed about it. Just kind words, considerable reactions and assurance will surely make us come around… Alhamdulillah, she went home with positive mind…”
Anxiously, I interrupt. “How? What did you say to her?”
“Firstly, I told her to forget about the fact that she has strived for her husband. She has done it for the sake of Allah and should be expecting the rewards, even upon her children. I let her know that men are polygamous in nature. Some that couldn’t practice it are curbed by one reason or another. While most that aren’t able to practice it engage in zina (adultery). And as Muslim women, we should be hijab for our men, protecting and preventing them against zina. Thereby, making the acceptance of their polygamous nature as part of our roles.  Secondly,  I asked her what the divorce would make her. ‘A divorced single mother’ she has replied. While it would make the new wife the first, the last and the only wife of her husband. Isn’t that an answered prayer for the new wife? And by her age, the probability of getting a proposal from any bachelor is very narrow. I asked if her husband deserted her bed and the answer was NO. Then she’s fine! I asked if he has refrained from his financial responsibilities, she still answered NO. ‘Then be grateful my sister!’ I told her. She was at the program when a woman was weeping about her husband who has refused to come home, deserting all his responsibilities. The woman said she just found out that her husband is now living with a rich single mother in the neighbouring town!… If she divorces her husband and wants to marry again. What if all the proposal she could get comes from married men? Then she would be running into what she has run away from. You see! Irony of life!  Thirdly, about her friend’s offer. I asked her if she has also turned her own husband to semi-idiot. She shook her head. Good! Do you believe in law of karma? She said she does. Then I read to her, some part of surah Al-baqarah, verse 102. Meaning ‘…even then men learned from these two, magic by which they might cause a separation between a man and his wife; and they cannot hurt with it any one except with Allah’s permission, and they learned what harmed them and did not profit them, and certainly they know that he who bought it should have no share of good in the hereafter and evil was the price for which they sold their souls; had they but known this.’ I told her, your new wife, no matter how much hatred you’re feeling for her now, your husband, no matter how much you love him, none of them worth you throwing your akhira (heaven) inside a stinking pit of sin. Even every reward will be granted from this dunya (world), either good or bad! Lastly, I told her to accept it as qadarallah (decree of Allah). She should seek enough istigfar and ask Allah to ease her sorrow and rectify her affairs. So I thought her this dua, ‘Allaahumma laa sahla ‘illaa maal ja’altahu sahlan wa ‘Anta taj’alul-hazna ‘ithaa shi’ta sahlan.’ Meaning, ‘O Allah, there is no ease other than what You make easy. If You please You ease sorrow’. She should make Allah her sole Pillar and I’m very sure, everything shall be restored.”
I have a deep sigh. “Marriage!”
“What’s with that tone?… Azeezah, what’s wrong?”
The question suddenly pricks my tear gland and I try to suppress it. I feel like seeking comfort in her embrace. I just can’t hold it in anymore, I need to talk to someone. And presently, Kabeerah is my only confidant. Then I start my story from when he started secluding himself in the guest’s room, the message and the call of the woman I saw, how he unusually went out at night, how  I’ve confronted him but got no defensive response, how he has refused to call or receive my calls while abroad, what Hafsoh also told me about how he spent most of his night chatting on social media.
“It seems like conjecture but Kabeerah, putting every pieces together, it seems Mikhail is seeing another woman!” Now the tears run down my cheeks and I wipe them. Pretending to be strong.
“Astagfirullah! Stop assuming Azeezah. Remember Allah warned us against suspicion. And I trust brother Mikhail, I’m sure he can never do that. Have you tried to talk, I mean, amicably about it with him?”
Shaking my head, “we haven’t had the chance to talk. Mikhail has been avoiding just that.”
“Then you should provide the chance. He is your husband Azeezah! You should know him better than anyone. You should know when and how to approach him. Bridge the communication gap between you and get the fact before getting worried… When last did you make love with your husband?”
She’s at it again. Shamefully, I reply, “almost a month!”
She beats her laps, “you see? Azeezah! I can only trust your husband not to engage in zina but not polygamy. And I’ll advise you not to be the reason your husband is going for a second wife. If it should be as a result of any evitable laxity on your side, especially when it comes to bed-business, you should start kissing you husband goodbye…” She relaxes, the incline forward, “okay! Okay! Let’s do this dear. When your husband returns home today, you know how we do our trick, cook his favourite food, seduce him to bed. Satisfy him at any angle you can and let him be happy. Then, maybe in the morning, you can humbly ask about the woman. I mean softly in a pathetic tone. Even if he didn’t have the intention of telling you, at that point, he won’t have the choice because you’ve already ridden him to cloud 9.”
Bringing smile to my face again, “I just like it whenever you talk about coitus as if you’re talking about a delicious meal.”
“It is a delicious meal my friend. If it isn’t, shaytan won’t be using it as an essential instrument for driving humans astray… Therefore, you should start leaving now. Arrange the house, lay a new beautiful bedsheet, spray sweet fragrance into the air. Even if you’ll like it, I can come and bring your kids to my house till tomorrow so they won’t disturb you.”
I draw closer and hug her, “There is no need. Jazaakillahu khairan my dear friend. May Allah make us friends till Jannah!”
“Aameen”
Alhamdulillah, I feel elevated!

Finally, the night has fallen. Expecting my husband to join me in the bedroom, I’ve worn my favourite night gown and lie under the blanket.
Unexpectedly Hafsoh enters, carrying her blanket, “the landlord asked me to stop inconveniencing his daughter. So he ordered me to come and sleep with you. I asked where he would  sleep if I should occupy his space and he said he would manage himself in the sitting room.”
I roll my eyes in frustration. So Mikhail wants to tell me he couldn’t interpret all the body signal I’ve been sending him since he arrived?
She gets on the bed with me, “wow! Why couldn’t I find this night gown when I was arranging your clothes?… Ohhhh! You must be waiting for your husband. Let me go and send him upstairs for you. Why are men so ungrateful?”
I draw her back as she attempts to climb down the bed, “you don’t need to. Today is gone!”
Her phone rings, she stares at it then drops the call and switches her phone off.
“Why have you done that?” Inquisitively, I ask.
“It’s just another ungrateful man. This world is just full of them” she murmurs as she gets under the blanket. But in the ray of light, I can see a tear rolling from her eye.
“Man?” I face him, “tell me more. What is happening with you Hafsoh? Your demeanor hasn’t been pleasant ever since I returned.”
She sighs, “His name is Victor. A Christian. We’ve been dating for years, I think three… Yes, three years. Ever since I was in school…”
I feel like cutting her off, blame and scold her for dating a Christian but this is the first time she would talk to me about boys. She must have been shifted to an edge where she needs a confidant.
“…he spends on me and I also do satisfy him by every means. Don’t blame me sister, I accepted to date him because he told me he would revert not because of his money, you used to send me enough. I loved him and I think he loved me too maybe he still does. But anytime it comes to religion aspect, we used to have a misunderstanding. Like hijab – I supposed to have started observing proper hijab since but he would never stop complaining about it anytime I attempt. He is an occasional drinker but anytime he drinks, I end up towing him home. Many things I have no gut to tell you sister mi. And anytime I talked about his promise to revert, he would tell me it isn’t time for him yet. The more I tried to move closer to Allah, the more he tries to draw me farther away from Him. For the sake of love, I even proposed we should get married… And we can practice our religion separately… But he keeps bringing up different kinds of excuse. And this is the man I loved with all my life, the man who rid me of my pride, the man I care for, deeply with all my heart… I became terrified when I read a scholar’s fatwa about how Allah forbids a Muslim woman to marry a non-muslim man. He said Victor is prohibited for me just as a pig meat is prohibited for every Muslims. The scholar also gave me an instance of the Prophet’s daughter, Ruqayah who married a non-muslim during the pre-islamic era. How reluctantly, she had left her husband… Since then, I tried to cut our ties. It has been so difficult for me that I had to come here. I even changed my line and deleted everything about him. But today, I don’t know the fool among my friends that gave him my number and told him where I am. He called me. And I met him after dropping off your children at their school. Could you imagine all he was telling me? ‘I know I’ve offended you. I’m very sorry. Please, let’s start afresh.’ Then I replied him that I’ve stopped dating and the only relationship I can engage myself in now is marriage, and that would be to a Muslim man. He made his fake promise again and proposed to me. Then I asked him to revert first, when I see the seriousness, I would think about his proposal. It seems I still love him, only if he could revert… I know I’m at fault for accepting him in the first place… But…” She starts to sob.
I draw her closer and pat her back, “you’ve really done well! You’ve admonished yourself so I don’t need to do that anymore. Many people make mistakes but only few could realize and put them in their pasts. It might be hard but remember that Allah says ‘and it may be that you dislike a thing while it is good for you, and it may be that you love a thing while it is evil for you, and Allah knows, while you do not know.’. And there is no way you drop an act or something for the sake of Allah that Allah won’t replace it with something better. Well done dear!”
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NOTE OF THE CHAPTER: “O you who believe! avoid most of suspicion, for surely suspicion in some cases is a sin, and do not spy nor let some of you backbite others. Does one of you like to eat the flesh of his dead brother? But you abhor it; and be careful of (your duty to) Allah, surely Allah is Oft-returning (to mercy), Merciful.” (Qur’an 49 verse 12)
The scholars (may Allah have mercy on him) differed concerning the thigh of a man and whether it is included within the limits of the ‘awrah or not. There are two views:
The first view, which is the view of the majority of scholars, is that the thigh is ‘awrah.
The second view, which was narrated in the madhhab of Ahmad, and was the view favoured by Shaykh Ibn ‘Uthaymeen (may Allah have mercy on him), is that the thigh is not ‘awrah. But Shaykh Ibn ‘Uthaymeen (may Allah have mercy on him) said: What appears to me to be the correct view is that the thigh is not ‘awrah, except in cases where there is the fear of temptation if it is uncovered, in which case it is obligatory to cover it, such as the thighs of a young man.
Narrated `Uqba bin ‘Amir: Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) said, “Beware of entering upon the ladies.” A man from the Ansar said, “Allah’s Apostle! What about Al-Hamu the in-laws of the wife (the brothers of her husband or his nephews etc.)?” The Prophet (ﷺ) replied: The in-laws of the wife are death itself. (Sahih Al bukhari)