MY HOME! MY CAREER!!! – Episode 6

Assalaamu’alykum warahmatullah wabarakaatuhu everyone!
I’m very sorry for the late update again, I won’t promise it won’t happen again cos it might and I’ll still be apologizing ‘nooni’ each time it does. I’m very sorry once again. Using this opportunity also to inform you that people at GHANA can now be able to get their own copies of HOW WILL I COPE? Therefore any interested person should inbox me: kafayatolubukola94@gmail.com
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                                                          MIKHAIL

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine”? I replay the response in my brain.
“Her kids aren’t fine of course she would need to stay with them… She’ll surely be fine… But I won’t” I angrily murmur as I draw the blanket over my head.

After returning from the masjid with the kids in the morning, I return into my temporary room. Today is Friday, I open my Qur’an to start reading Suratul Khaf so I can earn the Nur (light) of Allah till the next Jumuah. I seldom recite the holy book every morning because I used to be busy but I’ve now liberated myself from the house chores assistance, after all it isn’t my duty to start with. I barely read 10 verses when I start yawning for sleep, I close my Qur’an, suspending it till I wake up and I lay my head on the pillow.
My sweet dreamless sleep is interrupted by my wife who gently taps and calls out on me.
“I’m taking the kids to the school and I want to stop by the market to buy some beverages in case Ummy might need some this morning. Also In’shaa’Allah after Jumuah service I’m taking the kids out for shopping so we are going to quite a lot of places like Ajegunle, Albert area, convention, near…”
“Then?” I cut in, not bothering to raise my drowsing head.
“As per your instruction, I come to seek your permission”
Then I remember our last conversation. From drowsiness, I rise to sit and look at her from head to toe ogling her dressing in a green khimar.
“Aren’t you going to work today?” I ask
“I’m not. Since my boss is already covering for me, I want to make use of the opportunity to attend to the kids’ needs today and In’shaa’Allah I’ll resume fully tomorrow” she explains in her usual pokerfaced expression.
A smile wants to crawl to the corner of my mouth when I realize she is doing that for our kids again and not me. When will I ever be treated as a relevant being by her? Albeit she has known me before the kids, I also need her equal attention. She is fond of sacrificing everything for them and hesitant to sacrifice any for me… I heave a big sigh, realizing I’m just being childish by being jealous of my own children. I feel sorry for myself for the jealousy instead of compersion.
“It’s okay, you are permitted” I finally approve.
“The money we will spend?”
Money? I don’t have that, not now that Ummy has come to stay on my neck!
“Give me the price list of whatever you are spending. In’shaa’Allah I’ll reimburse you”
She turns to leave without questioning. Maa’sha’Allah, She must have a lot in her bank account…
Closing the door halfway, she hangs in her head, “Habeeby please, I’m briefly stopping by Kabeerah’s shop too”
She closes the door without hearing my response. I have expected her to say she will soon be back and comes to me alone… Anyway, it isn’t like this is her first time!
I lie to sleep again but sleepiness has gone to a far away land and I’m unable to catch up. So I get up while saying, “he that would thrive must rise by five, bismillah!”
Stepping into the sitting room, I see the usual scene of littered floor. I grab the sweeping stick from the store and start arranging everything to its proper places when I remember my determination not to help in the chores again.
“I just have to turn a blind eye” I murmur as I try to drop everything when Ummy enters from behind.
“What are you doing?” She asks.
“I wanted to tidy up this room but…”
She cuts in, snapping over her head and starts clamouring, “Orí mi má jèé, elédàá mi kò ó (I reject it), trying to sweep the floor when you have a wife? Tell me, is this how you’ve been living your life? No wonder you always restrain me from visiting you. So you’ve been the wife while she has been the husband and I warned you enough not to marry an educated woman. I warned you enough not to spend money in educating her further, she would develop pride. And here it is, she has gone to work leaving behind all her duties for you… I’m ruined!”
Holding the sweeping stick with my two hands, I incline on it listening to my mother’s delusional accusations. I’m a bit embarrassed because I feel like she is right but deep down me I know she isn’t – I’m the man of the house and I won’t ever stop being that!
“You are totally wrong Mum. I’ll always be the man of this house. I was just trying to help but I’m not anymore since she isn’t going to work today.” I explain.
“Help… Help… That is the excuse you men give, until you are given a concocted vegetable and the leaves of ‘sit right there’. I’ll never heedlessly cross my arms and watch that happen to my son.” She says as she drops on a seat.
I watch her talk – men will never understand women! I still remember vividly how baba Habeeb (Habeeb’s father) used to assist Ummy in almost everything when he was alive and here is the same woman refuting her son for helping her wife. Anyway! That is women’s matter not mine.
“Don’t worry mum, Azeezah isn’t a kind of woman that can concoct any evil thing for me. Anything you see me doing, it is out of my own will”
“No man would admit of being a woman’s slave even if he is. Who knows if she is even the one behind you not giving me money.” She mutters.
“Now I understand exactly what you are driving at. I’ve already told you that Azeezah isn’t a burden on me but an blessing. Can you see this house as small and beautiful as it is? I took some loans with my money to build it which I’m still paying back. If not…” I realize I’m letting out a lot to her so I cut off my statement, “you can’t just understand. This is my family and we’ve known how we’ve been managing ourselves so please Mum, do not interfere.”
“It’s okay, I won’t. I won’t o, I won’t.” She re-sits drawing her wrapper into her laps.
On returning the stick into the store, I remember to ask her about her solats.
“Ummy, have you prayed?”
“No, I just woke up. I will go and pray now” she replies.
“I don’t think you pray yesterday too why Ummy?”
“I prayed subhi and I’ve formed the habit of praying subhi everyday at least, I’m progressing, aren’t I?”
“Yes you are but you should always remember that as-solat is the second pillar of Islam. It is what distinguishes a Muslim from a non-muslim. Any Muslim who doesn’t pray solat is already out of the fold of Islam and if such a person dies in such a state, he or she dies as an unbeliever. You are becoming old and not younger, death is taking a step closer day by day. It’s high time you started planning for the hereafter and put aside all this worldly affairs Mum. Don’t you know that the first deed everyone would be questioned in the hereafter is as-solat? What will you do on that day when your solat bag is empty or weighs lesser than the considerable amount? Even though Allah is The Most Merciful, He has promised to only be merciful to those who obey Him and His messenger and do good. There is no way you can get His mercy if you keep disobeying Him. Ummy, even though I can’t guarantee myself to be in jannah but I won’t be happy if you don’t make it. You have to take your solat serious even more than you take all those your aso ebi. You even left the town for here to avoid embarrassment. And it isn’t that you don’t know how to perform…”
She interrupts, “Rome isn’t built in a day son. I’ve also been thinking of it, I’ll change In’shaa’Allah. You shall see”
“What about now? Solat isn’t only to be observed but at its right time.”
She sluggishly stands on her feet and drags her legs up the stairs. Many of us have someone closer to us like the neck’s vein who takes solat with levity and it is mostly disheartening when it is one or both of our parents, wives, siblings or children because often we feel somehow responsible. I wonder why some Muslims find it difficult to perform solat, aren’t they thinking of the Akhirah (hereafter) at all? May Allah ease everyone’s affairs and make us steadfast in every aspect of this deen.
I look over my shoulder to the dining and see our foods well served on the table. I’m astonished that despite taking care of everything alone, she is still able to make breakfast for everyone. She is wonderfully dexterous! Since she isn’t affected, I’m free with my conscience.
I eat, bath and dress up for work. Intending to check on my Mum before going, I exit the room but meet her in the sitting room lying on the couch.
“Hope you’ve eaten?” I ask, adjusting my shirt buttons.
She nods
“I’m going to work ma” I announce.
“So I would be the only one at home?”
I let out a puff, “Ummu Khalid will soon be back to keep your company”
“OK o…” I turn to leave when she adds, “wait! How much is your wife’s salary?”
I stand bewildered as well as perplexed, “why are you asking me that Mum?”
“Nothing, I just want to know. Is it a crime to know how well my son and his family are living?”
“You have the right to know mine Ummy and not hers. Her wealth is for herself, therefore nothing concerns me about it in as much as Allah’s rahma isn’t deprecating on me. I can proudly say I’m a man because I’m fulfilling every responsibilities assigned to me and that is the secret behind my prosperity…” Looking into her eyes, they are filled with suspicions. What is really going on in her mind? “…so please and please Ummy, do not ask her.”
“Okay o… But I’m already tired of staying here. Only if I can get the clothes and jewelries money, I would return to my town today…”
I cut off her sentences with teslim and head out to work.
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After work, I freshen up and join Abbey at Iya Awa stall – this time, it’s without invitation. I’m a kind of man that doesn’t like sitting in an unreligious gathering of men because if they don’t talk about politics, they will talk about football but something which I don’t know yet draws me to Iya Awa’s stall again today. Maybe because I’ve found it relaxing, Iya Awa smiles as she sees me, I smile back – after all smiling is a sunnah and an act of charity – and ask after her daughter. None of the men has arrived so it’s only Abbey and I in the stall for now. I take the opportunity to seek his advice on the job opportunity that came my way yesterday. He is very ecstatic about it and encourages me to grab the opportunity.
“Oga you already have the potential. Don’t you know you sound like a university graduate most time? I sometimes wonder if you are lying to me about your educational status… You know, your life story doesn’t just add up in my head…  You know, your wife working as a manager in one of the biggest company’s in the city and you…”
I intrude his statements, “a roadside mechanical engineer”
“Ah Oga! I don’t mean to say that. Our workshop isn’t just a roadside thing Oga. What makes here different from all those educated mechanical engineering workshops is their sophisticated machines and equipment. With the quality of knowledge you possess Oga, I know the sky isn’t your limit but the beginning. Even I that dropped out of the university do feel inferior beside you, after all you are my boss and my role model.”
I might really sound like a university graduate, thanks to my wife who helped in polishing my English – a good year I spent lingering around her in the name of tutoring – before I finally let out my intention – wasn’t wasted… Abbey’s commendation elevates my spirit and I appreciate that but I still feel like I’ve just been flattered.
I’m not taking any herb today since I’ve got no use of it but a soft drink, I raise the glass to my mouth and take a sip. “Sometimes Lion takes squirrel as role model too”
We both chuckle and he insists I’m a lion, maybe I really am.
My eyes wander around and I see Iya Awa sitting at a corner listening to our conversations. She smiles to me again and I become curious about what is going on in her head. Three men arrive and she smiles at them too – smiling might just be her hobby, I like that. They beckon at her for attention and she leaves to serve them. Abbey and I continue our conversation until a man interrupts with his loud phone conversations;
“Why asking me to come home on time? What should I come to do? To help to you take care of the children or you need my help in the kitchen”…
“If you are sick then go to the hospital. I’m not a paracetamol” he quits the call and wears a long face.
The man faces his friends and starts spouting words out of anger, “I don’t know what this woman takes me for. Can you just imagine what she is telling me on the phone! She is sick and wants me at home now, am I a doctor? Won’t she take care of herself if I’m dead?”
A man among them in an official shirt and trouser replies, “that is women for you. They sometimes try to act like a baby and if you aren’t careful and give them your caring hand for the first time, they will ask for your caring eyes the next time. And the more attention you give them, the more your status before them diminishes.”
“I agree! Last time I stayed at home and see my wife jammed up in her multiple chores. I put forward a helping hand and she was happy and do you know what happened the next day? As I was peacefully sleeping and having a pleasant dream, she came waking me from sleep and asked me to assist her again. I just hissed, took my shirt and went to our assembly at Egbédá. Since then, man! I never try such again in my life” says the third man.
They all chuckle.
“They can turn one to their slaves. After working all day to cater for their needs, one woman would still expect me to come and work my ass out at my own house, kò jo ó (it’ll never be).” Adds the man.
Men and their theories about women. Although I agree with them, not totally.
The man’s phone buzzes again and he picks, signalling to his friends with a smile. I wonder who could make his some-moments-ago angry face radiates with smile just with a phone call. From the conversations, I can perceive the person is his girlfriend;
“Oh why would my darling be hungry when I’m alive, safe and sound?… What will you eat and I would run miles to get it for you in a second?”…
“I’ll be right there babe, I might even be spending the night there if you please me beyond expectation!”…
He continues prattling every sweet word he could find in his small head till he ends the call. His other friends extol him with hand shakes and he takes his car keys and leaves.
I shake my head and Abbey smiles, sipping his herbal drink. I’m about to talk when I hear Iya Awa talks from behind.
“You men are hypocrites and slaves to your own desires. His sick wife calls for his attention not long ago, he ignores because he thought it was out of norm and now his girlfriend hasn’t even requested before he willingly offers her his attention and now he has gone running to her. Not realizing he is running into the same slavery he is running away from at home…”
The man in the office dress cuts in, “that is called scope, my dear. Girlfriends are to be scoped to earn their love”
Abbey replies before Iya Awa could open her mouth, “then why shouldn’t wives also be scoped? Even if we scoped them to earn their approvals for marriage, can’t the scope continue to show them we appreciate their love? But after marriage most of us men takes it as a mission accomplished and we just place them in our houses as ‘wife symbols’ and baby making machines giving them lesser attention. It’s very unfair! We have daughters and we won’t want our daughters to be treated that way!”
“That is a ‘story for the gods’ man. Don’t you know there are differences between wives and girlfriends?” The other man says with conviction flowing in his eyes, “don’t worry I’ll give you the full gist about that next time…” He turns to his friend and they continue their business conversation.
“I don’t want your gist” Abbey turns back to me, “what possible lesson will I learn from there?”
“You seem to love your wife” I ask.
“Ah Oga, I don’t joke with her. Who else will I love if not my wife? After my mother it’s her”
“That is good, every Muslim men must love and be kind to their wives.”
“That reminds me, what was madam’s response to the job opportunity?” He asks
I smile to myself, I can’t even believe I haven’t told her about it which is very unusual of me.
“I haven’t told her but I will, maybe today In’shaa’Allah.”
Suspicion written on his face, he says, “you must be joking Oga. I think she supposed to be the first person to hear that.”
“Hmm… Just that…” Searching for words to say, “she has just been busy these days so I forgot to share the joy with her. I will… In’shaa’Allah I will today.”
“Better” he quietly reply
We continue eating our well pepper-seasoned ponmo and engage in some discussions. Although Abbey is younger than I am, I always love his sense of judgement and transparency which has been keeping us together in this work for years.
I’ve been looking around a lot and I notice Iya Awa is no where to be seen around which is very unusual of her. A man enters and asks of her, we tell him she might have gone for a quick errand that she would soon be back. After some minutes of waiting, the man decides to leave and I stop him, volunteering to find her.
I step out of the stall calling out her name and I check around the stall of a shoemaker beside hers. Getting to the corner of the stall, I see her rubbing off her tears with her wrapper.
She fakes a smile, “I just came to ease myself. Who is looking for me?”
“You’ve been crying, I can see that. May I know why?” I ask feeling very concerned.
She tries to hold back the tear but let it out uncontrollably, she snivels, “marriage has always been blessings for most women, I don’t know why I’ve never enjoyed any sweetness of it even after I’ve opted out. I want to be free maybe just once and enjoy my life as a free woman but he just won’t let me be but makes trouble follows me around everywhere I go.” She wipes her tears again with the back of her hands, “don’t worry Sir, I will go through this also and survive. It’s just a matter of time.”
“You can tell me exactly what happened. Maybe… Who knows, I might be of help” I suggest with a sense of pity, curious about what could make a woman who has been smiling since morning comes into a corner to cry her eyes out.
“No you don’t have to sir, this is my problem and I’ll solve it alone.” She smiles again and leaves me behind.
My phone viberates from my pocket, I pull it out and see it is my mother.
“What happens this time?” I murmur.
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Note of the chapter: The Prophet (peace be upon him) said “after me I have not left any affliction more harmful to men than women.” & “if a husband calls his wife to his bed (i.e to have sexual relation) and she refuses and causes him to sleep in anger, the angels will curse her till morning” (Sahih Al Bukhari)