THE SNAIL-LOVER {Episode Fourteen}

She Was Once Overly In Love

After days of arguments and conviction, Sulaiman finally agreed to meet the girl; the daughter of his mother’s friend whom his great grandmother said to have found for him. His holidays at home had been unusually passive – he had been spending days alone in his room sleeping, surfing the internet, reading and reciting the Qur’an and the only time he would be seen outside was the time of solat, after that, he would retreat into his cocoon. Usually, when home for break, he’d shuffle his time between his foodstuff shop and work as an electrician. Either in place of his mother or together with his mother, he’d also travel to different villages to buy foodstuffs at the cheapest price, contributing to their financial economy but he had done none of those since he returned which had got his mother worried though not too worried because she also understood what it takes to harbour the feeling called love in the heart…
His mother, Anikẹ had insisted on going with him. She also wanted to see the girl. She was curious; would she be able to capture her son’s heart from Maymunah? What kind of girl was Maymunah? What kind of girl did her son desire? She wanted the best for her only child – an impeccable spouse, if possible.
They had procured a car from his dad, – the car which he knew belonged to his mother but mostly used by his dad – to travel to a far neighbouring town. Locating their house was so easy, using the address Anikẹ got from her friend’s mother.
Fortunately and since it was on Sunday, they met her friend, Aṣakẹ at home. They were warmly welcomed and the woman was very happy to see her friend, Anikẹ again. In the sitting room, they both spent an hour catching up on what had been happening in their individual lives after which Sulaiman was remembered to be on a seat.
“This boy resembles you. He must be your Sulaiman, right?” Aṣakẹ asked and signed.
Sulaiman wasn’t surprised to see her communicating easily with his mother. She had once told him that almost all her intimate childhood friends knew how to sign. And this woman, in particular, went to the special college of education, where teachers were trained to teach the special children, with her.
Anikẹ beamed and nodded, signing to her that he was her only precious child. Sulaiman greeted her once again, with a cheerful face.
“Well done my friend! He’s now a young handsome man. My second daughter, Kabeerah is also around. She just got admitted into the university this year. I quickly sent her to my shop to attend to one of my customers, she should meet you here. I’m sure you aren’t leaving anytime soon. I won’t even allow that. Let me quickly send my second daughter to the market to get me some groceries to cook your favourite meal.”
Anikẹ smiled and told her she had no problem waiting. She left for some minutes and returned, then asked Sulaiman what had been going on with his studies and life in general. Sulaiman who wasn’t in the mood of having a long conversation was helped by his mother. Aṣakẹ was amused and prayed for him. Then entered, without knocking, the girl they had been waiting for.
She knelt and greeted. Anikẹ quickly pulled her up and hug her while Aṣakẹ laughed,
“So, you still don’t kneel nor allow people to bend to greet you.” she clapped her hands, wondering. “No wonder your son didn’t even prostrate to greet me. Kneeling to greet is our culture and my children are cultured so you have no choice. Let my little ones return from Madrasah, they’ll frustrate you with kneeling and prostration.”
Anikẹ could just respond to her with a smile. She glanced at her son trying to read his expression upon seeing Kabeerah. She saw him stare at her for a while and then retreated his gaze onto his phone. She curved up her lips a bit though not understanding his expression but she was happy she had raised a young man who knew when to look at a girl and when to stop looking.
Kabeerah was a plump girl of an average lady’s height, wearing an ample long covered dress and tied a scarf around her head and neck – just like her grandmother had described – but with a caked face which had simply shown that she understood little about the concept of hijab and maybe she didn’t even understand that much about Islam. She understood the basics which was a very good foundation, she thought, and if her son had liked her, she could work on her by impacting her with the little Islamic knowledge she had.
She signed, asking Aṣakẹ to help her tell her daughter that she looked beautiful and she was sure she would look more beautiful without the make-up on her face. The girl brightened upon hearing that and blushed. She thanked her and told her she only caked her face because she was going to attend a friend’s wedding ceremony.
Anikẹ wondered when every Muslimah (Muslim woman) would stop making occasional exemptions in the use of a proper hijab. A woman shouldn’t go out of her home adorned – the instruction was as simple as that! Going for a ceremony shouldn’t be an exemption. She kept quiet. She understood the simple instruction she just gave might lead to a debate which was very common with the youngsters when they were corrected. She didn’t even understand her sign language, so she didn’t bother herself.
Some minutes later, Kabeerah left and her sister who was sent to the market arrived. Aṣakẹ cooked and they ate. The two friends talked while Sulaiman was on his phone chatting with his friends. He had dropped a message for Yusuf the day before, informing him about what he heard about his involvement in studying drugs, the danger and Islamic rulings on taking such drugs. He had been checking for his response even after the message had been marked seen but got none. He thought he might be busy – he had once told him that he did hustle during the holidays to get enough money to spend in the school. All his mother could provide for him was his school fees and raw foodstuffs which wouldn’t even last the semester. He was also chatting with Toohir who gisted him about how he was rebellious to celebrate Christmas with his Christian uncle and remained implacable even after his mother’s intervention. Sulaiman also told him about his mother’s and great grandmother’s efforts to rid his heart of Maymunah and plant Kabeerah. Toohir laughed upon seeing the message and replied to him to just not to give up on Maymunah yet else he found Kabeerah suitable to replace her. Sulaiman simply told him that he didn’t think he liked the girl. He didn’t get that feeling he got when he first saw Maymunah. The feelings which rekindled each time he saw her. He told him he felt nothing for Kabeerah and he just hoped his mothers would just not force him unto her. Their chat was serious. now, Toohir didn’t know he was that verily ready for marriage. Sulaiman also didn’t know he’d be so ready so soon. He had to declare to him the pressure he had been getting from home, especially from his great grandmother. Ordinarily, they wouldn’t have talked to that extent verbally. Truly, a pen can wield a more poignant sword than a mouth
Soon after, it was time to go home and Aṣakẹ had no choice but to bid them goodbye after exchanging phone numbers. She promised to also return the visit sometime soon.
Anikẹ continued to press her son in the car asking about his perception and decision about the girl. He only said he didn’t know. There could be no further discussion as he had to fix his gaze on the road and wouldn’t be able to look at his mother’s signs. Anikẹ understood his response. She knew he had no feelings for her yet but if Allah willed her to be right for him, the feelings would ignite someday. Or maybe the feelings couldn’t come forth yet because he wasn’t ready to let go of Maymunah. What had Maymunah done to his son?
They continued to journey in silence as a lecture by a renowned scholar was playing underneath. They stopped by grandma’s house. She was met outside, and also had been waiting anxiously for them. She welcomed them with delight having a positive hope. For her, she would be the happiest old woman on earth if Sulaiman could get married and have her a grandchild before her death. It had been more than twenty years since she held a baby she could call hers. She had grown to have an undefined passion for babies that whenever a new baby was born in her neighbourhood, she would be among the first people to be seen by their doors, holding expensive gifts for the mother and the child. And Sulaiman, being the only apple of her eyes, she had been praying unto Allah to extend her days and make her witness the immeasurable joy even though she had to face the reality, that the clock is ticking.
They moved their seats to the veranda in the backyard and Sulaiman was placed at the centre again, each of them probing him on his conception of the girl. He had to tell them his mind.
“Mum, Mama, I don’t think I like the girl.”
“Why?” They both asked coincidentally.
“She isn’t the kind of woman I want. She doesn’t even have the fundamental Islamic adab (etiquette). Mum,” he turned to his mother, “you also saw how she entered without knocking. You can see how she adorned herself in a hijab. You were even trying to correct her but she just wouldn’t accept it. And… More so… I… I…”
“I what?” Asked the old woman.
He didn’t want to say it anymore. He thought he had said enough.
“I just don’t want to marry such a person.”
“Then ask Allah to send down a female angel for you!” The old woman roared, “Anikẹ can you hear your son? Is this how you ought to have raised him? Do you think there’s any perfect human on earth? Are you also perfect?” She burst into tears. “Just impregnate someone, Ajadi or better still, impregnate three women at a time. I still have a back to back the babies…”
Anikẹ moved closer to her, “Mama, you should understand that he’s still a baby. I’ll talk to him, please. Let me get you inside.” Holding the old woman on her shoulders, she escorted her inside and lay her on her bed.
She held on to Anike’s hand before she would leave and said, “I can see your son is taking a lot from you. Do you still remember how you had stubbornly wanted to stick to that man who didn’t even look your way? I had thought you’d remain single forever. You also gave me heartache that time. I still don’t know what got you to change your mind. Whatever thinking you did to come to your senses back then, you should give your son that hint because I refuse to die without witnessing the increase in your progeny.”
Anikẹ smiled. Those words took her back to the days when she was overly in love with a man living in an apartment which was just a stone’s throw from her grandmother’s house which was also her home. He was a handsome tall bearded man in a nisfu saq (above-ankled trousers). He’d pass by their house every morning and evening, going to the masjid. He’d greet Anikẹ with tasleem whenever he saw her sitting outside and to his surprise, he’d only receive a smile as a response. Though he did wonder why she didn’t respond with tasleem even though he knew her as a Muslim due to her dressing – then, Anikẹ didn’t understand the concept of hijab and she only did tie a scarf around her head and neck on any fitting clothe she wore – he would still greet her whenever he passed by, lowering his gaze as well. This would amuse Anikẹ and do send butterflies into her stomach. It made her sit outside every evening, waiting for him to pass by. One day, after saying tasleem and still getting the usual response, his curiosity kicked into action and he walked toward her. Her heart was racing faster that she wished the earth could just open up and swallow her but she had sat still in awe as he approached…
“He looked more handsome though, to me, because when I showed him to Aṣakẹ, she said that he wasn’t handsome but ugly with his dark face and beard.” She laughed softly, “so, he started talking, asking me why I did smile instead of responding to his tasleem. I simply replied to him as I do to people who don’t know I’m dead and dumb. I signed. Then quickly, he understood. Very intelligent, you see? He brought out a pen from his pocket and wrote unto his palm, ‘what is your name?’ I collected the pen and replied, written on my palm too, ‘I am Hajar Anikẹ’. That was my first time conversing with a man I crushed on. I had many crushes, you should know that, though I didn’t usually tell anyone about them except Aṣakẹ and it was only sometimes whenever we wanted to talk ‘ladies’. I do admire good things. And the Khair (goodness) I saw in him was religion. He was an example of a pious man. So, ever since that time, he’d bring me some Islamic books to read, hiding inside each a note telling me about what he wanted me to learn from reading the books. I’d also return the book after reading it, with a note thanking him, praying for him and telling him about what I learned and promising him I’d put them to action. I learned about the hijab in one of the books he gave me and after I returned the book, he sent me my first pieces of hijab through a little boy. Immediately, I started wearing the hijab. He was delighted and smiled when he first saw me in it. Seeing him smiling for the first time, I marvelled and I had shyly lowered my gaze because then, I had understood better. That went on for like two years. He’d even invite me to some halqa (lecture) and bought me some halqa radio cassettes. But for all these years, we never sat together to talk. He just gave me whatever he wanted to give me with a note and left. All this while, I had thought he had something for me because I did have feelings for him. Then I became of marriageable age and I started to get this pressure from my grandmother as you are now.” She gently pulled Sulaiman’s little beard.
She continued signing, “I didn’t know how grandma knew, she kept telling me not to waste my time waiting for him to propose that he wouldn’t so I should look for a man ready to make me his wife before it was too late. Maybe granny thought he wouldn’t because he was very older than me – I was just 19 and I think he’d be in his early 30s then. I waited but he didn’t propose. Then I gathered my courage and asked Anikẹ to help me stylishly ask him if he had anything like marriage in plan for me. His response got me wept for days. He said to Anikẹ that it had never occurred to him in his mind to marry me. He said I was just like a little sister to him and he wouldn’t want to marry me. I had wept till my eyes said they didn’t send me then I picked up my kettle and started performing istikhara (prayer for seeking guidance), having it in mind to bury my haya (bashfulness) and go to him myself and propose to him by myself. I planned on doing that after seven days and the seventh day did come. I sent him a note through the little boy he did send to me sometimes. The boy returned with my note, telling me he had moved out of his apartment that morning. His neighbours said he had relocated to Abuja. I was hurt and wept more but not for too long because I knew it was a result of my istikhara. That was Allah guiding me. Even though I wanted Sulaiman, Allah didn’t want Sulaiman for me. Not too long, I met your father and became the apple of his eyes even though I’m his third wife. Then, I had you my prince, Sulaiman!” She smiled and laughed.
Sulaiman made a face, “his name is Sulaiman. So, you named me after him?”
“Yes, is there an offence in doing that? Your father gave me the grace of picking a name for you and I named you after someone I’d love you to emulate in life. Or, are you jealous in place of your father?”
They both chortled. He never knew his mother had such a wonderful love encounter.
As they drove home, he tried to brood over his mother’s love story. He shouldn’t have to be told, he knew his mother wanted him to draw a pearl of wisdom from the story. He knew she didn’t just tell him the story for pleasure, it had a purpose.
Just a meter away from their home, when they reached one of Anikẹ’s customers, she asked him to pull over and let her stop by the woman’s shop; she had something to tell her. She got down from the car and Sulaiman watched the shop from where he was sitting in the car. A truck of foodstuffs just arrived for the woman and he could see her old-looking husband solely loading the sacks of foodstuffs into the shop, as usual. It made him remember the angler fish. As he had heard people telling the story of the couple; the woman had been a rich trader before she got married to the man. But because the woman was rich, he’d fail to face his responsibilities. The woman was to feed herself, the children and him. He’d spend his income lavishly on friends in bar shops, on concubines and prostitutes. Then he lost his job and had no more income. He couldn’t get another job and started depending on his wife for livelihood. Now, he had lost his authority as a husband and served his wife as a slave. Most people in the neighbourhood believed such happening wasn’t natural and the wife was always tagged diabolical but this was just an example of the angler fish in humans.
He grinned, now he got it!

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As-salaamu’alykum warahmatulah wabarakatuh lovely subscribers,

I know I’m short of an episode which supposed to be updated last week. My sister-in-law did her wedding ceremony last week and the whole process including traditions took almost a week (people living in Ilorin will understand better). So, I’m very sorry. Insha’Allah I’m going to make it up next week…

What do you think about these story, fams?

Please, drop a spoiler abeg!

and Thanks for subscribing, jazaakumullah khairan