Wednesday 5th January
2017
4:34am
I was downstairs helping the maid
serve my husband, Abdullah's breakfast in the dining room when he came down,
carrying his briefcase and a large bag. My heart fell at the sight of the bag
which only meant one thing. "Darling, don't tell me you are travelling
again! You returned from your last trip just last week!" I stated,
watching as he handed the bag and briefcase to Dan’Hajia, his P.A. "Ah, Zaliha
my dear. I forgot to tell you last night. My business partners in Germany want
to see me urgently over that contract with the government I got recently. It’s
not something any of my managers can handle so I have to be there myself,"
he explained. He came over to the table and picked up his cup of coffee which
was served the way he liked it, black with no sugar or milk. "You know I
hate it when you travel as I miss you so much. I feel lonely, all by myself in
this big house," I grumbled.
"I know my dear. And I miss you
anytime I'm away too. But I promise we shall go away on vacation soon. Just the
two of us," he said. "You said those six months ago, Abdullah! All
you do is make promises you never keep," I grumbled. He took my hand
across the table and stated:
"Trust me. I will keep my word
this time around. So cheer up! You know I don't like it when you frown like
that!"
"Just return before the 14th.
It's Ayman's school anniversary. He will be participating in the drama
presentation and the Principal wants us and the other parents to be there to
encourage the children," I said. "Sure. I should be back by then. I
have to rush so I don't miss my flight. Take care of the home, dear!" he
said. He hurriedly kissed me on the cheek and was gone.
I sat at the table for a long
time after his departure, just staring glumly at the different dishes on the
table; bread, different varieties of breakfast cereal, eggs, oats and so on. My
husband had barely touched any of the food and I had no appetite. So much food
and no one to eat it.
I called Umma’Hani, one of the
maids and instructed her to clear the table. Upstairs in my room, I thought
about the whole day ahead and wondered how I was going to spend it without
going crazy with boredom. You see, that was the major problem in my life.
Boredom. It might sound funny to some people but that's the truth. I had too
much time on my hands and little to do.
I had little chores in the
house as the domestic staff did all the work. All I do all day once my son, Ayman
has gone to school is eat, sleep, watch movies, do some shopping and chat on
the phone with the few friends I had. In the past, I had wanted to work or
start a business at least to keep me busy. But my husband would hear none of
it. "My wife work? No way! What will my friends say? That I can no
longer provide for you? What do you lack in this house? There's money, plenty
of it so what do you need a job for?" my husband had pointed out when I
brought up the issue of doing something to ward off boredom.
On one point, he was right. My
husband is one of the richest men around and he is generous with his money. I
lacked for nothing be it choice cars, designer clothes, top range jewelry and
other good things of life. I had it all. A lot of other women envied my
lifestyle and wished they were married into wealth like me. They say I'm lucky and
should be grateful for what Allah has done in my life. I say Alhamdulillah all
the time but deep down I know something is missing.
So, why do I feel this
emptiness inside? Why do I feel so miserable most of the time despite having so
much? What was wrong with me, I wondered. Was this not what I had prayed for
and desired most of my life?
"Your problem is
idleness," my friend Saddiqa had stated severally when I had discussed the
issue with her. Saddiqa and I went back a long way and she was one of the few
intimate friends I had that I could confide in. We had met over ten years
before when I was preparing for the JAMB exams. I had failed at the first
attempt and determined to make it the second time; I had enrolled for extra
classes at a coaching centre in town. It was Saddiqa's third time taking the
exams and her last chance.
"My father said I should forget
about furthering my education if I don't pass this time around. He says he's
tired of wasting his money on a dullard like me, lol" she said, laughing.
She was lucky. At least, she had a father who cared enough about her future to
pay her exam fees. With the kind of father I had, I would have been better off
being an orphan. He was irresponsible and useless both as father to his
five children and a husband to our mother. My father did odd jobs sometimes in
factories or as a security man but he hardly worked. Not that he did not get
jobs, his problem was keeping them. His drinking habits and general lack of
commitment to his duties made him lose most of the jobs he was able to get. He
did not make much money but what little he had went into alcohol or his
bazawara- a widow with seven children.
He never cared if we ate, had
clothes to wear or a roof over our heads. The responsibility of looking after
my siblings and I fell on my poor mother, a primary school teacher. To
supplement her meager salary, she opened a small provisions store not far from
our home. After closing from school, she would head for the shop and remain
there till late in the evening. My siblings and I helped out at the store after
school. Despite all my mother's efforts, things were tough for us and there
were so many things we had to do without just because my mother could not
afford them.
Abbah was hardly home and even
when he was around, he was more of a nuisance than anything. His drunken
singing announced his presence in our compound and once he entered the house,
he would demand for food from my mother. He hardly gave her money for the
family's upkeep and did not care whether we ate or not as long as he was fed.
Coming from such an indigent
background, you might wonder how I ended up with a wealthy man like my husband,
Alhaji Abdullah. Well, it's a long story and looking back, I believe fate had a
hand in it. And my irresponsible father too...
A fight at the factory
Luckily for Saddiqa and I, we passed
the entrance exams that year and we got admitted to the same university. While
my mother was happy at the news, she grew worried about where the money for my
fees and school expenses would come from. She contacted some of our relatives
who were better off financially than us and a few promised to help. With their
support and the little my mother could put together, I was able to go to
school. It was not easy but I persevered, as I realized that it was only
through a good education that I could help in lifting my family from its
poverty stricken situation. I was in my third year when an incident happened
that nearly truncated my educational career and the bright future I so hoped
for...
To be continued...
Names have been changed to protect the identity of the narrator
and other individuals in the story.
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