"Yes, that's what her uncle told me," Baba Garbati replied as he adjusted his seating on the mat. He fetched a small piece of cola nut from his pocket, broke it in two, and popped a piece into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Let her come home and rest. This town is hard enough as it is, but at least under her parents' roof, she can find some peace." Mamu sighed, dusting off the edge of her wrapper. "Peace? In this compound? As long as Alhaji Mudi breathes, peace is a luxury none of us can afford. Look at what he just did to Imane. A grown woman of twenty-eight, beaten like a stubborn donkey in front of her siblings. It is a shame." "Hush now, woman," Baba Garbati muttered, glancing toward the courtyard to ensure no one was lurking nearby. "Walls have ears in this house, and you know how fast tongues wag. Let us keep our heads down and do our jobs. Ibrahim is our only saving grace here. When he returns from Morocco, things might soften up a bit. Alhaji actually listens to him, even if he pretends not to." "I hope so," Mamu said, rising to her feet to check on the pot of soup simmering over the small charcoal stove. "Because if things continue this way, one of these girls will end up running away from home, and only God knows what kind of hands they will fall into out there on the streets."
★★★ THE NEXT MORNING
The sun rose over the neighborhood, casting a bright, unforgiving light on the compound. The tension from the previous night still hung heavily in the air like a thick fog. Inside the main house, the silence was deafening. Imane lay flat on her stomach in her bedroom, her body aching from the severe beating she had received. Every muscle groaned with pain, and her face was heavily swollen, making it difficult for her to even blink without tearing up. Ihsane sat at the edge of the bed, gently dabbing a warm cloth over the bruises on her sister's back. "You need to eat something, Imane," Ihsane whispered, her voice laced with deep sorrow. "Mamy sent some porridge, but you haven't touched it since morning." Imane kept her eyes shut, a bitter tear slipping down her bruised cheek. "How can I eat, Ihsane? My body feels like it's on fire, but my heart hurts even more. Daddy completely stripped me of my dignity yesterday. And for what? Because I was talking to the man who wants to make me his wife?" "He is just paranoid," Ihsane tried to console her, though her own words felt empty. "He thinks every man out there wants to take advantage of us. He doesn't see that his own actions are what's pushing us to the brink." Imane turned her head slightly, wincing at the sharp pain in her neck. "No, it's not paranoia. It's control. He wants to keep us locked up under his thumb forever. But I swear to you, Ihsane, Jabeer loves me, and I will not let Daddy ruin my only chance at happiness. If he refuses to give his blessing, then..." She trailed off, a dangerous look flashing through her swollen eyes. "Then what?" Ihsane asked, her heart skipping a beat at the implication. "Don't do anything rash, Imane. You know how ruthless Daddy can be. If you try to cross him, he will completely ruin you." Before Imane could reply, the bedroom door flew open, and Munira burst in, her eyes wide with panic. "Ihsane! Imane! You need to see this right now. Daddy is out in the living room, and he's completely losing his mind over a video someone sent him!" Ihsane quickly dropped the cloth into the basin of water and stood up. "A video? What video?" "I don't know," Munira stammered, her lower lip trembling. "But he's screaming Yaya Ibrahim's name, and he looks like he's about to have a stroke. Come quickly!" Please comment and share. Brought to you by Jikar Rabo {MRS SADAUKI} 💫
Page 7–8
"Yes, that's what her uncle told me," Baba Garbati replied as he adjusted his seating on the mat. He fetched a small piece of cola nut from his pocket, broke it in two, and popped a piece into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Let her come home and rest. This town is hard enough as it is, but at least under her parents' roof, she can find some peace."
Mamu sighed, dusting off the edge of her wrapper. "Peace? In this compound? As long as Alhaji Mudi breathes, peace is a luxury none of us can afford. Look at what he just did to Imane. A grown woman of twenty-eight, beaten like a stubborn donkey in front of her siblings. It is a shame."
"Hush now, woman," Baba Garbati muttered, glancing toward the courtyard to ensure no one was lurking nearby. "Walls have ears in this house, and you know how fast tongues wag. Let us keep our heads down and do our jobs. Ibrahim is our only saving grace here. When he returns from Morocco, things might soften up a bit. Alhaji actually listens to him, even if he pretends not to."
"I hope so," Mamu said, rising to her feet to check on the pot of soup simmering over the small charcoal stove. "Because if things continue this way, one of these girls will end up running away from home, and only God knows what kind of hands they will fall into out there on the streets."
★★★ THE NEXT MORNING
The sun rose over the neighborhood, casting a bright, unforgiving light on the compound. The tension from the previous night still hung heavily in the air like a thick fog. Inside the main house, the silence was deafening.
Imane lay flat on her stomach in her bedroom, her body aching from the severe beating she had received. Every muscle groaned with pain, and her face was heavily swollen, making it difficult for her to even blink without tearing up. Ihsane sat at the edge of the bed, gently dabbing a warm cloth over the bruises on her sister's back.
"You need to eat something, Imane," Ihsane whispered, her voice laced with deep sorrow. "Mamy sent some porridge, but you haven't touched it since morning."
Imane kept her eyes shut, a bitter tear slipping down her bruised cheek. "How can I eat, Ihsane? My body feels like it's on fire, but my heart hurts even more. Daddy completely stripped me of my dignity yesterday. And for what? Because I was talking to the man who wants to make me his wife?"
"He is just paranoid," Ihsane tried to console her, though her own words felt empty. "He thinks every man out there wants to take advantage of us. He doesn't see that his own actions are what's pushing us to the brink."
Imane turned her head slightly, wincing at the sharp pain in her neck. "No, it's not paranoia. It's control. He wants to keep us locked up under his thumb forever. But I swear to you, Ihsane, Jabeer loves me, and I will not let Daddy ruin my only chance at happiness. If he refuses to give his blessing, then..." She trailed off, a dangerous look flashing through her swollen eyes.
"Then what?" Ihsane asked, her heart skipping a beat at the implication. "Don't do anything rash, Imane. You know how ruthless Daddy can be. If you try to cross him, he will completely ruin you."
Before Imane could reply, the bedroom door flew open, and Munira burst in, her eyes wide with panic. "Ihsane! Imane! You need to see this right now. Daddy is out in the living room, and he's completely losing his mind over a video someone sent him!"
Ihsane quickly dropped the cloth into the basin of water and stood up. "A video? What video?"
"I don't know," Munira stammered, her lower lip trembling. "But he's screaming Yaya Ibrahim's name, and he looks like he's about to have a stroke. Come quickly!"
Please comment and share.
Brought to you by Jikar Rabo {MRS SADAUKI} 💫