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・بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ・
18TH SEPTEMBER, 1997.
JIMETA, YOLA.
A woman walked hastily into the hospital. Her Kodebua wrapper with one side up and the other down, rumbles as she stormed into the place. Her faded blue bathroom slippers making a 'pat!' sound as it made contact with the cold hospital tiled floor.
Her breathing came out ragged as she fixed her squeezed hijab.
She didn't stop till she reached where the Operation Room is. Outside in the lobby were four other people. Two of which she recognized as her daughter's co wives and the two other being her children.
Despite the fact that they very much need to be together in a time like this, she felt like their presence wasn't needed for she knew it wasn't genuine. Nonetheless, she ignored them and all thoughts of such dispersed into thick air when she remembered the events that took place earlier.
The sound of opening door interrupted her train of thoughts. Her head swiveled to find the source where she saw a short bald man with surgical mask covering his face's lower half walking out of the OR. Her feet moved on their own accord before the others could react, she stood in front of the middle aged doctor.
"Dakta! How is she?" she asked; her voice frantic and eyes dilated slightly from all the emotions she was feeling at that moment.
The Doctor sighed and looked down before looking right back up; "She'd lost a lot of blood already before she was brought here" he stopped waiting to see her reaction.
She had an idea where this dialogue is heading. But she prayed to Allah that it wasn't what she's assuming, she didn't know what she would do if it ended the way she's assuming. "And..." she urged him to continue.
"We did everything we could to save her, but we couldn't"
The woman gulped thickly. Her eyes sting with tears but she held it back in, "And her husband?"
"We couldn't save him either. I'm sorry but there was nothing we could do"
"Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un"
~*~
"Me kake nufi? You mean to say you want to raise your deceased sister's daughter?" The old woman asked in a hushed tone so as not to wake the two-year-old sleeping on her lap. After crying for hours just like she'd been doing for the past two weeks she finally fell asleep. The little girl could not stop asking of her parent. But then again, how can you tell a two year old that both her parents have passed away?
