The Ineligible

Chapter 10; Pilau, Mahr & Eight.

Now!

Malika

We tend to find and feel a connection with our loved ones in many ways and many things. A fragrance that brings back a memory, a colour, a place, an activity etcetera. For me pilau was that thing.

Being an African means you're exposed to the most delicious, delicate, luscious flavors in the world. And even with all the amazing food I've eaten in my entire life, only one has my heart; my mom's pilau. This is the one food I could eat almost everyday, and has always been my favourite thing to cook in the kitchen.

I remember while growing up Aunt Fiya would always tell me how my mother's pilau was the best amongst all the other girls pilau in the family. Every time they wanted pilau in the house my mom would be the one summoned to make it.

She didn't make it like everyone else so I hear, she had her own ways that she pulled it out and Ma shaa Allah it always never ceased to amaze everyone's taste buds.

I very much wanted to learn how to make my mother's famous recipe and I was lucky because apparently aunt Fiya used to watch her cook and so she knew exactly how to make it her way.

Every single household has their own way of making pilau. The balance of spices might be different, or some ingredients might be substituted for something else. Yet, with all the African and Arab households I've been to, my mom's recipe still amounts to all the hype I give it. Somehow she's gave the perfect balance of the tomato, garlic, cinnamon, cardamoms and cloves.

And lucky me I learned all that when I was just but at a very tender age of thirteen.

My mother's famous recipe became Malika's pilau. Even my mean Ami and hababa loved it. I guess that's the only thing that shouts I am Fatima's daughter, thanks to Aunt Fiya.

"Mmmhh, smells good in here." Aunt Fiya announces her presence in the kitchen by complimenting on the mouthwatering aroma of the dish I am making filling the kitchen.

"If not Malika herself in the kitchen eeh Mamati! Nimekufunda ukafundika binti yangu." She continues praising.

I chuckle slightly, leave it to her to always go extra on them praises.

"Mh! Mama stop that it will get to her head and she will burn it all." Zahra says and Adila and I both laugh.

"Aah let me see what you are making." Aunt Fiya says and she walks closer to Zahra, the salad bowl she was supposed to make long forgotten since about thirty minutes ago when she shared a streak with a caption 'Chef Zahra craved salad only today'

"The guests will be here in a few, Malika is almost done with everything and you are still not yet to cut that salad?" Aunt Fiya barked at her.

"I already cut the tomatoes and cabbage Adila should get going with the onions." She argued.

"I am making the juice so please just finish your task." Adila jumped in quick before her mom could say anything.

"Yes go ahead and finish up, see Malika made all the food and you're yet to finish making one bowl of salad. Shame on you!." Aunt Fiya said.

"I am tired wallahi." Zahra pouts. "Why is it that we are in this kitchen doing anything at all? Are these guests ours to impress? They are coming here to bring her mahr not ours." She explains as she angrily pull the bowl and resume to cutting the salad.

I feel like someone is poking me in the chest from the inside when those words leave the her mouth. Did she just say they are coming here to bring her mahr not ours?