Our Fates: Book III of the Fate Trilogy

Two: Aisha Kabir: I'm Not A Coward

"Dear Walida, how are you? How is the fa-" I shake my head and quickly delete the sentence. It sounds childish. I hiss and try again. "Hey, kawata," I nod in approval. "How is everything. Sorry you haven't heard from me in a while. I've been..." I pause, looking up at a corner of the ceiling, at a black stain shaped like a spiral. Since I moved in over a week ago, I've been imagining the spiral moving round and round, like my life.

I hiss again. "Aikin banza-Rubbish." When did I become this pathetic? "Kai," I let out, shaking my head.

Just then, the electricity came on, making the bulb flicker on, then off; the ceiling turned with a loud krrrang before stopping.

"Ku na hauka ne-Are you(plural) mad?!" A female voice shouts from the window to my right. But I didn't flinch like I used to, I'm used to it already, used to her.

I hiss again. Who am I kidding? I can never be used to this place, this life. But since Baba and mama have put their feet down, telling me to either stay here with Adda Rabi (my eldest maternal cousin), or leave Bauchi. What other choice do I have? In fact, where will I go?

I sigh, pick up my phone beside me on the bed, and resume typing to my best friend, Walida, who has been calling me for the past few weeks, but I didn't pick. The next day after her visit to the hospital, I packed my little belongings and left Kano. I didn't even bother going home or checking on my boys at their aunt's house. And it wasn't because I was afraid of Habib, I just didn't want to attach myself to anyone that would make me change my mind, anyone but him.

Also, my boys are doing well. The recent photo they sent to my new number on WhatssApp-all four of them smiling widely, slanting eyes twinkling, and clothes stained with the pink from the ice cream cone in their hands-is enough proof.

I know aunty Ladi is taking care of them, at least until I can find my footing again, one of which includes getting married, for God knows I won't last in this noisy, stink-"

A hit on the door interrupts my thoughts. I know who it is, but I won't answer. There's no ne-

"Dun, dun, dun," goes the next hit on the door, making it vibrate. Surely she's using that her fat hippopotamus hand.

I hiss, "shigo."

She hits it again to show her displeasure. I roll my eyes. "Shigo, adda Rabi."

The door opens, and she steps in, tilting her head at me. "Sannu, baby. Ina nan ina ta fama da girki, ke kuma... While I'm busy cooking, you're here..." She opens her palms in my direction.

I bend my head over my phone. And so what? Is this not her children's house? Is she not supposed to cook? "Abu nake yi. I'm busy." I tell her, almost twisting my mouth like a child.

"Eh, na ga alama ai. Yes, I can see that." She says and sighs, releasing a waft of smoke smell my way. "Ni kuma wasa na ke yi, ko? And I'm busy playing, right?" She stalks toward me, glaring. "Toh, wallahi ba ki isa ba." She says, waving a wet spatula in the air, startling me.

I stare at her round form, a short hijab framing her meaty face, and her nose, open like a cave. Since I came, she has been looking for my trouble. But I have been ignoring her because of baba. This is her fifth attempt now.

"Ki tashi yanzunnan! Get up this instant!" She barks, hitting the spatula on the bed, on my only bed sheet, one that I'm sure is more expensive than this hog she calls a house.

"Ke?" I say, staring up at her. Yes, she's bigger than me, and older by eight years. But no, strength is not by size. I can beat her if I put my mind to it. I'm sure. I've done it before, to Habib, many times. But he always wins. And he's just as slim as I am.

And I want to avoid problem with Baba, so I decide to keep my cool. I shake my head. "I don't have your time." As I'm about to send the text, my phone is yanked out of my hand.

Kut! Does she know how long it took me to write that message?! I quickly stand on the bed, glowering down at her. "Ban waya ta. Give me back my phone." I stretch my hand toward her, eyes flaming.

Baba! Baba! rings in my head, but I ignore it, just like Habib will beat you, don't annoy him, used to ring in my head, and I ignored it. I'm not a coward.

She sneers at me, "you must cook lunch today."

Chab! Me? In this house? Inside that small black box she calls a kitchen? Never!

"Nace ki bani waya ta!" I repeat.

"Sai kin yi girkin rana yau," She repeats too. "in ba haka ba-"

I don't wait for her to finish before landing a slap on her face. What nonsense!

She replaces her words with a piercing scream. I quickly grip her coconut head, stand behind her, tuck it under my arm and press her neck, hard. "Give me my phone!"

"Innalillahi!" she shrieks, flailing her hands, but I use my thighs to hold them down.

I don't succeed though. So I have to hurry. "Waya ta!" I scream.

She replies by puffing her cheeks and turning her neck from side to side. I bend her backwards, but she's too heavy for my thin arms.

"Subhanallahi, yaya Indo!" A female voice shrieks. I turn toward the door. Two slim girls stand by the door: my younger sisters, gaping at me. Actually, only one, Surayya, is looking at me as if I have transformed into an animal, while the other, Lubaba, is just smiling. What are they doing here? Aren't they supposed to be in school?

"Dan Allah, ku taimake ni. Please, help me." Adda Rabi cries, face wet with sweat.

Surayya hurries toward us, pushing me aside. "Leave her now, do you want to kill her?" She says, face scrunched, eyes blinking rapidly.

Just as I open my mouth to speak, Lubaba says, "Yes, just like she killed her marriage."

My head snaps toward her. "what did you just say?" I look at her properly. Lubaba, my youngest sister, the same girl that got hit by a car when she was two, and I carried her on my back and ran all the way to the clinic. I didn't leave her side till she was discharged, even though I had school and even worse, exams! But I stayed with her, feeding her, soothing her cries, bathing her. But here she is, standing before me, saying nonsense, to me, her 'yaya International'.

Without thinking, I release adda Rabi, eyes still on Lubaba. I smile. I'm not a coward. How old is she now? "Luba, repeat what you said."

She stares at me, then rolls her eyes. "Mama told us everything. And baba said we should come and greet you." She shrugs, walking past me to meet the others.

Oh, I swallow. I turn toward them. Surayya, rubbing adda Rabi's back, tears running down her face. And Lubaba, holding a phone, eyes glued to the screen. My phone! I rush toward her and grab it. Tapping it on, I see my home screen. I check my messages: no draft, no sent text. Adda Rabi must have deleted it. I glare at her. Illiterate kawai!

"Yaya Indo," Surayya calls me, sniffs, and holds out her phone. "Baba said you should follow us back home."

I frown. When did she call him?

"I sent him a text." She replies. "He said you should go now."

What will he do? Surely, he won't beat me. I take a deep breath and nod. "okay, let's go."

I'm not a coward.

•••

Of course, dear, we believe you, right guys?
😂😂😂

Anyways, hope you had fun reading.

From this, can you describe Aisha with just one word?😏

Drop your answers in the comment section, and be sure to vote and share.

Lots of love!🥰

⭐⭐⭐
Zah Storyteller HQ