HALIMA
I sat beside Hajiya Azumi's bed, watching her weak body rise and fall with each breath. Her eyes, once full of life, now looked sunken and tired. The room smelled of medicine and disinfectant, reminding me of her illness.
The past few months had been tough. Hajiya Azumi's health kept failing, and her memory started to fade. We had to postpone the Charity gala, and I wasn't sure if she'd recover.
Despite her weakness, Hajiya Azumi still wanted to help others. She kept donating to good causes, even when she couldn't leave her bed.
I cherished our conversations and her advice on love, family, and staying strong. My salary also helped me pay off some of Baba's debts, which eased Mama's worries.
Why did I bother when Baba didn't appreciate it? I did it for Mama. If I didn't, she'd carry the burden alone.
Only Diza, the youngest, brought out Baba's softer side. He spoiled her with gifts and attention, making her feel like a princess. I remembered how he'd helped Mama during Diza's pregnancy, cooking and cleaning for us. But his favoritism created tension between us sisters.
Diza, now 15, began questioning Baba's behavior. She saw how he ignored Mama's needs and belittled me. Yet, she struggled to reconcile her love for him with his flaws.
Ladidi's voice broke the silence. "Halima!" she whispered urgently.
"What is it?" I asked, rubbing my tired eyes.
"Madam says you can go home, rest for a while. She'll call you when it's time to come back."
I put on my floral Ankara gown and grabbed my bag. As I left, I smelled Hajiya Azumi's perfume, remembering her fading presence.
Outside, the sunlight felt harsh, and the city noises seemed distant. Yasir's absence weighed on my mind; he struggled to watch his beloved grandmother slip away. He worked twice as hard as before, leaving early and returning late, to escape the painful reality at home. Watching Hajiya Azumi's health decline, her vibrant spirit slowly fading away, was a constant ache. Every day felt like a countdown to an inevitable goodbye.
As I stepped out of the grand house, the scorching harmattan sun hit my skin, a stark contrast to the air-conditioned comfort I'd just left. The sound of honking cars and chirping birds filled the air.
"Hey, maid, come and get the bags from the car," a voice laced with a British accent cut through the noise. I turned to face the speaker, my eyes widening in annoyance.
"Excuse me? Are you talking to me?" I asked, incredulous.
The woman, resplendent in a high-quality maxi dress and matching cap, flaunted her wealth with a gleaming Chanel bag. Her car key jingled as she gestured towards a sleek red Mercedes Benz.
"If not you, then who? Get the bags from the car," she emphasized, her tone dripping with condescension.
My blood boiled at her rudeness. "This should be a total misconception; I'm not a maid. Be polite next time," I retorted, my voice firm.
I turned to leave, my heels clicking on the interlocking tiles. The two security men, familiar with my face, nodded in greeting as I passed.
"Beotch!" the woman's parting shot echoed through the air, but I refused to engage.
Suddenly, the voice sparked a memory, but I pushed it aside.
My mind shifted to my mother, whom I'd neglected for weeks. Guilt pricked at my conscience as I hailed a taxi home.
My heart sank as I recalled the eviction notice.
"Mallama, mun kai," the taxi driver announced, his voice a welcome respite from my thoughts.
YOU ARE READING
BELONGING - BOOK 1
Teen Fiction*Definition:* Vitiligo (vit-ih-LIE-go) is a chronic autoimmune skin condition characterized by the loss of pigment-producing cells (melanocytes), resulting in white patches or spots on the skin. ★ "Meet Hadiza Bello, a vibrant and determined young g...
