In pairs

Family lunch

Authors note: First chapter, it might start off boring but Ill try to shorten the boring parts, I hope you enjoy and thanks! xx

Jamilla's POV:

''Nayaa Jamilla, Kalaay hoose imow (Jamilla come downstairs!)'' called my mum from the kitchen, 

''Haye hooyo (Okay mum)'' I screamed from my room hoping she could hear, I sigh as I throw myself on my bed just wishing to go back to bed. It was 12 in the afternoon and we were expecting guests over. I didn't need to be told twice on what was expected from me, especially being one of the older girls.

I drag myself from my wonderful bed and chang into appropriate clothes, a ripped baati (Somali traditional clothing ) was not something my mum or the guests would approve off. I jog down the stairs, and the commotion from downstairs instantly hit my ears.

''Move Halimo, I sat here first'' screamed Farhiya trying her best to push halimo from the couch but to no avail,

''Okay and I care because? You moved so it's mine now'' retorted Halimo holding onto the side of the couch with a hard grip. 

I roll my eyes before entering the kitchen and seeing my mum cleaning the kitchen with my older sister Lubna sweeping the floor. My dad was in the other room as usual indulged with speaking on the phone to one of his relatives that lived in Sweden, the half eaten canjeero and maraq that lay in front of him  long forgotten. 

''Haa innagu waxaan nahey ok alhamudlilah, adiguna see tahay? (Yes, we are okay Praise be to Allah (God), how about you?'' my dad asked while touching his small beard, his voice was so loud you could probably hear it from the other side of the world. Before my mum called my name again I entered the kitchen and immediately started helping with cleaning bits and bobs and preparing the food , I didn't need to be told what to make because we always made the same meals for when guests came over - rice with lamb and injera with maraq (Ethiopian injero). Before I could do anything my mum told me to eat the canjeero and maraq  (Somali food) she made for me and then told me to hoover and clean the living room instead. 

After an hour of cleaning the room, I put unsi/dabqaad on the floral table to make the room smell nice, I went to my room and wrapped a loose hijab on so I wouldn't have to look for one later. I felt bored laying on my bed so I took my phone out of the charger and scrolled through Instagram posts double tapping all the posts I liked and rolling my eyes when I saw all the dumb posts, 'why would you even post that?' I think shaking my head. 

---

Ding dong

My aunts and cousins had arrived and everyone was running around in a frantic scream making sure everything was immaculate before opening the door. I tightly wrapped my black hijab and we greeted each other with kisses on the cheeks and tight hugs before they made their way to the living room to sit down. My older sister Lubna put on the wedding of my cousin who had recently got married and from there on started all the chit chats and laughs. 

Time had seemed to go fast because we had finished eating and my dad and uncles went to the masjid to pray so it was only the girls and women's left. This is the part I dreaded the most, my aunties would call me into the room and shoot many marriage-related questions at me or questions about my education. My favourite ones being ''Jamilla when will you get married?''or my most favourite "I know a man who is very religious and got a good job as a doctor, you two should speak" it sounds good but not once you hear how old he is you will understand why I refuse- What am I supposed to do with a 30-year-old when I'm not even 20 yet?

'' Ya Jamilla kaale inta imaaw (Jamilla come in here)" screamed my auntie Sumaya, I sighed before making a quick prayer and entering the room filled with prying eyes. I sat down next to my sister Halima and that was when all the questions started. 

"What are you studying in school now?'' 

''Are you talking to any boys?" 

"I want you to meet my husband's brothers son"

"Why don't you become a doctor instead?"

"I got married when I was 16 in Somalia, what are you doing with your life? why aren't you married yet?"

"How old are you again? mashallah you're all grown up"

I tried my best to answer them in a way that satisfied all of the questions with a fake smile plastered on my face making my answers seem more believable. Alhamudlilah it didn't take long before they moved onto a new topic which I was forever grateful for, my mouth felt rigid hurting from all the smiling and I didn't know how long I could've kept it up for.

After all the guests had left, I was assigned to cleaning the dirty dishes and only Allah knows how much I was dreading it.

-----

yes, I know this chapter is very short but I have writer's block and I honestly don't know how to start or what to write but hopefully in shaa allah the rest of the chapters will be much longer and better. Vote and comment please, lots of love xx - K.Hassan