Break Of Dawn

Chapter 13.

I looked at the papers, and trembled.
Then at the middle aged sheikh in a seat across from me, looking at me with kind eyes, it was almost impossible to imagine that such a huge man would have such gentle eyes.

Then I looked at Aisha who was standing behind me, holding her waist tiredly, the way I had seen every pregnant woman doing , as if holding up her torso with her hands.

I took the pen again and held it over the bottom right of the document, where I was supposed to sign.

A new family,strangers... No way.
I sighed and said,
"I'm not sure about this... I don't feel comfortable, "

That was the second or third time I was repeating the same thing, I wasn't sure.
The imam excused himself and said he'd be outside as soon as we had come to a conclusion.

Once he was out, Aisha walked over and occupied the seat he had just vacated.
She settled down and made herself comfortable, leaning so low backwards I was worried she might topple over.
"That's more like it, "she said, and chuckled to herself.

She then looked at me and asked me,
" We discussed this at home, didn't we? "

Yes, we had been talking about this issue for the last few days.
The day after Aisha had told me that she'd look for another way.
I was very relieved,
About two days later, she told me that she had learned of a program that the mosque runs in case of situations like mine.

It was a foster care program of some sort, I would be placed with a family who would take care of all my needs and help me grow as a Muslim revert.

I remembered something like this at the church,
but it had not worked when the church had tried to place a kid with my family because my dad wasn't really a spiritual mentor for anyone.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure, I don't know these people.
I'm not sure, "

That whole time, Aisha had been swinging around in the seat, I'm not even sure she heard what I was saying.
She then stopped swinging, and leaned in front towards me,
" It's not like you are not getting dreadlocks! "
What?

" Huh? " I asked,
very confused.
When had this conversation veered towards dreadlocks?
" You are not getting married," she replied, leaving me an even a more confused mess.
I frowned, and kept my mouth shut, waiting for her to elaborate.

Dreadlocks, Marriage? Who talked anything about that?
" It's not a life time commitment,"she said,
pulling me out of the pit of confusion, she had thrown me into.
"It's just temporary, 1 year at most, until you join college. "

I looked at her skeptically, and frowned.
" It's temporary, until you have 'A REAL PLAN' "she said, air quoting the last part of the statement.
I face palmed,

" We are not through with that yet? "

" We can never be through, you tricked me, "she replied,dramatically placing a hand over her heart, feigning hurt.
A few moments, and enough convincing from Aisha later, I signed the papers in the presence of the imam, and he called the lady whose family would take me in,
Her voice was firm and comforting, and her swahili dialect was typical of the Kenyan coast.
After talking to her, I felt a little bit relieved. This could not be that bad,

Aisha helped me pack, the few clothing I had come with. And also lent me some of her smaller diras, and a couple of scarfs.

I had gotten used to the way of dressing during my stay at Aisha's. The first few days were quite challenging, the scarf made my head feel itchy and heavy, but I had gotten used to it, and these days I felt absolutely awkward without it especially in public.
Aisha and her husband walked me to the bus station, the next morning so I could catch the first bus to Mombasa.

I sat at the very back seat, and I watched as both of them waved me goodbye until they became a distant tiny dot, a blurry one made so by the tears in my eyes.

I was on the road, again. Running further and further away from home, sinking deeper and deeper into murky cowardice.

I missed home, and my family. I missed dad and Joshua terribly, I missed mom desperately, and the thought of my sister brought more tears to my eyes.

I thought moving away from home would bring back a sense of normalcy back to my family. But now as I sat here in this bus, I knew I had made the situation worse. First dropping the bombshell I was converting to Islam, and soon afterwards leaving home.

Damn it!
Why hadn't I seen this before, I had added a pintful of salt to a very raw and painful ulcer.
Maybe staying home, would have been better.
But then again, mom had said that if I stuck to my decision, one of us would have to leave.
Would she leave?

I had messed up big time, that was bad. What was even worse, is that I could not garner the courage to go back home to make things right.
It was several weeks since I left home, it was too late to go back now. And even if I did go, what would I even tell them,

"Mom , dad I'm extremely sorry for running away , for making you worry . I thought that ... "

Nah!
Too late,

I didn't realize I was hitting the seat in font of me pretty hard, until the gentleman in it turned around and frowned at me. I mumbled a sorry and sighed deeply, slumping back in the leather bus seat.

" Boyfriend trouble? "
I turned at the raspy little voice.
An little old lady with a kind smile.
" No, "I replied giving her a tight smile.
I wish it was just boyfriend trouble.

For the rest of the journey, the lady did most of the talking.
Telling me about 'the old days' as she called them when she was about my age.
She was funny, and made me laugh several times, the bus was generally noisy, people talking to those sitting next to them,
She told me she was headed to Mombasa to visit her son for Christmas holidays,

"Christmas? "I asked, feeling downcast all of a sudden.
" Yes,I always spend the holidays with my son and his family, "she smiles absentmindedly, as if revelling in the memory,

I feel my throat go dry, and parched. I'd totally forgotten Christmas, a time when we'd all go upcountry to my grandma's place, and I'd get to meet all my aunts, uncles and cousins.

That life seemed so far away,I tried remembering last year's Christmas holidays and it seemed like I was reaching out to a memory from centuries back.
I knew myself well enough to know that every time I thought about home or my family, I would cry. And this was one of those times,

But I wouldn't let myself cry, I bit my tongue so hard when I felt a sob nearly escape my throat. I could taste the metallic taste of blood in my mouth,
But I couldn't cry, not any more.
I had made things messy and crying could not help the situation.

I only relaxed the clang of my teeth on my tongue, when I heard a loud growl from the pit of my stomach,

It was quite late, when I finally decided to eat the homemade snacks Aisha had packed for me,
When I was done, the lady told me that I had cramps around my mouth,
I wiped my mouth and looked at her for affirmation. She shook her head, and said,
"Here let me do it, "

She then started wiping off the cramps from around my mouth with old rough hands.
Her hands smelt strange, well I found it strange for an old woman. They smelt like a chemicals,
Which reminded me of a chemistry lab.

Almost immediately I felt as if a big bucket of murky sticky sleep had been poured over me, and I tried to keep my eyes open but I couldn't. The last thing I saw before I passed out, was an evil gleam in the 'kind' old woman's eyes.

I would have been extremely scared of what she was planning to do to me , but the heavy sleep she put me in wouldn't let me think of anything.

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As-salaam aleikum beautiful people,
Eva keeps running into trouble, doesn't she?
Tell me what you think so far, I'd love to hear from y'all.
Go ahead vote, comment and share.
See you in the next chapter,
Until then
Happy reading,

Xoxo
Evanne61 😊😇.