A Promise From My Heart

54.

I apologise for the extremely late update. A lot has been happening in my personal life and this current chapter was so hard to complete. Writer's block is to be blamed. Thanks for your patience.

Abu Surayyah and his family moved out of the compound. They had not informed anyone about it. We came back from work and found their flat empty. Their missing child was never found. We heard nothing, saw nothing about her. Just like that, Shafiqah was gone like the world did not hear her cries and laughter, as if the earth did not feel the touch of her little feet and we did not see her smile. Shafiqah became one of the many children whose parents had no idea what had happened to them. I watched the dynamic lives of Abu Surayyah's family shift into a mind-numbing episode of monotonous activities.

Ummu Surayyah, at first, spent her days crying, lamenting and barely able to do anything. Then slowly, the incident ate into her state of mind. She would walk down the streets looking for her child, asking if she had been seen. Her feet were always bare as if the need to search for her child had hit her in the moment of contemplation and without thinking, she had stepped out of the house. Her soles bled, ripped and jiggered but she never seemed to care. I guess her physical pain was nothing compared to the internal pain that consumed her.

I remember her wrapper was always tied in a hurried manner. The longer end would crawl on the floor after her, coated in dirt and soiled by the stagnant water on the streets. Her hair, thin and damaged from relaxer, was left uncovered. And she would cry while walking, calling out for her child. People would watch, shake their heads and murmur how sad it was to have a missing child. She has gone mad, they would say.

There is a Yoruba adage that says a dead child is better than a missing child. At least, you know what has happened to your child. When a child goes missing, you keep wondering whether the child's alive or dead, assuming possible scenarios of what could have happened to your child and where they could be. Ummu Surayyah's mental health deteriorated and soon, she was taken to her home town, Ede. Abu Surayyah became a shadow of himself. I saw the happy family man transform into someone who could barely make a sentence with anyone. His burden was written all over him; on his drab face and his slacked shoulders. In his shrinking weight, dishevelled clothes and sluggish steps.

This incident brought fears I never expressed. I thought of my unborn children, the possibilities of them going missing. I have lost two already. Losing another child was one incident I would never bear or might never survive from. And Amatullah would cry whenever she remembers Abu Surrayah's family. She would hold her stomach and pray, touch it and tell our children that she loves them so much and mummy would always be there for them through thick and thin. And I was the rock against all her emotions.

Giving gifts has always been a way to bond with my wife. At first, I gave her gifts because it was what was expected of me. As we grew together, I realised I enjoyed her reaction to them and the overwhelming feeling of love and validation that sparks in me from her expression. Then, it grew into something I became intentional and thoughtful about. I looked forward to her reaction; the surprise, her dilated pupils, and pure joy as she stares gratefully and adoringly into my eyes. The rush of the warm glow of giving that develops inside me is something I cannot explain. It was the same way I felt when I gave her the full body pregnancy pillow.

Her discomfort while sleeping increased as our pregnancy grew. The back and side aches made it hard to sleep. She needed cushioning from pillows that did not give comfort. I had no idea how to help until I had mentioned it at work to Zakiyyah who told me about pregnancy pillows. The pregnancy pillow had helped her elder sister when she was pregnant. It did reduce the pain and gave comfort which made sleeping better.

I had no knowledge it existed and I had browsed about it to have an idea of what it looked like. That same day, I ordered it from Mercy who delivered it an hour later. I had smiled at my act, glowed from the thought and was glad it would help her. The pregnancy pillow took it fair share of our bed but at least, her ability to sleep all through the night without waking up to complain about aches was worthy of it.