Forsaken Gem

Chapter 1

I am one of the wretched children that were bundled up in a wrapper enclosed in a box and kept on a busy street. I grew up having no knowledge of my parent, never felt any love of compassion they call mothers love, except that of Mama Jummai as she cuddled me to sleep after a night mare, and from matron Mariya when embracing me whenever I needed that, but after they were both transferred I've always longed for such affection and clemency in the eyes of the new matron Mummy Lubabatu, but instead I get a cold stare when ever I flashed her a smile.
Now that am 15, all the children my age have left the orphanage, some of them adopted while others died from ailment and poor emergency medical aids. The ones adopted were the lucky ones. I was not opportuned to be adopted because of a rare case of albinism that I possess, it is called ocular albinism. Whenever the prospective parent pop in for a child to adopt, they would stare at me with eyes widely opened.
" No No Matron, she's not bad, but her eyes are scary" giving me a disgust look.
I often stare at the mirror, gazing at my nystagmus Asian blue eyes that they always say are scary, my dark olive skin glowing brightly, with a small sprinkles of freckles on my button shaped nose, and my rose bud pale pink full lips. I kept wondering, maybe that was the reason my birth mother dump me and no other parent want to adopt me, because am ugly. Matron Mariya once told me when she found me engrossed in one of my staring session that I should never let my looks break my self esteem, she also told me am beautiful both in and on the outside. That made me felt better even though deep down I believed I was not adopted because I was ugly.

Well that was what Abida told me one tranquil evening as we were stridding down to the Madrasa in our compound. The school was build inside our orphanage by a Rich Alhaji three years back, the Alhaji's exact word was that; he is seeking Allah's favour by providing a way for the less fortunate children to learn the word of the holy book; Quran.

I scurried fast through the red sand holding my blue hijab in place, dust from the hamattan covering the entire surrounding, abida was walking as fast as she could to catch up with me.
Urging me to slow down a little, I slowed my pace a little and tilted my head toward her smiling.
Just at the entrance we met a group of mean girls from the neighbourhood, when they come over to attend the madrasa from their various houses, with them they bring along lot of trouble and taunt. The way I looked has always pussled them, as they tittle tattled about my features, always talking to me in a discourteous way, and they always seems to get away with everything they do in the madrasa, I think the reason been the favour their parent always tuck into our Teachers hand while he sheepishly accept bowing down in respect.
" fiddausi Fiddausi " laurat called out to her friend
" the cat eye girl is here" laurat said while flashing me a despising look
with my head bowed down I held Abida's hand and walked toward the aluminium door. And then laurat jerked my hijab making me to fall in an accumulated poodle of water just at the side. I lifted my eyes now filled with rage and stood up. She started moving backward as I jerked her forward wrapped my hands around her neck and started shaking her vigorously while others tried to saperate our little encounter. Suddenly the voice I dreaded echoed through the field bringing me out of mu oblivion. It was Ustaz adam our teacher. He was holding a scraped cane he got from a neem tree and with an aswak at the corner of his mouth.
"come here all of you, you came late and here you are fighting right? " flashing us a angry look
" she started it Malam, said laurat in her now trembling voice
I tried talking, but my stammering took control, that's what always happened to me when am angry, and I end up not saying anything reasonable. Knowing fully well, I will be the one to be blamed I burst out into tears while Abida patted my back trying to soothe me down.
"Malam, laurat was the one that pushed Zainab unto the ground and she....
Abida was interrupted by Ustaz Adam's deep voice before she halt her clarification.
"keep quiet and go inside" he said to Abida as he pointed toward the entrance" she gave me a quick stare and scurried fast through the aluminum door glancing anxiously at us.
"you all should go inside" pointing to laurat and her group of friends" laurat send me a cold stare smiling at me and flashing her teeth. She walked egoistically. I was left there completely shattered and in tears.
" go and kneel down there" he pointed toward an empty space at the fringed of the wall.
I wiped my tear soaked face with the tip of my hijab and traipsed to the empty space to kneel, crying some more.
I didn't realized I tooked so long crying until I heard the student reciting the final dua for closing for the day in a loud unaminous voice, followed by the student scampering to their various destinations.
"Ustaz adam is calling you" said a little girl who left running in a childish way.
Knowing fully well where the ustaz office was situated, I stood up from the ground, wiped the red sand stain on my hijab and walked toward the entrance only to meet Abida who hugged me, consoling me and telling me she will be waiting for me outside.
There were three classes in the block and an office all in a row, I paced pass the classes and to the office at the extreme end. There were two large table in the office, each occupancy of single person, He was seated by the right on a chair just behind a large table with books disperse all over the surface of the table. I kneeled again in front of him glaring at the scarbrous wall. He stepped closer to me and didn't utter a word until he was few steps away.
" Zainab! Come and choose the cane you want me to flogged you with." I looked up and with a teary eye begin bawling terribly. He shouted which got me shiver as I stood up and headed toward him. I stood still while he choose the rubber cane with a smile he asked for my hand and started flogging me. The pain was unbearable as I cried out vehemently. He gave me five lashes on the left hand and was about to give me the sixth when we were interrupted by Ustaz Muazzam.
"Its okay now! He shouted with a frown face.
I tilted my head toward him, gazing upon the tanned pigmentation on his light olive skin. He looked more Arab than African, thanks to his Somali heritage for his appealing countenance.
"Zainab, go home. Pointing toward the door
I scurried out of the class as fast I could overhearing their squabble over the issue.