The Juju Lady Next Door (Completed)

Part One: Her Beginning

1. Someday then

Women have the power to build or destroy a man. They hold the key to happiness in marriage.                                                    —Anonymous  

Saturday, May 12th, 2004

Sweep rooms- check 

Clean the kitchen - check 

Do the laundry- check 

Prepare favourite food - check. 

     I calculated as I hurried out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for finishing my chores before 08:00 a.m., despite my waking up late. Isma'il was returning home after six months of military training in Russia. So, I had to make sure everything was ready before his arrival.

     After freshening up, I stood before the dressing mirror in a baby blue lace gown (Ismail's favourite colour on me); the teardrop silver earring he sent me last week matched the tightly wrapped veil around my head. I winced and patted my cheeks, hoping my light brown powder was enough to hide the pimples sprinkled across my forehead and cheeks. I was about to wear my low-heeled slippers when I heard the car horn.

     It wasn’t love at first sight between Isma'il and I as we knew each other right from childhood. Our dads had been friends long before I was born, so we used to take turns in visiting each other's house every weekend. 

      My dad, Alhaji Yusha'u Abdullahi Maidubu, and Isma'il's dad, Alhaji Isa Muhammad, loved each other so dearly that they decided to study the same course in the same uuniversity.
After their youth service, they ventured into the farming world and made a promising career out of it. 

      Our union was Alhaji Isa's idea. So,  after Ismail's youth service in Lagos, they came together to seek my hand. I was through with secondary school then. But Isma'il insisted that I study further, or at least get a diploma. But since I preferred learning a trade, he agreed and left for Lagos to fulfil his dream of joining the Nigerian Navy. 

     The ceremony was no small affair as our fathers were well-known, and so were our mothers—who were top members of the Arewa Women Association (AWS) in Kano State. It lasted for a whole week despite my pleadings for them to follow the Sunnah and do only the Nikkah and walima.

     My mother, Hajiya Maimuna–Hajja Muna–stressed that my departure was her reason for not listening. And, of course, I couldn’t argue.

 •••

     "What's up with the early morning smile?" A deep voice snapped me back to reality.

      My husband–My Habibi, Rabin Raina, Masoyina–stood before me in his uniform: a dark blue buttoned-up shirt, with his shiny name plaque pinned to his left breast pocket.  Covering his black curls was a black beret with the crest of the Nigerian Navy emblazoned on the front.

      The sun beamed behind his head, creating a shadow over his light (egg yolk) skin. 

     I was about to comment on how good he looked when he ruined it by saying: “Are you done checking me out, madam? " He raised his bushy eyebrows. 

     I snorted, "In your dreams, I was only making sure you don't have any dirt on you before you come in, so... " I folded my arms and strode towards him till my attire grazed his, "Get over yourself. " 

     We finally went in, had breakfast and caught up on lost time; then, he went to the bedroom to lie down a bit. 

     While in the kitchen washing plates, I sang quietly to myself. Finally, no more living alone. Though I had the option of going home till Ismail's return. I had refused, for who would look after our haven when I was gone? 

     I was rinsing the stainless sink when Ismail's phone began to ring from the sitting room. Wringing the water from my hands, I headed out and picked it from the armchair. I wondered why he left it behind as he rarely did that. I had intended to just look at the caller's name then keep it back because he disliked me answering his calls, especially if it was an unknown number.

     Alas, there was a name to this one—My Rahma. I stopped in surprise. It didn't sound familiar at all. I wondered if it was a cousin or a distant relative. But the my attached to it made it seem more endearing, and Isma'il rarely added such in his contacts; even mine was saved as just Uwargida, and his mother, as mama. 

     I was still holding the phone when it rang again, startling me. But I still didn't pick. Then a text came in, and since I wasn't restricted from opening them, I pressed open, but just as it was loading, a hand reached out and grabbed the phone. I turned to face his glare. I ignored my shock and asked instead, "Who is Rahma? " 

     He narrowed his eyes. "Did you pick the call?" 

     I shook my head and looked away, angry at his response. 

     He sighed and reached for my hand. "I'm sorry, it's no one important. Just a distant but close cousin of mine, sorry I didn't mention."

     I wrinkled my nose, "distant but close?"

     He closed his eyes and tapped his forehead in embarrassment. "I meant we live far from each other, but we're very close."

     "Oh," I nodded in realisation. "Right, she sounds special."

     He put an arm around my shoulder and steered me towards the bedroom. "Yeah,"  Then he stopped and turned to me, "why do you say so?"

     I raised a brow at him. "She has my to her name. Last I checked, I didn't."

     He chuckled, "Okay, I'll add one for you then." 

     I shook my head. "Have I met her before?"

     He paused, lips pursed. "No, but you will, someday."

     I shrugged, "Okay, someday then." 

A/N

Assalamu alaikum all:

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Zah Storyteller HQ

Glossary:

Nikkah– Wedding ceremony 

Walimah– A gathering done after the wedding. 

My Habibi– my love of Arabic language 

Rabin Raina– My other half

Masoyina– My love in the Hausa language 

Uwargida- Housewife.