SOMEONE LIKE FATIMAH

CHAPTER 1 : MEET FATIMAH!!!

MEET FATIMAH

Lagos, Nigeria.

Lagos in the rainy season, smelled of wet sand mixed with drizzles of rain. The sounds of trees blowing in the wind as though they will be uprooted from where they stood or be bent by the wind as though they were struggling with the wind to stay put, right where they are. Although Fatimah loved the smell of the wet sand, the greenness of the tall trees, the clean street of the well established estate in the heart of Lekki with very organized apartments with each block having four apartments, two up and two down, the silence of the estate, the abiding air of inner peace,the delicately over priced shops....all these put together made Lagos both a beautiful and a difficult place to be, but her favorite place in Nigeria.

Nothing gave her joy like looking at dark cloudy skies, an indication of rain with a swirl of rumbling of the skies and the fresh smell of sand, as though it had been raining or it had already rained somewhere.

Rain or no rain, cloudy skies with a peach of darkness just always made her day. Fatimah could live in that atmosphere with that euphoric weather forever, just sipping fresh brewed decafenated coffee, feeling the fresh blow of air on her skin and letting the smell of wet sand fill her nostrils until she exhaled in satisfaction of having a perfect evening..... breezy winds, dark skies, yes that was her definition of a  perfect evening.

Fatimah Muhammad Jadah, a 23 year old of Hausa/Fulani/Arab descendant who had had many dreams and many ambitions and was on the verge of realizing those dreams. She was humble, gentle, quiet....very quiet, Fatimah created a planet for her thoughts. She could spend the whole day, alone, in her own fortress of solitude, wallowing in the future through her thoughts and making plans.

She loved creativity and was sometimes scared that she was too passionate about so many things.... There were so many things she wanted to do, to see, to be, to achieve and to overcome.

Fatimah had an average height, with a caramel skin tone. Her cheeks were full and supple, with a slightly pointy noise and hardly visible dimples on her cheeks each time she smiled hard, really hard.

She had a very feminine body, a small upper extremity, a tiny rounded waist and a broader curvier lower extremity, which was the first thing most people noticed about her as she approached, a reason which made gowns her favourite clothing, to hide the curves, nevertheless, they never hid... 'hips don't lie' as most people would often say.

Fatimah attended a wedding one time and was passing two ladies who obviously couldn't stop staring at her and making small talks, as she approached where the ladies stood, one of the ladies knowingly used her finger to press deep onto the skin on her hips, a feeling Fatimah felt and turned to look in her direction..."sorry".....the lady said smiling, an indication that the act was entirely intentional.

Fatimah smiled and walked away, but not before her ears heard the words the lady said to her friend..."i thought they are fake".... she heard the lady say.

Growing up, Fatimah's aunties had always praised her curves, always playfully calling her "a rich man's wife"...... a name which always left Fatimah feeling embarrassed.

'Love'..... the word didn't have much meaning in her life at that time.

'Love is true, but it is very rare'..... She had always thought. To her, finding love was easy, staying in love was the real struggle.
She believed no one could give her the kind of love she craved, the kind of love she deserved, the kind of love that made her heart ache so much because its so intense...She was a hopeless romantic.

Fatimah wanted a guy she could love with all her heart and have the love she gave reciprocated a million folds more, a guy that would call her after a fight and let her nag and shout, and then tell her 'shout up i love you' or ' hey you look more beautiful when you yell' and if married, she wanted a dutiful husband, a romantic husband, a husband who would help out with house chores without saying 'its your duty as a wife'..... well duty be damned, she thought.