Barakah

- It Kills

5th April, 2020.

. . . . . . . .

Barakah

Seven years later.

"I can't believe in three days, we'll be back home. In Nigeria. You can't even imagine how long it's been for me." Barakah observed the  radiance that glared from Kulthum eyes just at the thought of moving back to a developing country.

"It hasn't been that long for me. I was there two years ago." Bello Umm-Kulthum or as Barakah preferred, Kulthum was the edge to Barakah's ordinary personality.

They had met at their college orientation. It wasn't anything instant. Barakah was very unbothered about her social standing yet somehow, Kulthum stuck with her in the long run.

"Good for you!" She could taste her sarcasm. "I haven't been there in almost ten years. I miss everyone there to the point I no longer feel guilty about leaving my mother and sister here forever. Of course I'll come visit them."

Sometimes, she would feel more than a shred of guilt at the fact that she knew very personal things about Kulthum yet she kept to herself. Basically, their friendship was infused with a bit of lies from her narrative.

"I don't even get why you want to leave this country. I would die to stay here. Literally. I wouldn't be going back if it weren't for my family." Barakah's voice was well-balanced. Overall look unperturbed but inside, her chest was fragile, frantic.

Kulthum just shook her head. The quiet summer breeze around them withdrawing. They took the decision to just walk back home after having lunch at a nearby Cafe instead of calling an Uber.

"How would you understand my plague? Unlike Aisha, I remember the blast I had in Nigeria. Even though then, the world there seemed difficult and frustrating to a preteen me. Now, it's difficult to fit in here when I know where home really is." She gestured a direction, swinging her arms in the air.

Barakah smiled, not at how sincere Kulthum's little speech was. But at the thought of how kalthum's silly character would fit into a country like Nigeria and cardinal point north.

Kulthum was just too naive and truthful to the world.

"You're right, I can't. There's just so many opportunities in America. It's a free world even for the cultured women." Barakah reasoned.

"What about marriage? And peace of mind?" Kulthum shot back.

Barakah halted. A frightful feeling jolting into her skin. "Marriage. . . . . Marriage is sunnah. And peace is anywhere you find it. Besides, marriage is overwhelming and exaggerated."

Kulthum held back her laughter but they both knew she was amused. "See you, plaster saint. Your biracial from the bottom and genesis of South Asia. Eventually, you'll come to understand when the African in you supersedes." She spoke with a knowledge that was undisputedly stupid.

"My Pashtun heritage is unremembered Kulthum." Unlike Barakah, Kulthum looked like your more than average northern Nigerian girl. Brown melanin magic, dark, deep and wild kinks of hair and eyes that had the depth of aged night.

"The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree."

Barakah held out her keys as they made it to her uncle's residence. Giving her friend a moment of concern.