The Juju Lady Next Door (Completed)

16. Progress of My Handwork

Quieting the restless soul is the most difficult trial in life.

- Umm Zakiyyah

...

Sunday, 6th February, 2005

"Oooh." Isma'il checked his wrist watch and stamped his feet on the floor. "Wai matannan ina kuke ne-These women, where are you na?" He shouted, arms akimbo. "Kai." He sat on the sofa, placing one leg atop the other, and shook them impatiently.

Tired of peeping through my half-opened door, I stepped out, "Toh, I'm ready." I announced.

Isma'il turned to say something but lost his voice on seeing me. He just stared. I was wearing the Swiss lace sewn into a blouse and wrapper. On my head was a silver head wrap, paired with a rose on the left, fit for a Yoruba wedding. On my face was a work of art that I experimented with, of lipstick and foundation and contour and mascara. The look on Ismail's face signified that the experiment was a success.

I didn't think he realized how long he had been staring.

"Na fito fa." I repeated, adjusting my silver clutch that went with my low heeled sandals.

He cleared his throat and looked away. "Salsabil fa?"

"I'm here." She stepped out of her room.

We opened our mouths in shock. She was looking out of this world. Why was I not surprised? Her peach lace was sewn into a flair gown, adorned with grey butterfly designs in front, with long net sleeves. Her face needed not more than powder, lip gloss, kohl and mascara. I swallowed my appraisal and turned to Isma'il who was once again lost.

"Sorry, I've been struggling with this veil." She said, lifting the rumpled gogoro as I smiled.

"Let me help." I offered. "There is still time, ko?" I turned to Isma'il.

"Hmm?" he looked up suddenly. "yes, yes." He muttered, then his phone rang.

I tied the veil, or tried to. But failed since even mine was tied already and sent by Meena. So she just opted for a silver veil to wrap around her body. And it did nothing to make her look less than she already did. I wrapped the remaining lace yard around me like a sari and we all stepped out into the sunny afternoon.

We were heading towards the car when Salsabil stopped. "Oh my God!" she gasped, holding her head in both hands, eyes closed tightly in pain.

"What's wrong?" Isma'il asked as he went to her.

"I don't know, I feel faint."

I went and bent to her level. "Is it a fever?"

"Mmm mmm." She shook her head, then her eyes widened in alarm and she opened her mouth to scream. But the scream didn't make it past her lips as she slumped, earning a loud cry of "Innalillahi..." from Isma'il and I.

...

In the end, I went to the wedding alone, while Isma'il stayed behind to look after Salsabil. But since it was Yusuf's wedding, he had to return before 03:00 p.m.

"How is she feeling?" I asked, leaning in so he could hear me over the blaring music playing from the speakers under the canopy beside us.

"Fine, I've given her some paracetamol and she slept off." He said and brought out a white handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

I felt sorry for him in his rumpled silver kaftan and black cap meant for the groom's friends.

"No problem, just join your friends, I'll take care of the rest." I told him.

"Okay." He nodded gratefully and headed towards the center of the canopies arranged in a u-shape, where Yusuf and his bride sat on an intricately designed cushioned sofa, with three girls perched on each arm of the seat, talking excitedly.

I rose from my plastic chair-under the canopy meant for the Groom's friends-and squeezed my way through the other tightly packed chairs.

Time to go see my sister. And of course, check the progress of my handwork.