Of A Forgotten Storm (Under Editing)

Eid And The Family Drama

Eid is meant to be a time of joy and blessing for the entire Muslim community and a time for distributing one's wealth. Charity to the poor is a highly emphasized value in Islam. The Quran says, "Believe in Allah and his messenger, and give charity out of the (substance) that Allah has made you heirs of.
....

October, 2012

The idea of traveling several miles away just to celebrate joy with other people still doesn't add up to me. At least not with the kind of relatives my father has. I find it so unnecessary and time-consuming. The road was crowded with vehicles, most of which were traveling to their hometowns or anywhere there were loved ones, just to celebrate with happy faces. It had been a long tradition for people who valued it, just like my father.

I glanced at Abbah and then looked down. I couldn't tell if he was tired or something else. He was keen on driving me around, whether to school, shopping, or visiting a friend. Although there is a driver to do that, traveling like this brings us closer to one another. My dad loves being the chauffeur for his angel, as he likes to put it—the love of his life. I know I am. Life has given us so many blows, so it has always been the two of us, like a cellphone and a battery.

It had been two hours since we left Abuja, where we live, and Abbah wasn't willing to say a word to me. I must have offended him; maybe that's why he looks so serious. It was already so boring, and I know he felt it too, having to stay quiet for so long. To top it all off, the signal was pretty unstable on this road. For the umpteenth time, I rolled my eyes at the latest iPhone I was using. The battery was down too, as if it wasn't fully charged before we hit the road. I cringed at myself and looked out through the window. The blazing midday sun shone relentlessly on the travelers and the roadside vendors. I was quite sure it was hot out there. I inwardly thanked Allah for being in that car.

Allah! Hmmm, sometimes I feel like a complete hypocrite mentioning Him. And I don't even want to go there or think about it. Brushing the thought away, I glanced at Abbah again, and his attention was centered on the road. On normal occasions, it would have been a banter; he'd have shared so many stories with me by now. Telling me how he used to travel in commercial transport to get to Abuja before he even got a job, let alone owning a car. And sometimes, it was hitchhiking he relied on. There are remarkable stories, which always make it fun for us traveling together. I love it and I missed it today.

Some were moral lessons, which I neither use nor throw away. I myself have no idea why I'm saving them up instead of just shoving them in the trash bin along with many others. But I couldn't bring myself to do that; it was my Abbah we are talking about. I love him too much to throw his memories away like that.

"Abbana, Paapi, Daddy," I sang like a three-year-old child and pouted. I knew he couldn't resist that playful side of me. "I am sorry, Paapi. I know I shouldn't have said that. Will you forgive me? I won't say it again. Ever!" And I knew I looked so apologetic, but I was sincere. So I smiled at him, and his eyes softened, creasing his lips with a smile.

I had earlier told him that his family doesn't care about him, only his money, which is the truth. Abbah knows that very well too, but he has an agenda to care for them despite all that. He doesn't want to sever the family ties they share. It seems like it. They were his blood, and such ties are not easily cut off just like that. Those are his exact words. His father's last wish was to unite them as a family and save the relationship. After all, life has shades of different dark colors, and some people will always have their greed. Indeed, there's so much darkness compared to light in this life, and I have witnessed that.