My New Home

Chapter One

Let me give a proper beginning to this. My name is Fateemah Jesutofunmi AbdulQuadri and my groom’s name is Jamal Adeola Mahmood.

Today is my Aqdu and Waleematu Nikah ceremony. That’s even if I’m permitted to address it as such, and if you haven’t guessed already, my family, is a syncretic type which means that I practices two religions which are Christianity and Islam, but growing up, I practiced more of Islam and the only Christian act left in me is to prepare Christmas meal and celebrate with mum.

My mum, Mrs. Precious Williams AbdulQuadri is the only daughter of a renowned Prophet and Deaconess in Ogbagi, Ondo State, while my dad, AbdulSamad AbdulQuadri is the eldest son of Ustadh and Haja AbdulQuadri Olohungbebe.

My beloved parents met some twenty-three years ago, fell in love and got married, Courtesy of their understanding parents who felt children should be free to make their choices in marriage or otherwise.

Although my grandfather secretly hoped that my dad, who is a strong Muslim will successfully steer my mum to Islam and the children will naturally practice the religion of their father but this eventually went as planned. Note the sarcasm.

Religious bigotry has been the root cause of every misunderstanding in my family and though this issue has been looming over our heads since I learned to walk and talk, it didn’t stop my parents from creating a large family of nine, which include my parents and six siblings with me being the eldest.

I’m followed immediately by Kabeera Aanuoluwapo, then, Sulaiman Oluwasegun, Abdulbaasit Oluwaboriota, Murshida Jesutomisin, Muqsito Sinmileoluwa and finally the baby of the house Abubakr Jesugbemi.

Three of us practice more of Islam, two bends more towards Christianity while the other two are still too young to comprehend our family program and confusing orientation.

My dad is a devoted Muslim who doesn’t delay in performing his five obligatory prayers while my mum is also extremely serious about her religion.

So while it’s expected of us siblings to stand up in prayer with my dad, we’re also required to go to church services and programs and perform some Christian rights with her.

As I grow older, I began skipping most of the religious duties and instead focused on my education and career.
Inadvertently, my dad retired, spent most of his time at home and therefore could guide us in Salaat more than my mum appreciated. So, I was led to believe that I’m a practicing and genuine Muslimah and decided to marry into a Muslim home to continue the legacy.

Though, the conflict of interest almost destroyed my joyous day, my parents were able to rise above their misgivings and my Nikkah ended successfully.

My in-laws were in a haste to take me home because the journey is quite a stretch and I bet they’ve witnessed enough drama to last them a lifetime but prior to our departure, my mum took me in to see me one more time or so she said.

She spoke amidst sob, “Jesutofunmi, my dear, my eldest and most lovable daughter, I know you’re sensible and cultured but I still want to remind you that, you’re going to your husband’s home now. Not only that, but you’ll be staying with your in-laws, please don’t forget the values and training embedded in you”.

“I and your father tried to give you the best and I have no doubt you’re well equipped for this journey, I pray your home is blessed and joyous and it’s certain you’ll get the best of children, if the Jesus I’m serving is still alive”.

“Here we go again”, I murmured.

“What do you say”? She inquired.

“Nothing ma, I simply said Aameen” I lied.

“In Jesus name you’ll find joy, she shifted into her prayer stance,  you’ll be the best bride there is and wouldn’t face any difficulties whatsoever, the blood of Jesus will cleanse your home, Holy Mary will make you a pious mother, my living Jesus will....”

“Please madam prayer warrior", dad entered and cut in, "I know you’re trying to showcase your talent, but unfortunately, the couple needs to leave, they have a long journey ahead of them”.

“Are you certain it’s their trip that’s affecting you or you planned to interrupt me from the beginning?"

“I can’t start this with you now, let’s put this behind us please so she can leave in peace, my father pleaded”.

“Alright". she surprisingly agreed.

My mum is not one to drop an argument easily but anyway, I’m counting my blessings. I stood up and we left to join the rest of the family outside.

My groom, Jamal, is waiting by the car, impatient as ever and upon noticing our arrival, stared at our faces to judge our countenance.

I couldn’t blame him; it isn’t every day a sight like this occurs. My parents standing side by side and being civil to each other might be one of the wonders of the just concluded wedding.

My groom, Jamal, opened the car door, obviously planning to usher me in but before he could do that, my mum confronted him and gave him her version of warning.

“I know how you people roll, she started, you’re all smiles and all over the place today with your family members celebrating and acting genuine. If I hear, in fact, in twenty years to this time that you plan to take a second wife, one of us will have to meet the lord that day and the person is going to be you”.

I wondered which kind of mum threatens to kill her daughter’s husband on her wedding day; I mulled, apparently, my mum does.

“If not for her strong headedness, she continued, I’ll never have permitted her to marry into a home that’s so fickle”

“I promise to take absolute care of her ma, Jamal promised, but in Islam, a man is entitled to....”

I quickly interrupted with a cough because if he dared to finish the sentence, he’s due for a long hearing and maybe I won’t be going with him that day.

My mum turned to me with worry lines on her aging face, “are you okay oko mi (my dear)?”

“Yes ma, I’m fine. I lied again . Something caught in my throat”.

“Alright, be careful”. She warned and turned back to him, “you were saying something”.

It’s too good to be true, she’s quite smart and could catch a hint and that’s why she couldn’t drop it without getting to the end of what promised to be an interesting conversation.

I shot Jamaal a glare and hoped he could translate my nonverbal cue.

“Nothing ma, Jamal replied, I’ll surely perform all my duties and make her as happy as I can, God willing”.

“Not just bedroom duties, she sassed, because I know that’s mostly prioritized, other ones are equally important”.

“Of course ma'am”, he quietly agreed.

She looked around and saw his relatives loitering around. “Aren’t they supposed to have left to prepare for your arrival or is she starting her home catering today?”

“No ma, some of my relatives stayed behind and would have done that”.

“Remind me again, how many people she’ll be living with?”

“Iya (wife), let them be, we’ve talked about this before haba!” my dad who had been standing quietly on one side spoke for the first time.

“Excuse me for wanting the best for my daughter, can’t I ask a innocent question?”

“How’s that innocent?” my dad challenged.

“Alright, let’s end this mum, I have to leave”. I interrupted before another episode of AbdulQuadri house of commotion ensue.

Jamaal signaled to some people, probably those that’ll be leaving with us, while the rest followed suit and we began our journey in earnest to no man’s land, Lagos State.