My New Home

Chapter Eleven

By the time we got home, we were all exhausted. I was glad we bought a take out on our way home because I can’t find any strength in me to prepare lunch. I entered my bedroom, showered and slept off almost immediately. Jamal also showered but didn’t go to sleep, Instead he went to mosque.

I’ve noticed that Jamal doesn’t bother about calling me to Salah or encourage me on any other specific Islamic duty for that matter. He claims I know the right thing and didn’t want to be imposing. There are times that he’ll let me sleep the whole day and when I accuse him of not waking me up, he’ll shrug his shoulders and say that I can pray everything together later. I’ve given up on him and started setting my alarm instead. He’s not only that way with me though, but also to the rest of the family. He doesn’t call anyone when leaving for mosque and they don’t call him as well except Idris sometimes. In fact, as far as I was concerned, no one in the house call each other for prayer.

It was already late when I woke up, so I observed my salat. I’m getting used to completing my five daily prayers now and I couldn’t be more proud of my achievement. After prayer, I went to the kitchen to get our dinner ready but it has been prepared already by Ameera.

Ameera loves to cook but despise doing other chores, so most of the time, they let her do the cooking while offering little to no assistance but for me, I don’t like doing anything except eating, sleeping and pressing phone. All the chores I’ve been doing stemmed from pretense and I’m getting sick of it already. I’m counting the days I’ll start showing my true colours but I pray it doesn’t appear any time soon. I can’t afford any more disapproval.

So, imagine my joy when I got to the kitchen and the job had been done.
“Amiscoco, I called the name her twin dubbed her. Since the time I heard it, I’ve used it from time to time albeit privately and could get away with it since we’re a bit close and I suspect that she secretely enjoyed it too”.

“How’s it going?” I continued while helping her dish the food.

“Amarya (Hausa translation for bride), can I help you?” She ignored my question and asked one of her own. She calls me Amarya whenever I call her Amiscoco.

We laughed together and kept chatting. Then I remembered Mama Bauchi and asked for the full story.
Her countenance changed
immediately I mentioned it. She looked a bit sad probably from the memory. She’s always been the emotional type.

“Mama Bauchi got married at an early age to an influential and very wealthy man. She began. Her husband, Jamal’s grandfather, really made well for himself, his work was based in Egypt and he brought in a lot of cash. I even heard from my mum that when we were younger, and it was time for festivities, every member of the family received a salah package, which consisted of clothes, shoes, jewelleries and hijabs for the ladies and caps with turbans for the guys".

"Mama also bought several rams when it was time for big salah and shares it. In summary, she gives out a lot. When it’s time for Umrah and Hajj, she personally sponsor some selected people annually. They lived a total luxurious life and everyone benefited from their wealth”.

“Baba too, Mama Bauchi 's husband, before his demise, helped several people in establishing their businesses and completed the construction of their houses. His story was similar to that of Moshood Abiola, - a popular philanthropist in Lagos State, Nigeria. Alas, he died in a plane crash after about nine years that Jamal was born”.

“I’m just grateful that at least, he got to be a grandfather before he died".

"After his death, Mama Bauchi soon exhausted the funds. Her weakness was that she doesn’t have savings and even when her husband died,  when she should have realized that there is no longer any source of income due to the fact that she was a full house wife and she should have at least restricted her spending, Instead she kept spending as usual and giving in charity".