Unbroken (Rewriting)

Chapter 1| The beginning

Damaturu, Yobe state

Amina

There's always something about life—some people see no meaning to life. While some see life as a freedom. It's not about having the freedom to do whatever you like or travel around the world. It's the value you give to life. Do you think your life is worth living for? Or you think you're just living your life because you had no choice?

For me, I will go for both. I always appreciate the life I had. It might not be the perfect life, but it is worth living for. And then, some days like today,  feels like I'm just living the life because I had no choice—or much to say, I had no freedom.

I had closed for the day and the only thing I needed was a nerve wrecking rest. Maybe an hour or two sleep which I know is close to impossible in the kind of environment I live in.

"Amina" A voice called out from behind me. I quicken my pace as I hurried through the street, there are literally few people, mainly minding their own businesses.

"Aminatu" another voice shouted again. And I knew exactly who it was. I recognized the voice. There's this problem with our area boys, always looking for one or two things to trouble you with. I've warned them countless times not to call me 'Aminatu', yet, it was as if I was adding more fuel to fire. Knowing I have important things to do, I choose to ignore them, if not I would've given them a piece of my mind. They know the kind of person I am when it comes to matters of injustice. Whenever I witness an act of unfairness, I make sure I contribute in serving justice. Their persistent shouting almost caused me to trip. However, all I could think of was to see myself at home.

As I turned the next corner to our house, a deep sigh of relief escaped my lips as our house came into view. Gliding towards the zinc metal door, a smile adorned my face. My mother would be overjoyed to hear about my accomplishment today. Carefully, I placed the empty rubber container next to the pile of used firewood and loosened my hijab, its brown hue fading over time. Our house is a modest one, with two bedrooms and a living room, while the bathroom and kitchen are situated outside. In one room, my mother, grandmother, and I share our nights, while my father has his own space in the other. As my hand met the doorknob, I pushed it open.

"Mama—" my words were abruptly halted as I witnessed the scene unfolding before me. My grandmother held onto the back of my mother's hair with a fierce, vindictive expression etched on her face.

"I knew all your plans, you want to rub off all my son's wealth  and that egoistic daughter of yours. I should've known better when Mahmoud came to me about marrying you. I don't know what he sees in a widow like you. Now see what is happening to us, you're bad luck to our family." Grandma seethe tightening her grip on my Mama's head. Can't she see my mother is in pain? And the fact that she didn't even bother about how her grip was inflicting on my mother, angers me. Walking toward them in a fast stride, I yank her hands away.

"Don't lay your hands on my mother ever again!" I spat. She was taken aback by my words, as her eyes widened. Nevertheless, she was quick in replacing it with her evil smile as always.

"So the prideful daughter is back huh?" She said sarcastically, folding her arms across her chest with a sly smirk. A smirk I hate so much.

"Mimi, go back to your room" My mother ordered but being the stubborn as I am, I didn't listen to her—I wasn't even ready to listen. My chest was already clouded with rage. I know talking rudely to your elders is improper but I'm not going to sit back and watch her insult my mother however she wants. My mother might not bother, but I won't keep quiet.

"What did she ever do to you? Why are you treating her like this? What's wrong with being a widow? Isn't she a human being too? That's how he saw her and married her. Hajiya, I respect you because you're my mother's mother-in-law, if not..." I couldn't finish my sentence as my mother pulled me back, her eyes filled with different shades of worry.