TRIALS (Completed)

Eleven

The greatest gift you can give to humanity is the Truth.– Umm Zakiyyah 

The rickshaw (adaidaita sahu) driver sang along to the music booming from the booth behind the passenger’s seat.

Walida and the older woman beside her shared a look of frustration and disgust before the woman called out: “Kai, Dan Allah ka rage waqannan, zaka toshe mana kunne ne–please reduce the volume of this music, do you want to numb our eardrums?
Haba!” But the continued bobbing of the driver’s head indicated that he didn’t hear her. 

“Ah ah,” she turned to Walida who just shook her head, then Walida leaned forward to tap the driver’s shoulder with her purse. Immediately, he turned and smiled at her. 

“Hajiya yane–Hajiya, what’s up?” he asked, his grin as wide as his forehead. 

“Dan Allah ka rage waqannan–please reduce the volume.” She said. 

Still smiling, he replied: “Haba Hajiya, waqannan ne yake sani tuqi da kyau fa–this music enables me to drive well.”

“Iyye!” the woman gaped at him, eyebrows raised to reveal a fading pink eyeshadow. “Look at this fool, so of all things to make you drive well, you chose music?” She shook her head. “What happened to listening to Qur’anic recitation and doing azkar, will they cause accident? Kai, children of nowadays.” She shook her head again, her lips turned down. 

The corner of the young man’s eyes glared at her. “Toh, is it not better than drinking alcohol, see this Malama o!” 

“Dan Allah can–Get away!” She rebuked him. “I won’t even be surprised if you take alcohol to drive well, useless boy.” She hissed loudly, her round eyes stood out like shiny beads against her chocolate skin. 

“Ke!” the man shouted and abruptly stopped the tricycle, pulling out the keys from the ignition, with the music still on. He stepped out and stood against the woman’s side, eyes flaring. “Malama fito–Malama, come out!” he indicated with his hand. 

Walida gasped. Is this guy serious? 
The woman turned to him, then let out a squeal and clapped her hands in disbelief. “Kai, in ka isa ka zo ka fitar da ni–I dare you to throw me out.” She threatened. 

Kai, Walida mused, eyes moving from him to her. This guy that is thin like spaghetti and this woman that is wide like tomato basket. Who will carry who? She wondered. 

With dilated pupils, he began to breath heavily like a bull. “Haka kika ce–is that so?” Without awaiting her reply, and before Walida could protest, he threw his weight on the tricycle, causing it to jiggle. Walida and the woman screamed.

Without thinking, Walida jumped out, almost loosing her balance. Luckily for her, the ground was covered with weeds. She stood up, checking for bruises.

That was when she noticed that the woman didn’t jump after her. She was still inside, holding onto the seat, exchanging curses with the guy. She looked around, the place was deserted, the afternoon sun was their only witness, and then a small welder’s shack across the road. She watched his second attempt to lift up the tricycle when two young lads from the shack ran up to the driver, holding him down. 

Oh Allah! let me be going my way sha. It seems this woman can take care of herself. She thought and walked away from the scene. 

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