Finding Mufeeda

Getting to know you...

Chapter Three

Hajjaju was in high spirits that Friday evening. She arrived at Abuja before noon. Mustafa's colleague from the crew drove her from the airport to Taruwa. She had heard so much about  the efforts Mustafa was making these days from Mama Jamila and it filled her with joy. When she saw him, her heart almost burst with pride. He had what she called 'hasken mumini' on his forehead. He looked more handsome with the beard and there was something different about him...an aura that she couldn't explain.
Mustafa hugged her and the two held on to each other. He held on tightly hoping his mother would understand how sorry he was. He knew from her silence and firmness of her grip that he was forgiven.

Mufeeda had volunteered to do most of the cooking for the naming walima. The food was to be ready by afternoon prayers on Saturday. She prepared a list of all the things she needed to buy and Mama Jami had insisted that Mustafa drove her to the village's Friday market. She didn't want to be alone with him so she invited Zainab to come with her. Zainab eagerly accepted.
"An outing with the handsome pilot!" She screamed like a  teenager. They had asked Mama if they could both go and she was okay with it.
They left for the market immediately after the congregational prayers.

Mufeeda had to admit to herself that Mustafa was indeed a very good looking man. Masha Allah. He was dressed in a navy blue Pakistani top and baggy trousers with a white fez cap.
He stepped out of the car to open the door for her.
"Bismillah my Lady," he said  bowing just a little to Zainab's surprise. She looked on amazed that the pilot was quite a gentleman contrary to the stories she had heard about him.
Friday market was popular for fresh vegetables, tubers and potatoes. Most of the products were fresh from the farms along the plains of Taruwa. People came from the city centre to make bulk purchases for the prices were fair. Mufeeda had never been to such a large market before and hadn't mastered enough Hausa to make good bargains. Mustafa noticing her confusion helped with almost everything, he gave suggestions on what to buy, doing the haggling of prices on their behalf and carrying the packages.
They were done just before the evening prayer. Mustafa insisted he took them to a restaurant where they could say their prayers and eat something.
"Please don't say no, how could I take two pretty ladies out and not give them a treat?" He had insisted.
After their prayers, he chose a private corner for them. They ordered chicken and chips with fresh juice. They were almost done eating, when Zainab asked Mustafa, "Is it true you studied in America?" "Yes," he answered curtly. It seemed he didn't want to talk about it.

"Let's be on our way, I just received a text that my mother arrived this afternoon."

Mufeeda thanked him for the meal.
"I enjoyed it, " she said.

He drove them back to Mama Jami's house.

"You'll need some help with the cooking won't you?" he asked while they were taking the shopping inside.

"I will, I'm not sure I can cope, I was thinking of asking Zainab or someone from the school."

"I'll get the best person to help you. That person will be with you by nine in the morning inshaAllah."

She looked at him, their eyes met for a second. or two. She saw the tenderness in them. She pulled her eyes away.
She wasn't sure what her own eyes would reveal.

Mustafa went to bed pleased. He was grateful his mother had received him warmly. She had come along with his paternal aunt and they were both in the guest room right now.
He would have wanted his mother to meet Mufeeda. He was certain Hajjaju would like her.   This line of thinking made him sit up in bed. He felt suddenly flushed and excited. It dawned on him that perhaps he had found a precious woman and he was almost certain he would want her to be his. "Don't rush things a voice in his head cautioned"
"But I can't seem to help myself"  he spoke aloud. I'm always helpless when it comes to Mufeeda," he added as if in self consolation. He cupped his face between his two palms, something he often did when he needed to think straight. The only straight thinking he could do was about that look he had seen in her eyes. It had been very brief, but he knew what he saw, he saw something that mirrored his feelings. Is it too soon to tell? He asked himself.