The ‘American Airways’ plane landed Aalimah Mansour in the city of Massachusetts, USA, on the 25th of May, 2016. Slowly, she followed the line of passengers disembarking, carrying a medium-sized ladies’ handbag. She was dressed in a long gown with her veil, a Tehran design (maroon color), wrapped around her face. Her shoes were black, matching the handbag she carried, which wasn’t too long in length. She walked calmly until she stepped on the tarmac of Boston Logan International Airport and entered the van carrying passengers to the main building for immigration checks. After completing the checks, she collected her luggage and came out.
The soft rays of the rising sun struck her eyes, making her shield them with her palm just as the taxi drivers started approaching her, asking where she wanted to go. She cast her sharp, calculating eyes on them as though sizing them up, as if deciding who she should trust. She clearly looked like a foreigner, a first-timer in the country. Finally, she stopped her gaze at a light-skinned white man, showed him the address written in her jotter, which she took out from her handbag. He picked up her luggage, placed it in the trunk of his car, opened the back door for her, and she entered. He circled back to the driver’s seat and started the engine.
They drove calmly through the neat highways of Massachusetts as she admired the beauty of the city. Massachusetts is one of America’s major cities of pride. It also contains diverse ethnic communities, with people from many languages of the world. In 2017, its population was estimated at 685,094.
It lies near Cambridge to the east, bordered by Hampshire and Vermont to the north, surrounded by New York to the west, and to the south, it meets Connecticut and Rhode Island. To the east, it is bordered by the Atlantic Ocean. It is a city in the northeastern USA.
The taxi stopped inside an estate (Martha’s Vineyard) at the gate of a fine lodge in Boston, the capital of Massachusetts.
At Ishaq Razee’s House
Aalimah sighed in relief, pulled out the money he requested, gave it to him, collected her change, and received her luggage from the trunk. Slowly, she walked to the gate, admiring the beautiful neighborhood. It was among the prestigious estates of Boston. On the gate was written the house number and the name of the owner: ‘Ishaq Razee’.
She pressed the doorbell three times before hearing a woman’s voice in English saying she was coming. Her heartbeat raced as if her chest would burst. She had no idea what kind of reception awaited her from her uncle—or from his wife, Mummy Zulaiha, and her children. Everyone in their family knew Mummy Zulaiha disliked sharing her husband’s wealth or shadow with anyone—not even extended relatives. And Aalimah’s father was one of the weakest financially among them.
Only her mother had insisted she must not live in a hostel when she had relatives in the U.S. Even though Aalimah would have preferred hostel life for peace of mind, her parents ordered otherwise. She loved her studies as much as her life itself, and her mother’s strictness on morals left her with only two options: live under her uncle’s roof facing whatever challenges came from his wife and children—or quit her dream and marry.
Her mind drifted to Mahmud, the only young man who had ever confessed love and marriage intentions to her. He was still a student in his final year, unready for marriage. Their secret relationship was known only to her eldest brother Aboubacar (Abubakar), since Mahmud was his close friend.
These thoughts swirled in her mind while standing at the gate until within five minutes, Easther, Mummy Zulaiha’s housemaid, opened. They stared at each other for seconds before Easther wordlessly let her in, surprised at her strong resemblance to the children of the house, especially the daughters. Aalimah calmly pulled her luggage inside while Easther closed the gate.
At that moment, Mummy Zulaiha descended from upstairs, perfectly dressed, heels clicking gracefully, handbag and car keys in hand, ready to go out. She froze in shock at the sight of the tall, beautiful, fair-skinned young lady entering. Aalimah smiled politely, bowed slightly, and greeted her uncle’s wife twice. Zulaiha was too stunned to respond until her little daughter, Yasmin, nudged her, saying:
> “Mummy, she’s greeting you.”
Snapping out of her daze, Zulaiha quickly asked, voice stiff:
> “Who did you come with?”
Softly, Aalimah replied:
> “I came alone, Aunty.”
> “Alone? From Nigeria?”
Aalimah nodded. Zulaiha swallowed her annoyance, continued downstairs, and ordered Easther:
> “Give her food and show her a room. I’m going out.”
Easther answered:
> “Yes, Ma!”
Turning to Aalimah with forced calm, Zulaiha said:
> “Go with her. I’ll be back. I’m taking Yasmin to school, then heading to the office.”
Aalimah, full of respect, complied. Easther led her away while Zulaiha and Yasmin left the house.
Settling In and Reflection
The house was a small American lodge, two stories. Upstairs contained the master bedroom, Mummy Zulaiha’s room, and those of their three daughters. Downstairs held the kitchen, a large English-style parlour, and the sons’ rooms. Easther, the housemaid, did not live in; she came in the morning and left in the evening.
Confused where to keep Aalimah, Easther finally placed her in Yasmin’s room next to her mother’s, though she worried it might be inappropriate. She returned to the kitchen, prepared food on a tray, and placed it beside Aalimah’s bed before leaving.
Feeling sticky from travel, Aalimah eagerly unpacked her toiletries and entered the attached bathroom. She examined it with curiosity—her first time abroad—but without any rural awkwardness. The jacuzzi tub, light blue theme, hand dryer, and luxurious shampoos fascinated her. She untied her long, silky hair, let it fall over her shoulders, filled the tub with warm water, and indulged in her favorite act—bathing.
After scrubbing her skin and washing her hair with foaming shampoo, she dried it with the hand dryer, performed ablution, and prayed. Wearing a fitted atamfa gown and her prayer veil, she made up her missed prayers until she felt calm.
Finally, she sat down to eat—mashed potatoes with mushrooms and chicken breast, with grilled liver on the side. She finished with a chilled apple juice before reclining on the sofa to rest.
Her mind drifted back to her mother, father, siblings, and Mahmud. She quickly reached for her phone, only to realize she had no credit and no internet, unaware the house used WiFi. She set the phone aside, picked up her empty dishes, and carried them downstairs.
Description
Arrival in Massachusetts
The ‘American Airways’ plane landed Aalimah Mansour in the city of Massachusetts, USA, on the 25th of May, 2016. Slowly, she followed the line of passengers disembarking, carrying a medium-sized ladies’ handbag. She was dressed in a long gown with her veil, a Tehran design (maroon color), wrapped around her face. Her shoes were black, matching the handbag she carried, which wasn’t too long in length. She walked calmly until she stepped on the tarmac of Boston Logan International Airport and entered the van carrying passengers to the main building for immigration checks. After completing the checks, she collected her luggage and came out.
The soft rays of the rising sun struck her eyes, making her shield them with her palm just as the taxi drivers started approaching her, asking where she wanted to go. She cast her sharp, calculating eyes on them as though sizing them up, as if deciding who she should trust. She clearly looked like a foreigner, a first-timer in the country. Finally, she stopped her gaze at a light-skinned white man, showed him the address written in her jotter, which she took out from her handbag. He picked up her luggage, placed it in the trunk of his car, opened the back door for her, and she entered. He circled back to the driver’s seat and started the engine.
They drove calmly through the neat highways of Massachusetts as she admired the beauty of the city. Massachusetts is one of America’s major cities of pride. It also contains diverse ethnic communities, with people from many languages of the world. In 2017, its population was estimated at 685,094.
It lies near Cambridge to the east, bordered by Hampshire and Vermont to the north, surrounded by New York to the west, and to the south, it meets Connecticut and Rhode Island. To the east, it is bordered by the Atlantic Ocean. It is a city in the northeastern USA.
The taxi stopped inside an estate (Martha’s Vineyard) at the gate of a fine lodge in Boston, the capital of Massachusetts.
At Ishaq Razee’s House
Aalimah sighed in relief, pulled out the money he requested, gave it to him, collected her change, and received her luggage from the trunk. Slowly, she walked to the gate, admiring the beautiful neighborhood. It was among the prestigious estates of Boston. On the gate was written the house number and the name of the owner: ‘Ishaq Razee’.
She pressed the doorbell three times before hearing a woman’s voice in English saying she was coming. Her heartbeat raced as if her chest would burst. She had no idea what kind of reception awaited her from her uncle—or from his wife, Mummy Zulaiha, and her children. Everyone in their family knew Mummy Zulaiha disliked sharing her husband’s wealth or shadow with anyone—not even extended relatives. And Aalimah’s father was one of the weakest financially among them.
Only her mother had insisted she must not live in a hostel when she had relatives in the U.S. Even though Aalimah would have preferred hostel life for peace of mind, her parents ordered otherwise. She loved her studies as much as her life itself, and her mother’s strictness on morals left her with only two options: live under her uncle’s roof facing whatever challenges came from his wife and children—or quit her dream and marry.
Her mind drifted to Mahmud, the only young man who had ever confessed love and marriage intentions to her. He was still a student in his final year, unready for marriage. Their secret relationship was known only to her eldest brother Aboubacar (Abubakar), since Mahmud was his close friend.
These thoughts swirled in her mind while standing at the gate until within five minutes, Easther, Mummy Zulaiha’s housemaid, opened. They stared at each other for seconds before Easther wordlessly let her in, surprised at her strong resemblance to the children of the house, especially the daughters. Aalimah calmly pulled her luggage inside while Easther closed the gate.
At that moment, Mummy Zulaiha descended from upstairs, perfectly dressed, heels clicking gracefully, handbag and car keys in hand, ready to go out. She froze in shock at the sight of the tall, beautiful, fair-skinned young lady entering. Aalimah smiled politely, bowed slightly, and greeted her uncle’s wife twice. Zulaiha was too stunned to respond until her little daughter, Yasmin, nudged her, saying:
> “Mummy, she’s greeting you.”
Snapping out of her daze, Zulaiha quickly asked, voice stiff:
> “Who did you come with?”
Softly, Aalimah replied:
> “I came alone, Aunty.”
> “Alone? From Nigeria?”
Aalimah nodded. Zulaiha swallowed her annoyance, continued downstairs, and ordered Easther:
> “Give her food and show her a room. I’m going out.”
Easther answered:
> “Yes, Ma!”
Turning to Aalimah with forced calm, Zulaiha said:
> “Go with her. I’ll be back. I’m taking Yasmin to school, then heading to the office.”
Aalimah, full of respect, complied. Easther led her away while Zulaiha and Yasmin left the house.
Settling In and Reflection
The house was a small American lodge, two stories. Upstairs contained the master bedroom, Mummy Zulaiha’s room, and those of their three daughters. Downstairs held the kitchen, a large English-style parlour, and the sons’ rooms. Easther, the housemaid, did not live in; she came in the morning and left in the evening.
Confused where to keep Aalimah, Easther finally placed her in Yasmin’s room next to her mother’s, though she worried it might be inappropriate. She returned to the kitchen, prepared food on a tray, and placed it beside Aalimah’s bed before leaving.
Feeling sticky from travel, Aalimah eagerly unpacked her toiletries and entered the attached bathroom. She examined it with curiosity—her first time abroad—but without any rural awkwardness. The jacuzzi tub, light blue theme, hand dryer, and luxurious shampoos fascinated her. She untied her long, silky hair, let it fall over her shoulders, filled the tub with warm water, and indulged in her favorite act—bathing.
After scrubbing her skin and washing her hair with foaming shampoo, she dried it with the hand dryer, performed ablution, and prayed. Wearing a fitted atamfa gown and her prayer veil, she made up her missed prayers until she felt calm.
Finally, she sat down to eat—mashed potatoes with mushrooms and chicken breast, with grilled liver on the side. She finished with a chilled apple juice before reclining on the sofa to rest.
Her mind drifted back to her mother, father, siblings, and Mahmud. She quickly reached for her phone, only to realize she had no credit and no internet, unaware the house used WiFi. She set the phone aside, picked up her empty dishes, and carried them downstairs.