From head to toe I was inspecting myself, looking into the large mirror fixed in my bedroom. I didn’t see any closeness or flaw about me; that wasn’t enough, so I raised my head and looked again — starting from my abundant, silky black hair spread across my shoulder. Slowly I lowered my gaze to my youthful face full of the bloom of youth; not that I was childish — rather I was at the age and of the type we find at this stage. My round face carries those ample eyes that God adorned her with, white, bright, and very striking. I did not linger long before moving down to my long, slightly prominent nose that further beautifies the face beneath the eyes. My nose is not thin — rather it has some width which makes it sit nicely on my face. My pretty small mouth has neat lips that are not too thin nor too large. Softly I closed my eyes and opened them while releasing a beautiful smile that revealed a row of teeth that were not stark white but a pleasant milk-like shade, well cared for at all times.
In a sort of head-shake, something flashed through my mind and I bowed it inward before, in my usual manner, opening up to continue surveying my body. On my full neck my eyes settled where there are some lines, a few traces as you might say. The fullness of my chest that thrills me turned my mood to happiness and pierced through me; my flat stomach shows no sign of bulging, let alone the weight some of my relatives complain about — they wish for my belly to be fuller and to have the fullness of womanhood, but for me that is the greatest grief in life: my big desire in this world is nothing more than to wake and find my stomach swollen like every woman whom God has blessed with the riches of childbirth.
I barely swallowed a sour groan as I pulled my gaze away from there and returned to the wide and complete hips of mine which are the most attention-grabbing feature of my whole body. My figure is one of the creations I am proud of because it is the only remaining thing that holds me in my married home and gives me some remaining value in my husband’s eyes — the shape God has given me. I didn’t take long before moving to my legs wrapped in bright red lappa (wrapper) that I do not part with; the lappa sat perfectly as if it was tailor-made for it, and how it brought out the fairness of my skin was indescribable.
I breathed a big inner sigh after finishing my self-inspection before, in the cool of my body, I picked up the small bottle of perfume I had decided to apply; but I paused, looking at myself like I was a stranger. I dabbed some on my hand and began to smooth the soft skin with it here and there, then I set it down. I took another bottle and rolled it in my hand, applying it to some important places on my body as I did, thinking the thoughts that always come to me at times like this.
The ringing of my phone sitting on the bedside drawer brought me sharply back to my senses; I hurried to get ready because I knew it wasn’t just anyone calling but Oga. I had long known he hates waiting especially from me, as he had told me times without number — “if I become your body” — especially at nights like this.
I put on decent sleepwear; its softness and attractiveness caught my eye as I tied my outer hair together with a ribbon. Even though I had applied some perfume before dressing, that didn’t stop me from spraying more — which made the room fill with a soft scent that pierces the heart, the one I use only when I’m going to see Oga.
I picked up my phone and turned it off without looking at anything because I didn’t have time for that; I knew he was probably already full of anger so I steadied myself.
I locked the door to avoid trouble and went upstairs where the master bedroom is. I knocked, paused briefly, then gently pushed the door open while greeting in a slightly raised voice to announce my presence in the room that I was coming in.
I know you might be surprised why I knocked when my husband’s room is a place religion permits me to enter anytime I want, and to see him in any condition is lawful for me; well, nothing much — I did that just to avoid coming across his displeasure. In times like this I often encounter different annoyances that prevent me from sleeping: sometimes I cannot sleep because of them, other times I keep my heart from worrying even if it wants to.
I breathed out and saw him sitting on the bed, pressing his phone, walking in a posture that was attractive and with a bit of style that steals his Oga’s heart. I placed my small handbag by his mirror and approached him; from the moment I entered he glanced at me once and did not look again.
I drew near and latched onto him like a gum, softening my voice because I knew I had erred; I also made a face hoping to win his favor.
“I’m sorry, my honey. I stayed to prepare myself for you so that you will enjoy your night full of relaxation and happiness. Forgive me for the delay please.”
I reached in and rested my hand on his chest and caressed him in a way I knew he would not be able to resist. As I thought, he closed his eyes, took my wandering hand and held it; then he opened them and looked at my face.
“Always let it be that you apologize and that won’t stop you from doing it again tomorrow. I can’t understand what your problem is, Khadijah. You’re not a child to be excused, but even a maidservant would not bring such excuses; God knows — you have started to push me to the wall because I am tired of your constant baseless excuses.”
From his body on which I lay I closed my eyes, my heart moving — Salees reminded me that I have never given birth; Salees reminded me that I have no birds (i.e., no children), no nest, and that is something I never forget even in dreams.
Knowing silence would cause a problem, I masked my discomfort in my heart while actually raising myself to kiss his mouth, assuring him that, God willing, I would not do it again — which affected him because he too was not very strict. Calmly and composedly he entered the mood with his gentle manner, and my small love followed him; we both drifted into a world that is hard to describe. We found the appropriate calm before going to bathe in preparation for sleep.
Not even in the toilet did he leave me, for he sought to talk with me before we bathed; after we washed and came out, in the cool of the fatigue gathered in me I put on my clothes and climbed onto the bed, exhaling as I wondered at how such a thing had become ours in the last month or two.
I hadn’t finished marveling when the sound of a child crying began to pierce my ears. At first I heard it faintly, then it grew louder, signs that the sound was approaching the room. Full of annoyance I stared at the door waiting for the next development. They began to pound on the door as if in a battlefield — though they called it knocking. From where I lay I did not move; I saw him lift himself from trying to lie down beside me, and he opened the room with a slightly displeased face.
“See him now — don’t be quiet. I’ve tried, I swear he is crying so much I don’t know what to do. The way he is crying scares me — look how he keeps getting up like he’s going to split himself.”
Oga tried to gather himself but instantly reached out quickly to pick the child up to soothe him; instead of calming, the child increased his crying and that again made the father’s worry shoot up. He rose, pleading God to show him mercy and to soften the boy’s heart, asking if it would take long before he finds him calm.
I only breathed in and out because today I had failed to apologize to Mariya (the co-wife) and Salees — not because of anything new, but because it had not just begun today. It seemed like a new thing she enjoyed and it had become something that touches my heart with familiar pain.
“But you know this entering is [your] right, right? We are just lying down and you will open another room — and that will keep me from sleeping. Is my rest now a cause of sorrow and jealousy or what?”
Salees looked at me with a gaze that seemed surprised or perhaps full of anger, before Mariya quickly answered for him.
“Be patient, Khadijah. Amir has been like this for two days; I don’t know what’s wrong with him. Or perhaps he really recognizes his father — oh — you see we even lie down but the child says he doesn’t know the words, he cries to the point where I don’t know how to handle him. So I brought him to see if he would be quiet because Mama said that leaving a crying child for long could cause him brain issues and heart trouble.”
“See please, let me talk without you interrupting; leave him for me to answer. Honey, I am talking to you.”
By the way Salees looked at me it shook me, for that look proved God rebuked me — he was not close to you.
“For my concern, you are not a fool. Did you hear what she said or not?”
By the time I reached the corridor, my patience had run out and I answered in an angry voice as he had with me.
“That’s why I said I need to know what you mean about me — because honestly, whether he leaves the room with the child or I leave, I will not be the one to be kept from sleeping and made to feel needless pain.”
“Oh no — but you should just leave because it is his father’s room inside his father’s house. You see, the idea of taking him out doesn’t please me.”
I stared at him with contempt, watching how his words struck me like a weight. I don’t know why a smile chose to appear on my face at that time despite the intensity of my sorrow.
“But you know I also have my father’s house — I didn’t descend from the sky, Salees. Whether from a room or from the house you tell me to leave, if I must go now then I will go.”
“Mtsww, I didn’t say you must leave the house, only that if you want you should go. As for the room, I said you should leave because the child has nowhere to go. You — besides lacking faith, you look at the kind of crying the child is doing and you don’t have pity for him — let alone his mother whose attention is all on him. You even make some harsh criticism, though you don’t know how much he loves him since you have never done so yourself, so you find it hard to believe.”
At that point my eyes filled with tears — sorrow and a kind of pain rising from deep under my heart — and I said nothing as I climbed down from the bed, took my bag, and went towards the door ready to leave the room with a heavy oath in my heart.
On the edge of the bed I fell, releasing the held-back cry that escaped me, a kind of loud sob that shook my body. One look — filled with sympathy — would have moved his heart, God knows I had long grown tired of being Salees’ wife. Not because I stopped loving him or didn’t want to continue life with him, but if things continue like this my heart will surely break; otherwise I’m sure my life will be shortened by his arrival — may God not allow that. Right now I am wondering how I always run the BP test and get negative results, because in the kind of stress I’m in high blood pressure is the smallest illness that the household rancor of Salees could cause me...
The Cry, the Conflict, and the Heartache
… (continued) I hadn’t reached the end of my astonishment when the child’s crying began to pierce my ears; at first faint, then it gained strength indicating it was approaching the room. Full of annoyance I glared at the door waiting for the next event. They began to beat on the door as if in a battlefield — though they called it knocking. From where I lay I did not move; I saw him rise from trying to lie down beside me and he opened the room with a slightly displeased face.
“See him — don’t be quiet. I tried, I swear he is crying so much that I don’t know how to make him stop. The way he cries scares me — look how he keeps getting up like he will explode.”
Oga tried to compose himself but quickly reached to take him up and start consoling; instead of quieting, the child cried louder and that again increased the father’s anxiety. He rose pleading to God to soften him and to put love and calmness in his heart — would it take long before he calmed?
I only took a breath because I had failed to apologize to Mariya and Salees today, not because of anything new — it had not started today. It seemed like something new she enjoyed and it had become something that touches my heart with familiar pain.
“But you know this visiting is a right, right? We were just lying down and you opened another room — and that would prevent me from sleeping. Has my resting become a source of sorrow and jealousy or what?”
Salees gave me a look that resembled either surprise or sheer anger before Mariya cut in.
“Be patient, Khadijah. Amir has been like this for two days; I don’t know what is wrong with him. Or maybe he has recognized his father — oh. Even though we are lying down, the child says he doesn’t know the words; he cries until I don’t know how to handle him. So I brought him to see if he would be quiet, because Mama said leaving a child crying for long may cause brain problems and heart disease.”
“Please, wait — I’m talking — leave him for me to answer. Honey, I am speaking to you.”
From the way Salees looked at me, I was shaken because the look indicated God had rebuked me; he was not close to you.
“For my part, you are not a fool. Did you hear what she said or not?”
By the time I reached the corridor, my patience had run out and I answered with an angry voice as he had with me.
“That’s why I said I need to know what you mean about me — because, truly, whether he leaves the room with the child or I leave, I will not be the one to be stopped from sleeping and made to feel worthless and pained.”
“Oh no — but you should just leave because it is his father’s room inside his father’s house. You see, the talk of taking him out doesn’t please me.”
I stared at him with scorn as his words landed heavy; I don’t know why a smile chose to exist on my face then despite the depth of my sorrow.
“But you know I also have my father’s house — I didn’t fall from the sky, Salees. Whether from a room or from the house you tell me to leave, if I must go now then I will go.”
“Mtsww, I didn’t say you must leave the house, only that if you want you should go. As for the room, I said you should leave because the child has nowhere to go. You — besides lacking faith — you look at the child’s crying and you don’t pity him, let alone his mother who is all worried. You even pass a harsh judgment, though you don’t know how much he loves him since you have never done so yourself, so you think it’s fake.”
At that moment my eyes filled with tears, sorrow and a kind of wound rising from deep beneath my heart; I said nothing and got down from the bed, grabbed my bag and headed for the door intending to leave the room carrying a great oath inside of me.
On the edge of the bed I fell and released the cry I had been holding in — a loud sob that made my body shake. One look filled with sympathy would have touched his heart, God knows I had long grown tired of being Salees’ wife — not because I stopped loving him or because I don’t want to continue living with him, but if things keep going like this my heart will surely break. If it doesn’t happen, I’m certain that my life will be shortened by his coming — may God forbid. Now I am wondering how I always test negative when I check my BP, because with the kind of worry I have the smallest illness caused by the household’s strife, like high blood pressure, could easily come upon me...
Description
Mirror and Self-Preparation
From head to toe I was inspecting myself, looking into the large mirror fixed in my bedroom. I didn’t see any closeness or flaw about me; that wasn’t enough, so I raised my head and looked again — starting from my abundant, silky black hair spread across my shoulder. Slowly I lowered my gaze to my youthful face full of the bloom of youth; not that I was childish — rather I was at the age and of the type we find at this stage. My round face carries those ample eyes that God adorned her with, white, bright, and very striking. I did not linger long before moving down to my long, slightly prominent nose that further beautifies the face beneath the eyes. My nose is not thin — rather it has some width which makes it sit nicely on my face. My pretty small mouth has neat lips that are not too thin nor too large. Softly I closed my eyes and opened them while releasing a beautiful smile that revealed a row of teeth that were not stark white but a pleasant milk-like shade, well cared for at all times.
In a sort of head-shake, something flashed through my mind and I bowed it inward before, in my usual manner, opening up to continue surveying my body. On my full neck my eyes settled where there are some lines, a few traces as you might say. The fullness of my chest that thrills me turned my mood to happiness and pierced through me; my flat stomach shows no sign of bulging, let alone the weight some of my relatives complain about — they wish for my belly to be fuller and to have the fullness of womanhood, but for me that is the greatest grief in life: my big desire in this world is nothing more than to wake and find my stomach swollen like every woman whom God has blessed with the riches of childbirth.
I barely swallowed a sour groan as I pulled my gaze away from there and returned to the wide and complete hips of mine which are the most attention-grabbing feature of my whole body. My figure is one of the creations I am proud of because it is the only remaining thing that holds me in my married home and gives me some remaining value in my husband’s eyes — the shape God has given me. I didn’t take long before moving to my legs wrapped in bright red lappa (wrapper) that I do not part with; the lappa sat perfectly as if it was tailor-made for it, and how it brought out the fairness of my skin was indescribable.
I breathed a big inner sigh after finishing my self-inspection before, in the cool of my body, I picked up the small bottle of perfume I had decided to apply; but I paused, looking at myself like I was a stranger. I dabbed some on my hand and began to smooth the soft skin with it here and there, then I set it down. I took another bottle and rolled it in my hand, applying it to some important places on my body as I did, thinking the thoughts that always come to me at times like this.
The ringing of my phone sitting on the bedside drawer brought me sharply back to my senses; I hurried to get ready because I knew it wasn’t just anyone calling but Oga. I had long known he hates waiting especially from me, as he had told me times without number — “if I become your body” — especially at nights like this.
I put on decent sleepwear; its softness and attractiveness caught my eye as I tied my outer hair together with a ribbon. Even though I had applied some perfume before dressing, that didn’t stop me from spraying more — which made the room fill with a soft scent that pierces the heart, the one I use only when I’m going to see Oga.
I picked up my phone and turned it off without looking at anything because I didn’t have time for that; I knew he was probably already full of anger so I steadied myself.
I locked the door to avoid trouble and went upstairs where the master bedroom is. I knocked, paused briefly, then gently pushed the door open while greeting in a slightly raised voice to announce my presence in the room that I was coming in.
I know you might be surprised why I knocked when my husband’s room is a place religion permits me to enter anytime I want, and to see him in any condition is lawful for me; well, nothing much — I did that just to avoid coming across his displeasure. In times like this I often encounter different annoyances that prevent me from sleeping: sometimes I cannot sleep because of them, other times I keep my heart from worrying even if it wants to.
I breathed out and saw him sitting on the bed, pressing his phone, walking in a posture that was attractive and with a bit of style that steals his Oga’s heart. I placed my small handbag by his mirror and approached him; from the moment I entered he glanced at me once and did not look again.
I drew near and latched onto him like a gum, softening my voice because I knew I had erred; I also made a face hoping to win his favor.
“I’m sorry, my honey. I stayed to prepare myself for you so that you will enjoy your night full of relaxation and happiness. Forgive me for the delay please.”
I reached in and rested my hand on his chest and caressed him in a way I knew he would not be able to resist. As I thought, he closed his eyes, took my wandering hand and held it; then he opened them and looked at my face.
“Always let it be that you apologize and that won’t stop you from doing it again tomorrow. I can’t understand what your problem is, Khadijah. You’re not a child to be excused, but even a maidservant would not bring such excuses; God knows — you have started to push me to the wall because I am tired of your constant baseless excuses.”
From his body on which I lay I closed my eyes, my heart moving — Salees reminded me that I have never given birth; Salees reminded me that I have no birds (i.e., no children), no nest, and that is something I never forget even in dreams.
Knowing silence would cause a problem, I masked my discomfort in my heart while actually raising myself to kiss his mouth, assuring him that, God willing, I would not do it again — which affected him because he too was not very strict. Calmly and composedly he entered the mood with his gentle manner, and my small love followed him; we both drifted into a world that is hard to describe. We found the appropriate calm before going to bathe in preparation for sleep.
Not even in the toilet did he leave me, for he sought to talk with me before we bathed; after we washed and came out, in the cool of the fatigue gathered in me I put on my clothes and climbed onto the bed, exhaling as I wondered at how such a thing had become ours in the last month or two.
I hadn’t finished marveling when the sound of a child crying began to pierce my ears. At first I heard it faintly, then it grew louder, signs that the sound was approaching the room. Full of annoyance I stared at the door waiting for the next development. They began to pound on the door as if in a battlefield — though they called it knocking. From where I lay I did not move; I saw him lift himself from trying to lie down beside me, and he opened the room with a slightly displeased face.
“See him now — don’t be quiet. I’ve tried, I swear he is crying so much I don’t know what to do. The way he is crying scares me — look how he keeps getting up like he’s going to split himself.”
Oga tried to gather himself but instantly reached out quickly to pick the child up to soothe him; instead of calming, the child increased his crying and that again made the father’s worry shoot up. He rose, pleading God to show him mercy and to soften the boy’s heart, asking if it would take long before he finds him calm.
I only breathed in and out because today I had failed to apologize to Mariya (the co-wife) and Salees — not because of anything new, but because it had not just begun today. It seemed like a new thing she enjoyed and it had become something that touches my heart with familiar pain.
“But you know this entering is [your] right, right? We are just lying down and you will open another room — and that will keep me from sleeping. Is my rest now a cause of sorrow and jealousy or what?”
Salees looked at me with a gaze that seemed surprised or perhaps full of anger, before Mariya quickly answered for him.
“Be patient, Khadijah. Amir has been like this for two days; I don’t know what’s wrong with him. Or perhaps he really recognizes his father — oh — you see we even lie down but the child says he doesn’t know the words, he cries to the point where I don’t know how to handle him. So I brought him to see if he would be quiet because Mama said that leaving a crying child for long could cause him brain issues and heart trouble.”
“See please, let me talk without you interrupting; leave him for me to answer. Honey, I am talking to you.”
By the way Salees looked at me it shook me, for that look proved God rebuked me — he was not close to you.
“For my concern, you are not a fool. Did you hear what she said or not?”
By the time I reached the corridor, my patience had run out and I answered in an angry voice as he had with me.
“That’s why I said I need to know what you mean about me — because honestly, whether he leaves the room with the child or I leave, I will not be the one to be kept from sleeping and made to feel needless pain.”
“Oh no — but you should just leave because it is his father’s room inside his father’s house. You see, the idea of taking him out doesn’t please me.”
I stared at him with contempt, watching how his words struck me like a weight. I don’t know why a smile chose to appear on my face at that time despite the intensity of my sorrow.
“But you know I also have my father’s house — I didn’t descend from the sky, Salees. Whether from a room or from the house you tell me to leave, if I must go now then I will go.”
“Mtsww, I didn’t say you must leave the house, only that if you want you should go. As for the room, I said you should leave because the child has nowhere to go. You — besides lacking faith, you look at the kind of crying the child is doing and you don’t have pity for him — let alone his mother whose attention is all on him. You even make some harsh criticism, though you don’t know how much he loves him since you have never done so yourself, so you find it hard to believe.”
At that point my eyes filled with tears — sorrow and a kind of pain rising from deep under my heart — and I said nothing as I climbed down from the bed, took my bag, and went towards the door ready to leave the room with a heavy oath in my heart.
On the edge of the bed I fell, releasing the held-back cry that escaped me, a kind of loud sob that shook my body. One look — filled with sympathy — would have moved his heart, God knows I had long grown tired of being Salees’ wife. Not because I stopped loving him or didn’t want to continue life with him, but if things continue like this my heart will surely break; otherwise I’m sure my life will be shortened by his arrival — may God not allow that. Right now I am wondering how I always run the BP test and get negative results, because in the kind of stress I’m in high blood pressure is the smallest illness that the household rancor of Salees could cause me...
The Cry, the Conflict, and the Heartache
… (continued) I hadn’t reached the end of my astonishment when the child’s crying began to pierce my ears; at first faint, then it gained strength indicating it was approaching the room. Full of annoyance I glared at the door waiting for the next event. They began to beat on the door as if in a battlefield — though they called it knocking. From where I lay I did not move; I saw him rise from trying to lie down beside me and he opened the room with a slightly displeased face.
“See him — don’t be quiet. I tried, I swear he is crying so much that I don’t know how to make him stop. The way he cries scares me — look how he keeps getting up like he will explode.”
Oga tried to compose himself but quickly reached to take him up and start consoling; instead of quieting, the child cried louder and that again increased the father’s anxiety. He rose pleading to God to soften him and to put love and calmness in his heart — would it take long before he calmed?
I only took a breath because I had failed to apologize to Mariya and Salees today, not because of anything new — it had not started today. It seemed like something new she enjoyed and it had become something that touches my heart with familiar pain.
“But you know this visiting is a right, right? We were just lying down and you opened another room — and that would prevent me from sleeping. Has my resting become a source of sorrow and jealousy or what?”
Salees gave me a look that resembled either surprise or sheer anger before Mariya cut in.
“Be patient, Khadijah. Amir has been like this for two days; I don’t know what is wrong with him. Or maybe he has recognized his father — oh. Even though we are lying down, the child says he doesn’t know the words; he cries until I don’t know how to handle him. So I brought him to see if he would be quiet, because Mama said leaving a child crying for long may cause brain problems and heart disease.”
“Please, wait — I’m talking — leave him for me to answer. Honey, I am speaking to you.”
From the way Salees looked at me, I was shaken because the look indicated God had rebuked me; he was not close to you.
“For my part, you are not a fool. Did you hear what she said or not?”
By the time I reached the corridor, my patience had run out and I answered with an angry voice as he had with me.
“That’s why I said I need to know what you mean about me — because, truly, whether he leaves the room with the child or I leave, I will not be the one to be stopped from sleeping and made to feel worthless and pained.”
“Oh no — but you should just leave because it is his father’s room inside his father’s house. You see, the talk of taking him out doesn’t please me.”
I stared at him with scorn as his words landed heavy; I don’t know why a smile chose to exist on my face then despite the depth of my sorrow.
“But you know I also have my father’s house — I didn’t fall from the sky, Salees. Whether from a room or from the house you tell me to leave, if I must go now then I will go.”
“Mtsww, I didn’t say you must leave the house, only that if you want you should go. As for the room, I said you should leave because the child has nowhere to go. You — besides lacking faith — you look at the child’s crying and you don’t pity him, let alone his mother who is all worried. You even pass a harsh judgment, though you don’t know how much he loves him since you have never done so yourself, so you think it’s fake.”
At that moment my eyes filled with tears, sorrow and a kind of wound rising from deep beneath my heart; I said nothing and got down from the bed, grabbed my bag and headed for the door intending to leave the room carrying a great oath inside of me.
On the edge of the bed I fell and released the cry I had been holding in — a loud sob that made my body shake. One look filled with sympathy would have touched his heart, God knows I had long grown tired of being Salees’ wife — not because I stopped loving him or because I don’t want to continue living with him, but if things keep going like this my heart will surely break. If it doesn’t happen, I’m certain that my life will be shortened by his coming — may God forbid. Now I am wondering how I always test negative when I check my BP, because with the kind of worry I have the smallest illness caused by the household’s strife, like high blood pressure, could easily come upon me...