Right from entering the neighborhood, it was obvious there was a wedding celebration, especially since the event house was the fifth one from the start of the street.
The entire street was filled with children, young girls, and even adults, both men and women. The mosque courtyard adjacent to the grand mansion—whose magnificent gate alone showed the owner’s wealth—was crowded and lively.
Three canopies stood tall, each neatly arranged with white chairs. The first was filled with respected Islamic scholars from both within the country and abroad. The second was occupied entirely by women—young and old—while the third was for men and boys.
What made the scene most admirable was the modesty and decency in everyone’s appearance. Despite being a wedding event, everyone was well-dressed—no one was wearing indecent or revealing clothing under the excuse of celebration.
Even though the compound was large and already full, people still overflowed into the house. The mansion was clearly a massive family home—too big for a single individual to own. From the gate, one could see several sections of the building—five or six at least—all built in the same architectural style. Only by entering could one tell the subtle differences between sections, depending on the owner’s preference.
Not knowing exactly what was happening inside, I followed the stream of guests toward the second section, which was more crowded. Since most people were gathered in the mosque courtyard where the walima (wedding feast) was taking place, it was easy for me to slip into a room said to hold the bride.
Inside, about ten to twelve young girls were busy adjusting their dresses—long milk-colored gowns decorated with golden floral designs and sparkling stones. They were chatting and laughing loudly.
“Oh Allah! Marriage really makes everyone serious! Did you hear Yah Abdallah stopped talking yesterday until he died of love?” one of the girls joked, wearing a small golden veil. The others burst into laughter, glancing toward the bride lying on her stomach, her back to them.
“Haha, indeed Iman! You see, that loudmouth finally ran out of words,” another teased, moving closer to the bed as the rest followed, laughing and clapping while chanting, “Tomorrow she’ll explode!”
A girl sitting by the mirror hissed and rolled her eyes, fighting back tears as she angrily dropped her makeup and stormed out of the room. The rest didn’t even notice; they kept teasing the bride, still chanting, “Tomorrow she’ll explode!” They were just young girls—barely sixteen or seventeen—acting playfully as friends do.
The bride, however, remained motionless, her tears silently rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t even open her eyes to look at her friends. Only she knew what was weighing on her heart since the previous night. This was the day she had long awaited with her beloved, Yah Abdallah. But strangely, as the wedding day drew closer, her body had grown weaker, her excitement fading away. She knew it was fear—fear of the new life awaiting her tomorrow.
As her tears thickened and her breath deepened until the veins in her neck tightened—
A sharp voice startled everyone from behind.
“Subhanallah! What’s wrong with you girls?!”
The room fell silent as everyone turned toward the woman speaking. She clapped her hands and shook her head. “So instead of helping her prepare, you’re here joking and wasting time?”
“Sorry, Addah,” one of the girls muttered shyly, scratching her neck. Addah shook her head and moved closer to the bed. “Alright, out now. Leave me alone with her.”
They all walked out quietly, whispering in disappointment but knowing Addah was not one to argue with. She ignored them and turned her attention to the bride. Gently holding her, she said softly, “Enough tears, my dear. You’re a bride—a beautiful one with a handsome husband like Abdallah. Unless you don’t want this marriage anymore?”
The young bride’s lips trembled as she burst into louder tears, throwing herself into Addah’s arms. For the first time, Addah smiled while patting her back. “Oh my dear, so the strong-headed Nu’aymah has melted at last—how sweet love can be!”
They stayed like that for a while before Addah wiped her tears, smiling again. “Enough, my dear. Why all this crying? Did someone hurt you?” Nu’aymah shook her head. “Then are you feeling any pain?” Again, she shook her head.
“By Allah, what’s making you cry then? You’re marrying out of love, Nu’aymah. Everyone in the family is happy—your parents, relatives, everyone! Even your groom called earlier; they’re already on their way from Abuja. Today should be your happiest day, my dear.”
Nu’aymah wiped her face and whispered, “Addah, wallahi I’m just scared.”
“Scared?” Addah asked in surprise. “Of what, my dear? Did something happen that we don’t know about?” Nu’aymah shook her head again, taking a deep breath.
Addah sighed and cupped her chin. “Look at me, Nu’aymah.” Slowly, she raised her red, swollen eyes toward Addah. “No harm will come to you, my dear. Forget your fears—tomorrow is your day, a day of blessings. May Allah bless your union, grant you peace and righteous children, and make this marriage a blessing for our family in this world and the hereafter.”
In her heart, Nu’aymah whispered Ameen, but outwardly she lowered her gaze shyly. Addah smiled, pinched her cheek, and said, “Now get ready, the walima has started, and the bride is missing!”
Nu’aymah smiled faintly and stood up. Since she had already bathed, Addah helped her freshen up and dress her in a fitted Atampa outfit—pitch and maroon mixed beautifully. Her elegant body filled the outfit perfectly; she wasn’t slim, but softly rounded. Addah added perfume, a black scarf, and matching flats, then admired her proudly. “Masha Allah, my son Abdallah’s beautiful bride!” she exclaimed.
The girl smiled shyly, lowering her head. Meanwhile, the girl who had left earlier stood by the window, wiping tears as she listened to every word Addah and Nu’aymah said. She bit her lip hard to hold back her sobs.
A Sister’s Pain and Silent Rivalry
Addah helped Nu’aymah out into the compound, where they met a group of elderly women. One of them frowned, saying, “What’s taking so long, Fauza? Why is the bride still inside?”
Addah quickly apologized. “Sorry, Hajjo, we were just finishing her preparations.”
“Preparations? You’d think she’s going to her husband’s room tonight! Bring her here, Zainabu,” Hajjo scolded, taking Nu’aymah’s hand.
Addah released her gently, smiling as they left. But just as she was about to follow them, someone grabbed her hand. Startled, she turned—and seeing who it was, her face hardened.
“Adawiya! What’s wrong with you? Fauza, what’s happening to her?”
Addah snatched her hand away and hissed, glaring briefly before turning to an older woman who had just spoken. “Umm, I don’t know what’s wrong with this girl or even Nu’aymah. I found them both crying earlier instead of getting ready! Their closeness is becoming strange—it’s starting to worry me. Anyway, the gift distributor is here now…” she said, wiping her tears as she looked at Adawiya, who was sobbing in Umm’s arms.
The beautiful woman—Umm—who shared a striking resemblance with Nu’aymah, hugged Adawiya gently, fighting her own tears. “It’s alright, my daughter. I promise, Insha Allah, I’ll do everything to make sure you and your sister can study together again, just like before. And one day, Allah will bless you with your own husband, and we’ll celebrate again.”
Instead of cheering up, Adawiya cried even harder, clinging to her mother.
“Oh Allah, please, enough tears, my daughter. Do you want to make us all cry too?” Umm said softly.
Before Adawiya could respond, Addah cut in sharply, “Tell her the truth, Umm! A solution has already been arranged; she doesn’t need to overreact. I don’t like this nonsense—it’ll only discourage Nu’aymah from enjoying her big day!”
“A’a, Addah, that’s enough,” Umm interrupted calmly. “Let her feel what she feels. Come, my daughter, let’s go get ready—we’ll be joining the walima after Asr prayer.”
Adawiya glanced nervously at Addah, who shot her a stern look, but she nodded obediently and followed her mother away. Addah watched them leave, a faint smile forming on her lips.
Just then, a woman approached. “Oh Fauza, I’ve been looking for you! So this is where you are?”
Turning quickly, Addah smiled. “Oh, sister! I forgot I left you waiting in the kitchen. Your children’s noise distracted me.”
They both laughed and walked off together, chatting as they left the courtyard.
Description
The Wedding Scene in the Neighborhood
Right from entering the neighborhood, it was obvious there was a wedding celebration, especially since the event house was the fifth one from the start of the street.
The entire street was filled with children, young girls, and even adults, both men and women. The mosque courtyard adjacent to the grand mansion—whose magnificent gate alone showed the owner’s wealth—was crowded and lively.
Three canopies stood tall, each neatly arranged with white chairs. The first was filled with respected Islamic scholars from both within the country and abroad. The second was occupied entirely by women—young and old—while the third was for men and boys.
What made the scene most admirable was the modesty and decency in everyone’s appearance. Despite being a wedding event, everyone was well-dressed—no one was wearing indecent or revealing clothing under the excuse of celebration.
Even though the compound was large and already full, people still overflowed into the house. The mansion was clearly a massive family home—too big for a single individual to own. From the gate, one could see several sections of the building—five or six at least—all built in the same architectural style. Only by entering could one tell the subtle differences between sections, depending on the owner’s preference.
Not knowing exactly what was happening inside, I followed the stream of guests toward the second section, which was more crowded. Since most people were gathered in the mosque courtyard where the walima (wedding feast) was taking place, it was easy for me to slip into a room said to hold the bride.
Inside, about ten to twelve young girls were busy adjusting their dresses—long milk-colored gowns decorated with golden floral designs and sparkling stones. They were chatting and laughing loudly.
“Oh Allah! Marriage really makes everyone serious! Did you hear Yah Abdallah stopped talking yesterday until he died of love?” one of the girls joked, wearing a small golden veil. The others burst into laughter, glancing toward the bride lying on her stomach, her back to them.
“Haha, indeed Iman! You see, that loudmouth finally ran out of words,” another teased, moving closer to the bed as the rest followed, laughing and clapping while chanting, “Tomorrow she’ll explode!”
A girl sitting by the mirror hissed and rolled her eyes, fighting back tears as she angrily dropped her makeup and stormed out of the room. The rest didn’t even notice; they kept teasing the bride, still chanting, “Tomorrow she’ll explode!” They were just young girls—barely sixteen or seventeen—acting playfully as friends do.
The bride, however, remained motionless, her tears silently rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t even open her eyes to look at her friends. Only she knew what was weighing on her heart since the previous night. This was the day she had long awaited with her beloved, Yah Abdallah. But strangely, as the wedding day drew closer, her body had grown weaker, her excitement fading away. She knew it was fear—fear of the new life awaiting her tomorrow.
As her tears thickened and her breath deepened until the veins in her neck tightened—
A sharp voice startled everyone from behind.
“Subhanallah! What’s wrong with you girls?!”
The room fell silent as everyone turned toward the woman speaking. She clapped her hands and shook her head. “So instead of helping her prepare, you’re here joking and wasting time?”
“Sorry, Addah,” one of the girls muttered shyly, scratching her neck. Addah shook her head and moved closer to the bed. “Alright, out now. Leave me alone with her.”
They all walked out quietly, whispering in disappointment but knowing Addah was not one to argue with. She ignored them and turned her attention to the bride. Gently holding her, she said softly, “Enough tears, my dear. You’re a bride—a beautiful one with a handsome husband like Abdallah. Unless you don’t want this marriage anymore?”
The young bride’s lips trembled as she burst into louder tears, throwing herself into Addah’s arms. For the first time, Addah smiled while patting her back. “Oh my dear, so the strong-headed Nu’aymah has melted at last—how sweet love can be!”
They stayed like that for a while before Addah wiped her tears, smiling again. “Enough, my dear. Why all this crying? Did someone hurt you?” Nu’aymah shook her head. “Then are you feeling any pain?” Again, she shook her head.
“By Allah, what’s making you cry then? You’re marrying out of love, Nu’aymah. Everyone in the family is happy—your parents, relatives, everyone! Even your groom called earlier; they’re already on their way from Abuja. Today should be your happiest day, my dear.”
Nu’aymah wiped her face and whispered, “Addah, wallahi I’m just scared.”
“Scared?” Addah asked in surprise. “Of what, my dear? Did something happen that we don’t know about?” Nu’aymah shook her head again, taking a deep breath.
Addah sighed and cupped her chin. “Look at me, Nu’aymah.” Slowly, she raised her red, swollen eyes toward Addah. “No harm will come to you, my dear. Forget your fears—tomorrow is your day, a day of blessings. May Allah bless your union, grant you peace and righteous children, and make this marriage a blessing for our family in this world and the hereafter.”
In her heart, Nu’aymah whispered Ameen, but outwardly she lowered her gaze shyly. Addah smiled, pinched her cheek, and said, “Now get ready, the walima has started, and the bride is missing!”
Nu’aymah smiled faintly and stood up. Since she had already bathed, Addah helped her freshen up and dress her in a fitted Atampa outfit—pitch and maroon mixed beautifully. Her elegant body filled the outfit perfectly; she wasn’t slim, but softly rounded. Addah added perfume, a black scarf, and matching flats, then admired her proudly. “Masha Allah, my son Abdallah’s beautiful bride!” she exclaimed.
The girl smiled shyly, lowering her head. Meanwhile, the girl who had left earlier stood by the window, wiping tears as she listened to every word Addah and Nu’aymah said. She bit her lip hard to hold back her sobs.
A Sister’s Pain and Silent Rivalry
Addah helped Nu’aymah out into the compound, where they met a group of elderly women. One of them frowned, saying, “What’s taking so long, Fauza? Why is the bride still inside?”
Addah quickly apologized. “Sorry, Hajjo, we were just finishing her preparations.”
“Preparations? You’d think she’s going to her husband’s room tonight! Bring her here, Zainabu,” Hajjo scolded, taking Nu’aymah’s hand.
Addah released her gently, smiling as they left. But just as she was about to follow them, someone grabbed her hand. Startled, she turned—and seeing who it was, her face hardened.
“Adawiya! What’s wrong with you? Fauza, what’s happening to her?”
Addah snatched her hand away and hissed, glaring briefly before turning to an older woman who had just spoken. “Umm, I don’t know what’s wrong with this girl or even Nu’aymah. I found them both crying earlier instead of getting ready! Their closeness is becoming strange—it’s starting to worry me. Anyway, the gift distributor is here now…” she said, wiping her tears as she looked at Adawiya, who was sobbing in Umm’s arms.
The beautiful woman—Umm—who shared a striking resemblance with Nu’aymah, hugged Adawiya gently, fighting her own tears. “It’s alright, my daughter. I promise, Insha Allah, I’ll do everything to make sure you and your sister can study together again, just like before. And one day, Allah will bless you with your own husband, and we’ll celebrate again.”
Instead of cheering up, Adawiya cried even harder, clinging to her mother.
“Oh Allah, please, enough tears, my daughter. Do you want to make us all cry too?” Umm said softly.
Before Adawiya could respond, Addah cut in sharply, “Tell her the truth, Umm! A solution has already been arranged; she doesn’t need to overreact. I don’t like this nonsense—it’ll only discourage Nu’aymah from enjoying her big day!”
“A’a, Addah, that’s enough,” Umm interrupted calmly. “Let her feel what she feels. Come, my daughter, let’s go get ready—we’ll be joining the walima after Asr prayer.”
Adawiya glanced nervously at Addah, who shot her a stern look, but she nodded obediently and followed her mother away. Addah watched them leave, a faint smile forming on her lips.
Just then, a woman approached. “Oh Fauza, I’ve been looking for you! So this is where you are?”
Turning quickly, Addah smiled. “Oh, sister! I forgot I left you waiting in the kitchen. Your children’s noise distracted me.”
They both laughed and walked off together, chatting as they left the courtyard.