Mujaheed was completely confused and at a loss for words. Abba said,
“Or should I just take her to the hospital?”
Quickly, Mujaheed replied, “No, Abba. I just realized I don’t have the equipment at home. Let me take her to the hospital and examine her there.”
Abba said, “Alright, that’s good.”
Even as he was talking, half of Mujaheed’s attention was on Umma’s room window. Although he couldn’t see anything, he hoped she was still asleep, even though he knew that was unlikely. He lowered his head and said, “Let me go inside and get the car key.”
Daddy handed him his own car key and said, “Use my car. Whatever happens, let me know.”
Mujaheed bowed slightly, collected the key and said, “Alright, Abba.”
Daddy said goodbye to his son and left without even looking at Imaan, who was already on the verge of breaking down. After he left, Abba looked at her and said, “Sorry, my daughter.”
Seeing tears in her eyes, he asked, “You don’t want to go with Muhammad, is that it?”
She quickly nodded, tears streaming down her face.
He said, “And you don’t want your daddy to rest either? I’m sure by later today or tomorrow he’ll return to work. Isn’t Mujaheed your brother?”
She burst into tears and said, “Abba, he will shout at me on the road.”
Abba laughed softly but said nothing.
Mujaheed kept looking at her from the corner of his eye. Abba opened the back seat for her and said, “Get in.”
She entered slowly and leaned her head against the car.
Abba looked at Mujaheed and said, “Take very good care of her. I won’t tolerate even a careless look from you toward her.”
Lowering his gaze, he replied, “Alright, Abba.”
Abba waved at her; she waved back while wiping her tears. He turned and went inside.
Mujaheed finished warming up the car, honked, the gate was opened, and he drove out. When they reached the main road, he said,
“So because you don’t want to go to school, you pretended to be sick just to trouble people, right?”
When she didn’t respond, he looked at her through the rearview mirror. She twisted her mouth, and when their eyes met she pushed out her lips as if about to cry, but said nothing. He nodded and said,
“You would rather go to school today.”
She burst into tears and said, “Abba said I should tell him whatever you do to me.”
He ignored her until they arrived at the hospital where he worked.
After parking, he got out and she also got out. He locked the car and headed toward the hospital entrance. She hurried after him. She stood and watched him greeting the nurses at the reception cheerfully.
One nurse said, “Doctor, I heard you were transferred here, and we haven’t seen you for a while.”
He said, “Sure. I’m resuming today, but due to some reasons, I’ll fully resume on Wednesday, in sha Allah.”
All the nurses replied, “May Allah spare our lives.”
He turned and saw Imaan sitting on a chair. A nurse asked, “Doctor, is she your sister?”
He replied, “Yes, she’s not feeling well.”
He then went upstairs and entered the doctors’ duty office. Dr. Mukhtar saw him, stood up and said,
“You rascal, so today is your resumption day and there was no notice?”
Mujaheed came closer smiling, they greeted each other and he said,
“Wednesday, in sha Allah. I brought my sister; she’s unwell.”
Mukhtar said, “Subhanallah, Ummi or Rahma?”
He replied, “None. She’s my cousin.”
Dr. Mukhtar sat down and said, “Okay, where is she?”
He said, “At the reception.”
Dr. Mukhtar called downstairs. Shortly after, a nurse entered the office, greeted Mujaheed cheerfully, and he responded.
Mukhtar asked her to bring the patient from the reception.
She said, “Which one? There are almost seven patients downstairs.”
Mujaheed said, “Her name is Imaan.”
She replied, “Okay,” and left.
She returned with Imaan, who was now weak and dragging her feet. Dr. Mukhtar pointed to a chair facing Mujaheed’s seat. She sat down and tried to rest her head on the table. Mujaheed gave her a look and said, “Sit up.”
Almost crying, she raised her head.
The doctor said, “Sorry, Imaan. How do you feel? Where exactly is the pain?”
Softly she said, “Last night my back was hurting, even my head, and I felt cold. I couldn’t sleep.”
The doctor smiled and said, “And this morning?”
She looked at him and said quietly, “When I woke up my legs started hurting, then later my whole body began to ache.”
He tilted his head and said, “Allah’s power. Is that how it is?”
She nodded.
He asked, “Are you taking any medications?”
She nodded again.
“Do you know their names?”
She nodded.
“Can you write them down for me now?”
She said, “Sure.”
He placed a sheet of paper and a pen before her. She wrote down all her medications, including the ointments, and handed the paper to him. He examined it for a few seconds, then looked up at Mujaheed, who was watching him. Before he could speak, Mujaheed said,
“Write injections for her to be given.”
The doctor complied.
Mujaheed collected the paper, looked at the injections prescribed, and handed it to Imaan, who had rested her head on the table.
“Take this and go to the nurses for your injections,” he said.
She quickly raised her head and said, “Injections? My doctor doesn’t give me injections, only medicines.”
He shot her a look and said,
“Then wait for him to come back and continue your treatment. Here, you’ll take injections. Get up, my friend.”
He finished sharply.
She accepted as tears filled her eyes and left the office.
Quietly, Dr. Mukhtar asked, “Is she a sickle cell patient, Mujaheed?”
Mujaheed shook his head. “Not at all. She only has the trait; she’s a carrier.”
Surprised, the doctor said, “But it’s almost mimicking the disease.”
Mujaheed opened his palms. “That’s what we noticed too.”
Dr. Mukhtar said, “Subhanallah, this is quite rare. May Allah grant her health.”
Mujaheed said, “Ameen.”
The doctor asked, “Those injections are strong. Has she eaten?”
Mujaheed stood up quickly. “I don’t know. Let me ask her. Please prescribe additional drugs alongside hers.”
He left. At the injection room, he was told the nurses were inside giving her injections. She was standing there crying, while the nurse stood holding the syringe, watching her. When she saw Mujaheed, the nurse said, “Doctor, she’s refusing.”
Mujaheed hardened his face and said,
“Are you a baby? Who are you trying to trouble? I’ll take you back home with your illness if you don’t respect yourself.”
She burst into tears without speaking.
He asked, “Have you eaten?”
With a trembling voice she said, “I drank a little tea, but I’m hungry.”
He stared at her for a while, then told the nurse, “Let me get her something to take, please.”
The nurse said, “No problem, Doctor.”
He left.
The nurse pointed to a chair for her to sit. Mujaheed returned with malt, opened it and handed it to her. After taking a little, she tried to set it down.
He said, “Who are you keeping it for?”
She swallowed with difficulty and said, “I’ll drink it after the injections.”
The nurse said, “No, take some more.”
With difficulty, Imaan drank some more. Then the nurse asked her to stand.
She stood up and burst into tears, looking at Mujaheed.
“I swear I’m scared, it will hurt.”
The nurse said, “It won’t.”
Mujaheed said, “I’ll leave you here in this hospital for wasting my time.”
She pleaded, “Please, you give it to me.”
He said, “I won’t. Either you stand or I leave.”
With difficulty she moved close to the nurse, looked at him and stretched out her hand, trembling.
“Please hold my hand, brother.”
He didn’t know when he smiled and stepped closer. She held his hand tightly and closed her eyes.
The nurse asked, “Why didn’t you wear an underskirt?”
She pouted. “I don’t like it.”
The nurse smiled, lifted her abaya slightly, and she clung to Mujaheed, resting her head on his chest.
With a shaking voice she said, “Please tell her to do it gently, don’t let it hurt.”
Mujaheed took the syringe from the nurse and gave her the injection. She widened her eyes, saying,
“Brother, has she given the injection? Please tell her to be gentle.”
He had already taken the second syringe and given her that too. When he removed it, she screamed, thinking the injection was still coming. He pushed her slightly away from himself. She stared in shock.
The nurse laughed and said, “Isn’t it done already?”
Imaan exclaimed, “Really? I didn’t even feel when it was removed.”
Mujaheed didn’t look at her. He disposed of the syringes and headed for the door.
The nurse said, “Press the spot well when you get home.”
Imaan nodded, wiping her tears, still amazed that the injections were already over without the pain she had expected.
She carried the rest of her malt and went out, sat at the reception when she didn’t see him. About ten minutes later he came down, looked at her and headed for the door. With difficulty she stood up and said,
“Brother, I’m starting to feel dizzy.”
He replied, “Then should I leave you here?”
She quickly shook her head and reached him. She almost collapsed at the exit. He glanced at her once and walked on.
She entered the back seat and lay down, breathing heavily. He got into the car, started it, and they left the hospital. He stopped at a pharmacy to go out. She said,
“Brother, I swear my head is spinning.”
He didn’t respond. He bought all her drugs, including the new prescriptions from Dr. Mukhtar, plus two large bottles of Lucozade Boost, and placed everything in the back.
When they reached home and parked in Daddy’s parking lot, Imaan was asleep. From the car, Mujaheed kept glancing at their apartment, his heart pounding. He turned to look at her, then got out, opened the back seat and said,
“Hey.”
She opened her eyes quickly.
“Get down.”
Without argument, she came out weakly. He took the drugs and drinks, locked the car, then quickly turned back when she almost fell. He glanced again at their apartment and held her hand, letting her lean on him.
They reached their section. He opened the door and entered the parlor with greetings. Imaan lay on the sofa. He placed the drugs and Lucozade down and looked at her. Before he could speak, Daddy came out and said,
“So you’re back already?”
Mujaheed lowered his head. “Yes, Abba.”
He knelt and brought out the medicines, opened the one she was to take immediately and said,
“Sit up and take your medicine.”
Daddy went to the kitchen to get table water and a cup. Mujaheed frowned at her.
“Won’t you get up?”
She slowly opened her eyes and sat up, almost crying.
Daddy returned, placed the water and glass and said,
“So how much is the bill, doctor?”
Mujaheed looked at him and smiled.
“The bill, Abba?”
Daddy said, “Yes, you went to the hospital and even bought drugs.”
He shook his head. “No, Abba. I’ve settled everything. May Allah grant her health.”
Daddy said, “That’s good. May Allah bless you.”
Mujaheed handed her the water and drugs. She accepted, closed her eyes, drank the water and took the medicine. He stood up and said,
“I’m going now, Daddy. May Allah grant her health.”
Daddy replied, “Ameen. Thanks, son.”
He left the parlor. Daddy looked at her and said,
“Get up and go inside to lie down.”
Without objection, she stood and went to her bedroom.
When Mujaheed entered their own parlor, he saw his mother coming downstairs. From her dressing, it was clear she was going out. Anty was in the parlor trying to light incense. She looked at Mujaheed and said,
“So you’re back. How is she?”
His heart sank. He swallowed hard and said, “Yes, I’m back.”
Anty said, “Just now your Abba told me you took Imaan to the hospital, and I noticed you didn’t have breakfast.”
He couldn’t say anything. He stole a glance at Umma standing on the stairs staring at him with her mouth open.
Anty said, “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
With difficulty he said, “Anty, it wasn’t me who took her. Her father did.”
Anty fell silent, noticing his state. She glanced toward where he was looking, clicked her tongue, adjusted herself and continued what she was doing. Umma turned and went upstairs.
With difficulty, Mujaheed dragged himself to the dining area. Even after Anty finished, he remained seated without touching anything. She said,
“If you won’t eat, take it to the kitchen for the almajirai.”
He pleaded softly, “Anty, if only you hadn’t spoken in front of Hajiya.”
She shot him a look. “She’s my mother.”
He said nothing. After some time he stood and left the parlor. Even in his dreams he didn’t want to meet Umma—what would he even say to her?
He went to Inna’s section and found her sitting on a mat, holding her prayer beads, murmuring supplications. He lay on a chair and closed his eyes. When Inna finished her supplications and opened her eyes, she jumped back in fright when she saw him.
“What is this?” she said.
He didn’t respond or open his eyes.
“This isn’t good manners—entering my parlor without greetings while I’m in supplication.”
Without opening his eyes, he said, “You were murmuring supplications.”
Angrily she said, “How can you say I’m murmuring when I have prayer beads in my hand? Only a mad person murmurs at this time. I had finished my supplication before you entered silently.”
He sat up and said, “Is there tea?”
She replied, “Yes, the one your mother brought me.”
He looked at her without speaking.
She said, “Did they forbid you from drinking tea?”
He lay back down.
She continued, “I can ask Aisha to make tea for you, because I can’t. Don’t you hear my back? I’ve been working since morning. Can’t you see how exhausted I am? Even my room is a mess—go and see.”
He didn’t respond. She went on,
“I gathered all the girl’s things that she brings into my room and leaves behind when she sleeps there. I kept them on the balcony for her. The room even looks brighter now. Honestly, if she would just stop entering my room instead of helping. I fear what will happen when she gets married—she leaves her things everywhere like a mad person. Bukar gave birth to what’s beyond his strength.”
Mujaheed stood again and went to the kitchen. He soon returned with a cup of hot water and said,
“Where are the tea items?”
She unlocked a small padlock from her wrapper and handed it to him.
“Because of people like Imaan, I lock my things. I don’t care.”
He took the key, entered her room and opened her closet. He saw two large tins of milk, two Milo tins, three packs of sugar and a box of Lipton. He shook his head, took down the milk and Milo.
Her voice came from behind him,
“Let me make it for you, Mujaheed. Don’t spoil my things.”
He gave her a look and scooped three spoonfuls of milk. She shouted,
“Is it your father who bought them for me that you’re scooping like that? It’s Bukar who buys my tea items. Ahmadu only dumps foodstuffs on me like a beggar. Money is not easy to get.”
He ignored her until he finished making his tea and left. She complained bitterly, gathered her things, returned them to the closet, locked it and said,
“Yes, tomorrow is another day,”
then came back to the parlor.
Until almost noon, Mujaheed stayed in Inna’s section, tired of hearing her voice, and he hadn’t even brought earphones to block his ears. As he was about to get up to perform ablution after hearing the call to prayer, the parlor door opened. He quickly looked. Imaan entered holding a food warmer. She had lost weight—just one day of illness—and her eyes looked huge.
Inna exclaimed, “Who is this?”
Imaan didn’t even look at her. She placed the warmer down. Inna held her chest and said,
“I’ve seen enough that even my Lord hasn’t. So now it’s the body that has risen? For God’s sake, look how the girl has shrunk and become thin like a cat, Mujaheed. Do your parents even love you, girl? Is this how they’ll watch you suffer? There’s medicine beyond the mountain—someone in Maiduguri. They told me there’s no illness he doesn’t cure. Fifty thousand was mentioned. Bukar stopped me and treated me like a fool, as if he gave birth to me. Do they think my friend Rasul would deceive me? She even offered to show me the way. The man lives beyond the mountain and cures every kind of spirit and illness not related to Allah and the Prophet, like this girl’s case. But her parents trust the cursed white doctors completely and won’t listen to me. Look at how she’s wasting away. We were fine yesterday, but now even the illness has risen since she didn’t go to school.”
Mujaheed asked, “Where did you say the healer is?”
Inna adjusted her sitting and lowered her voice.
“By Allah, Rasul said he’s beyond the mountain. His work is instant—knife cut, immediate cure. Drink medicine now, heal now. Everything will be expelled—illness and spirits.”
Mujaheed smiled. “Allah’s power. So he’s a witch doctor?”
She opened her mouth.
“Watch your words. I said cover my secret—don’t disgrace me. Ahmadu has started a new chapter of preaching against me. Do you think I want to go to a witch doctor? God forbid.”
He said, “A good person wouldn’t go and sit beyond the mountain.”
She replied, “Oh, so I’m a foolish old woman then? I forgot you too are an agent of the white people. May Allah ruin your ways. No problem—if it becomes necessary, I’ll get medicine for her myself, and no bastard should talk nonsense. May Allah curse those white people.”
Imaan, who had been standing by the door, pouted and said,
“Don’t even take it for me. I won’t drink it. Daddy told me not to mix hospital treatment with traditional medicine.”
Angrily, Inna said,
“Grow old in this house watching me. No man will marry sickness and spend his wealth on hospitals. I won’t let him be cheated. I’ll expose all your ailments to him because I’m not a traitor—I’m truthful. You are leg pain, you are back pain, you are headache, you are stomach pain, you are bone cold, you are fever, you are body pain—and that useless love of comfort. Then I’ll wrap it up and say it’s all unknown spirits. I don’t care.”
Mujaheed smiled, stood up and went to perform ablution. Imaan gave Inna a look, said nothing because of Daddy, and simply turned and left her parlor, twisting her mouth.
Mujaheed was completely confused and at a loss for words. Abba said,
“Or should I just take her to the hospital?”
Quickly, Mujaheed replied, “No, Abba. I just realized I don’t have the equipment at home. Let me take her to the hospital and examine her there.”
Abba said, “Alright, that’s good.”
Even as he was talking, half of Mujaheed’s attention was on Umma’s room window. Although he couldn’t see anything, he hoped she was still asleep, even though he knew that was unlikely. He lowered his head and said, “Let me go inside and get the car key.”
Daddy handed him his own car key and said, “Use my car. Whatever happens, let me know.”
Mujaheed bowed slightly, collected the key and said, “Alright, Abba.”
Daddy said goodbye to his son and left without even looking at Imaan, who was already on the verge of breaking down. After he left, Abba looked at her and said, “Sorry, my daughter.”
Seeing tears in her eyes, he asked, “You don’t want to go with Muhammad, is that it?”
She quickly nodded, tears streaming down her face.
He said, “And you don’t want your daddy to rest either? I’m sure by later today or tomorrow he’ll return to work. Isn’t Mujaheed your brother?”
She burst into tears and said, “Abba, he will shout at me on the road.”
Abba laughed softly but said nothing.
Mujaheed kept looking at her from the corner of his eye. Abba opened the back seat for her and said, “Get in.”
She entered slowly and leaned her head against the car.
Abba looked at Mujaheed and said, “Take very good care of her. I won’t tolerate even a careless look from you toward her.”
Lowering his gaze, he replied, “Alright, Abba.”
Abba waved at her; she waved back while wiping her tears. He turned and went inside.
Mujaheed finished warming up the car, honked, the gate was opened, and he drove out. When they reached the main road, he said,
“So because you don’t want to go to school, you pretended to be sick just to trouble people, right?”
When she didn’t respond, he looked at her through the rearview mirror. She twisted her mouth, and when their eyes met she pushed out her lips as if about to cry, but said nothing. He nodded and said,
“You would rather go to school today.”
She burst into tears and said, “Abba said I should tell him whatever you do to me.”
He ignored her until they arrived at the hospital where he worked.
After parking, he got out and she also got out. He locked the car and headed toward the hospital entrance. She hurried after him. She stood and watched him greeting the nurses at the reception cheerfully.
One nurse said, “Doctor, I heard you were transferred here, and we haven’t seen you for a while.”
He said, “Sure. I’m resuming today, but due to some reasons, I’ll fully resume on Wednesday, in sha Allah.”
All the nurses replied, “May Allah spare our lives.”
He turned and saw Imaan sitting on a chair. A nurse asked, “Doctor, is she your sister?”
He replied, “Yes, she’s not feeling well.”
He then went upstairs and entered the doctors’ duty office. Dr. Mukhtar saw him, stood up and said,
“You rascal, so today is your resumption day and there was no notice?”
Mujaheed came closer smiling, they greeted each other and he said,
“Wednesday, in sha Allah. I brought my sister; she’s unwell.”
Mukhtar said, “Subhanallah, Ummi or Rahma?”
He replied, “None. She’s my cousin.”
Dr. Mukhtar sat down and said, “Okay, where is she?”
He said, “At the reception.”
Dr. Mukhtar called downstairs. Shortly after, a nurse entered the office, greeted Mujaheed cheerfully, and he responded.
Mukhtar asked her to bring the patient from the reception.
She said, “Which one? There are almost seven patients downstairs.”
Mujaheed said, “Her name is Imaan.”
She replied, “Okay,” and left.
She returned with Imaan, who was now weak and dragging her feet. Dr. Mukhtar pointed to a chair facing Mujaheed’s seat. She sat down and tried to rest her head on the table. Mujaheed gave her a look and said, “Sit up.”
Almost crying, she raised her head.
The doctor said, “Sorry, Imaan. How do you feel? Where exactly is the pain?”
Softly she said, “Last night my back was hurting, even my head, and I felt cold. I couldn’t sleep.”
The doctor smiled and said, “And this morning?”
She looked at him and said quietly, “When I woke up my legs started hurting, then later my whole body began to ache.”
He tilted his head and said, “Allah’s power. Is that how it is?”
She nodded.
He asked, “Are you taking any medications?”
She nodded again.
“Do you know their names?”
She nodded.
“Can you write them down for me now?”
She said, “Sure.”
He placed a sheet of paper and a pen before her. She wrote down all her medications, including the ointments, and handed the paper to him. He examined it for a few seconds, then looked up at Mujaheed, who was watching him. Before he could speak, Mujaheed said,
“Write injections for her to be given.”
The doctor complied.
Mujaheed collected the paper, looked at the injections prescribed, and handed it to Imaan, who had rested her head on the table.
“Take this and go to the nurses for your injections,” he said.
She quickly raised her head and said, “Injections? My doctor doesn’t give me injections, only medicines.”
He shot her a look and said,
“Then wait for him to come back and continue your treatment. Here, you’ll take injections. Get up, my friend.”
He finished sharply.
She accepted as tears filled her eyes and left the office.
Quietly, Dr. Mukhtar asked, “Is she a sickle cell patient, Mujaheed?”
Mujaheed shook his head. “Not at all. She only has the trait; she’s a carrier.”
Surprised, the doctor said, “But it’s almost mimicking the disease.”
Mujaheed opened his palms. “That’s what we noticed too.”
Dr. Mukhtar said, “Subhanallah, this is quite rare. May Allah grant her health.”
Mujaheed said, “Ameen.”
The doctor asked, “Those injections are strong. Has she eaten?”
Mujaheed stood up quickly. “I don’t know. Let me ask her. Please prescribe additional drugs alongside hers.”
He left. At the injection room, he was told the nurses were inside giving her injections. She was standing there crying, while the nurse stood holding the syringe, watching her. When she saw Mujaheed, the nurse said, “Doctor, she’s refusing.”
Mujaheed hardened his face and said,
“Are you a baby? Who are you trying to trouble? I’ll take you back home with your illness if you don’t respect yourself.”
She burst into tears without speaking.
He asked, “Have you eaten?”
With a trembling voice she said, “I drank a little tea, but I’m hungry.”
He stared at her for a while, then told the nurse, “Let me get her something to take, please.”
The nurse said, “No problem, Doctor.”
He left.
The nurse pointed to a chair for her to sit. Mujaheed returned with malt, opened it and handed it to her. After taking a little, she tried to set it down.
He said, “Who are you keeping it for?”
She swallowed with difficulty and said, “I’ll drink it after the injections.”
The nurse said, “No, take some more.”
With difficulty, Imaan drank some more. Then the nurse asked her to stand.
She stood up and burst into tears, looking at Mujaheed.
“I swear I’m scared, it will hurt.”
The nurse said, “It won’t.”
Mujaheed said, “I’ll leave you here in this hospital for wasting my time.”
She pleaded, “Please, you give it to me.”
He said, “I won’t. Either you stand or I leave.”
With difficulty she moved close to the nurse, looked at him and stretched out her hand, trembling.
“Please hold my hand, brother.”
He didn’t know when he smiled and stepped closer. She held his hand tightly and closed her eyes.
The nurse asked, “Why didn’t you wear an underskirt?”
She pouted. “I don’t like it.”
The nurse smiled, lifted her abaya slightly, and she clung to Mujaheed, resting her head on his chest.
With a shaking voice she said, “Please tell her to do it gently, don’t let it hurt.”
Mujaheed took the syringe from the nurse and gave her the injection. She widened her eyes, saying,
“Brother, has she given the injection? Please tell her to be gentle.”
He had already taken the second syringe and given her that too. When he removed it, she screamed, thinking the injection was still coming. He pushed her slightly away from himself. She stared in shock.
The nurse laughed and said, “Isn’t it done already?”
Imaan exclaimed, “Really? I didn’t even feel when it was removed.”
Mujaheed didn’t look at her. He disposed of the syringes and headed for the door.
The nurse said, “Press the spot well when you get home.”
Imaan nodded, wiping her tears, still amazed that the injections were already over without the pain she had expected.
She carried the rest of her malt and went out, sat at the reception when she didn’t see him. About ten minutes later he came down, looked at her and headed for the door. With difficulty she stood up and said,
“Brother, I’m starting to feel dizzy.”
He replied, “Then should I leave you here?”
She quickly shook her head and reached him. She almost collapsed at the exit. He glanced at her once and walked on.
She entered the back seat and lay down, breathing heavily. He got into the car, started it, and they left the hospital. He stopped at a pharmacy to go out. She said,
“Brother, I swear my head is spinning.”
He didn’t respond. He bought all her drugs, including the new prescriptions from Dr. Mukhtar, plus two large bottles of Lucozade Boost, and placed everything in the back.
When they reached home and parked in Daddy’s parking lot, Imaan was asleep. From the car, Mujaheed kept glancing at their apartment, his heart pounding. He turned to look at her, then got out, opened the back seat and said,
“Hey.”
She opened her eyes quickly.
“Get down.”
Without argument, she came out weakly. He took the drugs and drinks, locked the car, then quickly turned back when she almost fell. He glanced again at their apartment and held her hand, letting her lean on him.
They reached their section. He opened the door and entered the parlor with greetings. Imaan lay on the sofa. He placed the drugs and Lucozade down and looked at her. Before he could speak, Daddy came out and said,
“So you’re back already?”
Mujaheed lowered his head. “Yes, Abba.”
He knelt and brought out the medicines, opened the one she was to take immediately and said,
“Sit up and take your medicine.”
Daddy went to the kitchen to get table water and a cup. Mujaheed frowned at her.
“Won’t you get up?”
She slowly opened her eyes and sat up, almost crying.
Daddy returned, placed the water and glass and said,
“So how much is the bill, doctor?”
Mujaheed looked at him and smiled.
“The bill, Abba?”
Daddy said, “Yes, you went to the hospital and even bought drugs.”
He shook his head. “No, Abba. I’ve settled everything. May Allah grant her health.”
Daddy said, “That’s good. May Allah bless you.”
Mujaheed handed her the water and drugs. She accepted, closed her eyes, drank the water and took the medicine. He stood up and said,
“I’m going now, Daddy. May Allah grant her health.”
Daddy replied, “Ameen. Thanks, son.”
He left the parlor. Daddy looked at her and said,
“Get up and go inside to lie down.”
Without objection, she stood and went to her bedroom.
When Mujaheed entered their own parlor, he saw his mother coming downstairs. From her dressing, it was clear she was going out. Anty was in the parlor trying to light incense. She looked at Mujaheed and said,
“So you’re back. How is she?”
His heart sank. He swallowed hard and said, “Yes, I’m back.”
Anty said, “Just now your Abba told me you took Imaan to the hospital, and I noticed you didn’t have breakfast.”
He couldn’t say anything. He stole a glance at Umma standing on the stairs staring at him with her mouth open.
Anty said, “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
With difficulty he said, “Anty, it wasn’t me who took her. Her father did.”
Anty fell silent, noticing his state. She glanced toward where he was looking, clicked her tongue, adjusted herself and continued what she was doing. Umma turned and went upstairs.
With difficulty, Mujaheed dragged himself to the dining area. Even after Anty finished, he remained seated without touching anything. She said,
“If you won’t eat, take it to the kitchen for the almajirai.”
He pleaded softly, “Anty, if only you hadn’t spoken in front of Hajiya.”
She shot him a look. “She’s my mother.”
He said nothing. After some time he stood and left the parlor. Even in his dreams he didn’t want to meet Umma—what would he even say to her?
He went to Inna’s section and found her sitting on a mat, holding her prayer beads, murmuring supplications. He lay on a chair and closed his eyes. When Inna finished her supplications and opened her eyes, she jumped back in fright when she saw him.
“What is this?” she said.
He didn’t respond or open his eyes.
“This isn’t good manners—entering my parlor without greetings while I’m in supplication.”
Without opening his eyes, he said, “You were murmuring supplications.”
Angrily she said, “How can you say I’m murmuring when I have prayer beads in my hand? Only a mad person murmurs at this time. I had finished my supplication before you entered silently.”
He sat up and said, “Is there tea?”
She replied, “Yes, the one your mother brought me.”
He looked at her without speaking.
She said, “Did they forbid you from drinking tea?”
He lay back down.
She continued, “I can ask Aisha to make tea for you, because I can’t. Don’t you hear my back? I’ve been working since morning. Can’t you see how exhausted I am? Even my room is a mess—go and see.”
He didn’t respond. She went on,
“I gathered all the girl’s things that she brings into my room and leaves behind when she sleeps there. I kept them on the balcony for her. The room even looks brighter now. Honestly, if she would just stop entering my room instead of helping. I fear what will happen when she gets married—she leaves her things everywhere like a mad person. Bukar gave birth to what’s beyond his strength.”
Mujaheed stood again and went to the kitchen. He soon returned with a cup of hot water and said,
“Where are the tea items?”
She unlocked a small padlock from her wrapper and handed it to him.
“Because of people like Imaan, I lock my things. I don’t care.”
He took the key, entered her room and opened her closet. He saw two large tins of milk, two Milo tins, three packs of sugar and a box of Lipton. He shook his head, took down the milk and Milo.
Her voice came from behind him,
“Let me make it for you, Mujaheed. Don’t spoil my things.”
He gave her a look and scooped three spoonfuls of milk. She shouted,
“Is it your father who bought them for me that you’re scooping like that? It’s Bukar who buys my tea items. Ahmadu only dumps foodstuffs on me like a beggar. Money is not easy to get.”
He ignored her until he finished making his tea and left. She complained bitterly, gathered her things, returned them to the closet, locked it and said,
“Yes, tomorrow is another day,”
then came back to the parlor.
Until almost noon, Mujaheed stayed in Inna’s section, tired of hearing her voice, and he hadn’t even brought earphones to block his ears. As he was about to get up to perform ablution after hearing the call to prayer, the parlor door opened. He quickly looked. Imaan entered holding a food warmer. She had lost weight—just one day of illness—and her eyes looked huge.
Inna exclaimed, “Who is this?”
Imaan didn’t even look at her. She placed the warmer down. Inna held her chest and said,
“I’ve seen enough that even my Lord hasn’t. So now it’s the body that has risen? For God’s sake, look how the girl has shrunk and become thin like a cat, Mujaheed. Do your parents even love you, girl? Is this how they’ll watch you suffer? There’s medicine beyond the mountain—someone in Maiduguri. They told me there’s no illness he doesn’t cure. Fifty thousand was mentioned. Bukar stopped me and treated me like a fool, as if he gave birth to me. Do they think my friend Rasul would deceive me? She even offered to show me the way. The man lives beyond the mountain and cures every kind of spirit and illness not related to Allah and the Prophet, like this girl’s case. But her parents trust the cursed white doctors completely and won’t listen to me. Look at how she’s wasting away. We were fine yesterday, but now even the illness has risen since she didn’t go to school.”
Mujaheed asked, “Where did you say the healer is?”
Inna adjusted her sitting and lowered her voice.
“By Allah, Rasul said he’s beyond the mountain. His work is instant—knife cut, immediate cure. Drink medicine now, heal now. Everything will be expelled—illness and spirits.”
Mujaheed smiled. “Allah’s power. So he’s a witch doctor?”
She opened her mouth.
“Watch your words. I said cover my secret—don’t disgrace me. Ahmadu has started a new chapter of preaching against me. Do you think I want to go to a witch doctor? God forbid.”
He said, “A good person wouldn’t go and sit beyond the mountain.”
She replied, “Oh, so I’m a foolish old woman then? I forgot you too are an agent of the white people. May Allah ruin your ways. No problem—if it becomes necessary, I’ll get medicine for her myself, and no bastard should talk nonsense. May Allah curse those white people.”
Imaan, who had been standing by the door, pouted and said,
“Don’t even take it for me. I won’t drink it. Daddy told me not to mix hospital treatment with traditional medicine.”
Angrily, Inna said,
“Grow old in this house watching me. No man will marry sickness and spend his wealth on hospitals. I won’t let him be cheated. I’ll expose all your ailments to him because I’m not a traitor—I’m truthful. You are leg pain, you are back pain, you are headache, you are stomach pain, you are bone cold, you are fever, you are body pain—and that useless love of comfort. Then I’ll wrap it up and say it’s all unknown spirits. I don’t care.”
Mujaheed smiled, stood up and went to perform ablution. Imaan gave Inna a look, said nothing because of Daddy, and simply turned and left her parlor, twisting her mouth.