FABRICATED FREEDOM!

A fiction, rooted in reality.

BASIRAH ADEJARE ADERIBIGBE (BASEERAH RIBIGBE)

SEPTEMBER, 2023.

DEDICATION

For My Children:

Biological and Mentees,

With Love.

Prologue

HOME: FORTRESS OF SAFETY?

“Whenever I close my eyes, I could remember every sordid detail of the day”

Ateefah mouthed, as if speaking to herself.

1|Page
“I could see it as clear as day, I could walk you through every detail of the horrible event - my
boredom caused it all. Or at least, led me to those letters…”

“Boredom? How? What letters? What exactly are you saying Teefah, what are you talking about?”
Anisah queried.

“You just listen”

I’m lost here. I thought you wanted to gist me about your marriage to Professor Ismael as his
thaniyah( second wife.) What’s this talk about boredom or letters?”

“Would you at least exercise some patience? Hear me out and connect the dots.” Ateefah said
calmly.

“Okay then, if that’s how you want to play, I’m game,” said Anisah, taking with the levity, the serious
story Ateefah was painting.

“Shhhhh, Anisah, let me come out with it, no interruptions again. I’ve kept this with me for too long
it’s taking its toll on me. Sharing it with you today would help me heal, I believe. Hopefully, it’ll teach
you one or two lessons as well.” She paused for air.

“I’m a strong believer in qadar and I’m sure this is happening for a reason - this talk, that we’re
having right now is by Allaah’s design, for a reason.” Ateefah placed a hand on her own chest, shifted
to the end of the chair such that her back was well-rested. She cleared her throat and began...

“The blood, my helpless self, the panicky rush to the hospital - I can’t forget any of it anytime soon.”
She declared, with emotion-laden voice. She reached for her handkerchief and dabbed her eyes with
it. It was as if she was reliving the trauma of that day in her mind. She was lost in the memory of the
day, recalling every horrifying detail with crystal clarity. One would think she was back in that
moment, with all the emotions of the horrible incident, raw and fresh!

“I remember the way the sunlight glinted off the blade,” she whispered. “I remember the way blood
pooled on the ground, and how the smell of it filled the air. I remember the way my heart was
pounding in my chest, and how my breath was coming in gasps. Whenever I close my eyes, I could
picture every horrifying detail of the day…”

Five years ago…

Ateefah wandered around in the house after helping her mum peel yam that afternoon, she was
bored and needed something to occupy herself with.

“Mum, can we go get those items today, you mentioned going to the stores earlier?”

“Not again my dear, I can make do with what we have, not until Friday when we go for Jum’ah, In
Shaa Allaah.”

2|Page
Disappointed, Ateefah responded from behind her mother, “OK mum, but why the change of mind
now?”

“I realise I really don’t need those items now and I won’t until Friday. That’s why. Satisfied?” her
mother teased.

“Just don’t change your mind on Friday again”

“I won’t, I promise.”

It’s the third term holiday and Ateefah had been home for three weeks in a row without going
anywhere for fun. She had read almost all the textbooks she brought home, done her holiday
assignments and needed badly to do something with her bored self. Her mother was not much of
fun to be with except for a few occasions when she was in a happy mood.

“Not now Tee, please allow me some space, my mind is occupied, I’m not in the right frame of mind
to deal with your questions.” Her mum would stop her in her track each time she brought something
up to discuss with her. And her dad? That man was always busy at work, always working late and
returning late. And most times when he arrived, she was either sleeping or pretending to be, just so
she avoided the constant nags from both her parents to each other. This had been how she grew to
know them. They hardly agree on anything, hardly smiled up to each other, rarely spent time
together except on occasions where necessary.

“I wonder how you people got married in the first place. Why live a life of misery when you both can
go your separate ways?” She had heard Mrs Raheem, the only friend Mama Ateefah had, asked her
mum one day.

“I’m your friend and I won’t lie to you. It’s obvious you’re not happy and I get it that it’s not a choice
you made for yourself. But what are you doing about it? Is this how you’ll continue?”

“It’ll be all right, he’ll come around, he had loved me before, he’ll love me again, he’ll change, I
believe.” Her mum would respond calmly and assuredly.

Ateefah had since been looking forward to that “change” her mum promised but it wasn’t
forthcoming. She kept hoping and wishing that her parents would treat each other better and they
would all become one happy family someday. This seemed a tall dream!

Ateefah’s only escape route was school. That was one thing she was grateful for. Being in a boarding
school was an escape from the consequences of the strained relationship between her parents at
home.

The holiday was seven weeks long, she still had four weeks to endure in the boring cage she knew as
“home.” She had no choice than to make do with it the best way possible. Reading was her hobby,
still is. She would read anything she laid her hands on – newspapers, magazines, journals from her
dad’s workplace and whatever books she found lying around.

That particular afternoon, after assisting her mum to make lunch, she decided to check the study for
one of her dad’s old books. He treasured them too much for her liking, he would always warn her off

3|Page
his study because “those books are expensive and off the market,” he would declare like a proud
owner of an antique.

Ateefah tiptoed to her dad’s study. She opened the door gently, trying not to alert her mum. That
woman seemed to be too fearful of her husband, she would dissuade her from going into the study
if she knew her mission. She had better be stealthy and quick about it. Upon entering, Ateefah found
herself face to face with an airtight, cluttered study. She saw a pile of books that have gathered dust
and picked one book from it. It was a Shakespearean book, so she dropped it. She picked another
and dropped again because it wasn’t one that attracted her attention. She was about giving up when
her eyes caught something behind the pile of books, Ateefah pulled it out and it turned out to be a
box, she tried to open it but it wouldn't give way. She forced it open and saw an envelope carefully
laid in there. It was obvious it’s been lying there for long as it had gathered dust and looked too
brown for a white envelope.

Ateefah was nervous, she wasn’t trained to pry, so she decided to put the envelope back and close
the box. “This might be dad and mum’s love notes when they were courting, it won’t hurt to see
how loved up they were back then, this might even help them revive their strained relationship.”
She thought as she got a glimpse of a sticky love shaped note with the inscription Meenah Love!
Ateefah’s face instinctively turned to a frown.

Her fingers fumbled as she opened the envelope, her hands shaking with a mixture of fear and
anticipation. Who could this be? What could be inside? She felt like she was on the edge of a cliff,
about to plunge into the unknown. As she pulled out the contents of the envelope, her breath
caught in her throat. It was a series of letters, tied together with a piece of string, on which were lots
of love-shape paper trimmings with the name “Meenah” on each. Who the hell is Meenah!

The letters were yellowed with age but a few stood out, not so old, they were recently written while
the others are not so clear. The handwriting was faded and difficult to read but Ateefah recognised
the handwriting immediately. It was her father’s. Also underneath those were other letters, from
another writer. These second set of letters were written in a different hand, one that was neater and
more legible. They were addressed to her father, by this same Meenah. Here these letters were,
tucked away in this box, hidden but not so hidden after all. Except from her mother’s world.

Ateefah was flooded with questions. Why had her father kept these letters hidden? Who had written
them to him? And why hadn’t he sent his own reply? Or was he going to send them? At the right
time, most probably?

Curiously, she took some out of the pile and opened one gently, carefully laying others back in the
box.

Reading the first paragraph, it hit her!

4|Page
A letter from Meenah, a sort of lamentation and emotional outbursts, and then a declaration of love
and desperation for answers, why?

And another, a response from her dad, declaring love for Meenah and regret for not being with her,
yet!

And another from the mysterious Meenah. “How could you do this to me?” the letter began. “How
could you abandon me like this? I thought you loved me, but it turned out you only cared about
yourself. You left me with nothing, not even a word of goodbye. I hope you’re happy with whatever
is it you’ve chosen over me. I hope it/she was worth it…”

And another, this one, her dad’s reply, an assurance to “fulfill all I have promised you, soon, my
Love, soon. Just give me time!”

“My Love”

Ateefah’s eyes widened in shock as she read the back-and-forth words. “Who was Meenah, and
what had happened between her and her father? Why hadn’t dad sent his reply, why was he
keeping them with Meenah’s letters?”

Questions, questions, questions!

Scccrrraaacth, a noise was heard from around her, "is that dad? I'm in trouble!" Startled, she jumped
up and quickly packed the envelopes, attempting to close the box. Then, she heard the noise again -
mice scurrying away from the study. Feeling somewhat relieved, Ateefah picked up some of the
letters, closed the box, zipped it up and quietly left the study.

As she snuck her way out, she couldn't help but wonder, "Why is dad keeping these letters?" Her
heart was racing, and her mind was whirling with questions. “If he had been involved with this
woman, is mum aware? It seemed so out of character for him.”

Ateefah had always thought of her father as a man of integrity, a man of principle. “Could he have
betrayed mum this way?”

“ If not, why had he kept these letters, like some kind of treasured souvenir?”

She paced, trying to make sense of the situation. She stopped abruptly, as a thought struck her.
There was someone who might have the answers she was looking for.

Off she rushed to her mum who was occupied in the kitchen.

“Mum, mum, where are you?”

“What is it again, Ateefah, why the urgency in your voice?”

“Mum, have you seen these before, these letters?”

“Who’s Meenah? Ateefah asked, extending the letters to her mum.” An action she had since lived to
regret.

“Mum, who’s Meenah and what are her letters doing tucked away, secretly in dad’s luggage in the
study” she repeated.

5|Page
As she skimmed through one of the letters, Simbi’s face went pale. She held up a hand to stop her
daughter from speaking. “Where did you find those?”

“Dad’s box, in the study”

“Oh, now I understand why your dad has been the way he is” she said in a low voice, her eyes wide
as realisation dawned on her.

“This man! As much as I tried, he wouldn’t even look me in the eye, he wouldn’t spare me as little as
a loving glare”

Ateefah was taken aback by her mother’s outburst. She didn’t know what to say or do.

“How did you come about these letters?”

“Mum, who was she? Who was Meenah? I was just looking for a book to read when I saw the letters
tucked away in a box. I didn’t know what they were at first, but then I started reading and…” Her
voice trailed off, uncertain how to continue. Simbi’s expression had changed, she was panicky.

Ateefah was confused, she looked at the direction of her mum’s gaze to find answers and she got
them. She sighted Alibaba walking in.

“Oh God, not now!” She whispered.

Ateefah turned around following her mum’s cue, they both started moving away from the kitchen.
Alibaba, walked into the kitchen stopping them in their track. He could sense something was amiss.

“What’s it and why are you both jumpy?”

As always, he spoke and carried himself with an air of authority, his shoulders square and his gaze
direct.

In a matter of seconds, he caught sight of his wife’s and daughter’s reason for acting strange.
Looking from one to the other, he noticed they both had what seemed like his treasured secret
possession in their hands.

His expression turned dark and his brow furrowed in a scowl.

“What’s going on. What are you doing with those?” He demanded.

Now that he was found out, he had to be smart enough to make himself the victim.

Ateefah could feel the tension in the room rising. She opened her mouth to speak, but her mother
cut her short.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Everything’s fine.” She was nervous.

He could sense her nervousness. “Are you lying to me now?” He grasped hold of Simbi and rough-
handled her in a bid to collect the letter by force.

Hell was let loose!

Simbi drew backwards and signalled for her daughter to leave.

“Tee, go!” “Leave right away!” She desperately wanted to protect her daughter from this unsightly
scene.

6|Page
Too late!

Alibaba grasped and twisted Simbi’s arm, she let out a loud cry and spontaneously bit him in
retaliation.

She was not going to allow this man cheat and beat her. Especially not in her daughter’s presence.

“Self defence, do something.”

“Run away from him”

“Self defence”

Her thoughts were running riots.

It was enough that he had been abusing her emotionally, she wouldn’t allow him rub salt on her
wound. Not today, not again! She was resolute!

Without thinking, Alibaba slapped his wife hard across the face. It was sudden, the impact of which
made her stagger. She found herself in her daughter’s embrace. Mother’s and daughter’s eyes met
and horror broke into well of tears. One would expect Alibaba to give up but he came charging back,
demanding to be given the letter. He pulled his wife from his daughter’s embrace, one would think
he was high on something.

“Let me have the letter, else!”

“Else what?” She dared him.

“Isn’t this same godforsaken letter the reason you despise me so much, isn’t it? So, it’s been Meenah
all these whiles? You’re such a heartless being! You’re neither here nor there, you should be
ashamed of yourself.”

The room erupted into chaos as Alibaba slapped his wife again and she fell flat on her face.

“Daddy! How could you?” Ateefah shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She rushed to her mother’s side and tried to help her up. The latter stood abruptly, reached for the
kitchen counter and drew a knife from the cutlery stand.

“Come near me again, come if you dare!”

Alibaba stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock. He had never seen Simbi so angry.

Fear gripped him.

“I didn’t mean to; it was all a mistake.”

As he had always felt after hitting his wife. He started playing the “sorry” card. But Simbi would not
have any of it, she threatened her husband with the knife, warning him off. Alibaba thought little of
his wife, he dared her.

Without a word, Simbi moved past her daughter, who was staring at her in disbelief. Her eyes were
nothing Ateefah had seen before.

“If you ever touch me again, I will not hesitate to use this,” she said in a stern, steady voice, waving
the kitchen knife at her husband.

7|Page
“Empty threat! I know you won’t dare. After all, I said I was sorry.” In his mind, he believed he had
heard a lot of such threat than take it seriously.

How wrong he was, he looked into his wife’s eyes and saw something he had never seen before.
There was a strength there, a fierceness that he had never seen in her before. He knew that she
meant what she said. And he knew that he had crossed a line he could never uncross.

A silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of Ateefah’s sob. The weight of the moment was
almost too much to bear.

Ali tried again for the last time, to bully his wife, he didn’t want her reading those letters. He would
try and salvage the situation somehow.

Right there and then, Ateefah decided to hand her dad the remaining letters she was keeping,
thinking maybe he would be placated. Just then, Alibaba rose with full force, with the aim of bullying
his wife into surrender. Also at that exact time, Simbi, in self defence and the full glare of their
daughter, raised the knife as Ateefah stretched to give the letter to her dad. Alibaba saw the knife
aimed at him, he dodged Simbi’s outstretched hand. Alas! Simbi stabbed her daughter iinstead. An
innocent mistake.

It all happened in a flash!

Ateefah let out a scream, her eyes wide with horror.

“What have you done?” Alibaba shouted, Simbi cringed, frozen. Ali rushed to her daughter’s side.
“Tee, my girl, please stay with me…

Simbi stood still, the knife still clutched in her hand. A mixture of emotions played across her face -
from fear to anger and then to regret.

As Ali cradled her daughter in his arms, trying to stem the bleeding, he turned to his wife, “go and
start the car, now!” He roared.

Simbi’s eyes filled with tears, but she held them back, refusing to let her emotions overwhelm her.
“Oh God please save my daughter,” she prayed. She wished this was all a terrible nightmare!

CHAPTER ONE

UniFad Campus

FRESHMAN YEAR

8|Page
Anisah envied her roommate no doubt, she wished she could just display herself as much as Lizzy,
scrolling through the former’s status update on Facebook, she saw a recent selfie Liz took in front of
the department’s auditorium. Anisah couldn’t help but soliloquise … “how can one person have it all,
beauty and freedom, this babe is surely blessed!”

Liz carried herself with poise in a sophisticated and fashionable way. She possessed uniquely
wonderful qualities; gorgeous eyes, radiant smile, clear bright skin, gapped-tooth, high cheekbones
and luscious lips. In fact, she needed no makeup, she was a true natural beauty with everything
about her pleasing to the senses. An alluring, young lady who aroused desire in everyone, man or
woman – the desire to be like her or possess her, depending on your gender, that was Lizabeth
Omodele Okpara.

The duo met and became friends in their freshman year in the university. The room they had to
share in the hostel was decided by the school authority. As a freshman, you’re given a number, pick
the keys that have that number on it and go look for the room number in the hostel. There, you find
your friend, or foe. These two arrived two weeks apart. Anisah’s name was among the first batch of
admission lists posted and so resumed earlier. In fact, she was done with her registration and had
started attending lectures before Lizabeth resumed. This gave Anisah the opportunity to choose bed
space, bedside table, lamp and other items first. She did not hesitate to clean and arrange for her
would-be roomie, a task she enjoyed doing even back home. Whenever her mum would assign the
house maid to cook, wash and tidy up the house, Anisah would take it upon herself to sweep, mop
and vacuum the house. She would tell Holla, the househelp not to bother as she was a lover of clean
and tidy space.

“It’s spiritual for me, “she once said when the curious Holla asked why she was always lending a
helping hand, tidying up every nook and corner of the house.

‘Haven’t you heard the saying ‘cleanliness is next to Godliness?’ Anisah responded.

Holla nodded in affirmation. “Go ahead, ma’am-cleanliness,” she teased Anisah.

“Seriously though,” she gestured to Anisah, “while one might think that your privileged upbringing
would make you arrogant and aloof, here you are, humble, conducting yourself better than some
adults would. I am glad for you Anisah, it’s really good to have you around when there’s too much to
do. I appreciate your help.” Holla blurted out with teary eyes.

Being the only child of her parents, one would expect Anisah to be full of herself - an entitled spoilt
brat, rather she was down-to-heart, kind and treats Holla with respect. She appreciates having her
around to learn basic skills from especially because her parents are rarely available.

9|Page
Though she enjoyed tender-loving-care from both her parents - they practically doted on her, she
did not allow this to get to her. She was indeed a smart kid herself. Anisah learnt to cook and clean
at a young age, she understood the importance of taking care of oneself and being self-sufficient. By
the time she was ten years old, she could cook some basic dishes and clean after herself. Anisah was
well-raised and she was fond of her parents. She shared this special bond with her dad, looked up to
him as a role model and tried to emulate his example of humility and compassion.

Liz arrived on campus one mid-morning, three weeks after school opened for the freshmen. She was
lucky to start and finish her registration the same day she got to campus because the crowd at the
Bursary and Library Departments had reduced, the influx of students was not like it was the first two
weeks. With fatigue setting in, Liz checked her watch, she noted the time and ticked off all
accomplished tasks from her to-do-list.

“Where next?” She soliloquised.

The last thing on her list was still outstanding, a clearance letter for her to be assigned a hostel. She
dragged herself down the road leading to the hostel blocks, with a feeling of hope tempered by
exhaustion, “oh God, let this be it, please let this be the end,” she whispered a prayer, hoping the
long day of registering as a bona fide student of UniFad would finally be over.

“Just a jiffy young lady, wait while I get your key,” the potter, a plump middle-age woman said from
behind the desk. After scrutinizing the file in front of her to be convinced enough of the information
provided.

“Lizabeth Omodele Okpara, right?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Here, your key and your copy of the Occupant Agreement. Read and append your signature here,”
The woman ordered.

Finally! “Oh, OK, thanks ma’am”

She obliged, gathering her thoughts and files while following the potter’s directions.

After all said and done, she walked briskly towards her room.

10 | P a g e
The key had a number on it which she double-checked to be sure of where she was going - “number
7.”

Much to her chagrin, Liz found out that her room was a long distance from the hostel’s main gate.
However, the assurance that she will soon be in her own room - her personal space, gave her the
strength needed. In a couple of minutes, she found herself face to face with her new home, her new
room, her freedom. This was the first time she would be staying away from her parents. Finally, she
could have her life lived the way she had wanted. With a rush of emotion, she inserted the key and
was about to turn the knob when the door flung open. Apparently the first occupant had been called
on the phone to be notified of the arrival of her roommate.

“Hi there, you must be the new occupant here, my roommate! I’m Anisah, and I’m so happy to
finally meet you.”

Holding the door for Liz was a hijabi lady of about her age. She stretched out her hand to help Liz
with her luggage. With her smiling face, she appeared to be pleased to meet Liz. She extended her
second hand to welcome her new roommate. Surprise was written all over the two’s faces. None
had anticipated the other nor had they expected to be paired with someone of another faith.

Liz peered over Anisah’s shoulder, she was struck by the sight of the neatly arranged space, a
welcome change from the crowded offices she’d been shuffling through all day.

‘Hey, good evening, you might want to come in,” Anisah recovered first.

“You’re welcome to our room, good to meet you, I’m Anisah Nuhu, 100 level Biochemistry.’ She said
in a feathery euphonious voice. Meeting someone kindly is nothing strange to Anisah, she learnt this
well from her halaqah classes back in secondary school. Liz on the other hand was still trying to re-
enact herself from the shock of a hijabi welcoming her with open arms. She couldn’t hide her
surprise.

“How come you sound this sweet with an eloquent diction but have to put this ‘thing’ on your
head?” She gestured towards Anisah’s hijab.

“Oh, my hijab? That’s a sign of obedience to my Creator and yours, Allaah. Come on in, where would
you like to put this? Come, let me help with that. That’s a water jar, pour yourself a glass. Welcome
on campus roomie.”

Anisah is such a free-spirited fellow who doesn’t feel offended easily. She’s someone you’d describe
as warm, hospitable, easygoing and nice. She would go the extra mile to make you feel at home.

After both were perfectly settled in, Liz found her voice, she finally let out the thought that had
formed a lump in her throat.

11 | P a g e
“Emhh, emmm, Anisah, am I right?” She didn’t wait for an answer.

“Thank you so much for your kind gesture, I appreciate you for that warm welcome and the support
you gave me while arranging and settling in. I must be sincere, you sort of changed my impression of
Muslim ladies, especially those in hijab.”

“Really, how so?” Anisah looked curious.

“My thoughts, before today, was that… well, I see ladies on headscarf as unfriendly, uptight,
nonentities!”

“What, why?”

”I cannot believe any of them would treat me like you did, coming from what I learnt of your
religious belief.” She said flatly.

“Please don’t be offended, don’t blame me either, It’s stereotype.” She quickly added.

Anisah listened with a mixture of surprise and amusement. She was not in the least offended.
Rather, she understood that there were many misconceptions about Muslim women, particularly
those who wear the hijab and she was grateful for the opportunity to dispel some of them.

With a gentle smile, she replied, “I am not at all offended, and I appreciate your honesty. I
understand that you may have been influenced by certain media portrayals or stereotypes, but I
hope that you will come to see that Muslim women are as diverse and complex as any other group
of people. We are not all the same, and we do not all fit into one box.”

“Enough of this Lizabeth…” Anisah was going to change the subject.

“No please, Liz would be fine. I left ‘Lizabeth’ back home, and I brought ‘Liz vibe’ to campus.” She
corrected, rolling her eyes. “I still maintain that you’re a different one. At least I’ve had encounters
with a lot of your people but you, with this first impression, I like you already!”

“OK, Liz, this is it. You’ll agree with me that ones character and religious belief are two different
entities. A person’s character will define them while Islam is there to shape, correct, teach and
reform them. However much they try to hide it though, their character will always manifest.” Anisah
corrected.

“Hmm, I get your point.” Said Liz.

”Why don’t we leave this discussion for now, you and I will spend plenty of time together, by
Allaah’s permission, we’ll get to discuss this in details later.”

“All right, so be it then.” Liz gave in reluctantly.

Anisah brought out a bottle of juice from the chest freezer, got two glasses from the plate rack and
set them on the reading table beside Liz.

“Help yourself while I dish you some food.”

12 | P a g e
“You’re far too kind, how did you know I’m so hungry I could eat a horse?” Liz reached for the bottle
and poured herself some.

“I’ve got you!”

“Tell me more about yourself, your Course of Study, background information and stuff like that, if
you wouldn’t say I’m asking for too much.”

“That’s not too much to ask, considering that you took me in and you’re feeding me tonight.”

“C’mon, that’s not funny you know!”

They both laughed it off.

“I am Lizabeth Okpara, but please call me Liz, you got that memo already, right? I’m from Rivers
State, Port Harcourt precisely. I live near NTA Road, Ngboba and I’ve never left home, ever!” I’m a
first timer freedom-seeker and I plan to use the opportunity well, you get that vibe?”

“I do, you’ve said it for the umpteenth time now.” Anisah appeared with a plate of steaming hot rice
and fish stew for her roommate.

“Here, enjoy!”

“Thank you, Mate, “Oh, Course of Study, Mass Communication.”

As Liz rattled off the details of her life and interests, Anisah listened intently, processing the
information with patience and a dash of smile once a while.

She could tell that Liz was eager to share her story and make a good impression, and she appreciated
her candidness and enthusiasm. When finally Liz mentioned her course of study, Anisah nodded and
asked, “Mass Communication, that’s quite an interesting field! Are you hoping to pursue a career in
journalism or broadcasting?” asked Anisah.

“’Broadcasting’ actually, I like how those presenters appear on screen, speaking like they were born
and trained in Europe. I’d love to have my face splattered all over the TV screen one day, I’d like to
say my name and introduce myself as a newscaster, I’d like…”

“Allahu Akbar Allahu Akbar, ash hadu an la ilaha illa Allaah…” Anisah’s phone interrupted their chit
chat with the adhan for Magrihb salah. Anisah stood abruptly, “I apologise for the interruption,” she
said politely. “But I must answer the call to prayer as soon as I hear it.”

13 | P a g e
As Anisah headed to the bathroom to perform ablution, Liz looked on curiously, a mix of intrigue and
confusion in her eyes.

“What now?’ Why do you have to leave right now? You can pray later, right?”

“While you may think that I can pray later, I can’t. Salah should be observed at the earliest time
possible, not too late than when the adhan is called.”

Really?

“Yes, really. It’s my sincere desire to respond to the call as soon as possible, Liz. Forgive me if this is
disruptive to our conversation.”

“This is new to me, you have to leave! In the middle of a conversation?”

“Not to worry, we'll continue talking after my prayer.” Anisah retorted as she took and wore her
hijab and left for the hostel’s masjid, a few blocks away from her room.

Chapter Two

The Meeting

The short stretch gave Liz the chance to ponder on her newly found roomie. She’s a good person, no
doubt but for her religion, she thought aloud, we would have made a good pair.

“Well, let’s see how it goes, four years is a long time to win someone over,” she shrugged.

“That girl is pretty! Oh my! I thought I looked good but Liz? Barakallahu feek! If she were a Muslim,
niqab (face veil) would have been the best adornment for her. How I wish…”

Anisah bumped into a sister who was trying to enter the masjid as well.

“Oh, sorry sis, Assalam alaykum .’ Anisah enacted herself from her reverie.

“It’s okay, Waleikki salaam wa rahmatuLlah sister…”

14 | P a g e
“Anisah, Anisah Nuhu”, she took the hand extended towards her and shook it.

“Oh, Maa Shaa Allaah, you first, Mumtaza said and pointed at the female section of the masjid for
Anisah to enter. I am Mumtaza , Olayoyin Mumtaza . I stay in block 3, Bella Noor Hostel.”

“Wait, that’s my hostel, but I’m in block 2, hostel 7. Nice to meet you sis.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sister Mumtaza Olayoyin!” Anisah responded warmly. “How long have you
been living in Bella Noor Hostel?” she asked, making small talk as they entered the mosque together.

Mumtaza seemed happy to have found a new friend. “I’ve been living here for the past three years.
What about you, Anisah? Are you new to this campus?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Anisah nodded as she sat down on the carpeted floor of the mosque, pulling out her small prayer
mat.

After the small talk, they both prayed their nawafil before the far’d Salah. Anisah couldn’t help but
admire the full length Jilbab Mumtaza had on, it was a beautiful flowing navy blue Saudiyah fabric
expertly sewn to cover all parts of her body except the face. The jilbab concealed all of Mumtaza’s
body, making it hard to tell her body shape except for height. This is the correct definition of hijab,
Anisah thought.

A few minutes later, some other sisters joined the female congregation making it clear to Anisah that
there are lots of Muslim ladies in her hostel. A few minutes later, salah began.

Everyone stood in rows following the imam’s directive. The mosque was transformed into a sacred
space as the worshippers stood in prayer, shoulder to shoulder, focused on the task at hand. The
imam began the prayer, his voice resonating throughout the masjid.

Anisah and Mumtaza could be seen standing straight, with their heads lowered in total
concentration, their chests rising and falling in unison with the rest of the congregation. The sense of
togetherness and devotion was palpable, and it was clear that this was a special moment, anyone
who witnessed this would easily feel the worshippers’ total submission to the Creator in the
congregation. The Qur’an rendition was so calming to the soul you wouldn’t want it to stop. The
prayer lasted for about seven minutes, the congregation said their supplications and the crowd
started to disperse.

15 | P a g e
Mumtaza was still saying her supplication while Anisah finished hers. She was waiting and soon,
Mumtaza moved closer to her for proper introduction and acquaintances. This was soon interrupted
by an announcement being made from the men’s wing of the masjid.

The sudden announcement disrupted their get-to-know-me chat and created a sense of urgency in
the air. Anisah and Mumtaza looked at each other with curiosity, wondering what the
announcement could be about. They waited patiently as the voice from the loudspeaker started to
speak.

“A reminder for all Muslim students of this university, today’s evening lecture will be delivered by
Ustadh Abdullateef Assudays, a scholar known for his knowledge and wisdom in the field of Islamic
studies. The topic for today’s lecture is ‘The Importance of Education in the Life of A Muslim.”

“Please note also that, salah time is written on the masjid bulletin board, ensure you check often
because it changes according to atmospheric condition. Please note that other MSSN’s (Muslim
Students Society of Nigeria) programme schedule is also pasted on the board for the new students
to take note of. “

“Finally”, he spoke on, “the sisters’ programme comes up every Sunday by 10am, we advise that our
sisters contact Umm Adna for details, they are also implored to attend punctually.” The announcer
concluded.

“That was the Naqeeb of the hostel, Abdul Abdulganiy , he doubles as the Imam too. He is a 300
level Law student” Mumtaza informed Anisah.

“Oh wow, Maa Shaa Allaah! I don’t mean to be privy but is he a Hafidh? I noticed his recitation of the
Qur’an was smooth and almost perfect…”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, but he is good Maa Shaa Allaah. He’s one of the Ustadh in MSSN Madrasah.
Why did you ask and by the way, how would you know if his recitation isn’t perfect? Are you! Oh my!
You’re a memoriser of the Qur’an yourself, what a blessing you carry! May Allaah make it a source of
light for your path and a means for you to enter Jannah with your parents. I love you already Sis, for
the sake of Allaah Ar Rahman.” Mumtaza couldn’t hide her surprise, her eyes lit up with admiration
for this campus newbie who is not only beautiful but also blessed with the knowledge of the Qur’an.

Anisah on the other hand became embarrassed, she was shy. She didn’t mean to share that
information, at least, not at the first instance of meeting this warm and lovely sister. She finally
found her voice “jazakiLlaah khayran for the du’a, thank you so much.” Can we please drop the
subject, she wanted to add. “I’ll like to take my leave now, hope to see you by Ishai time, In Shaa

16 | P a g e
Allaah.” Anisah said when she remembered her roommate who might be thinking she deliberately
kept late.

Few days later, after frequent visits to the masjid, Anisah got to know that Mumtaza was the
Naqeebah of the hostel and she was also an MSSN executive. She observed Mumtaza keenly and
soon discovered that most sisters would wait to see and converse with her, they would call her by
her kunya, Umm Adna sometimes and she would acknowledge them. Anisah also discovered that
she was a member of the MSSN Press Club, the Vice President precisely and Umm Adna was her pen
name. It dawned on her that the articles she had always read on MSSN Press Board, the admonitions
that always resonated with her, were actually written by her newfound friend, Mumtaza Olayoyin.

Anisah felt proud and happy for her choice of friend. As frequent as she visited the hostel Masjid,
she couldn’t help but notice the way people responded to Mumtaza . It was clear that she was well-
respected and beloved by the other sisters. They would often greet her with smiles and call her using
terms of endearment and respect.

Just yesterday, Anisah was making du’a for the so-called Umm Adna after reading an article the
latter posted that resonated with her. Anisah might be a memoriser of the Qur’an, she still struggles
with being steadfast, she struggles with keeping up with some of Allaah’s injunctions. So Each time
she read admonitions from MSSN press board, she tried to keep them close to her chest and abide
by the instructions therein. The indisputable fact remains that memorising the Qur’an and having a
sound creed are two separate achievements. Anisah concluded. She tried to re-enact the feeling she
got when reading the inspiring post titled SEEK REFUGE. The article flashed in her memory and she
was reading it again in her mind… An admonition on the use of social media.

SEEK REFUGE

He sells sins, heart to heart, door to door, home to home. Fornication/adultery, arrogance, usury
and other vices. Anything that places man in disobedience with his Lord. His antics are ignorantly
overlooked, highly underrated...”use women and money to pin them down to sin, they'd oblige.”

'What medium?' Asked his subordinates. 'Use the media, call it social, call it teevee, call it computer,
call it internet, call it phone, just do it!' He ordered! He was exact in his words, ... 'They'd fall', he was
sure.

'What about the strong ones among them, those who believe?' His subordinates probe on. “Don't
worry, we'll get them. Emphasise on the use of social media, let your 'weapons' use photography and
filming, let them bombard the world with images of irresistible ogling. Let these weapons tempt the
believers, disguise as females, bombard their inboxes, ask them questions, engage them in chats,
make alluring comments on their posts, send them nudes, mingle freely with them until you ruin
them!” He gloated, in self-assurance!

Man buys himself his own destruction, he thinks he’s free to do as he pleases. He pays hugely to be
drawn in to the net (internet) of Shaytan, the accursed. Not knowing his (shaytan) trick was to win
more people to the pit of hell, an accursed transgressor that didn’t want to suffer alone.

17 | P a g e
He makes Zina, free for all, just open your eyes and woola, you're 'feasting'. Shaytaan (the accursed)
has captured man's whole being in his hand, just like that.

O Muslim, seek refuge in your Lord and mine, run to Him in repentance. Al Gafoor is the One and
Only Who can save you, He is Allaah and Ar-Rahman too.

“I seek refuge in Allaah against shaytan, the accursed!”

Umm Adna,

Reminder to me, first.

Chapter Three

The Secret Admirer.

“Anisah, I’ve got gist, come on, remove the ear pods,” she inched closer to her roommate who was
typing on her phone while listening to a podcast at the same time. Liz snapped her fingers right
before Anisah’s eyes in a bid to get her attention.

Liz leaned in, close enough to Anisah’s ear. “You’ll never believe what I heard about Professor Ismael
today,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Apparently, he’s been having an affair with one grad
student like that. And that’s not even the shocking news, she’s a fully dressed Muslim lady!” Anisah’s
eyes widened, and she quickly glanced around the waiting room to make sure no one was listening
in.

“No way!” Anisah exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’re doing this Liz, Prof. Ismael is such a respected
professor.” Liz nodded in affirmative to Anisah, her eyes gleaming with excitement, apparently
misconstruing Anisah’s statement.

“Anisah, there’s more…

“Liz, hold on a second,” Anisah said, holding up a hand to stop her roommate from gossiping. “Are
you sure this is true? It sounds like you’re just spreading rumours. And even if it is true, it’s not right
to gossip about someone like this. It’s not what Islam teaches us to do.” Anisah looked at Liz with a
serious expression on her face. “I know it’s tempting to talk about other people’s business, but it’s
not fair to them. And it’s not right to judge them without knowing all the facts.”

Liz seemed confused, she raised a curious eye to Anisah asking why she seemed to be interested
earlier and suddenly feigning disinterest.

“Also, let’s say that everything you said is true – Prof. Ismael is allowed to have up to four wives, as
long as he could be fair and just to all of them. We don’t know all the details of his personal life, and

18 | P a g e
it’s not really any of our business. Let’s not speculate about what might or might not be going on.”
Anisah concluded flatly.

She knew that gossiping and slandering others were serious sins in Islam, and she didn’t want to be a
part of it. Liz seemed taken aback by Anisah’s words, but she nodded in understanding.

For the want of filling in the gap created by lack of what to talk about, Liz decided to try again.

“Anisah, I’ve got an admirer who finally showed up after stalling me for about two semesters”.

“Admirer? When, how? Did you…”

“Yes, I know I kept this from you but I wasn’t sure I’d like him, but now that he finally showed up
(today) to ask me out, I know I like him, already!.

Anisah, don’t respond yet, hold on, that’s not the gist,” Liz leaned forward to pick something from
the bag she dropped on the bed. She extended it to Anisah for the latter to see. It was a gift wrapped
with a beautiful pink and white paper. “The guy we saw sometimes last month, with the name
Tamil,”

“Which guy?”

“On a poster, contesting… a few weeks ago, remember? The one whose picture stood out. He is one
of the Presidency candidates of my department, he’s contesting!” Liz described desperately to a lost-
looking Anisah who was trying so hard not to feign interest.

“Anniiisssaaahh, you’re falling my hands, Tamil’s face is not one to forget so soon. He is tall and lean,
with broad shoulders and a good build. His hair is dark and neatly trimmed. His eyes, a striking shade
of black and white, and they sparkle with intelligence and humour. Everything about him exudes
confidence and self-assurance. I saw it, I can feel it!”

Anisah was now fully engaged in Liz’s story, her interest piqued by the mystery surrounding this
“Tamil”. Liz’s description of him was so vivid and detailed, Anisah could almost imagine him standing
before her. What’s more worrisome aside Liz’s detailed description was the easy charm this
anonymous Tamil already had on her friend.

“I sorry, Liz but you’re better than this, you should not be swayed by a guy because of his looks, gifts
or what have you. I’m afraid you’re falling for him already…”

She couldn’t help but wonder what could possibly have prompted this mysterious man to shower Liz
with such gifts and attention.

“Anisah, come off it, I’m not falling for anything, I’m only telling you what Tamil looks like and to say
someone of his status is showing interest in me, that amounts to something, it means a lot Anisah.”

Liz’s excitement was palpable, but Anisah couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was
amiss. Something about this situation seemed too good to be true.

“I can’t help but feel a bit suspicious,” she said hesitantly.

“Anisah now, stop acting weird, the anonymous guy who had been sending me flowers, chocolate
and stuff has finally shown up! It’s Tamil and I’m excited to share the news with you, hoping that
you’ll be happy for me, is that too much to ask?”

19 | P a g e
‘Oh wait, I think I remember him now’, Anisah said thoughtfully. The same one that sent you that
book, ehm…what’s the title again, NEVER SAY NEVE…?”

“Yes, that one! Liz declared triumphantly. “His name is Tamil Rabiu, he is brilliant, and a first-class
student, he’s in 400 level Mass Communication. He’s absolutely kind, intelligent and compassionate.
You need to see him in debate today, he shined brightly among his peers. He’s not just a student,
he’s a philosopher.”

“Liz, aren’t you going too fast?” Cautioned Anisah. “How did you know all these? Didn’t you say the
guy showed up just today? You’ve got to be careful Babe, your purpose here isn’t to analyse a man’s
physique or character, you’re here to study and take laurels home to your parents.”

They started raising their voices here, unconsciously for Anisah, a conscious effort for Liz.

“Anisah, don’t start, don’t even think of it. If you can’t be happy for me then keep your sermon to
yourself. I was merely telling you about him. I wasn’t asking for a sermon, so say something good or
keep quiet, you yourself usually say that is a hadith…” Liz’s anger is building up. She was referring to
the Hadith of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) that one should either say what is good
or keep silent. Something she picked from one of Anisah’s words when Liz would backbite and
Anisah would warn her against it.

“Knock knock, tap, tap”

Suddenly, a tap was heard on the door, and a student from the next room spoke up. “Guys, could
you please keep it down? I’m trying to study here.”

Anisah and Liz both turned to look at each other, surprised. Anisah recovered first, “oh, are we…”,
“Sorry about that.”

Liz added, “Yeah, we’ll try to keep it down.”

The two of them nodded in unison and went back to what they were doing.

Anisah turned back to Liz. “Now, can we please focus on our purpose here?”

Liz sighed. “Fine. Let’s focus, Effiko, exam starts soon, we understand you’ll like to be adequately
prepared”

Though displeased by the name-calling, Anisah gathered her thoughts and decided to exercise
patience, she advised Liz with the best of feathery tone and comportment.

“Liz, see, we’re roommates no doubt but I see us more than that. I see us as siblings and I wouldn’t
lie to my sister, nor would I allow her to go astray if I could help it. So, this is my sisterly advice, focus
on your reasons for being here, to study and graduate with good grades.”

“You’re sometimes too serious for my liking, all work and no play makes Anisah a dull girl” Liz teased
her roommate turned-sister and friend.

20 | P a g e
“Hold it there Liz, can I ask you a question?” She didn’t allow Liz to give an answer ….”Do you still
remember why your parents chose this school?”

“Why they chose what? I don’t understand…” Liz gave Anisah a curious look.

“You told me they didn’t want you to go to UniFort because of the level of promiscuity and lewdness
of girls over there. They want you chaste, virtuous and serious with your studies hence the choice of
a University down here in the South-West.”

“May I plead that you should make them proud, please? Need I add that you’re obviously not ready
for marriage, are you? So, why go into a relationship? Why taste something you’re not ready to eat?
Tasting is dangerous because once you have a taste and discover its sweetness, you may go ahead
with eating and then you might overfeed and pregnancy may follow… “

With a flip of her hand, Liz stopped Anisah midspeech.

“Eh, stop there, ‘nbanu’, no, I don’t want to hear it. I got your point already. How did pregnancy get
to the admonition? You want mum to have my head, right? Thanks. I’ve heard you, save me the
preggy wishes Counsellor Anisah.” Liz retorted.

So it was that the subject was dropped that night and none of them revisited it again, until recently…

To Anisah’s dismay, Liz gave in to Tamil’s demand, started a campus love-affairs with him and visited
him at will. She was always found with him, she would visit him in the hostel and go to his lecture
hall at will. They become an inseparable set and almost everyone knew Liz was involved with him.
When the departmental election was coming up, Liz was helping with Tamil’s campaign. She was
supporting him to win.

Campus politics can be a dirty game and so Anisah decided to keep a distance between herself and
Liz, she wouldn’t want a negative influence. As for Liz, she had made her choice so Anisah made hers
too. Anisah decided to be closer to a Muslimah like herself. Someone who’ll remind her of Allaah,
her purpose as a servant of Allaah and her reasons for being on campus. She needed someone who
would keep her on track, always.

That friend was Mumtaza !

Despite that Mumtaza was two years ahead of her, she became her go-to friend whenever she’s
confused about anything or when Liz’s behaviour became too much to handle and she seemed to
influence her negatively. She would bare her mind and be vulnerable in Mumtaza ’s presence and
the latter would admonish her using the verses of the Qur’an and hadith of the Prophet (peace and
blessings of Allaah be upon him).

On one such occasion, Anisah couldn’t help herself, she was alone in the room, Liz had earlier called
to inform her she would be spending the night outside campus, with Tamil, of course!

21 | P a g e
“Have you seen the Campus bulletin? Have you seen my handles? We won Anisah! We did! My man
is now the President of the Mass Communication department! I have to be here to celebrate his
wins, so lock up, don’t wait for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She chanted spiritedly.

“Congratulations” was all Anisah could mutter before the line went dead. She searched “Lizzy Tee”
Liz’s username on Instagram and Facebook. When her Facebook feed came up, Anisah saw that a lot
had been uploaded within the hour and started checking for the “campus bulletin.” She got hooked
on some beautiful selfies of Liz.

After scrolling through Liz’s updates, seeing beautiful pictures of her and her boyfriend, she was
tempted to take a few selfies herself, she wanted to show the world or at least the Campus that she
wasn’t bad herself. That she was also endowed in in every sense of it. Yes, she did take them,
admired herself and the curves she also had, though hidden by her modest dressing. She was going
to post the pictures on her WhatsApp status and Facebook feed but remembered one of Mumtaza ’s
messages. She remembered what Mumtaza had once told her about photographs. She dived into
her WhatsApp, checked and found what she was looking for…

PEARLS OF ISLAM

DEAR MUSLIMAH

You’re a highly valued jewel, a woman of virtue, who shares resemblance with pearls – Not
commonplace, protectively covered, precious, special and beautiful.

I express admiration for you, thank you for being strong, beautiful, decent, and happy. Kudos to
you for leading an adorable life, a life of true obedience and submission to the Creator, Lord of the
worlds.

I applaud you for upholding the moral fabric of the society when others are destroying it. The
courage, confidence and bravery with which you carry yourself despite jeers and catcalls is
admirable.

I am impressed by your resolution and dedication to never fall for the trick of Shaytan, your sworn
enemy, as he is hell-bent on tricking you till you fall into his trap.

Music, photographs, social media, provocative dresses, selfies are all his apples, I am most glad
that you don’t bite!

Your decency and purity are virtues to be celebrated not repressed. I know shaytaan tries to
persuade you to unclad portraying your modest wears as archaic, backward and unfashionable. I
know how hard you fight your desire as Shaytan wants you naked, I know it is a daily battle with
your nafs.

Shaytaan is a trickster, he wants to see you drop your guard so he can do with your body as he
pleases, don’t fall for his cheap, doomed tease please.

22 | P a g e
You, dear Muslimah are a woman of confidence, dignity, honour and respect. You are a special
breed who is not meant for every Tom, Dick and Harry. You are a Queen of beautiful Palaces. Stick
to your purity.

You are a flawless diamond who never settles for anything less of value. So, continue to endure,
continue to strive, continue to protect yourself from triviality.

You are worth much more than this world. Paradise beneath which rivers flow is your abode in the
hereafter. Focus on the Prize. Jannah is the goal!

“AlhamduliLlaah Rabbili Aalameen, , I’m grateful for having you sister Mumtaza , may Allaah bless
you with more beneficial knowledge. You may neither be here right now nor know what influence
you have on me, but Allaah knows and I beseech Him to grant you the reward of this good deed.”
Anisah sent a WhatsApp message to thank her friend. She was awashed with a sense of relief and joy
after sending the message and it occurred to her to make du’a for Mumtaza ..

“Our Lord! Let not her hearts deviate (from the truth) after You have guided her, and grant her
mercy from You. Truly, You Alone are the Munificent Giver. Q 3:8.” Anisah murmured a silent du’a.

CHAPTER FOUR

WEDDING SURPRISE

“Hello Ateefah, Assalam alaykum wa rahmatuLlaah wa barakatuuh, how are you doing today?” A
curious and unsettled Anisah asked the lady in jilbab sitting by the library window.

“I’m fine, AlhamduliLlaah rabbil alameen. How are you too Anisah,”

“I’m fine, thank you. Have you finished for the day or do you have lectures now?” I like to have a
word with you” Anisah queried

“Oh no no, I’m free, I should be free for the next hour, the next class I have is not until 4 p.m. I don’t
want to go back to the hostel so that I’ll not get carried away or sleep off. That’s why I’m waiting
here in the library” Teefah responded.

“All right then, that makes the two of us. There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you, I
hope you don’t mind me being privy?”

“No, not at all, go ahead with your question.”

“What were you doing in Professor Ismael’s car yesterday? I saw you both when he was leaving
campus yesterday and the day before, you were in the front seat and you were chatting freely and
laughing with him.” Anisah rushed through the question, she felt uneasy asking already.

“Is that all, are you done?”

23 | P a g e
“I know this might not be my business, yes I know, but people are talking, and I know as Muslims, we
should not put ourselves in a position of suspicion and we shouldn’t suspect as well. That’s why I
decided to talk to you about it.”

“And I appreciate that Anisah, thanks.”

“Now that I’m out with it at last, I hope you are not offended?” Anisah concluded rather too hastily.

“Oh no, I’m not offended at all, JazakiLlaah khayran, and thank you for bringing it up, I’ve been
thinking of how to inform you about it because I’m a bit shy.” She blushed.

“What about?”

“I owe you of all people, you should know what’s up with me. I guess the fear of what people would
think or say is what’s holding me back.”

“What did you do, what would people say, what are you talking about?”

“I did something that a lot of Muslims don’t welcome with open arm. That’s why I’ve not been able
to talk about it to you or anybody else in the Masjid or MSSN madrasah classes.”

Anisah couldn’t sit still any longer, “what did you do, come out with it already!”

“Dr. Ismael and I got married a few weeks ago. Precisely a month ago today, 15th September.”

“Hold it right there, you did what!”

“You and who?” Anisah couldn’t contain her surprise.

“I know right” Ateefah buried her face in her palms, totally overtaken with embarrassment.

“Can’t believe this, Teefah, are you pulling my legs? You married your lecturer, for real?”

“Anisah, get over it! Ismael Olalekan Ajadi, and I got married about a month ago. It’s just the Akhdun
Nikkah though, we’ve not done the wedding banquet, we intend to do the walimah nikkah when I’m
done with my final papers and project, In sha Allaah.”

“You don’t mean it! Maa Shaa Allaah! I’m sorry, forgive my surprise and exclamation, excuse my
reaction too. It’s just that I’m taken aback by the news, I must say, I didn’t see it coming. Don’t get
me wrong, I’m happy for you, I’m so happy for you, Teefah, congratulations! But why didn’t you say
something, to someone at least? You know you can always talk to me?”

“Well, you know how your people will take it. You’ll agree with me that not all of us in that madrasah
class or in the MSSN gathering as a whole have the understanding of such relationships. Some
people’s Sunnah practice has not reached that level, I’m his thaaniyah you know? I’m his second
wife.” Teefah dropped another bombshell on Anisah.

“Wow! Another surprise!”

“What more do you have up your sleeves, girl, tell me more! What more are you hiding?” Anisah
inched closer to Teefah as if to peer into her heart.

24 | P a g e
“We Muslims claim to understand the Qur’an and practise the Sunnah but a lot of us still see
polygyny as a taboo, we don’t always welcome such union, that’s why I decided to keep it to myself
for now. I can’t deal with campus criticism, especially when it’s coming from my own circle. My
marriage is too young and my man too precious to be subjected to campus hot gist.” Ateefah
expressed. “Muslims won’t seize to amaze me. We accept some verses of the Qur’an but frown at
some. AstaghfiruLlah. When it comes to some injunctions of Allaah, we’re quick to quote the Qur’an
but talk of the Qur’an verse that allows a man to marry more than one, be it two, three or four,
some Muslims don’t agree wholeheartedly.`` I’m not an exception, I wasn’t in this place until last
year when I met my husband…”

Anisah cut in, “…Especially ladies, we don’t welcome it with open arms.” I’m not an exception as
well, I also struggle with accepting it, though I’ve never really given it a thought actually. But I believe
in Allaah and His words, so why not?” Anisah owned up.

“Anyway, that’s besides the point for now. We’re married now and I’m glad I went ahead with it
despite some negative feedback I got from those I confided in when Ismael asked for my hand in
marriage. Enough of the naseeah, like I told you, we’ll be having the wedding banquet by October. In
Shaa Allaah, by that time, I ought to have finished all my papers and submitted my project so that I
can focus on my marital life and enjoy my honeymoon fully. Aren’t you excited for me, Anisah?

“Tee girl, I’m happy for you. Congratulations once again! May Allaah put barakah in your union and
may it bear fruitful pious offspring. Aameen.” Anisah supplicated.

They both chorused, “aameen” while Teefah drew Anisah’s hand to hers, held it and make du’a that
Allaah blesses her friend with a pious spouse too.

“So, how are you finding married life and if I may ask, how is the uulaa (first wife) taking it? Did she
welcome you into the family? Have you met her? What is your relationship like?” Anisah asked, with
curiousity written all over her.

“Anisah, how many questions at once?”

“I have a lot of questions for you if you don’t mind telling me about it. This will be the first time I’m
having a one-on-one conversation with somebody in polygyny, especially one who is the second
wife.

“And you must ask all your questions at once?”

“Please oblige me, I want to know all about it. Fact is, I never can tell where I might find myself
tomorrow, so I don’t leave anything out, tell me all there is to know.” Anisah pleaded.

Teefah reached for her bag and brought out her phone, she checked the time and informed Anisah
that they only had 40 minutes left before each of them would return to their various lecture halls.

“Can we have this conversation some other time? I’d really love to go through my notes before my
next class begins. Construction 004 is not a course to joke with, I like to enter the class prepared.”
Teefah pleaded with Anisah.

It’s all right dear, I understand. I also must prepare, I was just taken unaware by the news and I’ve
obviously forgotten myself. Go ahead and prepare for your class while I read ahead of mine too.
Let’s catch up later. Can I come to see you in the hostel this evening if it’s fine by you?” Anisah
asserted.

“Anisah, no, it’s not fine! Teefah declared with laughter in her throat, obviously teasing Anisah.

25 | P a g e
“Have you forgotten I’m married, I hardly stay in the hostel anymore. I still have my things there
though.”

“You mean you’ve moved to Prof's house?” Anisah’s face lit up.

“Yeah, that’s what you do when you marry a man, you “move in with him,” Anisah, wake up! And
bye for now, for real this time.” Teefah gathered her textbooks, carried her bag and made to leave.
“Anisah is obviously in the mood for small talks this morning. I can’t deal right now. Not anymore.”
Teefah thought as her husband’s words of encouragement played in her mind.

“This is a new you, Adora,” as he fondly calls her, “you’ve embarked on a new journey and I’m
honoured to be a part of it. You’re already an excellent student and I’m proud of you for that but I
want to help you reach even greater heights. I know you’re committed to adding value to your new
name and our wedding ring. So please do your best to make this happen. I’m here to support you, In
Shaa Allaah, I’ll be there, every step of the way. May Allaah bless your effort, my Efficko wifey.”
Ismael drew Ateefah close and pecked her. An action she was still shy to reciprocate.

“Jazakallaah khayran Habeeby, I promise not to disappoint you.” She responded shyly.

Both couples left home that morning feeling motivated and loved, they did not just exchange love
vows but also exchanged career goals, it’s up to Teefah not to be found wanting. “I’m going to make
Ismael Ajadi proud, I promise!” She resolved.

Chapter Five: A Near Miss

Mainstreet Hospital

Emergency ward

6pm

Ateefah stirred in her sleep, she let out a painful cry, not knowing where exactly the pain was
coming from. With eyes as heavy as her legs, she struggled with batting her eyelids… finally, she
opened her eyes and glanced across the room.

She saw her mum, dozing beside the hospital bed, and her dad, standing by the door, back to the
room, head rested on the wall.

“What’s this? Why is everyone…”

“Oh, I remember now,” it’s all coming back to her. “My right abdominal side,” she carefully raised
her right arm to feel the wound on that side. Bandage, bloodstain, wool… it dawned on her…

She was stabbed by her own mum!

As the realisation dawned on her, she felt a wave of sadness wash over her. How could her own
mother have accidentally stabbed her? What could have led to such a violent outburst? A million
questions swirled through her mind, and she struggled to make sense of it all.

Then she remembered! Self defence, it was done in self defence.

A domestic accident, she would call it.

Her mum was trying to defend herself against her father. It all happened fast. Here she was, at the
receiving end of it all.

26 | P a g e
The sudden wave of realisation hit Ateefah like a ton of bricks and she struggled to breath. It wasn’t
an accident. Her mother had been defending herself against her father, and she had gotten caught in
the crossfire. It all made sense now, but it also filled her with a sense of dread. How could her
parents have let it get to this point?

At this point, a nurse had appeared beside her trying to calm her down. Ateefah’s mind was racing,
and the nurse could sense her anxiety. “Why don’t you try to relax for a moment?” She said, her
voice soothing and reassuring. “Close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Just take deep breaths,
in and out.”

Ateefah did as the nurse suggested, and she felt her body begin to relax, her muscles unclenching
and her mind clearing. She was advised to focus on the sound of her own breathing, inhaling and
exhaling slowly and deeply which she did. The nurse continued to speak, her words quiet and calm.
This put Ateefah at ease a bit.

“That’s good, just focus on your breath. Try to clear your mind of all thoughts, and just be in the
present moment .”

For a few minutes, Ateefah focused only on her breath, feeling the tension leaving her body. She felt
a sense of calm, a sense of peace.

After a while, Nurse Rufai, noticed she was calm and collected, she called out to her.

“Hi Ateefah, Assalam alaykum,” her voice soft and gentle. “How are you feeling now?”

Ateefah hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “I’m… I’m okay,” she finally said, her voice wavering
slightly.

Nurse Rufai sat beside her bed, taking Ateefah’s hand in hers. “It’s okay to feel whatever you’re
feeling right now,” she said. “You’ve been through a lot, and it’s normal to have all sorts of
emotions.”

“Hmmm, thanks ma’am.” she managed to say. Her heart ached for her family and she longed to
understand what could be done with her parents. She knew she would have a long road to recovery,
both physically and emotionally but her parents, she wasn’t sure. What’s going to happen with dad
and mum? How do we proceed from here? With these questions, she soon dozed off.

A few days later, Nurse Rufai stopped by Ateefah’s room, holding a book and a kind smile. “Hello
there,” she said. “How are you feeling today?”

Ateefah smiled, grateful to see a familiar face. Her parents had been with her all morning and she
was bored with their awkward silence. Both her parents weren’t talking to each other. “I’m doing
well,” she said. “Thank you for asking.”

The nurse sat on the chair beside the bed. “You know, I’ve been thinking about our conversation the
other day,” she said. “What do you know about mindfulness.”

Ateefah shook her head negatively.

27 | P a g e
“I was wondering if you’d be interested in learning about mindfulness especially as regards worship,”
the nurse continued. “It’s something that can really help you reduce stress and promote
concentration.”

Ateefah was intrigued. “Mindfulness in worship?” she asked, curious to learn more.

The nurse nodded. “Mindfulness in worship is about being aware of the present moment.
Mindfulness is the ability to be fully present, aware of where you are and what you’re doing without
attachment to any other thing when you’re in salah (prayer,)” she explained. “It’s about directing
your thoughts and feelings towards Allaah Alone. Mindfulness is about consciously focusing on the
act of worship alone, picturing yourself as being in the presence of Allaah. It’s a big part of salah, or
prayer,” the nurse continued having seen that Ateefah was in awe of what she was listening to.
“When we pray, we focus on our breath and on the recitation of the Qur’an. If you know the
meaning of the words being recited, you reflect on it, if not, you follow the flow.”

Here, Ateefah began to shake her head. Confused or disinterested, the nurse couldn’t say but she
noticed this and slowed down.

“Are you lost or you’d like to take a break? We can continue when next you’re ready” Nurse Rufai
said.

“No, not at all, I’m following keenly.” Ateefah reassured her. “Please go on.”

“Mindfulness allows us to let go of all distractions and focus on the present moment, it also helps to
bring us closer to Allaah and make our prayers more meaningful.”

Ateefah was fascinated by this idea. She had never thought about prayer like this before. She saw it
as a burden and a stressful exercise. “So, you’re saying salah (prayer) should be observed with
mindfulness?”

The nurse nodded. “That’s exactly right,” she said. “I have to be honest with you, Nurse Rufai,”
Ateefah said. “I don’t always make time for prayer the way I should. There’s so much going on in my
life, and sometimes I feel like there’s not enough time, so, I hardly pray my five times daily salah.”

The nurse nodded, understanding written all over her face. “That’s a very common thing especially
among adolescents like you,” she said. “But the thing is, making effort for prayer is something you
shouldn’t shy away from. It’s a must, and the good news is that it doesn’t have to be time
consuming. It can be as simple as taking about 10 minutes of your time to do your wudhu, get yourH
musallah (mat) and focus on your Lord. Just 10 minutes altogether! That little amount of time can
make a big difference in your life if you are committed to it.”

“I feel like I’ve been missing out on something important by not making time for prayer,” Ateefah
said, her voice soft with regret. “I know I should be making an effort, but sometimes it’s hard to find
the motivation. I want to try to change that, starting small like you said. Maybe I can even find a
prayer group to join, to make it easier.”

The nurse nodded. “It’s great that you’re willing to make an effort,” she said “and finding a
community of people who share your values can be a big help. You don’t need prayer group though,
what you need is to go to the Masjid at the time the adhan is called, join the congregation and pray
on congregation as this is highly rewarding for you. Whatever Masjid you choose to pray in must be

28 | P a g e
upon Sunnah and managed by trustworthy scholars. And if praying at home is what is easy for you,
go ahead, you’re allowed as a woman. Just ensure you pray on time.”

“What difference does it make to pray at home or in the masjid?”

“There’s something called the ‘Jama’ah Effect’ that says when people pray together, it has a positive
impact on their spirituality,” remember the hadith of the Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him)
also said that there’s blessing in Jama’ah, the nurse explained. “It’s a psychological and spiritual
phenomenon that has been studied extensively. So finding a community of people who share your
faith and value could really help you in your journey. You only have to ensure they’re upon right
guidance, upon pristine Islam.”

Ateefah felt a spark of hope at the nurse’s words. “I never knew that,” she said, “I guess I’ve been in
the dark for so long, I have never really thought about salah as something this important. There’s a
masjid near the house, I’ll start attending In Shaa Allaah.”

“May Allaah make it easy for you.”

“Aameen, thanks a lot Nurse Rufai, I guess Allaah brought me here for a reason, He brought me here
to meet you.” Declared Ateefah.

“Allaah works in mysterious ways, I’m so glad you were brought here” Nurse Rufai said. “I’m happy
to be a support for you any way I can. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here to listen. And I
know that with time and effort, you’ll find the peace and meaningful connection you’re looking for.
Allaah is nearer to you than your jugular vein, you just have to make an effort to find Him.”

“I’ll try.”

“And I’ll always be here, anytime. You can always talk to me about anything.”

“Oh, okay then, now that you said that, I have questions, a lot of them. I’d have loved to ask my
mum but she’s always in this mood I hate her in. Anyway, that’s besides the point.”

“Ateefah, we both know your mum has a lot she’s dealing with. Please try to understand where she’s
coming from. If you don’t mind, I’d be willing to be your second mum. If that’s fine by you?”

“It’s fine and I’m honoured.”

“That’s great, “daughter” shot with your questions then.”

She smiled.

“I have questions on that bloody red flow that disturbs me every month. Mum told me, sorry, she
taught me how to take care of and ‘pack' myself, in all fairness to her but…”

“But what?”

“I noticed sometimes it comes and sometimes it seizes. Sometimes it’s reddish brown and
sometimes it’s dark and just spots.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, I don’t know if I can talk about this one… I… it’s …”

“Feel free to say whatever is in your mind, this is your opportunity to ask me anything and
everything.”

29 | P a g e
“I have hair growing here and there in some parts of my body, I don’t like it because it makes me feel
itchy, like I should scratch it all the time.”

“Oh, pubic hair? How often do you shave it off?”

“Shave it off? No, I’ve never shaved it. How and with what ma’am. I’m going to hurt myself if I try
doing so, especially if blade is what you’re going to suggest.”

“This is it, you need to get a shaving stick or a shaving cream, then you learn to shave and go ahead
with it.”

“Who’ll teach me? Please don’t say my mum, she’s got her own issues to deal with, remember?”

“I understand. I’ll get you a shaving stick and show you how it’s done. We can YouTube the process
to get a clear picture because I know you’d be embarrassed if I asked to do it for you.”

“What about my period?”

“OK, here’s what I’ll do, I hope you'll not mind me bombarding you with too much?” Nurse Rufai
asked Ateefah.

“I’ll give you a step by step guide on what to do and how to stay confident even during the flow
when ‘red rears its head.’ There’s a book I'd like to introduce to you Ateefah, it's meant for girls your
age and discuses all the questions you might have as a teenager”

“Really?

“Yes, really. The title is DEAR DAMSEL, by Dr Khadijah Tijani (KT). I have a copy in the hospital here
somewhere, I'll get it for you. You’ll find, in the book, a ‘Detailed Guide For Adolescent Muslim Girls
like you.”

“It talks about everything relating to your questions.”

Ateefah felt a rush of gratitude towards the nurse. “Thank you so much, Nurse Rufai,” she said. “I’m
so grateful for your guidance and support.

“Its all right, take it as a token from me to you. I might not be around when you're being discharged
tomorrow. It’s my day off tomorrow.”

"I don't mind at all,” Ateefah reassured Nurse Rufai, with a warm smile. "I'm always happy to read
anything productive and value adding. I'd love to read this particular book you mentioned. It sounds
like a valuable resource, and I appreciate you sharing it with me."

“It’s okay dear, it’s the least I could do. There isn’t a lot of information out there that's specifically
targeted at young Muslim girls, but this book, it’s detailed, Maa Shaa Allaah.”

“And I promise to treasure it like a rare gem.”

Nurse Rufai gave Ateefah the book, a warm hug and shared her contact with her before she left.

Ateefah on the other hand returned the hug, reluctantly. She was going to miss this lovely woman.
She was full of gratitude for her kindness. She saved the nurse's contact information in her phone as
SECOND MUM, and expressed a heartfelt thank you Lord. Nurse Rufai left the room with a wave and
a smile, leaving Ateefah feeling hopeful and optimistic about the future.

30 | P a g e
As she settled back into her hospital bed, she felt like the nurse had made a big impact in her life,
what a deep connection she felt for her. “I’m going to treasure this new found mother forever.”

And she did!

Chapter Six

FILLING THE VOID

UniFad Campus

4:10pm

Qurrah could be described as an epitome of perfection and idealism. She was a straight-A student,
always on top of her assignments and exams. Aside form being the president of the Students'
Council, a position that demanded a lot from her. She also involved herself in many extracurricular
activities. She was indeed a leader among her peers. Despite all these achievements, underneath her
perfect exterior, Qurrah was struggling with inner turmoil. She struggled with her Qur’an and Arabic
language, she was not progressing in Madrasah as expected of her. Having the knowledge of the
Qur’an was a must for her, she was a Muslim girl from a staunch Islamic background.

She was feeling low-spirited with her progress in Qur’an and Arabic. Despite her best efforts, she felt
like she wasn’t advancing in her studies as quickly as she wanted to. As the daughter of Islamic
clerics, she felt a lot of pressure to excel, she must live up to her family’s expectations.

Because of her low performance in Islamiyyah, Qurrah felt as though she was a failure, a
disappointment to her parents’ status in the Muslim community and this was weighing heavily on
her. “I’m trying my best here but it’s not making any difference, I just don’t know what to do.” She
thought.

Her dad would call and ask her how she was doing with her studies and Qurrah would give him the
answer he had anticipated. “Fine dad, everything is good.”

He didn’t have an inkling that his daughter was struggling, even when there was tension in the air.
“Dear, how are you doing, you are a shinning star, you must make us proud. Your Mum and I are
trying to do our best on you!” He would speak on, “ make us proud, okay?”

“I’m trying dad but my efforts didn’t seem to pay off.”

“That means you’ve not tried enough! It means you’re not there yet. You need to put in more effort,
remember the daughter of whom you are. You should also bear in mind that your school fees and
accommodation fees there cost an arm and a leg, don’t you? Don’t let us down, okay?”

“OK sir.”

“I’d be disappointed if you take your Islamiyyah with levity. You’re a daughter of an Imam, nothing
short of the best is expected of you.”

That’s it. The call would end. No question of how easy or tough she was finding learning, especially
being in a strange environment.

31 | P a g e
That was the only time she would open up, that was the last time she was sincere with her dad. After
that day, it was always one fake assurance or the other.

“Daddy, not to worry, everything is going on fine.”

“Oh, thanks dad, I’m doing well” …but my Qur’an and Islamic studies are my fear, I don’t think I can
cope with it together with my conventional studies” This was Qurrah ’s thought but she couldn’t
bring herself to tell him the truth. Not anymore, not after he had told her not to let them down. Each
time, after hanging up the phone, she would experience a sinking feeling in her stomach, knowing
that she’s only digging herself deeper into this hole. But what else could she do?

But for her mum, who would ask a lot of questions, seek her out and probe her every statement
deeply, she would have given up on her studies completely. Her mother was always sensitive to her
feelings. She was the most understanding person Qurrah had known.

“Quratul’ain my dear, how’s it going with school and studies? Tell me about your Islamiyyah too.”
She asked one afternoon in a telephone conversation.

“It’s not been easy Mum, I must confess. You and daddy’s insistence that I combine both secular and
Islamiyyah education together is really choking me.”

“The Qurrah that I know, my own Baby, you’ll be fine, you’re a star and you’re meant to shine, I
believe you’ll shine brightly, bi’idhniLlaah. Just keep trying. Both knowledge are needed for success
in both worlds. A Muslim should not leave one at the expense of the other.

“Thanks Mum, but I don’t feel like a shining star at all,” Qurrah replied, her voice heavy with
disappointment. “I’m really struggling with the Arabic Language and grammar. I feel like I’m falling
behind, and it’s stressing me out. I just don’t know how to get better.”

“I understand how you’re feeling, and it’s perfectly normal to struggle with learning something new.
Just take your time. There’s no shame in taking your time to master it,” her mum replied
reassuringly. “You mentioned Arabic Language, why don’t we try breaking it down into smaller
steps?”

“How do you mean, mum?”

“For example, you can focus on the subjects or topics you’re finding most difficult. You mentioned
Nahu for one. How about you start to spend more time on the subject, work on it, watch YouTube
videos on it, ask for assistance from among your friends to complement what you’re being taught in
the classroom. Try these suggestions and let’s see how it works out. How does that sound?” her
mum asked, with voice full of warmth and concern.”

Qurrah felt a wave of relief wash over her. “That actually sounds really helpful. I think that would
make it less overwhelming. Thank you Mum!”

“It’s my pleasure, dear.

Qurrah had always been driven by a need to be perfect and successful all her life. She had
everything handed to her on a platter right from childhood till date. Sound education with all the
tools needed for success, plus her mum’s emotional support and a thriving environment. She had no
excuse really, she just had to excel. She resolved.

32 | P a g e
Qurrah was sitting beside her friend in the Shades, a relaxation centre for Students of UniFad
Campus. She had a bottle water in her hand and a blank page of note in front of her. She also had
her Qur’an opened beside her. The task at hand was an assignment given to her in Madrasah the
previous day which she was finding difficult to attempt. Qurrah couldn’t seem to focus on the
words. Instead, her mind was filled with thoughts of how she’ll never live up to her parents’
expectations. She’ll never be able to recite the Qur’an perfectly or speak Arabic fluently. She felt like
a failure, even though she was doing so well in other areas of her life.

“School is stressful, being a committed, studious student this 21st century is becoming a herculean
task.” She lamented to Anisah the other day when returning from Masjid.

“And now, combining Madrasah (School of Islamic and Arabic Studies) with secular school is
draining.” Anisah responded.

“The only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge I am gaining.” I love the Seerah classes where I
get to learn more about the life of the Prophet (Peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him).
Generally, I have gained a lot from attending Madrasah and this empowers me more.”
AlhamduliLlaah rabbil alameen. Of course, Madrasah has been such a great experience for me
despite my frustration with learning Nahwu and Lughah, I still wouldn’t have it otherwise. I’ve
learned so much and I feel like I’ve not only grown but also developed as a person. It’s just too bad
that I can’t speak the language of the Qur’an yet. How I wish there were 30 hours in a day, right?”
Qurrah poured her heart out.

“Haha, I love your positive energy, Qurrah !” Anisah replied. “I agree that Madrasah is a special
opportunity to gain knowledge and come closer to Allaah, SWT. Anisah continued, I’m also struggling
with some subjects but my favourite part is the Tajweed rules, I love it when people recite the
Qur’an observing the right rules. It was difficult for me too back then in secondary school days while
learning the rules but now that I got a grip on it, I can’t but say it’s worth it. May Allaah bless my
Ustadh with more beneficial knowledge. So please keep trying Qurrah , you’ll get there soon.

“Yeah right, aameen to your du’a. Knowledge of the Qur’an is a must for us as Muslims but I still find
it difficult to memorise well. I won’t give up, I have promised myself.”

“For me, memorisation is a done deal, AlhamduliLlaah, all thanks to my Ustadh, again. My fear
though, is how to apply all that I’ve learnt. I find it difficult to apply some Islamic principles and I
don’t know why.” Anisah declared. “This is me being sincere Qurrah , sometimes, I feel Islam is too
strict a religion to practise.” Anisah confided in Qurrah .

“Different strokes for different folks.”

“I know, right?”

“There’s a saying that I heard from one of the Ustadhs at Madrasah – “Whoever Allaah loves, He
gives him the understanding of the religion.” I think that’s a powerful thought – to be loved by the
Creator Himself! How amazing would that be? I’d advise that you seek Allaah’s love above all else.”

33 | P a g e
“It’s true. When we understand the religion better, it brings us closer to Allaah, SWT, and helps us
live a more fulfilling life.”

“It doesn’t even have to be complicated, small steps can make a big difference. Consistency is key
here. May Allaah make it easy for us.” Qurrah concluded with du’a.

“So, what exactly are you finding difficult, what have you been able to adopt, have you tried to
incorporate any of the teachings from Madrasah into your daily life?” she asked Anisah.

“It’s the salawat, I feel burdened by them. Salah seems difficult for me to keep up with.”

“That’s serious! I think you need to speak with someone about it”

“Isn’t it what I’m doing? Speaking with someone.”

“No! Someone who’s in the best position to help. I have issues of my own, I’m not the right person
to help on such. Why don’t you talk to Mumtaza. I’m sure she’ll be willing to help.”

“You think so?

“Yes, I do.”

“All right then. I’ll see her. Now tell me, what about you?”

“What about me?”

”What’s your story? Any improvement or setback?”

“Well, I’ve started saying my daily adhkar (invocations) and I ensure to say it morning and night.
Whenever I do this, I feel confident throughout the day. Also, I challenged myself to read a certain
portion of the Qur’an daily, even if it’s just a few words here and there. I’ve also been trying to make
my prayers more meaningful. I do this by focusing on the words and trying to connect to Allaah,
SWT, through them. It’s been a real journey, but I found out that it’s imparting my life in the positive
way. Those little actions go a long way. Qurrah responded.

“I love those ideas! I’ve been trying to incorporate more Islamic knowledge into my conversations,
so that I can share it with others. I’ve also been trying to purify my intentions lately. It takes
conscious effort but it’s working.

She recalled an admonition Mumtaza shared in Madrasah few days ago that resonated with her
deeply. “Did you read Umm Adna’s weekend admonition shared on the bulletin board tagged
SINCERITY OF PURPOSE?”

SINCERITY OF PURPOSE

“Sincerity of purpose is a core Islamic principle that reminds us to do everything in life with integrity
and pure intention. By acting with sincerity of purpose, we are aligning our actions with the will of
Allaah SWT.

Sincerity of purpose is not just about what we say or do, but rather about the motivation behind our
actions. The real reason(s) for taking the step we’re taking or the purpose of not acting at all.

34 | P a g e
When we act with sincerity, we are guided by a higher purpose – to please Allaah SWT. That throb in
your heart when you’re about to act, questioning you, worrying you, yes!, that’s it. For example, each
time you perform an action, ask yourself, “Am I doing this for Allaah or to be famous? Is this for me
or for Allaah? This question makes the heart beats faster and reminds you to seek refuge in Allaah
against riyaa.

Sincerity of purpose is a spiritual journey that requires us to reflect on our intentions and
motivations. In every act, we must ask ourselves: why am I doing this? What is my purpose? Is it for
the sake of Allaah SWT, or is it for worldly gain?

Sincerity of purpose guides us to act with compassion, to give selflessly, and to be driven by a desire
to do good and not expect anything in return from the beneficiaries other than that Allaah will
reward us.

With sincerity, each time you take an action or you’re about to, the questions “am I acting with
humility and a desire to serve, or with arrogance and selfishness”, arise.

With sincerity of purpose, we can approach every aspect of our lives with greater clarity and
intention and strong conviction that what’s being done is done to earn Allaah’s pleasure not His
wrath. With sincerity guiding every of our steps, our entire outlook on life can be transformed for
good. This can be a guide towards a more fulfilling and purposeful existence here in duniya that
earns us a successful existence there, in aakhirah. Bi’idhniLlaah ta’ala.

May Allaah guide our hearts to sincerity, may He guide our tongue to say the truth and purify our
intentions.

Aameen.

Reminder to me, first.”

“Always a reminder to her first, what a subtle way to ginger people on, may Allaah increase
Mumtaza in beneficial knowledge” Qurrah prayed.

“Hey Dad, how's it going? Assalam alaykum!”

"Waleikki salaam wa rahmatuLlaah my dear, how are you doing?" So, what's up with this
unexpected call? Everything alright?”

I'm good, just wanted to let you know that there's this event happening off-campus, and I really
want to be a part of it.”

“Oh, really? What kind of event is it?”

“It's the Monthly Da'wah, the MSSN monthly public lecture, I don’t want to miss it! So I’ll go early,
observe my Jum’uah prayer and wait for the lecture.”

“Maa Shaa Allaah, that sounds interesting! Well, in that case, make sure you take care of yourself.
We all know how crazy Lagos can get at night, so be sure to take all the necessary precautions and

35 | P a g e
remember to say your adhkar. And most importantly, stay true to your Deen. Dress modestly and be
a good girl, okay?”

“Of course, Dad. I always keep my hijab on, and I never forget my prayers. You’ve raised me to be a
good Muslimah, and I’m doing my best to live up to that.”

“That’s good, Maa Shaa Allaah. Keep it up my girl, may Allaah keep you firm upon righteousness.”
Her father prayed.

“I’m off to Haramain Masjidmosque) Anisah, are you coming?”

“Go on, I’m not coming, Redhead has reared its red head” Anisah said jokingly, referring to her
monthly cycle.

“You can still come, you only don’t have to enter the Masjid, you'll stay outside to listen to
admonitions.”

“I have other plans, I promised Ateefah I’d see her this afternoon, we have an unfinished business to
take care of. I must see her today. In Shaa Allaah.

“Isn’t she off campus, does that mean you’ll be going off campus too?”

“I’m just not up for the MSSN programme today”

“All right then, my teslim to Ateefah. See you tomorrow In Shaa Allaah, may the day break.”

“Aameen, may it break khayr for us.”

CHAPTER Seven

Qurrah was the first one to arrive in the female section, feeling a bit lost and unsure of how to fill
the void that constantly nagged at her.

Tests, grades and wits, Quuurah was a smart girl, she’s sharp and coolheaded, a rare-bred among
her peers. Her smartness is what sets her apart. But much as smart as she was, that sense of loss
was always there for her. But she knew that seeking Allaah’s help had never let her down before, so
she had come here early, hoping to find some solace.

And just as she settled in, the Imam made his entrance, signaling the start of the Jum'uah sermon.
Qurrah tried her best to focus on the khutbah, but her mind kept wandering back to her studies and
the overwhelming feeling of failure that weighed her down. It was as if she was stuck in a never-
ending tunnel of self-doubt, feeling like a complete fraud, far from being the perfect Muslim girl
everyone believed her to be. The weight on her chest made it hard to breathe.

Despite being surrounded by a crowd, Qurrah couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of
loneliness. She had hoped that being here would bring some peace to her troubled heart, but
instead, everything seemed to spiral out of control. Worries and negative thoughts flooded her
mind, leaving her in a state of turmoil. The void within her seemed to grow even larger and a sense
of panic began to well up inside her. She loved the Qur’an, she wants nothing but to be able to read

36 | P a g e
and understand its meaning but she wasn’t making any progress in leaning it. This makes it feel like
she was trapped in a dark tunnel with no escape. Whoever sits close enough to Qurrah would feel
that something wasn’t right. One could almost feel the unease radiating from her, it was almost
palpable.

Right beside her was a munaqabah, a woman in full jilbaab and face veil, who had since sensed
something was amiss a few minutes after joining the congregation.

Being a mother of adolescents herself, she could recognise a troubled one if she saw her and Qurrah
showed every sign of a damsel in distress. This strange woman made a mental note to have a chat
with Qurrah , the seemingly lost damsel.

Immediately after she said her supplications upon finishing the Jum’uah prayer, she approached
Qurrah , “Sister, are you okay?” a woman’s voice asked from behind Qurrah . “You look like you’re
having a hard time. I noticed that you were not really paying attention to the sermon.”

Qurrah turned to see a friendly, concerned woman directing questions at her. The woman seemed
genuinely concerned, and Qurrah found herself wanting to confide in her.

“I’m… I’m just not feeling well,” Qurrah stammered. “I feel so overwhelmed and stressed out. I’m
not sure how to cope.”

The woman sat down next to her and gently took her hand. She saw her as her own daughter.

“What exactly is bothering you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Well, I’d say my studies but not the conventional one. I’m bothered that I find learning the Qur’an
difficult. It makes me see myself as a failed servant of Allaah and a disappointment to my parents.”

“I completely understand what you’re going through,” the woman said. “As a mother of teenagers
myself, I know how difficult it could be when you’re feeling stressed or overwhelmed, especially
when people expect the best from you that you can’t give. But I also know that there is hope. Allaah,
SWT, is always there for us, and He never burdens us with more than we could handle. Can I share a
bit of advice with you?”

Qurrah nodded, feeling a little calmer just by talking with this woman.

The woman motioned Qurrah to a corner of the masjid away from prying eye. She lifted her niqab
(face veil) and smiled up at Qurrah who was taken aback by the stranger’s beauty of speech and
appearance.

“The first thing I want you to know is that it’s okay to not be perfect. No one is perfect, except Allaah
Himself.

“In fact, Allaah, SWT, doesn’t want us to be perfect. He wants us to be sincere in our imperfections
and intentions. He wants us to try our best. That’s all He asks of us. So try to let go of the pressure
you’re putting on yourself to be perfect, instead focus on your relationship with Allaah, SWT. Things
will take shape.”

Qurrah was listening intently, trying to take in every word.

The woman continued, “The second thing I want you to know is that there is nothing wrong with
asking for help.”

37 | P a g e
“Asking for help is not a sign of weakness – in fact, it’s a sign of strength. You’re admitting that you
need support and reaching out for it. So don’t be afraid to ask for help from those around you,
whether it’s family, friends, or your Muslim community leader. They want to help you, just like you
would want to help them.”

As the woman continued speaking, Qurrah was beginning to feel some of the burden that weighed
her down lifting from her shoulders.

“Finally, I want you to remember that prayer is a powerful tool,” the woman said. When you’re
feeling stressed, take a few minutes to make wudhu and pray two units prayer. Take your time, and
recite the verses slowly and mindfully. Focus on connecting with Allaah, SWT, and ask Him for help.
This simple act of worship can bring you so much peace and strength.”

Qurrah nodded, feeling a sense of hope.

“These are just a few things to keep in mind,” the woman said. “Don’t forget that you’re not alone,
so please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you ever need to talk or need some support.” She
handed her complimentary card to Qurrah and asked for the latter’s digits which she saved on her
phone.

Qurrah couldn’t find her voice early enough, she was taken aback by the kind-heartedness of this
angel in human form.

“I’m so relieved AlhamduliLlaah. I am grateful for your words of wisdom ma’am, I’m so grateful for
you being here today and reaching out first. Thanks so much ma’am, I can’t thank you enough.
JazakiLlaah khayran.”

“wa anti fajazakiLlaah khayran dear, it’s a pleasure.”

I don’t know you ma, can I at least know your name. What do you do ma’am? Where do you stay?
Do you often pray here in this masjid ma’am?”

I am Hajara Ismael, a certified Marriage/teen Counsellor.

Qurrah stood there for a moment, gathering her thoughts and savouring the sense of relief that had
washed over her. She knew that she still had a long way to go, but the conversation with this Hajara
woman had given her a renewed sense of hope. As she walked out of the masjid, she felt a sense of
gratitude for the opportunity to connect with someone who truly understood her.

She watched the woman get into her car, and drive away, took a deep breathe and whispered a
prayer.

“Ya Allaah, thank You for bringing Mrs Hajara into my life. Thank You for the wisdom and comfort
she has given me. Please make it easy for me to continue on this journey, and guide me to make the
right choices. Ameen.”

As Qurrah walked back to her hostel that evening, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She
knew that the road ahead might not be easy, but she was determined to face it with hope and
strength.

38 | P a g e
She went to the masjid lost, she got there as a confused young woman who needed directions, here
she was returning to her hostel, found, directed and guided, her joy knew no bounds.

“If you want a positive impact on your life, you need an example, you need a mentor.” She once
heard Mumtaza said. Qurrah was glad she got one already!

She thought of the verse of the Qur’an… “Allaah will not change the condition of a people, until they
change what is within themselves” Qur’an 13 verse 11. She marvelled at how Allaah works in
wonders! What pushed her to the masjid today? Her determination to change her condition.
“AlhamduliLlaah again and again.” She said as she set foot in her room. She dropped on the bed and
ransacked her bag, the Jum’uah sermon delivered by the Imam was also speaking directly to her.
Though she was hardly listening while the sermon was being delivered, she got the printed copy
from Mrs Hajara, her God-sent angel. Now, reading through it, she was convinced it was Qadar that
took her to pray in that Masjid and Mrs Hajara was truly a God-sent.

WHERE DO YOU DRAW YOUR CONFIDENCE FROM?

Confidence is an elusive concept that many people spend their lives chasing. There are countless
books, courses, and articles offering the “secret” to becoming confident, yet the results aren’t
impressive.

What these resources often fail to understand is that confidence isn’t something that can be
purchased or learned. It’s not something that can be achieved by following a formula or a course.

Rather, Confidence is the ability to cultivate a sense of inner strength and peace in the face of
adversity or the presence of an adversary. Confidence is faith!

A Muslim sources his Confidence in two important ways. First and most important of the key sources
of confidence is faith in Allaah SWT. When we have faith in our Lord, the Creator of heaven and
earth, it gives us the strength to keep going even when things get tough. The conviction that the
Creator and Overseer of the Universe has got your back is enough confidence booster for you to carry
on with anything!

Another source of confidence is du’a/adhkar. When we take time to say our du’a/adhkar with
mindfulness, we are expressing our weaknesses to our Creator and handing over the rein of power
over our lives to Him, He Who has power over all things, He Who is over all things Competent. This
way, we are building a foundation of self-confidence that can’t be shaken by external circumstances.

Have you noticed how you feel each time you do your recitation of Qur’an, and mindfully say the
morning and evening adhkar , you feel light, relieved, strengthened, graceful and resilient. You feel
assured of Allaah’s protection. That’s the spirit. In the remembrance of Allaah, hearts find rest.

Reminder to me, first.

Du’a for confidence:

Rabbish rahli sadri wa yassirli amri wah lul uqdatan min lisaani, yaf kahu kauli.

39 | P a g e
Qurrah picked her phone, dialed Mrs Hajara’s number, “it speaks well of me if I called to express
appreciation for her help.” She convinced herself.

“Maybe I should send her a message first. She mentioned this was also her Whatsapp number.”
Qurrah saved the contact first then went ahead to search for it on Whatsapp. “There” “Muslimah
par Excellence” was the username and a beautiful Islamic wallpaper was used as the profile picture.
“She’s indeed a Muslimah par Excellence.” Qurrah typed a “thank you” message.

“Dear Ma’am,

I wanted to thank you again for your presence and words of admonition today. Your kind words and
understanding meant so much to me. When I felt lost and overwhelmed, your compassion helped
me to feel at ease. I’m so grateful for your help, and I hope we can continue to share in each other’s
journey. May Allaah bless you for all the kindness you’ve shown me. JazakiLlaah khayran ma’am.”

Sent!

In her response, Mrs. Hajara expressed her gratitude for Qurrah ’s message, and reaffirmed her
support.

“My dear, it is I who should be grateful. Knowing that I was able to help you, even if it’s just a little,
has made my day. Your kind words have touched my heart, and I am truly honoured to be
considered a friend and sister in faith. May Allaah continue to bless you and guide you on your path.
As salaam alaikum, my dear friend.”

She ended the message with a heartfelt salutation, and Qurrah ’s heart swelled with gratitude and
warmth. She slept soundly that night. When she woke up the next morning, she checked her phone
and was surprised to find a new message from Mrs Hajara. A word of encouragement and positive
affirmation.

“As salaam alaykum. Good morning, my dear sister! I just wanted to wish you a blessed day, and
remind you that you are strong, capable, and loved. Even when the road ahead seems difficult,
remember that you have the strength to persevere. May your day be filled with peace, joy, and the
knowledge that you are not alone. May Allaah be with you always.”

Qurrah felt a rush of happiness and gratitude as she read the message.

“JazakiLlaah khayran ma’am, may I use this opportunity to ask a few questions please?” Qurrah
replied. Curiosity has been keeping her on edge.

40 | P a g e
“What can you say about my career pursuit and Islamic Studies.” I’m finding it hard combining the
two. I attend Madrasah quite all right but I can’t seem to get a grip on what I’m being taught? Need I
drop that for now and focus on my degree programme?

“That’s an excellent question, Qurrah , and I’m happy to offer my thoughts,” Ma’am Hajara replied.
“First, I want to say that there’s no need to feel pressured to choose between your career and your
Islamic studies. They can both be important and valuable parts of your life. That said, I understand
how difficult it can be to find the right balance. I think it might be helpful to think about what your
priorities are and to focus on them first. Are you more passionate about your degree, or about your
Islamic studies? Or are they both equally important to you?”

“They are both important to me. I want to be able to graduate with good grades and the knowledge
of the Qur’an.” My parents raised me upon that and I’m a blessing to them, I’d like to raise my
children this way too. And obviously, I cannot pour from an empty cup.”

“That sounds like a fantastic reason enough, Qurrah and I’m proud of you for that thoughtful
insight. The good news is that it’s definitely possible to pursue both. It will only require careful
planning, time and energy management. As a student who juggles other studies aside secular, the
road ahead is bumpy no doubt, but with the right schedule and by putting the aforementioned into
perspective, your determination and hard work will fetch you the desired results In Shaa Allaah.”

“In Shaa Allaah” Qurrah replied.

“It’s however important to set realistic expectations and manage time carefully. You must balance
studies with commitment and align both to a spiritual goal, which is that you’re doing all of these for
the sake of Allaah. It’s also important to make sure to take care of yourself physically and mentally.”
Hajara opined.

“Yes ma’am”

“Qurrah , if you can create a schedule that works for you and stick to it, you’ll be able to make it
through this challenging time. Soon, you’d come out strong. Need I add du’a does it too? May Allaah
ease your affairs and grant you beneficial knowledge”

“Aameen, thanks for always ma’am. JazakiLlaah khayran.” Qurrah replied with a love emoji.

This advice has always been a source of succour, a go-to word of motivation whenever Qurrah felt
that academic burden is weighing her down. “May Allaah bless Mrs Hajara through and through, she
has really been helpful in this journey.” Qurrah murmured a du’a. She opened her to-do list on
Loopscribe App and penned “call Mrs Hajara and schedule a visit, been long coming,” she smiled at
the excitement of meeting her mentor again.

Chapter Eight

41 | P a g e
It's been a while since Ateefah last called Mrs Rufai. These two were so close that they couldn’t go a
week without seeing each other or having a good chat over the phone. But now, it's been three long
weeks since they've been apart, and both "daughter" and "mother" have really missed each other.
Mrs Rufai had been there for Ateefah in ways her biological mother couldn't be. She gave her love,
listening ears and support. She had learnt from experience that teenagers and adolescents craved
these from their parents, especially if they’re from dysfunctional homes. Ateefah and the nurse’s
relationship had grown so much since they first met when the former was rushed to the hospital.
Mrs Rufai had been an amazing mentor, doing more than Ateefah's biological mother who was too
caught up in her own personal issues and hardly had time for her daughter.

As promised, the kindhearted nurse, Mrs Rufai, was more than a mother for Ateefah, she never took
her for granted. One would think she had no children of her own. She would call and visit Ateefah on
campus. She understood that the young lady, being an undergraduate was always busy with classes,
projects, and assignments, so she took it upon herself to provide her adoptive daughter with
emotional needs and support. She treated Ateefah like her own daughter, wasting no time to enroll
her in halqah and Islamiyyah classes, where she was learning the Qur’an and Islam.

Ateefah was one person to whom much was given and she knew much would surely be expected of
her. She focused on all her studies and gave every aspect, her all. These activities didn’t give Ateefah
time to be bothered with unproductive engagements. She hardly had time for fun, she had few
friends and spent her time judiciously. However, despite her busy schedules, there was one thing
Ateefah never failed to do - she always gave Mrs Rufai a call every now and then. And when they
talked, they do so like they're best friends of the same age. Mrs Rufai had become Ateefah's
confidant, someone she could pour her heart to, and the Nurse always had wise words to share and
guide her with.

Ateefah herself was never a handful, always calm and collected, which made it easy for Mrs Rufai to
guide and nurture her successfully. Sometimes, Mrs Rufai would test Ateefah without the latter even
realising it, and she would always receive satisfactory answers. It's been almost five years since they
first met and neither of them had ever regretted crossing paths with the other.

“Hey, sweet Mum! I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate everything you've done for
me since we became a family. You're not just an amazing mother, but also an incredible friend. I'm
forever grateful to have you in my life," Ateefah texted her adoptive mum on the anniversary of
their relationship.

On this special day, Ateefah had planned to visit the hospital where Mrs Rufai worked. She wanted
to share the exciting news of her outstanding performance in the recently concluded school session.
As soon as she got hold of her scores, she rushed out of her department and headed straight to the
campus park to catch a bus to town.

While waiting at the park, Ateefah desperately searched for a spot with shade, she wanted to escape
the unbearable scorching sun because she was wearing a full black jilbab. Embracing the modest
dressing as instructed by Allaah had become easy for her. She had learnt a lot from the Qur’an class
she attended and memorised this particular verses by heart. Ustadh Jemil, her Ustadh in Islamiyyah
class, once declared that every Muslimah should learn and follow Qur'an 33 verse 59, which
instructs believing women to adorn the jilbab. Since then, Ateefah had taken this injunction to heart
and made a firm resolution to always dress in accordance with the teachings of Islam.

42 | P a g e
When she joined the other students in the park and waited for about five minutes, she isalahed
herself, staying away from the crowd because she did not want to rush and be rough-handled.
Having being aware that each bus took about 35 to 40 minutes before returning to campus.

On getting to the Shade, Ateefah brought out a book she was reading from her bag. “I must finish
this book today.” She told herself. The book had the title, “Heart to Heart with My Sister” written
by Hajia Majidah Ashimi Idris, a colleague of her adoptive mother's. She knew she would be asked
how far she had gone with the book because it was a gift from her. Nurse Awe, as she was fondly
called, gifted her the book when she saw her dedication and commitment to learning.

Ateefah opened the book to the page she was reading, rested her back against the wall where she
was standing and started reading. She was oblivious of the people and vehicles passing by. About ten
minutes later, Ateefah had immersed herself in the world of Majeedah Ashimi, she was reading with
rapt attention, focusing on each sentence, word for word. She was making mental notes of every
gem that flows on the pages of the book Heart to Heart With My Sister. Unknown to her, a vehicle
had parked across from her on the road, signaling for her and asking “where are you going and what
are you doing over there all by yourself?”

She looked up, following the direction of the voice.

"Waiting for the campus shuttle?" The friendly voice asked, again. Ateefah smiled up from her book
to her lecturer, Professor Ismael, who was signaling to her to join him in his car. He was all smiles
and friendly with his offer.

"Assalam alaykum, Professor," Ateefah said, feeling a little surprised to see him. I’m going to town,
Owode precisely.”

"I'm on my way to town, too," the professor continued. "Would you like a lift? It's no problem at all,
and I'd be happy to give you a ride."

Ateefah was a little taken aback by the professor's offer. She knew that he was only being kind, but
the thought of riding in a car with her lecturer made her feel awkward. Should she accept his offer,
or wait for the campus shuttle to arrive?

After a moment of hesitation, Ateefah accepted the professor's offer of a ride. "Thank you sir, that
would be very kind of you," she said, smiling politely.

She got into the passenger seat, her book still in her hand. She felt self-conscious at first, sitting
there in silence next to her professor. But then she decided to do what she always did when she felt
uncomfortable: she opened her book and started reading.

After a while, the professor spoke up. "What's that you're reading, Ateefah?" he asked.

"It's 'Heart to Heart With My Sister,' by Hajia Majidah Ashimi Idris," Ateefah said, turning the book
around so the professor could glance at the cover.

"I see," the professor said, nodding. "It looks like a thought-provoking read. May I ask what it's
about?”

Ateefah took a deep breath, trying to relax. "It's a book about marriage and personal
growth/development, with a focus on Islamic teachings," she explained.

“Really? It must be interesting, you’re so engrossed in it. “Is it a light, easy read”

43 | P a g e
"It's not a light, easy read sir," Ateefah went on, "but it really challenges you to think about your own
life as a Muslimah and how to make your marriage beautiful. The author draws a lot from the Quran
and Hadith and she uses examples from her own life to illustrate her points."

“What have you gained from reading it so far?”

“Sir, I really can’t… I don’t think…”

The professor nodded thoughtfully. "I can see why you might be a little hesitant to talk about a book
like that with your teacher," he said with a smile. "But I think it's wonderful that you're challenging
yourself to learn and grow in this way."

“So, if you don’t mind me asking,” the professor continued, “are you married yourself? I ask because
you said this book focuses on marriage as well as personal development.”

Ateefah felt a bit flustered by the question, but she answered it politely. “No, I’m not married,” she
said.

“One down! Gladly, I got clue number one already!” He thought.

"I see," the professor said. "But I do like your perspective that no knowledge is ever wasted. Even if
you're not married right now, the insights you gain from this book could still be very valuable to you
in the future."

Ateefah nodded. "That's exactly how I feel sir," she said. "And even if one is not planning to get
married now, it's important to understand and respect the institution of marriage and get oneself
prepared for it. We live in a society where families and relationships are the foundation of our
communities, so it's important to understand those dynamics.”

This chitchat went on for a while and Ateefah relaxed a bit.

The car eventually pulled up in front of her destination. "We're here," the professor said, turning to
hand something to Ateefah.

"Thank you for the ride sir, JazakaLlaah khayran," she said, putting her book in her bag.

"Wa anti, you're very welcome," the professor said. "It was a pleasure talking to you. You're a very
smart and insightful young woman. If you ever need help on anything on campus, you can have my
number." He gave her a business card with his number on it and instructed Ateefah to write hers in
another of his business card. She did and alighted, shutting the door behind her.

As the professor drove away, he reflected on the conversation he’d just had with the amazing lady,
Ateefah. He was struck by how insightful and thoughtful she had been. “Such a brilliant young lady”
he thought. He had actually been hoping to speak with her for a while. He knew her as one of his
best students. He’d had a feeling that she would have some interesting insights to share on issues,
and he was right.

He was glad he’d had the opportunity to connect with her on a deeper level as against the few
occasions of questions and answers during classes.

As he drove home, he thought about his next move. “I need to ask her first, I hope and pray she
consents.” He soliloquised.

Ateefah arrived at the hospital, feeling a little more at ease and excited than she had felt when she
was in the professor’s car. The conversation with the professor though refreshing and interesting,

44 | P a g e
had made her uneasy so she wasn't giving it much more thought. She was just glad she'd made it to
her destination on time. As she set foot in the hospital’s ground floor, she put the professor's
business card in her bag and continued on her way, forgetting about it almost as soon as it was out
of sight. Little did she know that this encounter would have a much bigger impact on her life than
she could have ever imagined.

Chapter Nine

“Mum, what can one do to avert peer group influence, it bothers me a lot.”

Mumtaza asked her mum after the usual exchange of pleasantries one afternoon when the latter
called to enquire about her daughter’s wellbeing.

“That question is not coming from nowhere, what’s up my love, why the question?”

“Well, I’m asking for a friend…”

“OK, that’s a great question! There are a few things that can be done to resist peer pressure and
remain responsible. First, it is important for youth to have a strong sense of self and to know their
own values and boundaries. This can help them resist the urge to conform to the expectations of
others. Second, Mumtaza , are you still there?... okay…youths should seek out positive role models
and engage in activities that reinforce responsible behaviour. Third, they should be taught to
recognize and respond to peer pressure in a constructive way. For example, they can use assertive
communication to say no, or they can walk away from situations that pressure them to make
irresponsible choices. Are you following…”

“Mum, yes, I am.”

“Then say something so I know I’m not alone here.”

“I wanted you to finish before I respond, remember the hadith you taught me about the honour to
give a person talking is to keep silent and listen, not to interrupt… plus, I’m trying to take note from
your advice. This is very important to me as I hold this particular friend in high esteem.” Mumtaza
was starting to be teary.

“Oh baby, pray for her, make du’a that Allaah reforms her, hold on Mumtee, is it the same Anisah
that you said was a hafidh Qur’an?”

Yes mum, the same girl I introduced to you sometimes last year…”

“SubhanaLlaah! Inalilahi wa inailehi rojihuna. This indeed calls for concern. I’ll suggest that you
involve the MSSN excos, don’t do this alone dear. May Allaah aid your cause.”

“Aameen, thanks mum, I really appreciate your concern and du’a. Say me well to…”

…Mumtaza, a du’a just came to mind, “Yaa mukalibal qulub, thaabit qalbi, aala deenik” oh Allaah,
turner of hearts, make my heart firm on your Deen” please say it after every salah. OK?”

45 | P a g e
“Mummy, I’ve heard you, thanks and bye for now, I really have to go!”

“All right my Love, Asekan, ọmọ Olofa… take care…”

Mumtaza. hung up! “If I allowed mum to go on, we’ll be here till dusk.”

Events have taken a new turn, a dangerous turn at that! Here are the set of ladies with whom Anisah
was now friends. They are a set of carefree, irresponsible, unserious ladies who are sexually
promiscuous, sell themselves cheaply and lack a sense of responsibility. They skip classes at will,
make reckless decisions as regards their studies, and fail to consider the consequences of their
actions. They seem to have thrown caution to the winds with their rash behaviour. YOHOL (You Only
Have One Life) was the nickname they gave themselves.

You’ll always hear them discuss their sexcapade pades and party adventures in gatherings of other
students.

Three young women, birds of a feather, “frolicking” together. Here they were, seated around a table
in the cafeteria, laughing and chatting excitedly.

“Did you hear about what happened in class today?” Liz asked, a mischievous grin on her face. “Mr.
Jones, the-hard to-get stone-faced new lecturer in town, was finally nabbed.

“Nabbed, how? Nabbed doing what?” Anisah asked, her curiosity building.

“Oh, Anisah”, Zul gave Anisah a pat on the thigh, as if to say, be prepared to laugh your heart out.

“Anyway, he was lecturing in class today, he turned around for just a few seconds to write
something on the board, then our mischievous Liz here picked his phone, took a selfie of herself, a
sexy one at that, entered her digits and saved it as “Call me, Hottie!”

“Oh my! She did what?” Anisah exclaimed!

“Yeah, right! By the time he turned back, his phone was right in place. He was about facing the class
when he caught a glimpse of the bright light from his phone. He glanced down to see the image of a
young woman on the screen. For a moment , he couldn’t help but be captivated by the beauty of the
person staring back at him. This “Call-me-Hottie” character had a smile on her face that seemed to
light up the room with sparkling mischievous eyes. Mr Jones found himself smiling at the photo,
despite himself.”

All the while, the class had tried to contain the bubble in their stomach which was soon released and
the whole lecture hall erupted into a roar of laughter.

Anisah’s jaw dropped as she listened to the rest of Zul’s story, her eyes wide with disbelief. “No
way!” she exclaimed, unable to contain her reaction. “That was so bold of Liz, very outrageous!”

46 | P a g e
When Mr Jones realised what be had done, showing interest in the image, he blinked incessantly as
if to wipe the memory off his eyes. His smile quickly faded. He realized that the woman in the photo
was one of his students!”

“What did he do next?”

“Ms. Okpara!” Mr. Jones barked out, his voice causing a hush to fall over the classroom. “See me in
the office, unfailingly tomorrow!”

Anisah couldn’t help but laugh, picturing the scene in her head. “So, what will happen next, do you
think Mr Jones will key into the game?” Anisah asked, a knowing smile on her face.

“Well, I think he has an idea why Liz did it,” Zul replied, a sly grin spreading across her face. “But I’m
sure we’re going to find out when Liz gets back from seeing him in his office tomorrow!”

“Oh my, that’s hilarious!” Anisah laughed. “I wish I could have seen the look on his face!”

All the while, Liz was sitting there with a grin on her face, savoring every word of Zul’s retelling. She
leaned back in her chair, looking around at her friends with a smug expression. She relished the
attention, enjoying the way her friends were enjoying her class drama.

“Ooh, I’m in trouble now!’’ She mused. But she was totally loving it. She was basking in the spotlight.
She knew she was about to have Mr Jones wrapped around her fingers.

Meanwhile, Mumtaza was sitting right there, across from the friends, shaking her head.

“Why would Anisah find Liz’s and Zul’s carefree and impulsive nature adventurous. What is she
thinking?” Mumtaza couldn’t help but ask no one in particular.

She had been watching the whole scene unfold with a mixture of disappointment and disapproval.
She was shaking her head, thinking, “Those three! Always getting into some kind of mischief or
promiscuity. She couldn’t help but feel a little bit exasperated and at the same time, pray for right
guidance for the trio.

Mumtaza moved closer to say teslim to them and “probably offer a word of caution or two,” she
thought.

“Hello Liz, how do you do? Anisah, Zulaiha, Assalam alaykum .” Mumtaza greeted accordingly,
interrupting their discussion on ‘my dream man'.

“Ustadha Mumtaza ,” “our own Umm Adna” Anisah and Zulaiha teased in unison before returning
their attention to Liz telling the group of friends what she would look out for if a man wanted her
out.

She continued “…at first, I’ll try to express my expectations, I’ll let him know I’m not cut out for
‘manage this, manage that,' I’m a woman that should be tended to.” Liz said with a wave of her
braided hair.

47 | P a g e
“…this should tell him the kind of lady he’s dating” As the friendship/relationship grows, we can then
start to talk about him visiting my parents and getting to know my family.” She concluded with an air
of pride.

“…Some guys can be frustrating.” Zul cuts in, “they demand you take them home at the get go, they
want to meet your parents right there and then!”

“What! You don’t mean it.”

“Yeah, I’ve met someone like that.”

“No way! I won’t give in to such pressure, seriously boy! Lemme feel your vibe, show me the stuff
you’re made of! I can’t take you home to Mama if you’re tightfisted.”

Zul’s declaration sent the group into a fit of laughter. However, Mumtaza remained calm, her face
impassive as she listened to her friends’ raucous laughter. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of
disapproval at their carefree attitude. They seemed to live their lives according to their own whims
and fancies, without regard for consequence or propriety.

“Ladies, ladies, don’t you think your actions are spiralling out of control? A dignified lady should live
her life with modesty and purity, she should always be mindful of her Lord, her Creator and the
example she sets for others.”

She paused for effect, looking directly at each of the wide eyes peering at her, then she continued,
“you as a lady should be soft-spoken, respectful and virtuous. Stop drawing unnecessary attention
yourself, you must put a stop to this mindless display of bravado and showiness.”

Mumtaza has the gift of persuasive oratory, whenever she would talk, people would be spellbound.
These trio of friends weren’t an exception. Their jaws dropped as Mumtaza was admonishing them.

“A Muslimah should seek to live a life of obedience, humility and submission to the will of Allaah.
She should hold these beliefs strongly and never allow whatever influence there is to deride her
values. Girls, please reconsider your actions and turn a new leaf.” Mumtaza concluded and rose to
go. She had done her part, again. It was left for them to take heed, or not.

She knew that it was not her place to guide them right or impose her own belief on them. Each
person must find their own way in life, guided by their own values and convictions. Mumtaza
resigned to fate, having tried her best.

In their opinion, these trio see Mumtaza as restrictive and unadventurous. She’s been tagged FBO,
(For Book Only,) they’ve mocked her, ostracized her, and even tested her patience but she would
remain who she was and not be bothered.

“…what does your dream man looks like Mumtaza ?”

Zul had asked Mumtaza one day, when they were reading in the library, startling the former with
her question.

“Ehhm, what? I don’t follow…” Mumtaza responded, confused.

“…a strict, no-nonsense, serious looking guy with tired heavy eyes that represent the number of
books they’ve consumed. He would be rich in knowledge no doubt but flat in the pocket maybe.

48 | P a g e
After all, money isn’t everything!” Is it Mumtaza ? Ooh, you’re welcome, I hope that description
helps to bring your imagination to life?” Anisah concluded mockingly.

Everybody except Mumtaza laughed hard, mocking their imagination of her “cheap sense of choice
and taste” in men.

Anisah was delighted with her own joke of this imaginary man while Mumtaza was left speechless,
her face turning red with embarrassment. So these people thinks so little of me.” She didn’t find the
jokes funny at all, and she felt a little bit hurt by her friends’ low esteem of her.

When their laughter slowed down a bit, Mumtaza responded. “It’s nice to know you’re interested in
getting to know what my wish list in a guy entails.”

She blushed and felt her heart flutter a bit as she painted a picture of a perfect Sunni brother blessed
with the quality of the Prophet SAW.

Though she hasn’t yet met him, she never stopped making du’a for such a man. She’s hopeful that
Allaah will do what she asked and she’ll be pleased. Mumtaza snapped herself to reality and smiled
at the other ladies sitting with her as their conversation trailed off.

Mumtaza was still trying to make sense of how her friend had changed. Anisah, who had always
been so focused and serious, is now fast friends with the campus fashionista, Liz, and the popular
socialite, Zul. Anisah had been warned to be wary of these two, but she had brushed off the
warnings, insisting that she couldn’t be influenced by others. She had even mocked those who were
presented as examples saying that “those ones are so easily swayed by friends.”

Later in the evening that particular day, while going to the masjid for Magrihb salah, Mumtaza saw
Anisah and Zul talking excitedly about an upcoming party. One would think with all the admonition
and pep talks, Anisah would have a change of heart and retrace her steps. One would expect her go
back to being the good girl she was back then when she was freshly admitted to UniFad.

As Mumtaza passed by, Anisah called out to her, “Hey Mumtaza , are you coming to the Miss
Campus party on Friday?”

Mumtaza wanted to say something rude but hesitated, not sure how to respond. “Shall we go for
salah first?” She knew Anisah was only asking to mock her again. She felt a pang of anger build up in
her. “I… I don’t think so, I’m not a party person, I’m sure you know” she asserted.

Zul spoke up, “Come on, Mumtaza , it’ll be fun! You’ve got to get out and live a little!”

Thanks Zulaiha, I’ll pass!

Chapter Ten

WE PLAN…

It’s quite disheartening how a promising young lady raised with the values and principles of Islam
can change overnight, especially one who had memorised the Qur’an. “What exactly had gone
wrong, what did we miss?” Who exactly failed her? Mumtaza. couldn’t control her emotions. She
felt strongly about Anisah’s from grace-to-grass situation.

49 | P a g e
She decided to consult someone to seek more opinion, to get clarity and to ask for advice on how
else Anisah could be helped.

Mumtaza decided to seek the advice of an elder whom she respected and trusted. The name of
Engineer Olayode came to mind. Engineer Olayode was a lecturer in the University’s Engineering
department, and a mother herself. She was known for her dedication to the MSSN (Muslim Students
Society of Nigeria) branch of the school and her willingness to help others was known to be
impressive. She knew that Engineer Mrs Olayode would be a good person to consult, so she called
her and booked an appointment.

“Assalam alaykum wa rahmatuLlaah ma’am…

“Good afternoon to you too, I’m fine…”

“We’re pushing it. Yes ma’am, … indeed, aameen, thanks ma’am.”

Yes ma’am, I’m grateful for your motherly care and support for the Muslim Students since you joined
this campus. I called to let you know I’d like to see you to get your insight on an important issue
that’s bothering me. I hope you’d oblige me.” Mumtaza responded.

“Of course, my dear. You know I’m always here to help in any way I can. What’s the issue you’d like
to discuss?” asked Engineer Olayode with a kind and understanding tone. Mumtaza felt a wave of
relief wash over her, knowing that she was in a safe space to share her thoughts. She took a deep
breath and began to explain her situation…

“Well ma’am, it’s about a friend, I’m really concerned about her and I need an adult’s perspective on
how to proceed with handling the issue.”

“Hold on Mumtaza , I don’t think this should be handled over the phone, let’s schedule a meeting,
why don’t you see me in the office later in the day, say around after Asr? Would you be able to make
it then?” Engineer Olayode asked.

“Yes, maam, that would be fine. The last class I have today ends by 2pm, I’ll see you after Asr salah,
In Shaa Allaah.”

“All right then. Assalam alaykum .”

“Waleikun salaam wa rahmatuLlaah wa barakatuuh, thanks ma’am” I’ll tell you all about it when I
get there, In Shaa Allaah. See you soon ma’am. JazakiLlaah khayran.”

Now, Mumtaza’s anxiety has turned to excitement. This might be Anisah’s redemption, “Oh Allaah,
please let it be!” she supplicated.

Mumtaza walked into Engineer Ma’rufah Olayode’s office and was greeted by the relaxed ambience
of the place. She smiled warmly at the thought of her own personal space looking like this. She loved
beautiful things and lovely spaces. This office space is an allure to her as well.

50 | P a g e
Engineer Ma’rufah Olayode had a reputation for being a kind and attentive listener, she was never
tired of listening to the students whenever any of them had an issue to discuss with her.

As Mumtaza entered the inner office, she was struck by the beauty, sense of calm and serenity that
filled the space. Typical of a woman’s office, she thought. The room was decorated with a flower
vase, a beautiful bookshelf, a large painting with soothing colours and a comfortable couch in the
corner.

Mumtaza glanced across the room and saw a man sitting close to the shelf, reading a book. “Who’s
he?” Mumtaza shrugged.

She greeted Engineer with teslim and a warm smile. “Salaam alaykum ma’am”

“Mumtaza, Waleikun salaam wa rahmatuLlaah wa barakatuuh, you’re welcome dear!”

“Yes ma’am”

Engineer Mrs. Olayode stood from her desk, got Mumtaza a glass from the side desk and poured her
some water from the water dispenser.

“Here, have a sip and make yourself comfortable while I clear up my desk.”

Mumtaza was surprised by this display of humility. Engineer Ma’ruf was an accomplished woman
who had earned a PhD from a prestigious university outside the country, yet she remained humble
and approachable. She never let her success get into her head, instead she treated others with
respect and kindness. She was also an excellent mother, always willing to listen and guide the
students with patience and understanding. Her humility and grace were evident in all aspects of her
life, making her a true role model for those around her.

Mumtaza nodded and took a seat, her eyes still drawn to the bookshelves that lined the walls of the
office. Mumtaza was a lover of books, she was an avid reader herself. She’s always drawn to books
wherever she saw them.

As Mumtaza settled into her seat, she took a moment to admire the books on the shelf lining the
wall. There were array of books on a variety of topics, from science and history to poetry and
Marriage. It was a sight that instantly brought a sense of hunger for knowledge to Mumtaza.

She stood to peek at one that caught her attention from the set. It was a book on feminine essence
titled THE VIVACIOUS LADY. The author was a friend of hers on Facebook, Akorede Rawsheedah
Saheed. Mumtaza was as excited as she was curious, she wanted to read the book, her anxiety
forced her hands, she removed it gently from the pile.

“Preparing for marriage?”

A voice from behind her asked. Mumtaza glanced back and saw the man sitting on the couch looking
directly at her, waiting for a response.

What kind of question is that and who’s he to ask. “No sir, just curious,” she responded calmly
despite herself.

“Assalam alaykum sis, hope you don’t mind my curiosity?” The stranger asked.

“Waleikun salaam, it’s okay” Mumtaza responded dryly.

51 | P a g e
“Uhhh “uhhh” Engineer joined them, coughing for deserved notice.

“Lukman, kindly please excuse us, you may go to my desk while I have a word with Mumtaza.”

“Oh, his name is Lukman?” Mumtaza thought.

“Big sis, you’d do well to introduce us, you know?” said Lukman.

“Big Sis?” Mumtaza looked on curiously.

“Hey man, spare me your Oyinbo manners, okay! You already heard me call her by her name. This is
Mumtaza, she’s a 400level Nursing student here and you? What’s that your name again?” Engineer
teased her brother.

“I’m Lanre, Lukman Lawani Olanrewaju, Engineer Olayode’s younger brother” If she didn’t adopt
that name Olayode, you’d have easily identified me as her brother. Obviously, she loves her husband
than us, her family.” Lukman joked.

They all laughed as Lukman entered the inner office to give the duo privacy for their discussion.

“So, tell me all about it,” said Engineer Ma’rufah when Lukman was out of earshot.

Mumtaza began to explain the situation with Anisah and how she was losing herself in the
dangerous world of freedom.

Engineer Ma’rufah Olayode listened attentively and asked questions to get a clearer picture of the
whole scenario. When Mumtaza was done speaking, Engineer Olayode paused for a moment, she
stood to get a book from the shelf, handed it to Mumtaza and sat beside her.

“It’s never too late to read this. Those are two copies, take one and give one to your friend, Anisah, I
hope she finds time to read it.”

Mumtaza was eager to know what book she was given but the two copies were put in a brown
envelope. As a well-raised girl that she was, she wouldn’t want to be rude as to interrupt the
Engineer’s discussion with checking out the book, so she listened as the Engineer spoke.

“All that I see in Anisah’s case is peer pressure and temptation” I really would not blame her much
because the external forces of temptation, peer pressure, and materialism can be so strong, that
even the most well-intentioned individuals can be led astray.”

“Hmm” Mumtaza nodded in agreement.

“It’s so true that we as educators put so much effort into teaching and guiding our students with
pure hearts and minds. Especially in the case of Anisah coming from a Muslim Secondary School and
having memorised the Qur’an. The mistake we always make is that once these students leave our
care and enter the wider world, we believe our work is done. We give them wings and allow them
fly, we often forget that it is easy for them to be swayed by negative influences and ideas.”

“How do you mean, ma’am?” Mumtaza asked curiously.

“What I’m on about is that once these students leave our custody, we feel relieved letting them go,
we hardly check on them, hardly monitor them, hardly care whether they’re progressing or

52 | P a g e
retrogressing. We believe we’ve done our part, but a child shouldn’t be left unattended, especially at
that critical stage of its life “The Adolescence.” A child needs close monitoring in the guise of love
and care. The child needs to be guided to make the right decision otherwise, hell would be let
loose.”

Mumtaza’s head lowered in gloom. She was taking every word Engineer Ma’rufah was saying in with
rapt attention.

“It’s a sad reality that even when we put our best efforts into teaching and raising young people with
purity and goodness, the influence of the world around them can still taint their hearts and minds.
But I see the blame as ours, I see us truncating our own efforts when it hasn’t yielded positive result
yet.”

Mumtaza couldn’t help it, she dipped her hand inside her bag, brought out a pen and her organiser,
and started jotting as her mentor continued speaking.

“As educators, I’m particular about secondary school teachers. It’s important for us to not only teach
our students about the importance of purity and goodness, but to also help them develop critical
thinking skills and emotional resilience to resist the negative influences they may encounter in the
larger society. Only then can we hope to truly protect the hearts and minds of the next generation
against .” Engineer Ma’rufah paused for air.

“Can you please pass that glass?”

Mumtaza stood to get the glass for her Mentor and the latter took a sip.

“In addition to critical thinking and emotional resilience, I think it’s also crucial to help our students
develop a strong sense of identity, they must recognise themselves as being Muslims who are
created for the purpose of worshipping Allaah. If they have a strong sense of who they are as
Muslims and what they stand for, they will less likely be swayed by external influences. In fact, they
will be able to stay true to their Islamic values and principles, even when the world around them is
trying to pull them in different directions.”

“So true, ma’am” Mumtaza mumbled softly.

“This is something we can help these students cultivate through our teaching and mentorship. I
know it’s not too late for Anisah but I believe she’s not the only one in this mess.”

“Well, she’s the one we know of, and it’s heart-wrenching seeing her sinking deeper everyday.”
Mumtaza declared soberly.

“Give her that book, let’s see if she would read it. You can also come with her to see me but that
should be after giving her the book. Let’s see how she proceeds after that.”

“Thank you so much ma’am, JazakiLlaah khayran. It’s been a great relief sharing this with you.”

“You’re very welcome! This is a topic that I think is of critical importance, and I’m glad we’ve had the
opportunity to discuss it.”

“AlhamduliLlaah. Same here ma’am.”

I must also commend you Mumtaza, I see what you’re doing with the MSSN press board, please do
know that you’re making a difference in the lives of many students, may Allaah reward you
abundantly here and hereafter! May Allaah SWT grant you the best of success. Ameen!

53 | P a g e
“Aameen” JazakiLlaah khayran, thank you so much ma’am” Mumtaza smiled and stood to go. Again,
Mr Lukman was on cue to bid her goodbye with a wide grin. “Assalam alaykum ” was all she was able
to say in return.

Chapter Eleven

TEEN TALK

Imran just came back from campus, exhausted and hungry, he dashed to the kitchen to see if there
was a left-over he could eat, ‘I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!’ He declared to Selim who was far
away, lost in his own thought.

“Go fix yourself something, after all, you’re an undergraduate now, mum cannot treat you like she
did before, I’m the one facing that now.”

“You’ve started with your rants again Selim, what now?”

“It beats me why mum would always nag us, chide and punish us. I think a mother is supposed to
love her children like they’re her pair of eyes!” Selim whispers to his brother later that night when
they had bade their parents goodnight and retired to their room.

‘’She loves us all right, but love alone is not enough to raise a child. She can’t just fold her arms and
watch us become brats all because she loves us, she has to scold, guide, be on her guard and
monitor our every move so we’d not go astray. A mother can’t do without scolding her children else
they’ll turn out to be rotten kids,” Imran responded. “I’m sure she wants the best for us.”

“So when you want the best for someone beating, punishing and being hard on them defines your
role in their lives right? Selim retorted sharply!

“See Selim, listen, I understand your frustration because I’ve been there too. What I have learnt
however is it’s a common feeling for teenagers to feel like their parents are being unnecessarily
mean. Sometimes, it can feel like parents are too strict or unfeeling, and I know it’s hard to
understand why they do the things they do. But the truth is, most parents are trying to do what’s
best for their children, even if it does not always sound or feel that way. Just like mum, she is strict
because she wants her children to be successful in both worlds. She wants what’s best for us. She
may be tough on us quite all right but that’s because she wants to prepare us for the real world. It’s
not always easy to understand, but it’s important to remember that parents usually have their
children’s best interests at heart and mum is not an exception.’’

‘’If you say so.’’

‘’Yes, I said so. Now that I’m in the university, I understand what mum is always on about. It’s tough
out there Selim, you’ve got to be battle ready if you’ll survive in the outside world. You’ve got to be
street-smart and emotionally intelligent to survive. ‘’

‘’OK, I pray I see it the way you do.’’

‘’Soon, I promise, you’ll soon see it my way.’’

‘’Anything for your boy?’’

‘’Nothing for my boy!’’

54 | P a g e
‘’Big bro, ah ah now, give me your phone at least,’’ on a second thought, ‘’or can I have your
laptop?’’

‘’Let Mum hear you voice, you know she’ll wake us as early as 4am, if I were you, I’d go to bed early
to be alert when she comes to wake us up.’’

‘Give me just a few minutes on your phone, there’s this Kungfu Panda cartoon I downloaded on
your phone last month when you came home, I hope you’ve not deleted it?’’

‘’Selim, you never learn your lesson. Is this how you want to escape being scolded?’’

‘’Thanks Booda mi, don’t worry, just a few minute, mum won’t know’’

He snatched Imran’s phone from his back pocket before that one could mouth another warning.

Imran jolted awake, his eyes brimming with tears. “Why tears? Was I having a nightmare?”
Confusion washed over him as he realized his face was wet. Did he cry in his sleep? He couldn’t even
recall having any dreams at all! What was with the dampness on his face and cheeks? He hurriedly
wiped his face with his right hand and propped himself up on his left, only to find his mum looming
over him with a bowl of water.
“I should have known!” He thought.

"Not again, Mum! I'm already up, please stop drenching me!" he pleaded.

"Get out of bed if you're up!" she retorted.

"Alright, alright, Mum."

“Assalam alaykum wa rahmatuLlaah, AlhamduliLlaah aledhi aayaana baada mo amtaana wailehi

nushuur, good morning, my love. May Allaah bless you, make you successful in both worlds and
make you the coolness of our eyes and hearts. Aameen." His mum recited in a monotone voice. It
was a ritual she had perfected over the past twenty years of being a mother.

Each morning, she would wake her children by splashing water on their faces, reciting the du'a of
waking up, and offering supplications for their well-being. The water was to make them alert and
fully conscious, it was meant to enact them from their sleep.

The familiarity of the routine was both comforting and slightly annoying to Imran. He wondered if his
elder sister was also being subjected to the same treatment. Or was she being treated “better” than
him? What about Selim? That one that still sees himself as a child. He was probably being
pampered.” Imran couldn’t help but think, in his little mind, that their mum was being unfair.

Within a spate of fifty minutes to one hour before fajr time, Mrs Olayoyin would wake her children,
instruct them to freshen up and then perform wudhu and join her and their father to observe the
kiyamu layl. She was always encouraging them to recite and complete at least a juz of the Qur’an
before going to the masjid for fajr everyday. “I want you starting your day with the word of Allaah,
that way, you’re fortified and ready to face the day.” She would say.

This morning ritual where tradition and love intertwined in the most unexpected way was what
Imran and his siblings grew up with, it was what they were accustomed to. It had thence become a

55 | P a g e
part of Imran's life, home or away from home. Mumtaza had grown into it so much so that she
needed not be awoken, she was always up earlier than others.

Now in the university campus as an undergraduate, Imran remembered how that was the normal
routine in their home and how it had helped him to wake up early for his morning chores before
going for classes.

Imran and his siblings were raised with a profound foundation of Islamic values and principles. Their
upbringing served as a guiding light, illuminating their paths and setting them apart not only in
worldly success but also in every aspect of life.

The familiar routine of waking up before dawn to recite and complete a portion of the Qur’an
instilled in them a deep sense of purpose and connection to their faith. This ritual, passed down by
their mother, had become the cornerstone of their lives, shaping their character and molding their
aspirations. The fear that youths may get drowned in the sea of freedom associated with university
campus was never there for Alhaji and Mrs Olayoyin. Mumtaza was a role model for her peers when
she was an undergraduate. Imran was also able to stay afloat, bringing all the home training and
Islamic etiquettes he had learnt to fore.

Everyday, as he stepped onto the bustling university campus, he carried with him the unwavering
belief and confidence in the power of The Mighty, The Wise Whom he called upon and bowed to
daily. While his peers stumbled through their mornings in a daze, he stood tall and focused, armed
with the strength and clarity derived from committing his daily activities to the care of the Creator
Himself through kiyamul layl, fajr prayer, Qur’an recitations and adhkar .

In the lecture hall, while others struggled with short attention-span due to social media gratification,
Imran’s mind remained sharp and engaged. His commitment to study is unwavering, and he was
always found doing the right thing at the right time. The more dedicated he was to worship and his
early morning recitation and memorisation of the word of Allaah, Al Qur’an, the more his days
remained organised and his activities coordinated.

Each time he wasn’t occupied with an activity, rather than having his mind running riots all over the
place, the words of the Qur’an echoed in his thoughts, providing him with a profound sense of
purpose and clarity that transcended the mundane.

Through the challenges and triumphs of his academic journey, Imran’s dedication to his studies and
faith never wavered. His unwavering commitment to his morning routine became a beacon of
inspiration for those around him, captivating their hearts and minds. It wasn’t a surprise when he
turned Scholar of his class in his first year in University with a GP of 5.5! “That’s one good guy” “He’s
a genius!” His classmates would declare about him.

Yet, Mrs Olayoyin never relented. She and her husband didn’t stop there. They didn’t believe they
were done with parenting once they have their children in the university. They continued to guide
and mentor their children. Alhaji would visit the children on campus unannounced and the mother
would never stop sending messages to encourage and spur them on.

One morning like that, Imran received a message on his phone, indicating it was from his mum. His
heart skipped a beat as he read the familiar message from her. Each time she had sent her a
message, it was as if her words held a secret power, capable of igniting a driving force within him.
With anticipation, he opened the day’s message, eager to uncover the wisdom that awaited him.

"Dear Imran," the message began, remember that every day is a new opportunity for growth and

56 | P a g e
success. Embrace the challenges that come your way, for they are the stepping stones to greatness.
Stay focused on your goals and never lose sight of the path you have chosen."

After reading the message, Imran couldn't help but feel a surge of determination coursing through
his mind. His mother's words were like a beacon of light, guiding him towards his dreams. With
renewed vigor, he set out to conquer the day, fuelled by the love and support of his parents.

As he navigated through the bustling university campus, Imran stood tall, armed with the strength
and clarity bestowed upon him by his mother's unwavering guidance and his father’s supportive
role.

As is true with everyone, Imran’s journey was not without its challenges, just as Mumtaza’s own too
wasn’t free of stumbling blocks. But they faced each day with the resilience and determination
instilled in them by their parents. Through the ups and downs, they remained steadfast, their faith
and parental guidance serving as the anchor in whatever storm they witnessed.

And so, as Imran continued to navigate the complexities of university life, he knew that no matter
what obstacles lay ahead, he would always find solace and strength in turning to his Lord, Most High.

Each time campus life weighed him down, he would go back to his mum’s words, they are like balm
for him, calming and soothing.

“My darling son, out of my intense love for you and fear for what the future holds considering the
moral decadence that is rampant among the youths, I am often tough on you. Sometimes you may
wonder, 'does this woman love me? Why is she always hard on me?’ Here’s your answer, here’s
why”

“I do all that I do because I love you and want the best of this world and the hereafter for you”

And another - whenever she wanted to warn him off a vice, she would do it subtly.

“Imran my Prince, remind me of the verse and chapter of the Qur’an that says … “don’t move near
Zina for it is a sin that paves way for other sins”

OR

“Ọmọ Ade, can you please state the five golden rules that Lukman the wise gave his son in the
Qur’an. Please also say why Allaah revered Lukman so much as to name a suurah after him.”

OR

"Alani mi, I want you to be righteous, upright and pious. I want you to be conscious of Allaah all your
life. I’m raising you and your siblings this way so that you will become pious individuals who will pray
for their parents when we are no more. I pray to Allaah that I’ll be among those who are grateful and
granted the crown of dignity because of your action and good behaviour in life.”

“I pray that you make headway in life. I pray that Allaah bring joy to mine and your dad’s eyes and
hearts through the life you’ll lead. I pray that Allaah reward us for raising you on His path. May
Allaah rectify you and guide your ways. I pray He make you and your siblings good children who’ll be
the coolness of our eyes and hearts. I love you. Your dad loves you too. Make us proud!”

Imran would receive this kind of message from his mum every time and each time, he would cry,
each time, he would reflect and be guided by those deeply-resonating words.

57 | P a g e
“Make us proud!” Imran would always echo to himself.

And that was what he did, made his parents proud!

Imran, upon graduation, being the best graduating student with an exceptionally brilliant
performance, got offers from three different Engineering companies. They asked that he be placed in
their company after the compulsory three weeks rigorous training in NYSC camp.

The company he chose retained him after his Youth service and he only worked there for a year
before going ahead to start his own Engineering company which he built from scratch with the #15M
gift money he received on graduating as the overall best student in his set.

Chapter Twelve

THE FLASHBACK

At twelve, Anisah lost her dad to a woman who wasn’t her mum. The dad she loved and adored so
much, her dad that she confided in and owned up to even when she did the silliest things. He was
her confidant, friend and soulmate. When she started menstruation sometimes the previous year, it
was her dad she called first. It was him who rushed to her school with a set of panties, sanitary pads,
hand towel and sanitiser. He, it was, that told her what to do and how to go about lining up her
underwear with sanitary pad to absorb the blood flow. Theirs was an enviable relationship, even her
mother wouldn’t dare meddle. So early the year that she turned twelve, when she was summoned
by the same only man she had ever loved and was informed by him that he was leaving, it was a
rude shock!

“Leaving for where dad?” Where are you going?”

“Your mum and I are getting a divorce!” I don’t know how else to put it, I’ve been keeping it from
you all the while but you deserve to know, especially now that everything’s been finalised.”

“What exactly are you saying dad?”

“I know this is a lot to take in, and I understand if you’re feeling overwhelmed. Just know that both
your mum and I still love you, and we’ll always be there for you. We just don’t think we can stay
married to each other anymore.”

"I don’t get it!”

“We’ve tried to work things out, but it hasn’t been working. It’s not your fault, and you’re not to
blame for any of this. This is just something that happens sometimes.”

It’s obvious from Anisah’s curious look that she didn’t understand any of what her dad was saying.
She felt lonely and lost.

“I still don’t understand.”

“My love, I get it that you don’t understand and that’s fine. Even I took a while before I could take it
all in myself. But we just have to find our happiness and love somewhere else. Your mum and I
aren’t getting along anymore and we cannot keep holding each other captive if we aren’t happy
together.”

58 | P a g e
Anisah burst into tears, she, in her little way understood that she will not get to see her dad as often
as she’d like, again. And her mum, will she be happy alone, without him? What’s going to happen to
their loving family?”

“I understand that this isn’t what you want my girl, and it’s not what we wanted either. But
sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to. The best thing we can do now is to
support each other and make sure you’re well taken care of. I know it’s hard to imagine what life will
be like, but we’ll all get through this together. Your mum will take care of you and I’ll get to see you
anytime you want.”

“Mum, can you please forgive dad, whatever he had done wrong. I don’t want you living apart, I
want us all to be together, happy and living like one loving family.”

“That’s such a sweet and thoughtful thing to say my Sweetie. I appreciate your concern, and I know
you just want us all to be happy. But sometimes happiness lies out there, one has to explore to get
it, your dad has found…”

“Anisah, we want the best for you…,”

Her dad cuts in, giving Mama Anisah an eye-roll that spoke volume, interrupting her both verbally
and in gesture. “We will do our best to keep you happy and safe, this is a decision we must take and
it is the best in this situation. Rest assured though, even if your mum and I live separately, we both
still love you very much and will do our best raising you right. That won’t change.”

Except it did!

Anisah found herself being pushed from one to the other as it’s convenient for both her parents. Her
secondary school turned out to be a boarding school so as to afford her parents all the privacy they
needed to satisfy their new found desires, for dad, the desire for a new wife and mum, the desire to
be happy, at all costs! Even if it means separating herself from her daughter, her only daughter!

It was search for a partner, another man who’ll take her in that led to the strained relationship
between her and her mum. The new man seemed okay, he cared enough and was willing to marry
Tara, Anisah’s mum but his marriage proposal condition was heart-wrenching for Anisah.

“Your daughter can only visit, she can’t stay.” At first, she refused to give in but then pressure
mounted for her to remarry, she was young and vibrant, she needed to be tendered by a man as she
was still of child-bearing age.

Supo didn’t stop calling, texting and checking. He never forgot to spoil Anisah with gifts either. Tara
made no more effort to reject the offer of marriage, she didn’t also object when Supo reminded her
that Anisah could not live with them after marriage, she only made plans for a boarding-facility
school and so Anisah was dumped in a boarding school.

She called her dad first, with the news of the boarding school admission and she sounded upset over
the phone.

59 | P a g e
He knew from her voice that something was wrong, he probed and Anisah sobbed all through the
narrative… “mum met someone who wanted to marry her and he’s a nice man. He takes care of us
but didn’t want me around so mum’s enrolling me in a boarding school.”

Anisah’s sobs came through the phone line, and her dad’s heart sank. He had always hoped that she
would grow up with her mother by her side, not far away at a boarding school. He knew that
boarding school could be a great experience, but he worried about the sudden change for Anisah
and the effect it might have on her.

“She did? I can’t believe your mum would do this to you. I’m so sorry, Anisah. I know how much you
love your home and friends. Please stay calm. I believe it’s all for the best. You know the school
already, right? We’ve been there before remember” Her father’s tone was a mix of anger and
concern. He couldn’t believe that his ex-wife would make such a decision without finalising it with
him. Yes, she mentioned it the last time they spoke on phone but it was mentioned in passing. He
knew that Anisah was going to be devastated by such decision so he didn’t pursue it.

“Anisah, I know this is difficult to bear, but it is indeed be for the best. A change of scenery could be
good for you, and it’s not like you’ll never see me again. We’ll often talk on the phone, and I’ll visit
you as much as I can. I know it might not seem like it now, but this could be a really positive thing. It
might even be an adventure. Maybe you’ll make new friends, and have new experiences. He tried to
persuade her.

Anisah’s voice was shaky as she answered, “It’s that Muslim school that we took your friend’s child
to sometimes last year. THE ELITE SCHOOL, it's far away from here dad.” Anisaha sounded
desperate, not aware her dad was already in the know.

He had several questions, he wished Anisah could proffer answers to but that would be demanding
for too much from the innocent girl. As for that Supo man, he could strangle him to death, if he were
to lay his hands on him, he could choke life out of him! Caution! Caution, he warned himself before
his thoughts could go riots on him. Anisah was not the one to receive his anger neither was it Supo,
his vexation should be directed at Tara for allowing things to drag to this level, for allowing him
“see” another woman; for changing from the Tara he met, fell in love with and married several years
back… he concluded within himself.

“Dad, are you still there?”

Her daughter’s voice at the other end of the phone snapped him to reality.

“Well, Anisah dear, all is not lost, that school is a good school. THE ELITE is one of its kind. I
remember Bala was always singing the school’s praises. You yourself can testify, you know the kind
of man my friend is, before he could praise something or someone, such has to be top notch.”

“Hmmmm, if you say so”

“Besides, I’m aware they’re doing tahfiz programme in the school, which means you’ll have the
opportunity to memorise the Qur’an during your stay there. That’s a big one Anisah, have you
thought of that? With your zeal to learn the Qur’an, now here’s the opportunity presenting itself on
a platter.

60 | P a g e
Stay positive, okay? You’ve got nothing to lose and a lot to gain, In Shaa Allaah. Not to worry, I’ll
come for all of your visiting days and End of Session celebrations In Shaa Allaah. I’ll always be there
when you need me…”

“You’re making it sound as if it’s that easy, I wish I could just stay with you. Oh, but your wife, your
wife didn’t want your grown daughter around, how good it sound that both of my parents are
tossing me around like a football! Sounds great dad, it’s a good story to tell.” Anisah sounded
sarcastic.

“Well, I Just said to inform you, talk to you soon. I still love you even though, right now, I’m not
exactly happy with you both.” She said flatly.

Her dad could sense another bout of anger building up, he spoke again, wishing this time, she would
be convinced.

“Anisah, I know you’re feeling upset and angry, and I get that. But I’m asking you to look at this from
a different perspective. This could be a good opportunity for you, a chance to learn new things, the
Qur’an for one. “
“I’m not trying to force you, but I’m asking you to give this a chance. I know it’s not easy, but please
trust me when I said that this could be a good thing for you.”
“OK, Thanks, sir”
Encouraged, her father continued, “You’re welcome. I know this is a difficult situation, and I’m here
to help in any way I can. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I’ll always be
here for you. I know this isn’t easy, but I have faith in you Anisah, you can handle it. Remember, no
matter what is going on around or with you, you’re an amazing child of mine and I’m proud to be
your father.”

He seemed to hit a sensitive spot and Anisah flared up.

“Don’t patronise me dad,” she said and hung up!

Anisah wrote the entrance exam to MUSLIM ELITE SCHOOL and made it to their JS3 class. She was
one of those candidates who performed exceptionally well. She resumed with the others for the
new academic session and started her Qur’an memorisation as well. Once-a-month was fixed for
visitation and so it was that Anisah only got to see her parents every once in a while. The school
became her home, her friends became her family and the teachers and hostel handlers her parents.
This was how she lived her life throughout secondary school, hardly going home. Home? “Where do
I even call home? That definition does not exist in my life.”

Four years later, Anisah finished Senior Secondary School Three in MUSLIM ELITE SCHOOL, wrote her
WASSCE and had one of the best results in the State with eight distinctions out of the nine subjects
and just a credit pass in the other. She wrote JAMB exams, while still in the school and got a
whooping score of 250. She was offered admission in the prestigious university of FadluLlaah to
study a course of her choice. Off she went to campus, without parental love and home training,
except the one she got from her handlers and friends in secondary school. Everybody was proud of
Anisah, except of course, Anisah herself! She felt unworthy, unloved and needy, she felt alone!

Chapter Thirteen

61 | P a g e
It took Mumtaza’s and many more unmentioned efforts to call Anisah back on track but she wasn’t
yielding. So it was that they watched her deteriorate, everyone saw her regress. Everyone tried
talking her out of her new found passion for freedom and reckless life. Alas, she was adamant and
kept living life on her own terms.

“Mum, I just want to give you an update on Anisah.”

“Oh, good news?”

“No, same old, same old. I’ve tried my best Mum, we’ve all tried but she seemed to have chosen her
path, I’d like to focus on mine.”

“Anisah that has the whole Qur’an memorised, she even had a background of Islamic upbringing. A
promising young Muslimah whose profile everyone envied during her first year on campus. Pity!
May we not deviate after we have believed.”

“Aameen ma.”

. “The story of Anisah is one that’s all too familiar in tertiary institutions. The university is a place
where many young people struggle to make a name for themselves.” Mumtaza’s mum responded.
“Many are trying to find their feet, some are trying to channel a path for themselves while many
others are lost already.”

“I couldn’t agree less mum, despite Anisah’s strong background in Islam and the positive example
she once set, she mingled with the wrong group of friends and found herself caught up in a cycle of
recklessness and self-destructive behaviour.” Mumtaza affirmed.

“Pity, right? Don’t be deceived though, my dear, you have Allaah to be grateful for. This can happen
to anyone, regardless of their upbringing or the expectations of others. It’s important to remember
that no one is perfect, and that even the most devout Muslim can struggle with temptation and
make mistakes, so seek guidance from Allaah, always my dear, always.”

“Yes mum, all praises are due to Allaah.”

“Remember when you were coming to campus, I insisted you join MSSN (Muslim Students' Society
of Nigeria)?”

“Yes mum, I remember.”

“This is why attaching oneself to MSSN while on campus, keeping track of and engaging in the
activities organised by the body will keep you grounded.”

“That’s true, you’re right…”

“And for those who already made mistakes, it’s never too late to turn things around and get back on
the right path, if only they know and are willing to make amends.”

“Thanks mum, for always giving me the listening ears and advice needed to carry on in the right
direction. May Allaah grant you longevity upon khayr. Love you Sisi Mama.” Mumtaza teased her
mum.”

“You’re welcome dear Pumpkin, anytime.”

Mumtaza ’s parents had always been there for her, even as she grew older and gained admission to
the university. They never missed a chance to check in on her, to make sure she was doing well and

62 | P a g e
staying on track. They made sure she had everything she needed, giving her both material and
emotional support. Her father, Alhaji Tuko, always ensure her fees and pocket money were sent on
time. He would also visit her whenever he could, and when he couldn’t, he would call her on such
weekends.

Her mum, Hajia Hadiza, was her best buddy, she was more than just a parent. She was also her best
friend. They shared a special bond, built on love, trust and understanding. Hadiza was always there
for Mumtaza, whether it was to offer words of wisdom, a shoulder to cry on, or just a listening ear.
She was the one person in the world who truly knew Mumtaza, aside her dad. Both parents loved
her for who she was. Mumtaza treasured the bond they shared, and she knew that no matter what,
her mother and father were and would always be there for her.

Alhaji Tuko, her dad, would check on her every weekend when going on one of his various trips. He
would only call on phone if he would not visit that weekend. He also ensured her supply of sanitary
pads and other groceries are taken care of. Same goes for her jilbab, under and inner wears, shoes
and purses. Mumtaza’s parents were surely living up to expectation. They didn’t want anyone to
entice her with material things.

On one of his various visits one Sunday, after packing all the deliveries her dad brought for her,
Mumtaza closed the car trunk and was just bidding her dad ‘farewell’ when someone called from
behind her…

“…See you next week, bye, may Allaah keep you safe.”

“Is that your Alhaji? I notice he’s always here visiting, can you introduce me please, he might have
friends who are available for me too.”

It was Chika, one of the occupants in the same hostel as Mumtaza.

“I can’t believe you, Chi, what are you insinuating? Me, my Alhaji? What for? Oh, yes, he’s my Alhaji
quite all right, but not…”

“C’mon, Mumtie, hold it there, having a “sugar daddy” is nothing to be embarrassed of. Hot Babes
do this, if you do too, it’s fine. A lady needs a provider, can’t see no reason why you can’t have one
for yourself!”

“Floozies you mean?” Mumtaza thought but didn’t say it out loud so as not to offend Chika.

“No, no, no Chika, you’ve got it all wrong. The man you are talking about here is my dad, my father,
my biological father! You see him every once in a while because he cares and didn’t want me to lack
anything. He is the reason I am independent on campus. Don’t ever think of him like that, he’s just a
good father who wanted the best for his daughter. We are Muslims and we don’t engage in haram
relationships.”

“Muslim? Sorry then, as if it’s not glaring. With this your uniform, we know you’re Boko Haram, what
you’re doing here is what I don’t know. You’re supposed to be married to one old man like that,
dwelling in pathetic situation with him.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that to me.”

“Whatever! You mean that’s your papa, not your ‘man-friend’?”

“Chika, hold on a minute and let me clear up a few misconceptions. First off, just because I wear the
hijab doesn’t mean I’m an extremist, so that name 'Boko Haram’ is not meant for me. My clothing is

63 | P a g e
a symbol of my faith and obedience to Allaah, and has nothing to do with terrorism or oppression.
Those people who claim to be Muslims but commit violent acts are not representing Islam, they are
perverting the teachings of our religion. In fact, seeking knowledge and getting education is a
fundamental part of the Islamic faith, it’s something every Muslim is encouraged to pursue
throughout their life. Those “Boko haram” sect are not practising Islam, they’re not doing what
Allaah commands. Book is not haram (unlawful), education is not haram and seeking knowledge is a
sunnatic practice that the Prophet Muhammad SAW encouraged all Muslims to do.”

Chika looked on, amazed while Mumtaza continued.

“You’re better than this Chika, you know me very well, besides being in the same department, you
know me to well to jump to conclusions about me or any other Muslim lady like me. I hope you can
understand that just because someone dresses in a certain way, doesn’t mean you can make
assumptions about their beliefs or lifestyle. My choice to cover up is a personal one and has nothing
to do with my ability to study and succeed in life. In fact, it gives me more focus and drive to learn,
as I’m not distracted by the things that others may be focused on. It’s important to be respectful and
open-minded, rather than jump to conclusions based on appearances.”

“Lest I forget, yes, that’s my “Papa” not my man-frien.”

Chika felt a sudden rush of shame for the assumptions she had made. She had allowed her
prejudices get the better of her, making her say things that were unfair and hurtful. She looked up at
Mumtaza, and saw the hurt in her eyes. “Mumtaza, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or make
assumptions about your beliefs or lifestyle. I was wrong, and I hope you can forgive me.”

Mumtaz’s expression softened, and she extended a hand to Chika. “C’mon, it’s not up to that. I just
have to explain in clear terms why you should not assume and why you, a learned colleague, should
be better than illiterates out there. I appreciate your apology, and I forgive you.” She took her hand
in hers and shook it slightly.

From that day onwards, Chika started to see Mumtaza and other Muslim ladies on campus with a
different set of eyes. She saw Mumtaza as a daughter who deeply loved and respected her father,
someone who valued family above everything else.

Chika started to view Mumtaza with new found respect, she had this special place she placed
Muslim ladies like Mumtaza. She saw them as a strong and independent set of people who are
focused on their Lord and not subjected to worldly pleasure.

Chika was glad for her misconceptions and especially glad for voicing it out. It was by expressing her
ignorant opinion that she got to be enlightened about Islam and Muslims. She started admiring
Muslim ladies with Mumtaza becoming her object of attention. Chika kept observing every of
Mumtaza’s move in a bid to know what it means to practise Islam.

She would often stay in the common room to know when Mumtaza would go out or come in by
weekends. She would see how Mumtaza carried herself with an air of regalia despite her flowing
garment. She observed that Mumtaza was always neat – “no, immaculate was the word. She is very
well put together, a woman of poise and elegance with sharp wit.” Chika was astonished to say the
least.

64 | P a g e
Mumtaza was indeed a role model of grace and inner strength, an inspiring portrait of a posh
Muslimah. She was not only beautiful on the outside, but also has a beautiful heart and soul. She
would handshake or hug her fellow Muslim sisters upon meeting them, she would ask for and share
her contact freely with new students on campus. She was a role model for a lot of them. Her energy
and vibe were contagious, she would see you, smile, say something and you’d smile up at her too.
She was mostly found in the hostel Masjid if not in lecture rooms receiving lectures. She lives her life
in a way that reflects her devotion to Allaah, always on her toes, learning every day with a focus on
spiritual uplift, personal growth and self-development. “What an inspiring and inspirational figure
Mumtaza was, I surely must get to know her better!” Chika convinced herself one night.

Oblivion of what was going on, Mumtaza was just being herself while Chika was taking lessons from
her, seeing her as a definition of Islam.

“What did they tell us about Islam, and Muslims again?” Chika asked no one in particular as she rose
to leave when she saw Mumtaza ascending the stairs leading to her room. “I’m going to pay that chic
a visit, I need to see her, I mean without those layers of garment on.” She thought.

Chapter Fourteen

When the door knob turned around 9pm that night, Mumtaza was alarmed, she was half asleep but
had to rise to her feet abruptly, grab her hijab lying right beside her and quickly put it on. “Who’s
there?” she queried.

Mumtaza was always at alert, never letting her guard down because she was aware the girls’ hostel
is not a place of sanctuary for Muslim ladies, especially her hall, where girls aren’t ever discreet in
their dressing and all. They believe they could expose their awra (privacy) since they’re in the female
hostel. You’d see them run up and down half naked. Mumtaza had always warned her sisters that
the hostel wasn’t a safe haven for them. She often advised them to dress appropriately even when
in the hostel. “Except of course if you’re lucky to share your room with Muslim sisters of like-mind.”
She would add.

“Hey, Mumtaza, it’s me, open up.”

“You? Who? Can you please mention your name?”

“I’m sorry, it’s Chika, remember me? Open the door and let me in first.” Chika didn’t want other
ladies passing by to see her by Mumtaza’s door, it would cause rumours and raise questions.

“Oh, Chika! It’s you? She moved slowly towards the door “just a jiffy, hold on while I find the keys.
Mumtaza was going to give this stranger a piece of her mind for turning the door knob trying to
open it without taking permission first but then she cautioned herself, “what did she know about
seeking permission before entering a person’s apartment?”

65 | P a g e
Probably nothing! She thought.

“That’s not even important, what could she be doing here at this time? Why is she here at this
hour?” Mumtaza had a lot of questions.

She opened and let her in.

“Sleeping already, this early, you don’t have any other thing to do?”

“Actually, I have, in fact, that’s why I choose an early night. I like to go to bed early because I have to
wake up early as well for some night prayers.”

“Really what night prayers again, I think you guys only got to pray in the morning, afternoon and
evening?”

“Chika please, well, yeah, there are night prayers called qiyamu l layl. Anyway, why are you here?”

“OK, straight to the point, I have some big questions I want to ask you about your religion. I’ve been
thinking about it lately and I want to know more. If you don't mind.” Chika said.

Mumtaza's eyes lit up with excitement and then suspicion, "what did she have up her sleeves now,
the Chika I know might be pulling my legs," she thought.

Chika's words caught Mumtaza off guard. She had been expecting some lighthearted banter, but this
sounded like she was being serious. Her excitement turned to suspicion as she wondered what Chika
was really up to. Maybe she was just looking for a way to tease her, or maybe she was genuinely
interested in learning more about Islam. Whatever the case, Mumtaza braced herself for whatever
was to come.

"Okay, shoot," Mumtaza said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Chika smiled and took a deep breath. "Okay, here goes. Do you have to wear a hijab at all times,
even within your own room?"

Mumtaza face grew serious, but her smile remained. "That's a great question, and one that a lot of
people ask. The answer is a bit complicated, but I'll try to explain it as best I can."

Chika nodded, her curiosity piqued. "I'd appreciate that," she said, leaning forward in her seat.

"Well, the first thing to understand is that the hijab isn't just a piece of clothing. It's actually a
concept in Islam that refers to modesty in dress and behaviour," Mumtaza began. "So while the
physical hijab is an important part, it's not the only thing that matters."

Chika was already absorbed in what Mumtaza was saying. This was definitely more than she'd been
expecting.

“For example, it’s not just about wearing a hijab, but also about dressing in a way that is modest and
dignified. So even if you’re at home, and there are no men around, it’s still important to dress in a
way that honuors your dignity and your faith,” Mumtaza continued. “There’s a lot more to it than

66 | P a g e
just covering your hair. It’s about being conscious of your appearance and your actions, and making
sure they are in line with Islamic values.”

Chika was obviously fascinated by this explanation, she listened with rapt attention, her eyes
following every of Mumtaza’s hand gestures.

When finally she stopped for air, Chika spoke up.

“To be open with you, Mumtaza , I’ve been stalking you for a while now. I’m glad there’s nobody
here other than you, I’ve always sat by the entrance of the hall, watching you go and come everyday.
I’ve also monitored you closely ever since our encounter last semester. I noticed your roommate
always went somewhere every weekend, that’s why I came today. Please tell me more about your
religion, I want to know more.”

This sincere outpouring caught Mumtaza unaware, she tried to steady her voice, “BismiLlaah, ehm,
okay, please give me a few minutes.” She rose and headed towards the bathroom. She took about a
couple of minutes to relieve herself and make ablution. When she came out, still with her hijab on,
Chika looked curious.

Without saying a single word, Mumtaza picked her mat, laid it and performed a two-rakat nawafil.
She mumbled a du’a in her last sujud and said her teslim. She made a few more supplications and
went back to sit beside Chika.

“So Chika, you were saying…”

“Oh wait Mumtaza, why did you first have to pray before talking to me, am I dangerous or
something?”

Mumtaza couldn't help but chuckle at Chika's question. "You're not dangerous at all, but I'm glad
you asked," she said. "Prayer is a very important part of Islam, and it's not just about the physical act
of praying, it’s deeper than that. When you pray, you connect with God and you’re focus on seeking
guidance from His divine wisdom.”

“Oh, I see” Chika said thoughtfully. It’s like you’re talking to God in hope that He’ll talk through you.”

“That’s it! That’s why before I answer your question, I wanted to start from a place of peace and
focus, I wanted to be divinely inspired so that I can give you the best answer possible."

Chika's face showed understanding, and she nodded in agreement. "That makes a lot of sense!”

“Pray first, speak later – That’s my motto, always. Seeking guidance from Allaah before saying
anything stands you in good stead in His sight and the minds of people.

As Mumtaza spoke, her words carried a deep sense of wisdom and peace. Chika felt her heart
soften, and she leaned in to listen more intently. Something about Mumtaza’s presence was
soothing and reassuring, like she was a beacon of light in the midst of chaos. Chika felt herself relax
and let go of her worries, allowing Mumtaza’s words to sink in.

It was as if Mumtaza’s spirituality was radiating from her, calming Chika’s soul and bringing her a
sense of comfort and peace.

67 | P a g e
“Thanks Mumtaza. Thanks for being calm and reassuring. Thanks for taking your time to calm me
down with your demeanor and personality, are you always like this?” Chika asked, feeling a kind of
emotional support that she didn’t realise she needed before now.

“Well, why not, that’s what Islam teaches. We are Allaah’s vicegerent on earth and we must act to
earn His pleasure.”

“So, you asked about Islam, let’s not forget that…”

“Yeah, I’m just awed by a lot of things about you, I guess you’re already my definition of Islam “

"Thank you Chika, that's very kind of you to say. My faith is very important to me, but I don't want
you to think that I'm perfect, or that I have it all figured out. As a matter of fact, I don’t! I'm like
everyone else, trying to make sense of the world through Islam. I do find comfort and strength in my
connection with Allaah and I'm grateful for this, every day," Mumtaza said, her eyes shining with
sincerity.

Chika listened to Mumtaza’s words with an open heart, she felt a growing sense of trust and
understanding as the former continued to explain.

Mumtaza’s faith was not something she wanted to impose on Chika but rather to share with her as a
curious friend.

Chika felt a warmth and conviction in Mumtaza’s words, and she found herself drawn to her
perspective. Even though her own beliefs were different, she felt a deep respect and admiration for
Mumtaza’s conviction.

“So, back to your question.”

“Islam” Chika murmured.

“Islam is the complete and total submission of one’s will to the will of God.”

“Total submission to God?”

“Yes, as Muslims, we consider ourselves the servants of God, and all our actions are done in
accordance with His will. Our sole goal is to live a life that is pleasing to God and to fulfill His
commandments.” Mumtaza paused to see if her friend was still being carried along.

“Someone told me Islam means peace but that seems not to be the case with your explanation, is
it.”

Asked Chika, taking her cue from Mumtaza.

“Peace is an integral part of Islam, it is a religion that calls for the preservation of human dignity,
rights, and freedom. Muslims are expected to treat each other as brothers and sisters, and others of
different faith with humanity, respect and honour too. We are to help and encourage one another
on goodness and forbid evil for one another.”

“This is profound, it’s strange hearing this about Islam, God knows we’ve be brainwashed. I wish…”

Chika glanced at the DIY wall clock in Mumtaza’s room. “I wish I had all the time…”

It’s getting too late and Chika must return to her hostel, Mumtaza got the cue.

“There’s a book I can give you, TOWARDS UNDERSTANDING ISLAM"

68 | P a g e
“Yes please I’d love to have that.”

“All right, there you go.”

“Wait, no!”

Confused, Mumtaza held back.

“OK let me have it. Do you happen to have a newspaper here, I’d like to wrap it up in a newspaper so
people don’t pry.”

Understanding was written over Mumtaza’s face. Chika wasn’t ready to go public with her curiosity
about Islam.

All right, no problem. In case you have any more questions, let me know, you have my contact right?
We can talk on the phone. There are also Whatsapp groups that deal with your type of questions, I’ll
add you so you may ask as many questions as you have.”

“OK, thank you very much for your time. By the way, you look even more beautiful than what we do
see outside. I’ve been meaning to tell you this all the while. Also, I am sorry about the impression I
created at out first meeting the other time, hope I’m forgiven?”

Come off it Chika, that was a long time ago, I’ve forgotten about it please, don’t bring that up again.
You’re my sister OK, see you tomorrow, goodnight. They share an awkward embrace and bade each
other, ‘goodbye.’

When Chika finally stood to leave, it was 10:45pm. None of them realised they've been speaking for
almost two hours, none of them cared how much time they spent talking, it was a productive and
impactful session for them both.

Chapter Fifteen

“KNOW ME …”

She began by seeking refuge in Allaah against the accursed Shaytaan. She moved on to seeking
blessings upon the noble soul of Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him),
his household and companions. “Today, In Shaa Allaah, we’ll be talking about a verse of the Qur’an
as well as hadith qudsi “KNOW ME BEFORE YOU WORSHIP ME…” The lecturer was none other than
Ateefah and among the sisters gathered, listening intently was Chika, now known as Zahrah. Who
accepted Islam three months ago after careful thoughts and intentional consultations.

“Allaah is the Creator of heaven and earth and all that is in-between, He is Lord over all things!
Tabaaraka Rabbal aalameen. He commands us in hadith qudsi to “Know Me before you worship Me,
how can he who does not know Me, worship Me?”

She turned to Qurrah , motioned for her to open the Divine Book (Al Qur’an) in front of her to Surat
Zumar Chapter 39 verse 11 and read the portion in Arabic, which she did with sonorous rendition.

69 | P a g e
“Say (O Muhammad SAW): “Verily, I am commanded to worship Allaah (Alone) by obeying Him and
doing religious deeds sincerely for His sake only and not to show off, and not to set up rivals with
Him in worship.”

“The message of worshiping Allaah goes beyond just the obligatory religious rituals and practices.
Thence the express-warning “know Me before you worship Me”. Ateefah continued.

“The scholars have defined worship as everything which Allaah loves and is pleased with. From the
speech of the tongue, actions of the limbs to the actions of the heart.”

“Worship increases with obedience and decreases with disobedience! SubhanaLlaah!”

“Worship also entails that Muslims live their lives in a way that reflects submission to Allaah's
commands and the teachings of His Prophet. Worship is about good manner, it’s about patience in
times of adversities.”

Ateefah shifted in her seat to face the congregation more squarely and create the ambience needed
to drive her point home.

“Being kind to others is worship, just as being compassionate to animals is worship. Obeying the
parents is worship in as much they aren’t commanding you to worship else except Allaah.”

“Striving to be our best selves in every aspect of our lives just so we please Allaah is also worship.
When a husband and wife enjoy conjugal relations, it is worship! Isn’t Islam beautiful?” She asked in
rhetorics.

“In other words, worshiping Allaah is not just something we do in salah (prayer) but something we
embody in our daily lives. Allaah says “I have not created man and jinn except that they should
worship Me.” Sister Nuurah, kindly please open that for us, find it in Qur’an… Surat Dhariyat verse
56. Ateefah highlighted.

She snapped her fingers, signaling to a sister to her left who seemed to be engaged with her phone…

“Now, what we must emphasise in our discussion today is that worship translates into multiple
layers of meaning. Dear Sister, this means that there are many ways in which we can show our
devotion to Allaah. What’s important is sincerity in that particular act of worship.”

“I call upon you, fellow Muslimah, worshipping Allaah is an all-encompassing way of living. A Muslim
must strive to bring the mindset of worship into every aspect of His life. I beseech Allaah to make
true worship of Him an easy task for us. May He accept our worship and stand us firm.” Ateefah
concluded.

“Aameen”, everyone chorused.

Chika was heard heaving a sigh. She had been taking notes as the speaker was talking. She
whispered something to Nuurah and was told to note it down.

“That was Sister Ateefah, (Umm Zayd) delivering today’s sisters’ Taalim. Chika was not the only one
taking note, Mumtaza had every bit of the admonition written in her notepad as well. She must
share it across the sisters’ Whatsapp platforms. This was a routine for her, always doing this for all
the posts she herself made and any other that she heard that was beneficial, she shared.

70 | P a g e
This, she said, was her little way of keeping herself on her toes and seeking the pleasure of Allaah.
Much as she was grateful for her faith, she feared to be tested with the same fate as Anisah -
returning to unbelief after having believed is a great test - may Allaah keep us steadfast upon
righteousness, she mumbled a silent du’a at the gathering of the sisters that Sunday evening.

“Sister Zahrah, your question?”

Nuurah called from the crowd of sisters and jolted Mumtaza from her thought.

She had never stopped worrying over Anisah’s predicament, it bothered her a lot and she would
always mouth a du’a whenever she remembered Anisah. “How I wish things were different, forgive
me Yaa Allaah, please return our dear sister to your path of righteousness.”

“Thanks sis, JazakiLlaah khayran.”

It was Chika, now known as Zahrah, asking a question. She did that often after every taalim, a
session she had never missed since accepting Islam a couple of months ago. One would confirm it
really is rubbing off on her. She prayed her five times salah on time, wears the hijab and was always
found in the company of sisters around the masjid or in the class . No more partying, clubbing, or
frivolous activities.

“You talked about putting a mindset of worship in everything we do? What if one isn’t confident
enough, what if one is struggling to believe in and have confidence in ones worship? What if one has
issues bothering them, where do you get the needed confidence from?” Chika poured herself into
her question.”

"Thanks for asking such a thoughtful question. I guess it’s coming from a place of piety, may Allaah
stand you firm sister Zahrah.” Said Ateefah.

“It's a difficult topic, but an important one. You see, when we struggle to believe in ourselves, it can
be hard to find the motivation to worship Allaah. But the key point is to remember that our faith
doesn't have to be perfect in order to please Him. Even if we feel like we're not doing enough, our
intention and consistency in worshipping Him are what count.”

“Dear Sis, bear in mind that confidence is an elusive concept that many people spend their lives
chasing. It’s not something that can be achieved by following a formula or a course. Confidence is
faith! Faith in the unseen, faith in praying without seeing Whom you’re praying to. Faith in the fact
that He sees you!”

“I know this may not sink deep right now, but with time, you’ll get to understand better. Believe me,
I’m speaking from personal experience! ” Ateefah reassured Chika.

“A Muslim sources his Confidence from two important ways. Are you with me Sister Zahrah?”

“Yeah, I am”

“We all are”

“Good, first and most important of the key sources of confidence is faith in Allaah SWT Himself!
That’s why I said, Confidence is faith. When we have faith in our Lord, the Creator of heaven and
earth, it gives us the strength to keep going even when things get tough. The conviction that the

71 | P a g e
Creator and Overseer of the Universe has got my back is enough confidence booster for me to carry
on with anything!”

Ateefah submitted bravely.

“Another source of confidence” she spoke on, “is Du’a/Adhkar. When we take time to say our
Du’a/Adhkar with mindfulness, we are expressing our weaknesses to our Creator and handing over
the rein of power over our lives to Him, He Who has power over all things, He Who is over all things
Competent. This way, we are building a foundation of self-confidence that can’t be shaken by
external circumstances.”

“Wow, Maa Shaa Allaah!” Exclaimed Mumtaza . She was happy she assigned the day's lecture to
Ateefah. “She’s really doing justice to it.”

“Have you noticed how you feel each time you do your recitation of Qur’an, and mindfully say the
morning and evening adhkar ? You feel light, relieved, strengthened, graceful and resilient. You feel
assured of Allaah’s protection. That’s the spirit. That’s your source of Confidence. Allaah Himself
said “in the remembrance of Allaah, hearts find rest.”

“Kindly please quote the Qur’an verse where that is please.” Nuurah asked.

“Qur’an 13 verse 28” Qurrah answered before Ateefah could come up with it.

Jazakumllaah khayran Sisters, thanks for your audience and time, you can see the lecturer after the
programme if you have more questions. Next on our schedule is “A VERSE A DAY QUR’AN
MEMORISATION,” are you ready?” Nuurah asked the eager congregation.

We’ll be memorising the Du’a for confidence, du’a of Prophet Musa (AS). It can be found in Surah Ta-
ha, Qur’an 20 verses 25 - 28.

Transliteration: Rabbish rahli sadri wa yassirli amri wah lul uqdatan min lisaani, yaf kahu kauli.

Meaning “My Lord, expand for me my breast [with assurance] and ease for me my task and untie the
knot from my tongue that they may understand my speech.”

Chika couldn't help but make a mental reminder to catch up with Ateefah later. She had this burning
desire to connect with her and dive deep into her story. She guessed, “maybe Ateefah was a fellow
revert like myself?” The thought excited her and she couldn't wait to have a lively and heartfelt chat
with Ateefah, exchanging experiences and uncovering the incredible journey that brought them both
to Islam. Chika hoped!

Chapter Sixteen

MY WINDOW TO ISLAM

Ateefah was born into a Muslim family. A family that professed the Islamic faith, that was all. For
Ateefah, as far as she knew, her faith was always there. It was a belief that she held in her mind,
something she was convinced was true - that Allaah was One. But it was just that - a thing of the
mind. She never went any further, never gave it any deeper thought or took any meaningful steps
towards understanding what it meant to truly have faith. Worship was something she took for
granted, she didn’t give it any real thought or consideration. That all changed after she went through
that harrowing experience that left a permanent scar on her body and an indelible mark in her mind.

72 | P a g e
For Ateefah, it was as if she’d been lost for so long, only to find herself exactly where she was meant
to be, where Allaah wanted her to discover herself. All thanks to Nurse Rufai, her second mum
whom Allaah used as her window to Islam.

She was the one who set the quest in her in motion, her husband was the strong pillar that built on
it. Ateefah smiled as she recollected her first close encounter with Professor Ismael, her husband.

It was a Saturday afternoon, the sun was sitting majestically in the sky, present but mild, a perfect
timing for a visit. Ateefah found herself in the warm embrace of her adoptive mum, she had gone to
see Nurse Rufai at home. They had both discussed and watched their favourite show on teevee.
Since coming together, both have not missed watching BATTLEGROUND on African Magic, a family
drama that aired every Saturday on GOTV and DSTV cables. Battleground was one show too
interesting to miss. If mother and daughter weren’t together, they’d catch up on the episode shown
for that week whenever they talked on phone.

“I can’t wait to see Chief Bankole regain consciousness, being in coma is devastating for his family,
especially Adora, his wife” Ateefah declared sympathetically.

“Don’t be too emotional, Tee, that Bankole is a con man, he might be pretending, he comes across
as someone who’d do anything for money and power” Mrs Rufai retorted.

“You don’t mean it?”

“Besides, as a qualified practising nurse, I’ve seen a lot of comatose situations to identify a fake one.
I think he’s faking it”

“Now that was a good act, if he’s acting up, he’s doing a good job!”

“Enough Ateefah, can we get something to eat, what do you care for?” Mrs Rufai asked.

“Anything mum, whatever you’d like to have.”

“Let’s have braise rice, been a while we had that”

“Braise rice? Why that? I don’t know how to make braise rice,” Ateefah admitted sheepishly to her
adoptive mother. She was a bit embarrassed, especially since she was now a young adult.

“You don’t? Let’s go to the kitchen then, let today be our catering class, my girl.

Mrs Rufai took the lead in the kitchen, cooking up a storm with her loving adoptive daughter. She
was understanding and didn’t tease her too much. Instead, she showed her how to prepare the dish
step by step.

As the rice cooked, the delicious aroma of the spices filled the air. Ateefah felt hungry, and her
stomach started to growl. She hadn’t realised how much she’d been craving food until now.

“Can’t wait for this rice to be ready, I’m starving.”

The whistling sound of the pressure cooker was suddenly interrupted by the buzzing of an incoming
call. It was Ateefah’s phone, her curiosity piqued, she glanced at the screen only to be greeted by an
unknown number. Uncertainty clouded her mind, leaving her hesitant to answer. However, an
inexplicable force urged her to take the leap.

73 | P a g e
She obliged.

With a hint of trepidation, she cautiously uttered a hesitant "Hello?" into the phone. To her surprise,
a familiar voice echoed through the line, uttering the teslim, "As Salam alaikum, Ateefah." It took her
a brief moment to place the voice, but soon enough, she realised it was none other than Professor
Ismael.

"Waleikum salaam, Professor," she responded, her confusion evident in her tone. The professor's
unexpected call had caught her off guard, leaving her wondering about the purpose behind it all. She
had failed to key in the Professor's digits into her phone the last time he dropped her off. “What
would I need it for?”

Sensing her bewilderment, Professor Ismael quickly reassured her, "I apologise for reaching out to
you out of the blue, but there's something of great importance that I need to discuss with you."

Ateefah was curious, her heart began to race, pounding against her chest like a relentless drumbeat.
She was enveloped with suspense, clueless about what the professor was about to reveal.

“Have I failed a course? Am I in trouble?” As the anticipation mounted, he continued, his voice laden
with sincerity, "I know this may come as a surprise, but I'm genuinely intrigued by you since the last
time we discussed. I yearn to delve deeper into your world and know you better."

Ateefah stood frozen, utterly taken aback. The professor's words hung in the air, it was like a delicate
web of mystery.

“What did this unexpected interest entail?” She asked no one but herself. “What secrets lay beneath
the surface?” With every passing second, Ateefah was completely taken aback. The professor
wanted to get to know her better? “What did that mean?” The silence was dragging for too long and
the professor spoke up.

"I understand if this is unexpected," he said, "but I've been thinking about you ever since we spoke
the other day. I know this may be sudden, but I have a deep respect and admiration for you, and I'm
interested in taking things further."

Ateefah's mind was racing. She was flattered, but also completely confused. She had no idea how to
respond so she remained speechless. The professor's words were swirling around in her head, and
she didn't know what to say. Just as she was about to respond, she heard her mother's voice behind
her.

"Ateefah, who are you talking to?" her mother asked.

"Oh, um, it's just a friend," Ateefah stammered.

"Oh, that's nice," her mother said. "Food is ready though, dish us the food before it gets cold”

"Uh...OK ma”

Her mother's words brought her back to the moment.”

“I have to go.” She spoke into the phone.

“…In Shaa Allaah!” She said again in response to the professor in the other end of the phone.

Then she dropped the phone in the kitchen counter.

74 | P a g e
“I know this may seem like a strange thing to say, but you have to be careful about receiving calls
from strange men. I know very well you’re talking to a man" Mrs Rufai said, looking concerned.
"You're a very intelligent and strong young woman, please don’t feel pressured into doing anything
you’re not interested in doing."

"You're right, ma," Ateefah said, nodding. "I appreciate your advice. I'll be careful."

"Good girl," "Now, dish the food and let’s have lunch."

As Ateefah rinsed the dishes to serve the food, she knew she needed to share the truth with this
woman who had been nothing but supportive of her. She trusted her so much and needed her
insight more than anyone’s else,

“I should be honest with her.” She thought.

"May I speak with you Mum," she said tentatively, "I need to tell you something about that phone
call."

"What is it, Ateefah?" her mother asked, looking at her with concern. "What's wrong?"

"It wasn't just a friend on the phone as you suspected," Ateefah admitted. "It was Professor Ismael,
one of my lecturers and he wanted to...”

Her words trailed off.

“He wanted to… he was asking to know me better, he wanted me as a thanniyah.” She stuttered.

Mrs Rufai raised her eyebrows, surprise written all over her. Almost at the same time, she recovered
and adjusted her composure. "You know I respect and admire Professor Ismael, but I'm not sure this
is the right course of action for you. You're so young, and he's a much older man. I'm concerned
about the implications."

"I understand your concern, ma’am," Ateefah said. "I'm still processing everything myself. I don't
know what to do."

Nurse Rufai put her hand on Ateefah’s shoulder. "I want you to be happy, Ateefah," she said. “If this
is something you're interested in pursuing, I want you to take the time to think it through," Mrs Rufai
said. "This is a delicate issue that should be handled with caution. Polygyny is a maze. Be sure what
you want to do before you take any decision. Don't let yourself be pressured into anything you don't
want. You have your whole life ahead of you, and you don't need to rush into any decisions."

"Thank you, mum," Ateefah said, feeling relieved to have her support. "I promise to think things
through."

Her mother smiled and gave her a reassuring smile. "That's my girl."

A couple of weeks later, Ateefah sat down with her adoptive mother again. "I've been thinking
about what you said ma," she began, "and I want to be honest with you. I'm considering Professor
Ismael's proposal."

Her mother looked surprised, but she was calm and supportive. "I want you to know that I'm here
for you, no matter what," she said. "But are you sure this is what you want to do?"

75 | P a g e
 "I'm just worried about making the same mistakes my birth parents made," Ateefah confessed.
"They got married when they were both so young and inexperienced, and their marriage was full of
problems. I don't want that for myself."

"I understand your fear," her mother said. I’m just concerned about the fact that he’s married before
and much older. Have you considered that?

“Yes, I have. I still maintain that I want to choose a partner who is older and more experienced,
someone who could be a stable presence in my life.”

Ateefah resolved within herself that she was ready to put this decision before Allaah and follow the
path that He had planned for her. She knew that with His guidance, she could make the right choice.
Mrs Rufai supported her and reminded her to carry her birth parents along. She informed her that
their blessing is very germane to her happy matrimony.

She took to Nurse Rufai's advice, went to see her mum to inform and keep her in the know. The
latter was besides herself with joy. She assured Ateefah that an older, experienced, mature man like
Professor Ismael would treat her well. She also mentioned that no mother wanted her daughter to
suffer matrimonial turmoil and so it was a prayer point she had always prayed about. She blessed
her daughter’s choice and gave her all the support she needed. Ateefah was fortunate enough to
have the same view from her dad. The whole thing seemed like a done deal.

However, she sought the Professor’s indulgence to make du’a about the proposal before giving her
final answer. After a couple of weeks, she gave a positive response to the Professor. A decision she
was happy she took.

Here she was as Mrs Ateefah Ismael, the result of careful consideration and divine guidance. Her
du’a, consultation and decision paid off. Ateefah Ismael, a happy wife, graduate of Civil engineering
and an expectant mother of twins. She couldn't have asked for better.

Each time she looked back on that conversation with her mother, she knew that she had made the
right choice. She was living a happy life with a husband who loved and respected her, and she was
on the path that Allaah had chosen for her. She couldn't have imagined a better outcome. As she sat
in her four-bedroom apartment, awaiting her husband’s arrival after a day away to be with his uula
(first wife.) As she sat there, expecting both her husband and her unborn twins, she couldn’t help but
massage her stomach, whispering a prayer of gratitude. She knew that this was only the beginning of
a beautiful journey, and she couldn't wait to see what the future holds for her and her family.

Chapter Seventeen

IS IT NOT TIME?

Anisah woke up to the shrill sound of her alarm, she immediately reached for her phone to hit the
snooze button. She snuggled back under the covers and drifted off to sleep. An hour later, she woke
up with a start, realising she was already running late. She hurriedly got out of bed and grabbed her
phone, checking her notifications. This is the first thing that she always did, a habit she couldn’t
shake off. As she scrolled through her social media feeds, she noticed her friends were out the
previous night, partying and having a good time. A pang of envy hit her. “I wish I was there!”

76 | P a g e
After scrolling through her phone for about an hour, she finally got out of bed. She had a busy day
ahead of her. Classes to attend, projects to tend to, tutorial class to go. Yet, the strong-will she
needed to get her day started, eluded her. Anisah felt a sense of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) creep
in, but she also felt a sense of gratitude that she wasn’t there with them. She knew she had a busy
day ahead of her, with classes and projects. But as she started to think about all the work she had to
do, she couldn’t bring herself to get started. The lure of her phone was too strong, and she found
herself scrolling through her feed yet again. Soon, she completely forgot about the things she
needed to do.

The minutes ticked by, and soon it turned to hours. Anisah tried to drag herself to the bathroom to
have a bath which seemed to take forever. When finally she came out of shower, she spent an
inordinate amount of time getting herself beautified and ready. And another ample time putting on
makeup and choosing the perfect outfit.

“I must look my best today, I must post a smashing selfie today, I didn’t get enough ‘likes’ and
‘comments’ yesterday” For Anisah, the number of “I must” “I have to” “I should” are never ending
when it comes to taking and posting selfies on social media.”

After putting on the perfect dress, showing the right amount of cleavage, she carefully selected
accessories to make her look stylish and alluring. She then put on filters to hide some of her
blemishes. Satisfied, she took dozens of selfies, taking her time not to miss a single detail.

Next, she took a long time deliberating over each photo. “The best picture must be put out there,”
she thought. After cropping, editing, and applying filters here and there, she found the perfect shot,
typed out a catchy caption and added all the right hashtags… #Adorable, #Babygirlforlife, #BossLady,
#Sweetlooks, #Crushingonmyself, #UniFadunderG.

Finally, she posted it!

Time to wait for the gratification.

She kept a close watch as the “likes” and “comments” poured in.

The response she got was so alarming. Anisah felt a rush of dopamine as she saw the responses. She
felt like she had finally achieved something, that she had finally gained the approval she craved.

Her phone would not stop buzzing with notifications. She was so engrossed she forgot totally about
classes. “DMs” and “comments” started flowing into her phone as much as “likes.” She was besides
herself with joy as she saw all the positive comments on her photos.

Anisah took her time to read through the comments, and noticed that some of them were getting
more and more suggestive. She felt a knot in her stomach, but she couldn’t stop reading them.

Suddenly, a comment caught her eyes that made her stop in her track. It was from a man named,
Real Junaid and it was far more explicit than the others.

“What sort of ID is Real Junaid, what kind of name is that? If he’s real, Who’s fake?” Anisah frowned
as she read his comment again. “You’re endowed in the important places, with everything in the
right proportion, you’re an allure to the eyes and a desire to the mind…”

The comment was crude and vulgar, and it made Anisah’s stomach turn. She felt a wave of shame
wash over her, and she wondered how she had gotten herself into this situation.

77 | P a g e
Anisah felt dirty and exposed, she wanted to run away from it all. But she was also strangely drawn
to the attention, despite that bit of negative feeling, she was enjoying the twisted pleasure.

She debated deleting the post, but something kept her from doing it. Deleting it would mean
deleting all “the likes and sweet comments” She felt trapped, like she couldn’t move or think
straight.

“It won’t hurt enjoying a few attention, let it be.” A voice in her head replied her.

“Go ahead and see what that man has to say, he might have good intentions. Check him out, who
knows, he might be loaded, a marriage material.”

She chatted him up.

“Why would you write me such comment Mr ?” she typed, her fingers trembling as she hit send.

Anisah’s curiosity got the best of her and she waited patiently for his response.

She waited for what felt like an eternity, then her phone buzzed with a reply.

“He must be a busy man but doing what exactly?” Anisah’s imagination was running riot.

“I was just being honest,” the man wrote. “I think you’re really beautiful, you have everything in the
right proportion, and I wanted to let you know.” He flattered her.

Anisah felt conflicted. Part of her wanted to be flattered by the compliment, but another part of her
was repulsed by his crude comment.

“Ehrrmmm, thanks but we’ve never met, so…

“Do you go about commenting on ladies’ selfies on social media? Are you for real Mr Real Junaid or
what’s your name! Anisah said sarcastically.”

“If that’s your way of asking me to introduce myself, here goes: my name is Jamal Junaid, my friends
call me JJ” the man wrote.

“I’m a Muslim, studying Chemical Engineering, I’m in my final year of university. I hope I didn’t
offend you with my comment, I was just trying to be honest.” He concluded with a subtle apology.

Anisah was surprised by the response. She had expected him to be some sort of nuisance, but he
seemed like a genuine, polite guy. She found herself responding.

“No, you didn’t offend me, I was just surprised a stranger would be so explicit in the comment
section. I’m glad to know that you’re a Muslim.”

And it began!

Their chat-flow was smooth, one would think they’ve been together for long. A Facebook chat that
birthed their ill-fated relationship. The death that will kill a man begins as an appetite, indeed!

Anisah couldn't believe it! She had just finished her marathon phone call with JJ, and her mind was
buzzing with excitement. It felt like an eternity since they had started chatting, and now their

78 | P a g e
connection was taking on a life of its own. She couldn't resist replaying their conversation in her
head, over and over again. It was like a catchy tune she couldn't get out of her mind.

What started as innocent curiosity had blossomed into much more. Anisah and JJ had spent
countless hours chatting away, getting to know each other's quirks, dreams, and passions. They had
laughed together, shared secrets, and even confessed their embarrassing childhood stories. A kind
of chemistry developed between them and both consented to taking it further.

They graduated from chatting to video calling. That was a whole new level of excitement and
nervousness for both. JJ had suggested it as a way to "get to know each other even better," and
Anisah couldn't resist the thrill of seeing his face and hearing his voice in real-time. It was a
welcomed idea for Anisah for taking their connection to the next level. She felt like this was a secret
door opening to a whole new world of possibilities - so she allowed it be opened.

They had scheduled the weekend for a meet-up. Now that the weekend was just around the corner,
Anisah eagerly anticipated the proposed physical meeting. Her heart raced at the thought of finally
meeting JJ in person, feeling his presence, and experiencing the magic of their connection beyond
the digital realm. It was a mixture of anticipation and butterflies that danced in her stomach, like a
whirlwind of emotions.

As she put her phone down, Anisah couldn't help but smile. The journey from curiosity to a real
blossoming connection had been exhilarating, and she couldn't wait to see where it would lead. The
weekend couldn't come soon enough. She was ready to dive headfirst into the adventure that
awaited her, hand in hand with JJ.

As minutes ticked by and hours followed suit, Anisah found it uneasy to keep calm. The craving in
her seemed insatiable. Her heart yearned to behold JJ but that wasn’t all. She craved something
deeper, something that all the likes and comments and even her alluring JJ couldn’t satisfy. Though
she was too wrapped up in her new found instant gratification to differentiate or define this
particular yearning of her heart. This made her to ignore the inner voice that was calling out to her.
She drowned it out with the noise of her phone, the never-ending notifications, chats, video calls
and messages and different streams of content.

In preparation for her meet-up with JJ, Anisah went all out, she got a new dress, fancy cologne,
stylish purse and a matching pair of shoes. She wanted to look and feel like a princess when she
meet Jamal. It was all part of the plan to have a perfect weekend together.

They were to meet at the school cafeteria before proceeding to town for a movie night. Anisah
carefully selected a change of cloth and a portable weekend luggage bag. She ensured both were
handy enough and waited patiently. Also, she took her time to get everything covered in her plan to
stay the weekend away from Campus. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t let her stay calm, they
kept singing “this might be it!”

Weekend arrived but JJ didn’t. Anisah waited for minutes on end. Hours ticked by, each moment
passing with mounting disappointment and frustration. Her heart sank with every passing day. Her
excitement faded into uncertainty. She clung to her phone, yearning for the beep that would bring
solace, a message from JJ explaining his absence. Anisah was reduced to a child eagerly awaiting the
return of its mother.

She waited for weeks, wanting desperately for her phone to beep and JJ's message to pop up. Or his
call to come through.

79 | P a g e
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it, I got engaged with projects that must be submitted before the
deadline.”

OR

“Anis, bear with me for failing to show up today, as promised. You must believe me if I told you that
a test was fixed for the weekend? I’ll make it up to you”

Alas! Anisah got none of these, no message, no call. All she got was disappointment and questions.
Her own questions…”why?”

She found it unbelievable that a man could treat her like trash. She that had lured men and do as she
pleased with them. “Now that I decided to go into a serious relationship, this is what I gain?”

“How dare Jamal, how dare he throw me off-balance like this. Especially now that I’m trying to get
over dad’s and mum’s treatment of me as a second-best!”

Chapter Eighteen

Banaat’s Dilemma

“Dad is going to be upset when he sees these grades.” Baanat thought. “I worked so hard - tear,
blood and sweat - I tried my best. But dad wouldn’t want to hear it, he’s going to be disappointed in
me.”

The weight of her first semester results was crushing, Banaat had disappointed her parents again.
Most importantly, her dad. All she wanted was to make her dad proud, and now she was worried
that she had let him down.

Baanat was in second semester, 100 level in the university, she toiled day and night, struggling with
keeping afloat in her studies. Yet, there’s almost nothing to show for it.

“Have I chosen the wrong career? I might have to re-write JAMB.” She kept having different
conflicting ideas.

“How on earth am I going to pass through the university and sail smoothly if this persists? Career
choice is number one thing I need to learn in detail if I’m to choose the right course to go for in the
University. That’s if I have the courage to write another JAMB.”

She remembered the speech delivered by the school principal on her graduation from Senior
Secondary School, “Our teenagers need guidance every step of their lives. Especially at a time when
they are to choose career paths. A lot of them are misinformed due to the warped value system of
the society. There are students who go for science related courses because their successful role
models are in that filed. Some think since their parents are in the banking sector, they have to be
too, after all, daddy is always loaded! Most of our secondary school students have an erroneous
belief of what value is, they place a premium on money and celebrate materialism above other
things. Thus they go for courses where they believe can fetch them “easy money” Banking and
finance, for one.” Accounting is another…”

She shifted in her chair as she heard this, she saw herself as the culprit being referred to. But it was
too late for her. She had concluded her external examinations and was awaiting her results when the

80 | P a g e
Principal jolted her from her “follow follow” idea. Here she was, lost, confused and performing
woefully in her studies in the university.

When Banaat was in Secondary School, she lacked nothing. Her father, Mr Bakre dotted on her and
gave her everything she asked. He was the General Manager of Acetic Bank PLC. He earns a huge
sum and invested in other businesses too. Life was definitely good. So, she as her dad’s daughter
thought the little she could do was to follow in her father’s footsteps, be in the same field as him and
start earning in millions just like her dad. She believe with this, she could return the favour and make
her parents proud.

As Baanat ruminated on her situation, she realised that she couldn’t just wait around for her dad to
find out about her grades. She needed to take action and try to make things right. Maybe she could
talk to her mum and see if there was any way to convince her dad to change her department and
course of study. Or maybe she could come up with a plan to show her dad that she was serious
about doing better next semester. Whatever she did, she knew she couldn’t just sit back and do
nothing.

“Is this a good idea?” Banaat asked no one in particular.

She reached for her phone and dialed her Mum, hoping to confide in her, first.

“My Baby”

Banaat smiled, her mum would never stop calling her that, even as an undergraduate, she was still
her mother’s baby.

“Yes Mum, Assalam alaykum ”

“Waleiki salaam wa rahmatuLlaah darling. What’s going on? You sound like something’s weighing on
your mind. What’s up?”

“Mum, I’m having a bit of an internal conflict. I’m afraid I might be disappointing dad by doing
something I really want to do. But I’m also worried about disappointing myself if I keep doing
something I don’t really want to do.”

“Banaat, this sounds serious. First of all, you should never do something you don’t want to do just to
please someone else, okay. Second of all, it’s your dad we’re talking about here so, calm down and
rest assured, he’ll understand. Tell me, what this is all about?”

She narrated how she was finding her core courses difficult and how this is making her doubt her
career choice. She expressed her thoughts of changing majors.

After Banaat poured her mind to her mum, Mrs Bakre responded to her distraught daughter.

“Baby, I must start by apologising to you, I’m sorry for not being there when you were making such a
big decision of your life. I know how much your dad means to you and how important the
relationship you have with him is to you. I know you did what you did to please him. I also know that
if I was around then, he would involve me in the decision making and allow me guide you. So, once
again, forgive me.

81 | P a g e
You were supposed to be taken through some trainings before choosing a career path. As a
secondary school teacher myself, in my school, it’s a point of duty for us to educate our students to
consider the following before they choose.

Passion and skills: What do you love to do?

Personality: who are you?

Goals: what do you want for yourself?

Values: what are your core values, what do you hold in high esteem?

Job prospects: what areas are you looking forward to getting jobs from? What are the chances that
you’ll get high paying jobs with your career choice?

Educational costs and training: what is the cost of studying that cost? What is the financial
implication of bagging a degree in your chosen career?

“You see, for every child, it is very important to choose the right career at the right time because one
right decision will only bring happiness and success in your profession. Whereas one wrong choice
can damage your prospects and prosperity for many years.”

*Hmmm, you’re so right mum.”

“So, Banaat, I want you to reconsider your choice and take cognizance of the aforementioned points.
If you decide on changing majors, we’ll support you. If otherwise, you want to go ahead, we’re here
to support you.”

“Thanks so much mum, I trust that talking to you will bring some sort of relief and you didn’t
disappoint me, jazakillaah khayran.”

“Wa anti, Baby, wa anti fajazakiLlaah khayran. What else would you like to talk about?”

“Nothing mum, that’s all. I’m good all round, except for this career issue. And now that you gave me
your words of support, whatever I choose, I’m relieved.”

“Glad you’re fine now. I look forward to hearing from you, soon. Take care darling.”

“I’ll soon get back to you on my decision mum, In Shaa Allaah. Bye, warm regards to Dad.”

Main Library
UniFad Campus

Arabic Calligraphy

Banaat was sitting in the library, scrolling through her social media handles. She was feeling
particularly down about her coursework and wondering what she was doing wrong. Suddenly, she
felt a shadow fell over her and looked up to see who it was. Mumtaza was right there, standing
above her.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Mumtaza asked, pulling up a chair. "You look a little lost. Is everything
okay?"
I’m fine but not so fine.

82 | P a g e
“Whatever that means?”
"I'm just not sure if I'm in the right major," Banaat said, shaking her head.

Mumtaza looked at Banaat's phone and frowned. "You shouldn't be on social media at this time of
the day," she said. "You have exams coming up, shouldn’t you be focusing on your studies. Is
something going on?"

Banaat sighed and put her phone down. "I'm just feeling so lost, Mumtaza," she said. "I know my
father really wanted me to be an accountant, but I don't know if it's what I really want. I'm worried
that I'll let him down if I told him the truth."

"What do you mean, Banaat?" Mumtaza asked, her brow furrowed with concern. "You're not happy
studying accountancy? What would you rather be doing?"

"I'm not sure," Banaat said with a sigh. "I've always been interested in art and design, but my dad
thought that's not a stable career path. He wanted me to be an accountant which I'm not sure is the
right career for me."
"It's okay" Mumtaza said gently, holding Banaat’s hand.

"I think you have a few options," Mumtaza said. "You could either continue studying accountancy
and try to make the best of it, or you could look into pursuing a different career path. I know it's a
tough decision, but it's your life, and you need to make the choice that's best for you.

“And as for this,” Mumtaza signaled to her phone, “Don’t you think it's important to find a balance
between spending time online and spending time on your studies. Too much time on social media
can be unhealthy and distracting. You have no idea how much negative impact social media has on
your studies?"

Banaat's head bobbed in agreement, intrigued by Mumtaza’s words.

"Hey, spill the beans! What's the real reason you're up and about this early? Is it that you came to
the Library to read and focus, or you’re addicted to social media?" Mumtaza teased, playfully
swiping Banaat's phone from her grasp.

Banaat knew she was found out, she didn’t even try to give excuses, she knew they would sound
flimsy.

"So, you’re trying to escape from your studies?”

“I don’t even know! I was going to read but then I thought I should check what my friends are up to.”

“I see, you’re terrified of missing out on the latest buzz with your buddies? Whatever is the case,
trust me, there are better ways to recharge and make the most of your time."

“I guess I’m open to learning”

Mumtaza leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "How about exploring a new hobby that
ignites your passion? Whether it's painting, learning a new language or diving into the world of

83 | P a g e
literature. Finding a healthier outlet will not only help you relax but also unlock hidden talents within
you. Imagine the joy of discovering a new side of yourself, all while rejuvenating your mind and
soul!"

Mumtaza has ignited something in Banaat’s mind, the latter sat upright and faced Mumtaza with
eyes full of curiosity.
Mumtaza handed back the phone, a mischievous smile on her face. "So, my dear Banaat, let's
embark on a journey of self-discovery and productive me-time. Trust me, the possibilities are
endless, and the rewards are priceless!"

"I love to paint,"Banaat said, perking up a bit. "But my dad doesn't think I should pursue art as a
career, said it isn’t lucrative."

"That's a common misconception," Mumtaza said. “If that’s what you love to do, make du’a about it
and go for it.”

"I love Arabic calligraphy and I've learnt a lot about it before University, in fact, I have some designs
made back home."

"That's incredible, Banaat! Arabic calligraphy is a beautiful and ancient art form, and it takes a lot of
skill to master. I'm so impressed that you've already done so much with it. It sounds like you have a
real passion for Arabic Language, and that's something you shouldn't ignore."

"Yes, I do. I learnt Arabic back in secondary school. Speaking, writing and reading isn't an issue with
me."

"Maa Shaa Allaah! Have you thought about maybe doing Arabic Art as a minor in university, so you
can still pursue your passion while also pursuing your degree?"

"If only dad would allow me," Banaat lamented. "He didn’t see that path as lucrative. He has never
bought into it"

"I can understand where your dad is coming from. There's a lot of stigma around pursuing a career in
the arts, and many people believe that it's not a viable option. But the truth is, yours is a special
form of art because it has nothing to do with drawing per se. It is Arabic calligraphy we’re talkkng
about. It is about the language of the Qur'an, ARABIC! There are Arabic calligraphers out there who
have made names for themselves and made a living off their work. It's not an easy road, but it's
certainly possible. I think there's a way you could convince your dad to give you a chance, try
convincing him" Mumtaza said, excited for Banaat.

"That's such a creative solution! It sound like a great way for me to find a balance between my
studies and my passion for art. In fact, I could potentially turn my calligraphy into a small business
venture, selling my work on campus and using the money to support myself. This way, I'm not only
pursuing my education, but also developing my skills and honing my craft. And who knows, maybe
one day, I'll be able to turn this into a full-time career.”
This sounded like a win-win to BANAAT and she was excited about trying it out.
"But… "

84 | P a g e
"I know it's not what your dad wants for you, but I really think you should consider pursuing your
passion alongside your degree," Mumtaza said. "Even your dad would be proud of you. Start small,
create some, sell some. Make money while you study to earn your degree. You can't give up on
something you love without even trying." As Mumtaza expressed concern for her friend's dilemma,
Banaat remained quiet for a moment, then finally looked up at her. "You really have it well-thought
out. I am glad to have you Sis Mumtaza, your insight into this has really lifted my spirit. Thanks for
your large heart, you always do your best to bridge the age gap between us with love and
humility, thanks for always."

"So, you'd give it a try?"

"Absolutely!" Banaat said enthusiastically.

"Arabic calligraphy is such a beautiful art form, and there's so much demand for it. People are drawn
to the intricate designs and the cultural significance of the art. I think if you put your mind to it, you
could really make something of yourself as an Arabic calligraphy artist."

Banaat thought about what Mumtaza was saying and something about it struck a chord. "I'll have to
talk to mum about this, I'll let her know I have a solution already and that I need her blessings."

"That's the spirit!" Mumtaza said with a grin. "I think if you explain your plan to your mum, she'll be
supportive. You're not giving up on your education - you're actually finding a way to make it work for
you. And the beauty of your plan is that you can still use your degree to find a job if the art route
doesn't work out. It's a win-win!

“I agree, totally. Thank you.”

"Na'am, AlhamduliLlaah. Remember to seek Allaah's direction and guidance, ask Allaah to bless your
decision."

Mumtaza revelled in the vibe that she was able to help a junior friend find clarity.
Feeling a sense of satisfaction at having been able to help her friend, Mumtaza declared "I know how
hard it can be to feel lost and confused, so I'm glad I was able to provide some clarity. In Sha Allaah,
you will find success and happiness in whatever path you choose, as long as you put your trust in
Allaah. May He guide you and protect you always. Ameen." She gave Banaat a warm smile and the
latter felt a sense of belonging and deep connection.

Banaat smiled back at Mumtaza, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you so much, Mumtaza,
You've really helped me to see things in a new light. You're such a good friend. I'm so lucky to have
you in my life. May Allah bless you for your kindness and generosity." Mumtaza beamed at these
words, her heart swelling with joy.

"JazakAllah khayran for the du'a, Banaat. That means a lot to me," she said. "And I'm always here for
you if you need me.”

From that day on, Banaat and Mumtaza's friendship grew into a strong and lasting bond. The
former looked up to Mumtaza as a mentor and guide, seeking her advice on everything, from

85 | P a g e
schoolwork to personal issues. Mumtaza was always there for her, ready to offer a listening ear, a
shoulder to cry on, or just a friendly chat over snacks.

The two of them shared a sisterhood bond that went beyond just friendship. It was a bond that
would last a lifetime. Their sisterhood extended even beyond the walls of university campus! Life
had another surprise in store for Banaat and Mumtaza . As fate would have it, their paths
intertwined once again. From a chance encounter at university to a relationship beyond mere
friendship, theirs was an extraordinary union. It’s a true testament to the power of friendship and
the beauty of life’s unexpected twists and turns.

Chapter Nineteen

We Meet To Part.

As the sun began to set on Mumtaza’s last day on campus, Banaat’s heart was heavy. Her best senior
friend, the one who had been by her side through so many challenges and triumphs, was wrapping
up her degree programme and would soon be leaving. The thought of not having her senior
companion around anymore was almost unbearable.

“I’m going to miss you so much, my dearest Sister and friend,” Banaat said, tears welling up in her
eyes. “We’ve been through so much together, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Mumtaza gave her a tight hug, tears falling down her cheeks as well. “I know it’s hard,” she said, her
voice quivering. “But we’ll always have each other in our hearts, no matter where we are.

For Banaat, Mumtaza had been more than just a senior – she had been a mentor, a guide, and a
friend. When Banaat had struggled with her studies, Mumtaza had been there to offer support and
advice. She had helped Banaat find her way and had always been there to cheer her on. Now, as she
faced the prospect of losing her closest confidante, Banaat’s heart was filled with a mixture of
gratitude and sadness.

On Mumtaza’s last day on campus, the two of them sat together on a bench near the Library, talking
and reminiscing about all the memories they had made together over the years.

“Don’t you worry,” Mumtaza said with a smile. “We’re going to keep in touch all the time. And I
know you’re going to do amazing things, just like you always do. I’ll always be here for you, no
matter where we are or how far apart we are. We’re sisters now, and that’s something that can’t be
broken by distance or time.”

Banaat wiped her eyes, taking comfort in Mumtaza’s words. “I know you’re right. I just can’t help
feeling sad about you leaving.

“I wish I could go with you to help you pack your stuff. Banaat said, her voice wavering slightly.

“I appreciate the offer, but I know you have your own things to do,” Mumtaza replied with a
reassuring smile. “Besides, you and I know that we’ll do more of wiping tears than packing my stuff.”

They both laughed.

And Banaat cried again.

86 | P a g e
“I’m just going to miss your company, that’s all,” Banaat said, a little embarrassed by her own
emotional outburst.

“You’ve been of help to me in my study and personal life. I’ll miss our chit chat, the insightful stories
and impactful ideas you’re always sharing with me.”

Mumtaza’s eyes softened. “Banaat, you’re my friend and little-sister for life, and that means a lot.
Distance can’t change that. Also, don’t forget the world is a global village now, especially with real
time video calls and chats, we have the opportunity to keep each other company even from afar.”

“In Shaa Allaah.”

“Just like yesterday, the day we met, I was so distraught about my performance, I was crying like a
child. Remember we met in the Library, how time flies?”

“It’s true,” Mumtaza said thoughtfully. “Time flies by so quickly, and life moves in phases. Childhood
seems to go on forever, but then suddenly you’re an adult. We all grow and change with the passing
of time, but there’s something we always hold on to, never letting go so easily. It matters a lot to
everyone to hold on to in every stage of life. Guess what that is?”

“Friendship!”

“Yes, friendship. No matter where life takes us, friendship is one of those things that endures. It
transcends time and space, it cares not about age-gap, as is in our case. So Banaat, not to worry,
you’re like the little sister I never had, you occupy a special place in my heart. May Allaah preserve
us upon goodness, you have nothing to worry about because you’ll forever be my friend okay.”
Mumtaza gave Banaat a reassuring stare before going on.

“Even if I fall in love, I’ll keep your place in my heart secure.” Mumtaza said, winking at Banaat.

“That’s heartwarming,” Banaat said, her eyes shining with amusement.

“So, don’t cry because it’s over, smile because ‘this’ happened.’”

“AlhamduliLlaah! Being with you is always a moment of reflection and added value.”

Banaat, there’s something else I need to tell you,” Mumtaza said, her voice a little shaky. “I just
received my acceptance letter to study abroad. I’ll be going to the USA for my Masters programme.”

Banaat’s mouth fell, she was taken by surprise. “Wow, that’s huge news!” Banaat exclaimed, still a
bit in shock. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I’m so proud of you for getting accepted.

“Yeah, me too.”

Banaat watched her friend’s face and knew that the emotions she was feeling were probably even
more complex than she was letting on. She too was feeling a bit emotional but trying hard to keep
hers in check.

“Mumtaza , it’s incredible, you’re making us proud! I’m so happy for you, but I’m also so sad to think
of you being so far away.”

“Bittersweet, right?” Mumtaza expressed.

87 | P a g e
“When do you leave?”

“In a couple of months,” Mumtaza replied. “It’s all happening so fast, making me excited and
nervous at the same time.”

“I know, it’s a lot to take in,” Banaat said, giving her friend an assuring glance. “But you’ll make the
most of it and bring laurels home. That, I’m sure of.”

Banaat continued, “this is such an exciting opportunity for you, and you deserve it,” “You’re such a
bright and talented person, and the medical world is going to be a better place with your kind in it!”

The two friends shared a laugh and hugged before saying good-bye, holding onto the moment for
just a little longer.

Chapter Twenty

THE PACKAGE

Banaat’s heart leapt as she saw the return address on the package in her hands. It was from her
sister and friend, Mumtaza, who had been studying in the USA within the past year. Banaat couldn’t
wait to open the package and see what was inside.

Ripping open the wrapper, she found a note from Mumtaza and a small parcel wrapped in brown
paper. The note read, “My dearest sister and friend, I hope this package finds you well. I miss you
every day, so I wanted to send you a little piece of my heart.

Banaat’s heart swelled with emotion as she read the note. She carefully unwrapped the parcel to
find a beautifully painted Arabic calligraphy piece. It was an intricate design of the words, “Blessings
of Allaah be upon you.” Banaat held the piece to her heart, feeling close to her friend, even though
they were oceans apart.

She placed the calligraphy piece on her desk, admiring it as the afternoon sun illuminated the room.
It was a reminder of their love and friendship that transcended distance and time.

Banaat’s eyes welled with emotion as she read the heartfelt message. “AlhamduliLlaah” was all she
could say. This was a skill Mumtaza learnt from her, the only thing she believed she was able to give
in return for the latter’s mentoring while Banaat, on the other hand, learnt a whole world of things
from Mumtaza. “I’m so proud that Mumtaza can do Arabic calligraphy this well now.” She smiled at
the thought of her first and only apprentice so far.

Banaat quickly fired up her laptop and opened her video chat programme. She typed out a message
to Mumtaza: “I just received your beautiful gift! I love it so much. I’m so grateful to have a friend like
you. Can we video-chat later today? I want to see your face!”

A few minutes later, Banaat’s computer pinged with an incoming call. She answered and was
greeted by the smiling face of her dear friend, Mumtaza.

“Oh my God, it’s so good to see you!” Mumtaza exclaimed, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners as
she smiled at her friend. “I miss you every day, I’m so glad we can talk like this. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, I can be better though.”

88 | P a g e
What about you? How’s American soil?

“Don’t even go there, America is America. I’m occupying myself with my study programme.”

“How’s UniFad, update me about you activities on campus.”

Banaat told her all about her classes and the new friends she had made. She shared the details of
her life while Mumtaza listened attentively, offering her advice and encouragement.

Mumtaza was happy Banaat was doing well by herself. It gave her great joy that she had mentored
her well enough to take care of herself while focusing on her studies.

As they chatted, both friends felt the distance between them melt away. It was almost like they were
sitting in the same room.

“My calligraphy designs have been selling well in the students' market!” Banaat said excitedly. “I
can’t believe people are actually buying them. It’s a small income, but it’s something. And it makes
me feel like I’m doing something worthwhile with my art. Know what the best part is? My grades
have never been better! Dad is so pleased. I think he’s finally coming around to the idea that Art can
be a part of my future.”

Mumtaza’s eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful! I’m so happy to hear that things are going well for you.
You’re a strong, determined woman and that is one of the guarantees for success.”

“I can’t forget to ask about Lukman!” Banaat changed the subject, eager to hear how her friend’s
new life as a wife was going. “How is married life? Has it been everything you hoped it would be?”

Mumtaza ’s face softened into a dreamy smile. “It’s been amazing,” she said. “Lukman is so kind and
caring. He’s always making me laugh, he’s supportive of my goals and I feel so lucky to have found
him. We’re planning to start a family soon, In Shaa Allaah”

“Awwwwwnn, that’s great! What are your plans, tell me.”

My study is almost over and I plan to make the most of the first few months when I’m done, so if
Allaah wills, we’re hoping to start trying for a baby by then.

"Wow, your plans are absolutely thrilling!" Banaat exclaimed, her eyes filled with excitement. "And I
couldn't be happier for you, knowing that you and Lukman are considering starting a family. I have
no doubt that the two of you will be incredible parents, overflowing with love. May Allaah bless you
with children who’ll bring joy and warmth to your hearts."

"Aameen, and the same for you," Mumtaza replied, her voice filled with sincerity.

Mumtaza blushed, her mind drifting into deep contemplation. "After waiting for nearly a year, I
finally received my work permit and managed to secure a job. Lukman and I are planning to relocate
closer to my workplace. There's so much to anticipate, but also a fair share of unknowns. It's a mix of
excitement and a hint of fear."

"Khayr bi’idhniLlaah ta’ala . Trust in Allaah, and everything will fall into place," Banaat reassured her.

"Aameen, In Shaa Allaah!”

89 | P a g e
“Mumtaza, I'm thrilled for what lies ahead for you, and I pray that Allaah grants you what’s best for
you. I can't wait to witness the wonders that life has in store for you, I have no doubt that you'll be
an exceptional mother, just as you are an extraordinary friend. May Allaah shower you and your
family with everlasting happiness and continuous success." Banaat supplicated for her friend.

Mumtaza's eyes welled up with emotion. “Thank you, my dear. I feel so blessed to have you. May
Allaah shower you with His blessings, too. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”

"So, spill the beans," Mumtaza whispered, her voice dripping with secrecy. "Have you met him yet?
Have you met your soulmate? Any tempting proposals knocking on your door?”
“Me?” Banaat burst into laughter, the idea of a proposal sounded like a distant fairytale to her. She
hadn't allowed any man to come close, too consumed by her studies and passion. The concept of
love and commitment seemed like a distant dream. "But who knows?" she mused. "Perhaps destiny
has a surprise waiting for me, just around the corner. In Shaa Allaah."

Mumtaza shook her head, feeling a pang of sympathy for Banaat's lackadaisical approach towards
matters of the heart. With earnest eyes, she offered heartfelt advice, urging Banaat to seize the
opportunity when the right man comes along. "May Allaah bestow upon you a life filled with
boundless happiness and love," she prayed sincerely. "May your heart's desires be fulfilled beyond
measure. Aameen."

“Aameen” Banaat’s heart filled with gratitude for her friend’s du’a. “Ameen, and the same for you.
May Allaah protect you and your family, always.”

As their video chat came to an end, Mumtaza and Banaat bid each other farewell, both feeling
grateful for the friendship that had blossomed between them. “Assalam alaykum, my dear friend,”
Mumtaza said. “And know that I’m always just a call away. I love you.”

“Wa’alaykumus salamwa rahmatuLlaah, ya habibti,” Banaat replied, her eyes shining. “I love you too.
And I’ll talk to you soon, In Shaa Allaah.”

The screen went dark, but the warmth of their friendship lingered on.

Chapter Twenty-one

LAGOS

Saturday

5th, June

2 p.m.

Mumtaza landed in her homeland few hours back and the first person she called to inform of her
arrival among her friends was Qurrah . She called her after her mum picked her up at the arrivals in

90 | P a g e
the airport. She was happy to be back on familiar soil. The weather was friendly, the people were
funny and there was this sense of peace and an aura of belonging here. Home sweet home!

"AlhamduliLlaah, it feels incredible to be back! Thank you for coming to get me, Mum,"

"Asekan, ọmọ Olofa, Omofolakemi, Ayomipo, I'm so happy to be here for you. Glad to have you back
home," her mum responded, overwhelmed with emotion.

“AlhamduliLlaah, Mum, how I missed you!”

"I missed you too. I'm thrilled that you made it in time for your brother's wedding. He'll be over the
moon when he sees you," Mumtaza’s mum declared, excitement evident in her voice.

“I hope you didn’t spill the beans and tell him I was coming,” Mumtaza whispered, a mischievous
twinkle in her eyes.

“Cross my heart! I didn’t utter a word. My lips are sealed, just as you instructed. And that’s exactly
why I’m the one here to pick you up,” her mother assured her. “I remain your ever-loyal secret-
keeper!”

“Thank you, Mum. Thank you for always being my confidante,” Mumtaza said, filled with gratitude.

“Anytime, girl. I’ve got your back, always,” her mother replied, her love and support shining through
to illuminate her smiling face.

With her mother by her side, she knew that her homecoming would be nothing short of
extraordinary. The adventures and surprises that awaited her were just beginning and she had not
even the faintest idea what’s to come.

"So, my dear, how's married life treating you? Is Lukman treating you like the queen you are?" Her
mother inquired, eager for details.

"Mum, I can't complain. We're in love and doing our best to support each other. Marriage is still an
uncharted territory, but we're navigating it with love and du’a." She replied, her voice tinged with a
hint of uncertainty.

"What's really going on? Your response is bursting with unspoken thoughts. Care to share?" her
mother probed, sensing something was amiss.

"Same old, same old, Mum. We've been trying to conceive for almost two years now, it's been one
disappointment after another. Lukman is keeping a brave face, but I can't help but feel restless. I've
prayed, I've shed tears and even consulted my gynecologist, but all I hear is 'everything is fine'," she
confessed, frustration evident in her voice.

"Everything is fine then?" her mother echoed, trying to offer reassurance.

"Mum, you too? If everything is fine, then why am I not getting pregnant?" she questioned, her voice
filled with a mix of longing and desperation.

91 | P a g e
"Allaah will grant you the best in His own time. Hold onto your faith and never lose hope in His
mercy. He will answer your prayers and you will be blessed, soon," her mother comforted, her words
carrying a sense of unwavering belief.

"Aameen. Jazakillah khayran, Mum. Thank you so much for always making du’a for me. Your prayers
during our phone conversations bring me solace and peace. May Allaah preserve both you and Dad
and shower you with goodness. By the way, how is he? How's Dad doing?" she asked, shifting the
focus to her parents, grateful for their unwavering support.

“Ademi is doing well, patiently awaiting your arrival at home. He has been incredibly happy ever
since the day you informed us of your upcoming visit.”

“I know, right! I know how excited dad can be.”

During the drive home, mother and daughter engaged in lively conversation and enjoyed each
other’s company. It had been a long time since they had this kind of closeness, the last time being
during Mumtaza’s wedding ceremony, which was two years ago. Time flies indeed.

“I have made all the necessary preparations for your arrival at home. The dishes are ready, and I
have even prepared ẹfọ riro specially for you. Your dad is also thrilled to have you back. He had
ordered that your old room be vacated by Selim. He did some repainting for you and furnished it
with decors and items you’ll love to see. I told him you’re spending only two weeks and he said
“then let her have the best two-weeks-Nigerian experience in her father’s house,” her mother said,
mimicking her husband and bringing Mumtaza out of her daydream.

The latter burst into laughter for how effortlessly her mum was able to mimic her dad.

“Mum, that’s my dad we’re talking about remember?” She reminded her mum rolling her eyes.

“As if I forgot!”

OLAYOYIN RESIDENT
4:35pm,
The drive home was smooth, with no traffic or typical Lagos-driver drama. Mother and daughter
arrived safely at their residence around 4:30pm. Mumtaza couldn't help but notice how little had
changed since she relocated to America. "What exactly is the Nigerian government doing to improve
the state of things in this country?" she asked.

“Except for a few major roads, things remain unchanged in terms of infrastructure,” her mum
replied.

“May God bless Nigeria with good leaders who will prioritise doing things right for the sake of the
masses,” Mumtaza said, expressing her hope for a better future.

As the car pulled up to the house, Mumtaza’s heart started pounding with anticipation. She stepped
out of the car and took a deep breath of the warm, humid air, savoring the familiar smell and sound
of home. She could hear the excited chatter of her family as they gathered in the living room to greet
her. Everyone was finally aware that she was on Nigerian soil, except Imran.

92 | P a g e
The moment she entered the living room, her eyes met with her father’s, and they glittered with
affection. Mumtaza’s father wrapped her in a tight embrace, whispering in her ear, “Welcome home,
my dear daughter. We’ve missed you so much.” She kept herself in that embrace for a while before
letting go of her father. “How I love this old man!”

Mumtaza was greeted again by colorful decorations, confetti and balloons. “Welcome home” was
boldly written on them. It was so soothing to be back in familiar surroundings after being away for so
long.

“I have missed this place,” Mumtaza said, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

Her mother smiled warmly. “We have missed you too, my dear. It’s good to have you back.”

Selim ran towards Mumtaza from across the room. “Big Sis!” He exclaimed as Mumtaza’s arms
swallowed him in a tight hug and the duo looked into each other’s eyes, chorusing “I missed you”
when Selim released his sister, the first question he asked was “where is the iPhone you promised
me?”

“You! Do you ever forget?”

“No, I don’t, especially if it’s a promise made by my big sister.”

“All right, I have it, I’ll get it for you when I unpack.”

“Oh my! You’re the best!”

“So, where’s Imran? Didn’t you say you sent for him?” Mumtaza asked facing her parents.

“He should be here any minute” her dad responded.

Just then, the sound of the gate was heard being opened.

“That should be Imran,” their dad said.

As Imran walked through the door of his parents’ home, he felt happy having his dad and mum,
they’re such a blessing to him and his siblings.

Deep within him, he knew his parents wanted to talk to him about his upcoming wedding and he
was hoping to get their blessing, something he had got over and over again. He had no idea that he
was in for an even bigger surprise.

Upon entering the living room, his eyes met those of his sister, Mumtaza. His jaw dropped and he
stood there, speechless, for what felt like an eternity. Imran stood there, frozen in shock, Mumtaza
stood up and walked over to him, her arms open wide for a hug. “Surprise!” she said, a huge grin on
her face. “I couldn’t miss my brother’s big moment, so I decided to come home for a little while.”

Imran shook his head in disbelief, then rushed to embrace his sister, his heart filled with a mix of joy
and disbelief. “How did you even get here?” He asked, still trying to process what was happening.

Then it clicked into place for Imran. He had been so focused on preparation for his wedding that he
hadn't even considered that his parents might have had something up their sleeves. "I'm guessing
this was your doing, huh?" he asked his parents, who were beaming with triumph. "Of course it
was!" his mother said. "We couldn't let our daughter miss such a special moment . And now we can
all celebrate together!” Their father added. Imran was still reeling from the shock, but he knew that
this was a moment to cherish.

93 | P a g e
After the initial excitement had settled, Imran and Mumtaza sat down to catch up. They’ve got a lot
to talk about especially considering that her immediately younger brother is marrying her dear
mentee-turned-friend, Banaat.

“So, tell me everything about your time in America,” Imran said, jolting his sister back to their
discussion.

Mumtaza launched into a story about her life in America. From the exciting opportunities to the
challenges of being away from home. She didn’t forget to ask about Imran’s job, his Engineering
company that be brought up to stardom from the scratch.

“Business is good, AlhamduliLlaah”

“That’s great, My darling CEO brother.”

They both laughed.

She could tell her little brother was doing well for himself but hearing him confirm it gave her
assurance that he was indeed ready to raise a family of his own and that he could take care of her
dear friend.

“How’s Banaat, are you treating her well? That girl means a lot to me Imran. I’m happy you’re
marrying her, I’m sincerely hoping that you both will be happy together.”

"I'm treating her with the utmost respect and love, as she deserves," Imran replied, his voice serious.
"She has been such a blessing in my life, and I can't wait to make her my wife. I know she's meant for
me, and I'm sure we'll be very happy together." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "But
I'm nervous too. This is a big step, and I want to do everything right.”

"I know you'll be the best husband to Banaat," Mumtaza reassured him. "You have such a good
heart, and you're so thoughtful and kind. I've seen how dedicated and thoughtful you are as a
brother, so don’t worry, I know you’ll be the best husband to Banaat,” Mumtaza reassured him. “You
have such a good heart, you’re thoughtful and kind and I’ve seen how dedicated and loving you are
as my brother, I’m sure you’ll do more for your wife.”

“This is not to say that I don’t understand your nervousness, I do. Marriage is a big commitment and
it’s natural to feel some anxiety. But I know you’ll be great. Just remember to be patient and
understanding towards her. Always communicate openly and honestly with her as well.” She smiled
at him. “I know you’ll make a wonderful team, both of you.”

Imran took a deep breath, feeling reassured by his sister's words.

“Thanks big sis, with your assurance, I’m now ready to bring my bride home!”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit! Tell me, how far have you gone with wedding plans?”

“Nothing much has been planned big sis, I was hoping to call you after seeing mum and dad, I had
not the slightest idea you were in Nigeria.”

“OK then, let’s start with the basics,” Mumtaza said, clapping her hands together. “Where are you
thinking of having the wedding?”

Imran thought for a moment. “Banaat really loves the outdoors, and I think a Masjid wedding would
be perfect. Maybe somewhere with a beautiful view, and plenty of flowers.”

94 | P a g e
Mumtaza nodded, a smile on her face. “That sounds lovely. What about the reception?

"I think something more casual and intimate would do," Imran said, his eyes lighting up. "Maybe we
could do it outdoors too, with a picnic-style setup. It would be a celebration of love and friendship
and a chance for our families to really get to know each other." He grinned at Mumtaza. "Does that
sound like the right vibe?"

Mumtaza was beaming at this point. "Oh, absolutely. It sounds like the perfect celebration for you
both and you have it all planned.”

“We’re good to go then”

“Yes, we are, may Allaah make it a reality and bless it.”

“Aameen”

Later that night, everybody settled down in the living room, catching up on all the news and events
that had happened in their lives during Mumtaza’s absence. It was a joyous reunion, filled with
laughter and heartfelt conversations.

Mumtaza couldn’t help but feel grateful for her family and the love they shared. She looked around
the table, taking in the familiar faces and the delicious aroma of the ẹfọ riro her mother had
prepared. “Having a loving family to return to and call your own is indeed an underrated blessing.”
She thought.

Chapter Twenty-two

SHOCKING NEWS

Around midnight, Mumtaza decided it was time to rest for the night due to her exhaustion and the
upcoming busy day ahead. She had planned to go shopping with her mother to purchase some items
that she had forgotten to bring along.

"Imran, Selim, please excuse me. I need to get some sleep, we have an early start tomorrow.” She
turned to her parents too, “Mum, Dad, have a good night, may the day break."

As she stood up to make her way to the bedroom, she stumbled and fell back onto the nearby
cushion. Thankfully, she hadn't moved far from where she had initially risen.

"SubhanaLlaah, what's wrong, Mumtaza?" Imran was alarmed. He quickly rushed to his sister's side
to help her up, only to realize that she had passed out her eyes were closed, her hands dropped, and
her body was weak. She was gone!

"Selim! Daddy!" Imran's voice pierced the air!

Those previously engrossed in their own activities immediately turned their attention to Imran and
rushed towards him. Frantic calls for Mumtaza echoed through the room. All went unanswered.
Their mum ran to the kitchen, got a cup of water and hurriedly splashed it on her face while
repeatedly calling her daughter’s name.

The maid suggested that they lay Mumtaza down while ensuring a steady flow of fresh air. After a
tense few minutes, she regained consciousness. Without hesitation, they all hurried to the hospital,
with their dad mum sitting beside Mumtaza while Selim was at the passenger’s seat and Imran

95 | P a g e
behind the wheel. The drive to the family clinic was fast and silent except for their mother who kept
calling Mumtaza at intervals, she refused to let her hand off hers.

At the hospital, Mumtaza was immediately whisked away into the care of the medical staff while her
family anxiously gathered in the waiting room, their hearts heavy with worry. Time seemed to
stretch on endlessly as they clung to each other for support, their eyes fixed on the swinging doors
that separated them from Mumtaza’s fate.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor emerged from inside the ward. The family held
their breath, waiting.

With a calm demeanor, doctor Hikmah addressed the family, her voice steady yet tinged with a hint
of astonishment. She explained that during the course of Mumtaza's examination, they had made an
unexpected discovery. Her mother shifted in her chair and at the same time squeezed her husband’s
hand.

“Mumtaza is eight weeks pregnant!” Doctor Hikmah spoke on.

The news reverberated through the room, causing a wave of emotions to wash over the family.
Shock, joy, and a sense of relief mingled in the air. Mumtaza's mother was besides herself with
excitement. Again, her hands instinctively reaching for her husband’s, as tears of relief streamed
down her face. “Kh my darling! AlhamduliLlaah.”

The doctor went on to explain that Mumtaza's fainting spell was due to fatigue from the extensive
hours of journeying through air. With a reassuring tone, the doctor addressed the family further,
emphasising that Mumtaza and her unborn baby were not in any immediate danger.

"All is well," Doctor Hikmah reassured them. "Mumtaza simply needs to take it easy now that she's
an expectant mother. Pregnancy can be physically demanding, especially after such a long trip. It's
important for her to prioritise rest and relaxation. I take it she wasn’t aware she was pregnant."

“No, she wasn’t!” their mother answered.

Doctor Hikmah advised that Mumtaza should remain in the hospital for the next 24 hours to rest and
regain her strength. “Engaging in any strenuous activities is strongly discouraged during this time.
The doctor emphasised. “Rest is crucial for her well-being and the health of the baby.”

“We’ll ensure that, In Shaa Allaah.”

"After a few days of rest and proper care, Mumtaza will be strong and healthy," Doctor Hikmah
explained. "In addition to rest, I recommend she takes her prescribed vitamins. These will provide
the necessary nutrients to support her and the baby's development."

The family nodded, their worries gradually easing off as they absorbed the doctor's guidance. They
recognised the importance of allowing Mumtaza the time and space she needed to recover and
embrace her pregnancy fully.

When the doctor returned to the ward, she went straight to Mumtaza’s room. She gently woke
Mumtaza by rubbing her fingers and holding onto her hand.

“Mumtaza, you’re fine now. Can you please sit up for me, I have some news to share with you.

Mumtaza looked tired but managed to sit up, supporting her back with a pillow laid against the wall.

“Yes Doctor.”

96 | P a g e
“I guess you’re unaware, you’re pregnant and eight weeks gone!”

Mumtaza was astounded beyond words!

Her face lighten up and she gasped.

“So…” her words trailed off as she ran her hands over her stomach.

“Yes, you are! Congratulations.”

Mumtaza’s eyes widened in a mix of astonishment and delight as the doctor shared the unexpected
news of her pregnancy. A surge of joy filled her heart, and a big smile spread across her face.
Excitement bubbled within her, knowing that a new life was growing inside her.

“I’m going to be a mother, at last!” she whispered to herself, filled with awe and happiness.

Immediately the doctor left, Mumtaza couldn’t wait any longer. The thought of sharing this
incredible news with her husband, Lukman, who was still in America, made her even more eager.

She longed to see the joy on his face and embrace him tightly. She longed to feel the warmth of his
love, she wanted to celebrate this milestone with him. “If only he was here.”

Unable to contain her excitement, Mumtaza reached for her phone and dialed Lukman’s number on
Whatsapp, “only a video call would do the magic.” As the phone rang, her heart raced with
anticipation. Finally, he answered, and their voices and images connected across the distance.

“Lukman!” Mumtaza exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of joy and longing. “I have the most
amazing news to share with you.”

“Really, what’s on your mind, wait, what’s this, where are you?”

And she dropped the news!

“We’re going to have a baby!”

“Oh my world, SubhanaLlaah! AlhamduliLlaah! What did you say?”

“You heard me right.”

Lukman’s voice echoed with happiness on the other end of the line. “Mumtaza, my love, that’s
incredible! I can’t believe it! We’re going to be parents!”

“Yes we are my darling. I’m carrying our baby. The doctor just confirmed it. I’m in the hospital.”

“My Love, I love you so much my darling. Please do take care of yourself and be safe. Do not stress
yourself babe, once the wedding celebration is over, I’ll come over to get you.”

“Is that necessary?”

“Yes, it is. I’ll book my flight ahead, In Shaa Allaah, we’re returning to US together.”

The two lovebirds exchanged endearing words. Their exchange was filled with laughter, tears of joy,
and affectionate words. They professed love for one another, pledging to support each other every
step of the way. They longed to be in each other's arms, to experience the excitement of their
growing family together.

"We will be reunited soon, my beloved," Lukman promised. "I eagerly await the moment when I’ll

97 | P a g e
hold you in my arm and feel our baby's movements. We will create beautiful memories together,
bi’idhniLlaah"

Mumtaza's heart overflowed with love, her voice filled with tenderness. "I cannot wait to be
embraced by you, Lukman. We will cherish every moment and build a nurturing home for our little
one.

With renewed determination, they eagerly awaited the day when they would be reunited and
embark on this wonderful journey of parenthood together. Mumtaza's heart was filled with
gratitude for the love they shared and the blessings that awaited them. And as they bid each other
farewell, their hearts were filled with hope and the promise of a bright and love-filled future.
Allaah’s time is surely the best!

Mumtaza was discharged from the hospital the following afternoon. Her mum and dad were there
to take her home. Imran and Selim had been running errands in preparation for the Nikkah.

“Thank you, Dad and Mum, for everything,” she said, her voice filled with love and appreciation.

Her mother smiled back, her eyes shining with pride. “You’re always welcome, my dear. We are
happy to have you back home, safe, sound and expecting,” she winked. A knowing smile on her face.
Just yesterday, her mum was telling her Allaah’s time was the best.

Mumtaza smiled back at her mother. She understood perfectly well all the unspoken thoughts going
on in hers and her mum’s mind.

And at that moment, surrounded by the warmth of her family, she was grateful for having them, her
family meant the world to her.

Chapter Twenty-three

The Divorce!

‘Girl, isn’t it sleek, Maa Shaa Allaah! These were words Mumtaza kept repeating as she took turns
and navigate sharp ends avoiding other vehicles while driving through the steep road that led to
Qurrah ’s house. She made a dive for the long, tarred MKO Abiola way, the road may take longer
time but it’s better, Qurrah said.

“I’m pampering your Mercedes C-Class, wouldn’t want a stain on it now, would you?” Mumtaza
asked.

“Please be careful, this baby is precious to me.” Answered Qurrah .

As Mumtaza drove down the winding road, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement and joy.
The road may have been longer, but it was a beautiful drive and a great opportunity to catch up with
her dear friend. “You just want to make sure this ‘baby’ stays in pristine condition,” Mumtaza
quipped, grinning over at Qurrah in the passenger’s seat.

“Yes please, after all, it’s not every day one get to drive a car like this!” Qurrah joked.

Mumtaza took a sharp turn, then continued straight ahead.

“You can’t blame me for telling you to be careful, if not you, I can’t allow anybody drive it, not even
Olami, he’s not a careful driver and the car is just a few weeks old.” Answered Qurrah , who still

98 | P a g e
found it difficult to believe her eyes! Her friend who had relocated to the States was back home, “a
surprise visit” she called it, “to honour Baanat and Imran on their Niikkah (wedding banquet.)

When she called Qurrah on arriving Nigerian soil, it was a surprise for the latter seeing a local
Nigerian line displayed on her phone and Mumtaza’s voice coming through.

After that initial surprise, their conversation flowed freely. It was just as old times. They both
laughed, caught up on old times, and expressed how happy they were to have each other.

“How long are you staying for? We have the MUSLIMAH RENDEZVOUS programme coming up. I’m
so excited you’ll be able to attend this one!”

“I have three weeks to spend with you guys in Nigeria before leaving.”

“That’s great!”

“I’ll get to see my UniFad Sisters, right!”

“Yeah, you will, In Shaa Allaah. We had about fifty of us in attendant last year.”

“Wow, can’t wait then.”

The two friends were both excited.

‘It’s been ages Mumtee, a couple of years and I’ve missed you a great deal!’ Tell me about America,
how was that transition? From Ibadan Babe to American Muslimah.”

“I’ll tell you all about it, I promise, In Shaa Allaah. Let’s just revel in the euphoria of the moment.”

“OK Mumtee, oh sorry, Umm Adna”

They both laughed as Mumtaza hung the phone.

When Mumtaza left UniFad to further her education on a scholarship in USA after graduating with a
firsts class, her friends missed her companionship and mentoring. She was a great friend and a
positive influence on them all.

Qurrah had always called her Mumtee, a shortened form of Mumtaza, a sign of endearment and
affection.

Mumtaza on the other hand never left Qurrah hanging, she had always updated Qurrah on her
progress and journey. Qurrah too has never kept her friend in the dark about happenings in her life.
They were worlds apart but use social media applications to keep their friendship afloat.

Now that they are together after that surprising telephone conversation, they reminisce about the
past. They also share memories of the times they spent together in University days.

Qurrah reminded Mumtaza of one funny story sometimes when they got lost in the school market
and ended up on the other side of town. Both ladies had a good laugh as they re-enacted the
scenario.

After catching up for a while, Mumtaza asked… “what’s been happening in your life Quuurah and
don’t give me that ‘it’s nothing’ vibe.” She warned. “It’s written all over you, you know?”

99 | P a g e
They were going to park at a restaurant, Qurrah had been complaining of feeling so pressed she
needed to use the comfort station.

“All these symptoms can’t be ignored anymore. The other day it was a throbbing headache and
dizziness, now this?” She thought. “Ma’am, I’d suggest a laboratory test, we need to confirm…”

“Doctor, there’s nothing to test or confirm, it’s just a…’’ the doctor didn’t allow Qurrah to finish
before handing her a piece of paper where she scribbled (in Latin), or something that looked like it.
One could hardly make out the handwriting, it was illegible. “Typical of doctors.” She mumbled
before keeping it in her purse.

“Thanks doctor,” she said and rushed out of the consulting room.

“I’ve got to cruise with my friend, damn the headache and what have you. Mumtaza is in town!”

Finally, they got to the Fast-food location. “Pie Express is still here?"

“Yes, it is. I come here once a while to get pie. They still make the most delicious meat and chicken
pies on the Ring Road ”

Alighting from the car drew eyes at them both, ‘is it me or them, what’s odd?’ Mumtaza asked in an
eloquent clear diction, one she picked from the various interactions she do have with the native
speakers in the hospital where she worked back in USA.

“You, a veiled woman, driving this beautiful car is what they’re staring at. The last time I checked,
there’s freedom of sightseeing, don’t be bothered, let them look.” Qurrah responded confidently. “I
am used to it, you too will.”

Can’t believe people are still as backward as they used to be years back. Aren’t they aware that
we’re human just like other women out there?”

‘It’s a common sight in this locality for people to drop their jaws whenever they see Muslim women,
(especially the veiled ones) driving their own cars. So, ignore, give them a few days, they’ll stop
ogling at you.”

The two friends alighted and decided to get some snacks and drinks whilst catching up on old times.

“This really feels like school days, remember those days when we would go to the cafeteria, get
Mama Lade’s pie and a bottle of 7up each while waiting for our afternoon lectures! Those were good
old days. God bless our lecturers.”

“Aameen. By the way, did you hear from Ateefah, how’s she doing with Professor Ismael?”

“Yes dear, she’s fine. Her twins are grown now, she paid me a visit last month.”

“Maa Shaa Allaah!”

Mumtaza noticed Qurrah was not really following the discussion, she seemed far away, despite
sitting right there.

“What’s on your mind, why this forlorn look, care to share?’ She probed.

“Oh, it’s nothing!”

100 | P a g e
“No, no, you can’t tell me ‘nothing’, Qurrah , it’s written all over you, you seem really upset, and I
just want to make sure you know that you can talk to me about anything. You don’t have to hold it
all in. Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” Mumtaza held her friend’s hand in hers, reassuringly.

Qurrah , in a bid to hold back tears, stuttered before finally finding the stability to answer, “I’m just
so scared for myself. The doctor thinks I might be pregnant, if that suspicion is true, then I’m in
trouble Mumtaza, I feel so helpless, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Isn’t the news of expecting a child pleasant news, I’m confused.”

“I can’t be pregnant again, Mumtaz, I just can’t!” Qurrah burst out in tears.

Mumtaza wasn’t expecting this, she was taken by surprise, ability to conceive and have your own
children is a blessing, or should be, especially considering her own experience. What could be the
problem here, she was lost. It took a while before she was able to calm her friend down.

“Qurrah taen” what’s this about, there’s something you’re not saying, you can’t possibly be upset for
getting pregnant, talk to me, what’s bothering you exactly?”

“I want a divorce!”

Chapter Twenty-four

Qurrah seemed to have dropped a bomb, the way Mumtaza gripped her friend to absorb the
weight of the declaration, both friends held on to each other while Qurrah kept pouring all the tears
her eyes had welled up.

They both sat there in silence, one crying, the other, consoling, holding and wondering “is divorce
the right choice for her right now?”

It took a while before Qurrah could get a grip on her emotion. Mumtaza shrugged off her
sympathetic feelings and spoke first, “looks like you forgot how strong you are at overcoming
obstacles Qurrah . The Qurrah that I know can overcome anything. You’re fortified remember? Pick
up your crown my queen, bow to your Lord and stand up to your challenges.” This used to be their
mantra back in school days.

Qurrah managed a smile.

“Life is full of ups and downs, and we all go through periods of darkness and difficulty. Though, it’s
okay to feel what you're feeling, it’s also okay to reach out for support when we need it. Sometimes,
just knowing that you’re not alone can make all the difference. So, I appreciate the trust reposed in
me to have confided in me. But if I must ask, why and how did you reach that conclusion? Are you
going through a difficult time in your marriage?”

“Yes” Qurrah managed to say.

“We talk almost every once a week why didn’t you ever mention anything to that effect?”

“Which one do I answer first?” Quuurah gestured to Mumtaza to pass the tissue.”

“Anyone, just pour your mind, don’t bottle anything up.”

101 | P a g e
“Umar is taking a thanniyah and I don’t think I’ll be able to cope with sharing him with another
woman, I’ve decided to go, let him have his heart’s desire, I’ll not be a part of it!” Qurrah poured her
heart out in a monotone.

“What! This is a surprise”

“As it was for me when he brought it up.”

“So, it’s for real?”

“Mumtaza, Umar meant every word and preparation is in top gear. I’m taking a co-wife soon.”

“I understand how difficult this must be for you and I commend you for your courage and resilience
in facing this challenge," Mumtaza replied, her voice full of compassion. "But before you make a
final decision of leaving him because of that, I think it's important to have an open and honest
conversation with Umar about your feelings, I still maintain that divorce is not an option in this case.
Have you tried to talk to him about this?"

Qurrah nodded slowly. "I have and I think that's where it all started to go wrong. He just didn’t
understand where I was coming from.”

"That must be so frustrating for you," Mumtaza said. "It's important that you both communicate
openly and honestly about your needs and desires. Let him know how you feel but also, you should
be willing to accept his decision maybe with some conditions attached. Have you considered Positive
Polygyny Counseling? It could be a helpful way to work through this issue. Coach Tawakalt Tahir will
gladly help in your transition journey, last time I checked, she’s still available for counselling.

"I don't think Umar will be open to counseling. He sees this as a test of my faith and wants me to
trust in Allaah and be patient."

Mumtaza leaned forward, resting her elbows on her friend’s knees. "He is absolutely right about
trusting in Allaah, that is the most important thing.”

"Yes, and that's where the issue lies," Qurrah interjected. "I understand that it's not haram for him
to marry another woman, but I also have feelings that needs to be taken into consideration. It's not
just about Umar's rights, but also about my rights as his wife. We're supposed to be partners in this
marriage, and I feel like I'm being left out of the decision-making process."

Qurrah paused, her eyes glistening with tears. "And I just don't know if I can handle sharing him
with another woman.”

“Can you explain to Umar how this is affecting you emotionally?"

Qurrah looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. "I've tried, but he just doesn't seem
to get it. He thinks I'm being selfish and self-centered.”

“You still love your husband, don’t you? Leaving him will leave you in punishment. You’ll be
punishing yourself unnecessarily by leaving him because your heart is still attached to him. Why not
accept qadar and be with your husband, while managing your emotion. I’m sure you’ll soon get used
to the idea and get over the initial shock”

Qurrah nodded slowly. "I know you're right, but it's so hard to just accept something that I'm not
comfortable with. I love Umar and I don't want to lose him, but I also don't want to lose myself in

102 | P a g e
the process. I feel like I'm being asked to sacrifice my own needs and wants for the sake of Umar's
second marriage! I'm not sure I can do that."

Mumtaza gave her a sympathetic smile. "That's understandable, Qurrah , your feelings are valid, it's
okay to feel this way but always refer back to the Qur’an. You must have faith in Allaah and
remember that by refusing to accept this verse of the Qur'an, you are rejecting the commands of
Allaah," Mumtaza said gently.

"In Surah An-Nisa, verse 3, Allaah says “Marry women of your choice, two or three or four; but if you
fear that you shall not be able to deal justly, then marry only one, Allaah is forgiving and merciful.”

As Qurrah pondered Mumtaza's words, she felt a sense of peace begin to settle over her. She had
never seen this whole scenario as rejecting a verse of the Qur’an. It was true that she was struggling
to accept this new reality, but perhaps there was something to be gained from this experience. She
thought about her marriage to Umar, and all the love and support he had given her over the years.
She realized that perhaps this was an opportunity to deepen her faith and to test her own resilience.

She took a deep breath and spoke to Mumtaza. "You're right. I need to have faith in Allaah and trust
that this is happening for a reason. I think I’m beginning to see this from a different angle.
JazakiLlaah khayran Mumtaza. You’re indeed a worthy deen pal. May Allaah preserve you upon
goodness.

LOVE IS A CAGE inside which the heart is locked. The only escape route for the heart is to have
strong faith in Allaah, love Allaah first, love Him more.

THREE YEARS AGO…

That fateful day, the day she lost herself into the love and trust of another – her man. She was
twenty-two, barely an adult, young, ripe and beautiful, freshly graduated, looking for a job, finding
love! The memory is still green.

Quuurah was holding a black polish handbag inside which she had her wallet, phone, charger,
headphones, notepad and pen. She also has a transparent file held tightly in the other hand, where
she kept her credentials neatly arranged. That morning, she had an early start. In fact, the night
crawled by on her watch, she hardly winked. Tuesday, 27th May meant a lot to her career path or so
she thought. The day was a deciding factor of whether she would be gainfully employed or not. That
very day, she was given the opportunity to prove her mettle and she dazzled her interviewers, they
were amazed how much brilliance she had and how modest and simple she looked. Giving her the
job was a unanimous decision. Of all the twenty-one applicants that sat the written interview, only
five emerged well whilst one was outstanding. That ‘one’ was Qurrah . The margin between her and
the others was 20 whooping marks! So she was immediately called for the oral interview…

“Can we meet you Miss …” asked the man in three-piece suit, whose name she later got to know as
Umar Uthman.

“I am Qurrah … a graduate of Biochemistry…I consider myself a very motivated and driven individual
with a passion for continuous growth and learning.” She finished.

“What would you do if made a team leader?” The man was direct.

103 | P a g e
“I’ll create an avenue for team spirit by involving everyone, I’ll delegate responsibility and model
active involvement. I’ll also seek opinion from each member of the team privately to make them feel
a sense of importance and belonging so that we can all thrive while also growing the company.” She
was smart.

“That’s right, you seem to know your game well” The elderly man among the interviewers
responded to Qurrah .

“Thank you sir, I believe in maintaining positive and collaborative work ethics. I am confident that
this quality will help to contribute to the success of the company.”

“Go on, we’re all ears.” Said another.

“I’ll be more than happy to bring my diverse skillset to use. This will make a meaningful impact in
whatever role I am given.” She spoke confidently.

“Tell us, what’s your passion?” Mr Umar asked.

“One of my greatest passions has always been reading. I love to get lost in a good book, whether it’s
fiction or nonfiction. I also love challenges. This allows me to brainstorm and arrive at the best
solution possible.”

“Can you list some titles you’ve read?”

“Yes sir, I’ve read the Holy Qur’an and committed it to memory; I’ve also read and committed some
Hadiths to memory; I’ve read The 100: A Ranking of The Most Influential Persons in History; It was
written by Michael H. Hart. I’ve read Rich Dad: Poor Dad by Robert Kiyasoki; 48 Laws of Power by
Robert Green; Thinking For A Change by John C. Maxwell; The Seven Habit of Highly Effective People
by Stephen Covey; The Art of Seduction by Robert Green, I’m currently reading Atomic Habit by
James Clear …”

“It’s okay Miss, you’ve read quite a handful.”

“Mention other passions or hobby please?”

“I love to travel, to see new places and meet new people. I think it’s important to experience
different cultures and learn from them.”

“Wow, that’s great. So what do you do with your free time?”

“Well, when I’m not reading or traveling, I like to spend time with my friends and family. I have a
tight-knit group of friends who share the same values with me and I love to hang out with them.
Whether we’re having dinner, reading a title of collective interest, or just engaging in productive
discussion.”

Qurrah smiled as she thought about her friends and family.

“You blew me away Qurrah , I must confess I’m totally awestruck by your brilliance, modesty and
wit.” Mr Umar declared. He had been on the edge of his seat since Qurrah started answering the
panel of interviewers.

“We’ll surely get back to you before the weekend runs out. We look forward to working with you.
Please, ensure you drop your details with the Secretary over there. She’ll also give you a token for
transport fare and refreshment.” The elderly man said, with a broad smile.

104 | P a g e
“Get ready to resume by Monday, that’s what he’s trying to tell you. I hope you stay close by? Or
how do you intend to commute to work? Your official car won’t be ready until month end.” This was
that same Mr Umar, who seemed to be the one calling the shot here. “Does he own the company?”
Qurrah was curious but her excitement at the news of her just landed-job and “an official car”
beclouded everything. “Oh my God, AlhamduliLlaah. Whoever calls the shot, let him not change the
shot.” She amused herself upon leaving the Board Room.

As soon as she stepped into the elevator, she brought out her phone to chat Amina (her flatmate)
and Muntaza up. “Can’t wait to share this good news! Monday please don’t stay too long, arrive
early before I burst with joy!” Qurrah texted both her best friends - Mumtaza that was far away
overseas and her friend here who was waiting eagerly for her at home.

“Happy for you girl! Congrats. You’ll tell me all about it but first, go and see that Man who said to see
him before leaving. Don’t forget to dazzle him in case he wants to conduct the interview all over
again” replied Mumtaza .

“Thanks dear, I will.”

“Glad your du’a is accepted. Welcome to the boss ladies’ world Qurrah , now you’ll understand why I
always said I was tired to cook and go out on weekends. Having to work a job from seven to five is
not a child’s play. Anyway, I’m glad for you.” Amina responded adding a love emoji.

She asked for Mr Umar’s office and was directed.

“Allow me be a friend of yours Qurrah .”

“I must confess, you blew me away, I didn’t expect that much from you. Pardon me, I’m not saying
ladies aren’t quick-witted, but yours is above the par. I was taken aback by your intelligence
especially considering your full length flowing garment, your modest appearance.”

Umar looked at Qurrah , feeling a sense of awe and admiration. “I have to say, you’re quite a
remarkable person. Your intelligence and modesty are truly admirable. And I would be honoured to
be your friend. Have I said that before?”

He paused, hoping that his words were received well. He didn’t want to come on too strong, but he
also wanted to be honest and open about his feelings.

Qurrah ’s face flushed, and she felt a little flustered by Umar’s words. She smiled shyly, not quite
sure what to say. She hadn’t expected him to be so forward, but she also found it endearing. She
wanted to be honest and open with him, but she didn’t want to come on too eager too.

“I appreciate your honesty and sincerity,” she said. “I’m a bit surprised, though. You’re just meeting
me for the first time today?”

She felt a sense of relief and excitement, as well as a bit of nervousness talking to the boss like this.
“Yaa Allaah, I hope I’ll not blow my opportunity. I already have the job I prayed for. What else, why
not just leave?”

Qurrah stood up, feeling a sudden need to get out of the room. She didn’t want to make things
awkward, but she also felt like she needed some space to process everything that was happening.
She gave Umar a quick smile and said, “I should probably get going. It was nice talking to you. I’ll see
you around, In Shaa Allaah.”

105 | P a g e
“I don’t want to see you around!” Umar declared, to Qurrah ’s surprise, “I will not be happy seeing
you around, I want to make you mine, if you permit me. Seeing you around will not suffice, having
you to myself will!” Umar was firm!

Qurrah stood rooted in her track. Surprised is an understatement. “I want an everlasting, lifetime
relationship, I want you as a wife, if you’ll allow it!”

“What! Me?”

Without any other word, Qurrah turned and headed towards the door, her heart racing faster than
usual. She didn’t trust herself anymore at this point. She had to leave.

Qurrah ’s discomfort was palpable. She was clearly feeling uneasy and vulnerable. Perhaps it was a
result of her past experiences, or maybe it was just a natural reaction to feeling something right
there on the spot for Umar too.

Either way, she was clearly looking for an escape route, a way to leave the scene altogether. Was it
fear of giving in too early, too soon or simply a desire to maintain control? Perhaps a bit of both. She
ran!

Qurrah had always been accustomed to a certain level of attention from men, but Umar’s audacity
was unlike anything she had experienced before. It was flattering, but also a bit overwhelming. So
she ran away from him. But not for long...

Qurrah resumed duty the following Monday as stated in the letter of appointment sent to her via
email. She was given a spacious office not far from the CEO’s. Umar was determined to get to her by
all means! She was the next in authority to him. “Ma’am Manager” as he would tease her months
after…

The proximity in their offices gave Umar the opportunity to see Qurrah everyday while coming in to
the office. She was always there, no matter how early he came, she was already on her seat,
working. Her punctuality and dedication amazed Umar. Whenever he passed by her door, he would
say teslim. He’ll also check in once a while and he was always bearing gift. Be it a cupcake, chocolate
or a beautiful mug “I picked it in the mall yesterday, for you.” No amount of rejection from Qurrah
would deter Umar, he wouldn’t have it. “It’s for you, please have it.”

No matter what she did, he was always there, always reaching out.

His persistence started rubbing off on her. she started expecting it too. She found herself looking
forward to his check-ins, texts and calls, even if she didn’t always respond well.

She would get to the office early and anticipate his arrival. She would even gestured for him to enter
and have a word or two. “This feeling of looking forward to seeing Umar everyday, what do I call it
now?” At first, she was able to brush it off, but eventually, his constant presence began to affect her
in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Finally, after a couple of weeks of this, she couldn’t take it anymore.

Qurrah ’s neighbour and friend, her flatmate, Amina, was always there to listen, and she had been
one of the few people who knew about the former’s growing feelings for Umar.

106 | P a g e
“Amina, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I feel like I’m losing
control of myself. And I know it’s not good, but I can’t stop.”

“What do you mean not good. Aren’t you ripe to have feelings for a man? Tell me what you mean.”

“Qurrah , I know it’s not easily expressed. But let’s just talk it through.”

Amina continued, “Maybe it would help if you started by telling me why you think you feel this way
about him. Is it his looks, his personality, or something else? Once you’re able to analyse that, then
you can tell your feelings apart”

Qurrah thought about Amina’s words for a moment before responding. “I think it’s a combination of
things. He’s definitely attractive, but sincerely, that’s not my focus. He’s a devout Muslim, he’s an
intelligent and decent guy and seems genuinely interested in me as a person. I can’t but say he’s
both pushy and demanding. He’s just too persistent.”

“So it’s not just physical attraction then. You feel like he really sees you and values you for who you
are?”

“Yes. I think he wants me as a wife as he declared the first day, I’ve also watched him closely, I’ve
never seen him with any lady, he seems a good man. ”

“Give him a try then, after all, you’ve been on istikharah for about a month now. Maybe this is it.
Maybe this is him.”

“Amina, it’s not that simple, what about my job? What happens if I agree to marry him and I was
told to quit my job?”

“You’ll cross that bridge when you get there Ma’am Manager. Moreover, Umar is capable of taking
good care of you even if you don’t work. Don’t you think?”

In an attempt to deflect from the probing question, Qurrah suddenly blurted out, “Did you see the
latest episode of our favorite TV show, Tinsel?”

Amina looked at her friend in confusion, not sure how to respond to the sudden change of topic.

After a moment, Amina smiled and decided to play along. “I did! I can’t believe Bimpe would marry
Damini. I never saw it coming!”

Qurrah let out a sigh of relief. She had successfully avoided answering Amina’s question and felt a
sense of satisfaction at her successful deflection. But deep down, she knew she hadn’t really
answered the question: “To work or not to work after Nikkah” She hasn’t yet decided that for herself
but deep down, she loved her job and wouldn’t want to quit.

They continued to talk about the show, “What’s more surprising is Buchi getting pregnant, she lost
focus and gave in to that riffraff of a guy.”

Later that evening, alone in her room, Qurrah gave their discussion a rethink and made her final
decision. She chose to give Umar a chance. She decided to do this and leave it to Allaah to guide her.

After a couple of weeks, she gave Umar the green light and a months later, wedding bells rang and
Umar took Qurrah ’s hand in marriage.

107 | P a g e
Ever since their Nikkah, Umar had been a loving, caring and devoted husband. He spoilt Qurrah silly
– love, affection and gifts both material and monetary. Theirs was a happy matrimony which was
soon blessed with a beautiful baby boy.

Umar was also a man of many sides. Their union was what one would call a discovery channel.
Qurrah got to know her husband better after their first child. Umar declared one morning “I’m not
one to stick to just a wife, I have the means and the understanding of the Sunnah. Moreover, there
are many women out there who need husbands, love and shelter. Why not earn reward through
them?” He declared. It was an unguarded utterance and Qurrah felt offended by it. She sat abruptly,
disengaging from ironing their cloth. Both couples were getting ready for a Nikkah ceremony of their
common friend.

“You mean you’ll marry another wife My Love?”

“Yes, I will, when the time is ripe”

This was the statement that triggered awkwardness in Qurrah that morning, she stopped abruptly
and reached for Umar, with pleading eyes “is there anything I am not doing right? Have I been less of
a loving wife? What more do you want in a woman, tell me and I’ll up my game.”

“Quratul’ai my Sweetheart, you’re a wonderful woman, loving, caring and submissive. I’ve never
regretted marrying you ever since we got together. I love you and will always do but…”

“…but what Olami, why is there a ‘but'? If you love me, you wouldn’t do such, you would not even
look at another woman!” She sobbed.

Qurrah , come off it please, I’ve not even introduced her to you yet. I mean…” Too late! He had
spilled the beans already.

“Introduced her” Qurrah ’s knees turned jelly, she went down and started sobbing uncontrollably.
Umar had to hold her still, and reassure her that all is well and he stil loved her.

“Since when has this been going on, when did you meet her?”

Can we drop the subject and set out already. The nikkah starts by 11am and here we are at noon still
indoor.

“Can I be excused, I am not feeling up to it again. You go ahead, go on, I’ll see you when you get
back.”

“Qurrah , my darling wifey, why do we have to ruin this beautiful day, we look good together, don’t
spoil the fun. Let’s go together okay? A king should be found with his queen by his side.”

“I should just go, what if he changed his mind and go ahead to see that “her” he was talking about
earlier. I think I should just follow him else…” Qurrah debated within herself.

“That’s how you’ll be begging me to do as it pleases you,” she rolled her eyes and continued “give
me a couple of minutes.”

Neither of them revisited the issue again, that day.

When Umar brought the issue up again the following month, he was stern. He made it known to his
wife that he would try his best to make Qurrah happy, be promised her that she would never know
any difference in his treatment of both wives. He also requested her to name anything she wanted,

108 | P a g e
he was more than ready to fulfill it. A promise he started to fulfill by buying her a posh C-Class
Mercedes Benz.

But Qurrah was far from being happy!

She kept to herself in the house most of the time. A couple of weeks after driving in the car gift,
Umar raised the matter again.

He did so with unwavering determination. He made it abundantly clear to his wife that preparations
were underway for the Nikkah ceremony. He said he was committed to making Qurrah happy. That
she was still his Qurrah taen and he would never stop loving her.

Despite the royal treatment and material gifts, Qurrah was not placated. She withdrew into a kind of
shell her husband had never seen existed. Tension grew between them and reached a boiling point.
The lavish gifts and gestures seemed superficial, unable to bridge the growing emotional distance
between them.

Qurrah , burdened by unspoken grievances, found solace in sujud and tears. She would wake earlier
than their kiyamul layl time, make wudhu and pray. She would supplicate as if her life depended on
it. This offered her an escape from the suffocating confines of their strained relationship. When she
was not doing this, Qurrah ’s mind wandered, searching for answers to the questions that plagued
her heart. “Am I not enough?”

Meanwhile, Umar grappled with his own frustrations. He had hoped that material possessions would
mend their fractured bond, but his efforts seemed futile. Desperate to salvage their crumbling
marriage, he sought advice from trusted friends and confidants. Each time he spoke with his friends,
they would advise that approached the matter with care and patience. Their well-intentioned
counsel echoed in his mind. “…keep being a good husband to her. Don’t stop the plan and don’t
introduce your thanniyah to her yet but let her know there’s no going back.” ‘Prof’, one of his
friends, once told him when he sought his opinion for potential solutions to the conflict he was
currently battling in his home.

Days turned into weeks, and the weight of their unresolved issues grew heavier. Umar and Qurrah
found themselves at a crossroads, uncertain of the path forward.

However, Qurrah never stopped making du’a. She kept asking Allaah for friendship between her and
the incoming wife. After countless supplications and deep reflection, she found solace in
surrendering to fate and placing her unwavering faith in the Divine. With renewed determination,
she made a conscious decision to embrace happiness and welcome her co-wife into her life.

One beautiful morning, after her fajr prayers, Qurrah rushed through her adhkar and made her way
to the kitchen to prepare her husband’s breakfast, she wanted to ensure he had it in bed that
morning. Qurrah lovingly prepared a sumptuous meal for her husband. With a tray of delectable
treats in hand, she approached their bedroom where Umar lay, sleeping peacefully.

Gently placing the tray on the bedside table, Qurrah leaned over and planted a tender kiss on
Umar’s forehead. Umar woke up to the mixture of his wife’s scent and the delicacy she prepared.
Umar observed that Qurrah looked more radiant and exceptionally happy. She was a bit more
affectionate as well. The warmth of her affection lingered in the air as she mustered the courage to
share her newfound resolution. Umar was obviously taken aback, that was the only explanation he
had for the curious look he had on when Qurrah was speaking.

109 | P a g e
“Umar,” she began, her voice filled with a blend of vulnerability and determination, “I want a happy
home and I have realised that having a peaceful matrimony lies in accepting our circumstances and
embracing the love we have for each other. I have thus decided to welcome my co-wife with an
open heart and create a harmonious home for all of us, please forgive me for all that I might have
done wrong since this issue cropped up, I forgive you too.”

As this transformative moment unfolded in Umar’s eyes, he was obviously dumbfounded by the
unexpected revelation, he looked deep into Qurrah ’s eyes, searching for any lingering doubt or
hesitation. Instead, he found a genuine sincerity and a spirit of forgiveness.

With a smile that radiated gratitude, Umar reached out to hold Qurrah ’s hand. “My beloved, your
words fill my heart with hope and gratitude. I, too, have been reflecting on our journey together. Let
us embark on this new chapter with love, understanding, and unity, I pray that her coming will
intensify this loving union, not jeopardise it bi’idhniLlaah ta’ala.”

In that tender moment, the burdens of the past weeks seemed to melt away, replaced by a shared
commitment to building a promising future together. A future rooted in compassion and acceptance.
Together, they made du’a to foster an environment where love would flourish, and the walls that
once stood between them crumbled almost immediately.

A sense of peace enveloped their hearts and Qurrah once again supplicated... “Yaa Allaah, please
make mine, ours, a beautiful polygyny story. Let whoever Umar is marrying be my friend, let us be
best of friends and live in peace.”

A prayer that was answered in the most surprising of ways!

Chapter Twenty-five

THE ACCIDENT

The hospital room was dimly lit, the monitor screen is on, indicating the rate of heart beat. Aside
that, Abdulganiy couldn’t see anything else, his head was heavy and hurts badly, lifting it seemed
unachievable.

“How did I get here” he asked no-one in particular, “what’s going on, someone answer me!”

A nurse rushed in and pinned Abdulganiy down, he told him not to move his head.

“You’re in safe hands, this is Bolumole Clinic, you were rushed here last night from a car accident
scene…”

“Oh, my wife, my baby, Mama, where is everyone…”

“Everyone is fine, they’re all hale and hearty, we discharged them already. They’re waiting for you to
recuperate and join them at home…”

Alhamdulillaah, thank God!

“Abdulganiy relaxed a little, he was relieved to know that his family was okay. But he still had so
many questions. What had happened in the accident? How did he end up here? And why couldn’t he
move his arms or legs?”

110 | P a g e
Nurse, there was a man, my friend, you didn’t mention him… his voice trailed off as the nurse shut
the door behind her oblivious of his question or dodging it altogether.

“Sir, I know you must have a lot of questions, but for now I just need you to focus on resting and
recovering. The doctor will soon be here to see you. He’ll answer all your questions.” She called to
him through the window.

Abdulganiy closed his eyes, trying to process everything that had happened. Though his eyes were
closed, his mind was racing. He tried to remember the events leading up to the accident. The last
thing he could recall was driving home from an all-day event they all attended. It was his car,
everything was fine with it. Also, it was the familiar route he took every day. But then, there was a
flash of light, was it from an oncoming motorcycle? It was too late before he realised it was a vehicle
with one headlamp gone, there was a terrifying thud and everything went black.

He couldn’t understand what exactly had happened at first. Had the other driver cared enough to
replace the headlamp, this would have been averted. Has someone else been involved in the
accident? He tried to piece together the fragments of memory, but it was like trying to put together
a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

Abdulganiy was left alone with his thoughts. He felt a sense of relief that his family was safe, but he
couldn’t help but worry about his friend. What if he was badly injured? What if he wasn’t going to be
okay?

Just then, the door opened and the doctor walked in. Abdulganiy sat up in bed, eager for answers.
But the doctor’s expression was grim, and Abdulganiy’s heart sank.

“I’m glad you’re up Mr Abdulganiy, thank goodness there was no internal bleeding. Your heavy
headedness is as a result of the crash with the dashboard. With a few tablets of pain relief, you’ll be
okay.”

That’s a bit of a relief for Abdulganiy, but what about his friend, what about Jamal? He has to know
what’s going on. He took a deep breath and asked the doctor, “What about my friend, we were two
males in the front seat of the car, myself and him. Is he okay?”

The doctor took a moment to collect his thoughts before answering. “I’m afraid I have bad news.
Your friend suffered serious head injuries in the accident. When he came in, he was in critical
condition. We did everything we could to help him, but it was not enough, I’m sorry to announce
that we lost your friend a few minutes ago, he didn’t survive the crash. Accept my sympathy!

“Oh no!” No, he can’t die on me!”

This is a devastating turn of events for Abdulganiy. He found it hard to believe his friend was gone.
The grief and shock were overwhelming for him.

“No, no! There must be something you could do! He can’t die, he just can’t die! Please try…”

Abdulganiy pleaded with the doctor desperately, he wanted him to do something, anything to save
his friend. But the doctor shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more we can do. Your
friend didn’t survive the accident, he’s gone.”

“ʾinnā li-llāhi wa-ʾinnā ʾilayhi rājiʿūna”

The words hit Abdulganiy like a punch to the gut. He felt like the world was crashing down around
him. He couldn’t believe that his friend was really gone.

111 | P a g e
“How do I break this news to his aged parents? What do I tell his wife?” Abdulganiy soliloquised. He
wept bitterly! The thought of sharing the awful news with his friend’s parents and wife is almost too
much to bear. But he knew he had to do it, and the earlier the better.

The doctor placed a hand on Abdulganiy’s shoulder. “It’s a difficult thing to do, but you need to be
honest with them. Tell them what happened, and how much you cared about their son. They’ll
appreciate your kindness and compassion, even in this difficult time.” What about his wife, where is
she?”

“Home, she’s home, unaware of the fate awaiting her. She hasn’t been informed of the accident
yet.”

“I hope both parents and spouse will understand and accept their loss when informed of the
shocking event, accept my condolences Mr Abdulganiy and get well soon yourself.” Doctor Hakeem
rushed to the next room where another patient needed him.

This time, Mrs Abdulganiy had arrived at the scene, she held her husband close to her chest trying to
calm him, she herself was distraught. It was indeed a huge loss for everyone. Abu Nuurah was a
good man to all and he and Abdulganiy had come a long way.

Zahrah’s presence seemed to help calm Abdulganiy down a little bit, but he was still overwhelmed
with grief. Abu Nuurah was clearly a beloved member of his family. His death will surely leave a big
hole in their lives. Everyone closest to him will struggle to cope with the loss.

As seconds ticked to minutes, Abdulganiy and his wife sat together in silence, each trying to process
what had happened. They held each other close, tears streaming down their faces. There were no
words that could change the current situation for better, but they find comfort in each other’s
presence.

“If I had seen the car at the intersection earlier enough, if I had warned Abdulganiy ahead, if I had” …
Mrs Abdulganiy kept wishing it was all a nightmare that she would soon wake up from. She was glad
her husband was given a clean slate of health, her children and mother-in-law were unscathed as
well. Here she was, giving thanks for being safely rescued, unhurt from the accident herself. If only
Abu Nuurah hadn’t been with them that weekend…

“If I had sat beside hubby in the front seat, if I hadn’t persuaded Abu Nuurah to sit with his friend, I
could have saved the day!” Or maybe I could have allowed Mama sit with his son, but she dislikes
fastening the seat belt.” Mrs Abdulganiy lamented, again.

‘’Take it easy Zahrah, remember that whatever Allaah has ordained to happen will surely come to
pass.’’ Nurse Rufai had been listening to and trying to calm the couple down. She was assigned by
Doctor Hakeem to take them through Post Trauma Counseling.

112 | P a g e
“It’s natural for you to have these thoughts. It’s called “survivor’s guilt,” and it’s common among
people who have experienced a traumatic event like this. As a survivor in an accident, you question
what you could have done differently, you wish you could change the past. But trust me, no amount
of wishes can bring the dead back. All you need is to focus on your own healing.”, Nurse Rufai
counselled.

‘’Hmmmm’’

“Trust me Zahrah, the only way forward is through acceptance and healing. I’m not saying it’ll be
easy but you just have to take it one day at a time, and allow yourself to grieve.”

“Thanks ma’am”

Also, it’s important that you help your husband heal too. You do this by encouraging him to talk
about his feelings. He should also be willing to accept the support of friends and family. It’s
important for you to take care of him physically and emotionally.”

“Okay.” Zahrah was far away, she was only managing to answer in monotone.

“…your husband is discharged, please ensure he comes for his checkup appointment next week,
Monday precisely…”

“All right, jazakumllaah khayran to everyone. Thanks so much Ma’am.” Zahrah said profusely.

“Mr Abdulganiy, I’m sorry for your loss, try to get well, Okay.” Nurse Rufai's words fly across his ears,
he wasn’t really paying attention. He was having a hard time processing the counsellor’s words. It’s
understandable – he’s still in shock and overwhelmed by grief. It might take some time for him to
fully absorb it all. For now, he was just trying to take things one moment at a time.

“Who drives home, definitely not me! And not Abdulganiy in his state of recuperation! I’d rather
order an Uber and I better warn the driver to be careful. We can’t have another blood on our hands
now, can we?”

Mrs Abdulganiy couldn’t help but think practically and take precautions to make sure everyone is
safe. She couldn’t have another accident happen on her watch. Given what has just happened, she
couldn’t be too careful.

She had to make sure that she and her husband get home safely. The thought of losing anyone else
was just too much to bear.

“Abdulganiy, please stay here while I get your medications, I’ll order us Uber too, just a jiffy” she left
for the pharmacy section.

Zahrah took charge and made sure that everything was taken care of. She wanted to be her
husband’s care giver. She didn’t let her own grief get in the way of taking care of him. She was strong
and always prove resilient in the face of adversity. Qualities she had been known with right from
university days when she suffered a great deal of trial.

In the wake of her second year in UniFad, when she embraced Islam, her parents had threatened to
severe ties with her, a threat that they fulfilled. Yet, she stood resolute, clinging to her faith.
Mumtaza, Qurrah , and Ateefah became her unwavering pillars of support. With the guidance of the
Naqeeb of their hostel back then, Abdulganiy, who became her beloved husband, she navigated the

113 | P a g e
treacherous waters of university life, despite being ostracised by her own family for her devotion to
Islam. She was denied food, money, shelter and parental care. These turmoil and emotional scars
notwithstanding, she emerged triumphant, graduating with First-class Honours. As the department's
esteemed best graduating student, she stood tall, her achievements shining brightly.

Surprisingly, on the joyous day of her graduation, her negligent parents surfaced. They were there to
celebrate her. “Our presence here today is a testament to our remorse, please forgive us.” They had
said.

"Chika," her mother's had called with a voice trembling with regret, "we are sorry for turning our
backs on you when you embraced Islam. We feared you would forsake your studies and become one
of those veiled women selling petty items in open markets." The news of your exceptional grades
and prestigious award caught us off guard. May God bless you, my child, please forgive us."

On that very day, Zahrah, formerly known as Chika, couldn't contain her emotions as she finally
reunited with her long-lost mother. In that moment, their embrace spoke volumes, as if years of
absence were being erased in an instant.

"Mum, it's Zahrah now," she gently corrected, a bittersweet smile on her face. The weight of her
mother's three years absence had taken its toll, leaving a void that only a mother's love could fill.
Tears streamed down Zahrah's cheeks, a testament to the pain she had endured without her mother
by her side.

The distraught mother, with a heavy heart, tried to console her daughter. "Don't cry, my dear. I tried
to convince your dad to allow you be who you chose to be. I fought tirelessly to bring us back
together, I told him you’ve chosen God not Satan, just that you call God with different name - Allaah.
I made my own research and found out “Allaah” means God, The One and Only Creator. I explained
to him, but your father was unyielding," she confessed, her voice filled with sorrow.

It broke her heart to witness Zahrah's tears, knowing the impact of her absence on her daughter's
life. "Please, let go of the past and find strength in your resilience. You are a remarkable young lady."

Zahrah wasn’t easily placated, she couldn’t control the tears, she kept sobbing on her mother’s
shoulder, she dabbed her face with a napkin and pecked her mother severally. She proved to her
parents that she was a good daughter. ‘’Alhamdulillaah’’ was all she could say.

"Your dad is here too, and he's sorry," her mother revealed, hoping that this newfound presence
would bring some solace to Zahrah's wounded heart.

She looked around to find her father at the far back, reluctant to move near her own daughter.
Zahrah ran to him and enveloped him in a warm embrace which he returned tightly. That was the
day Zahrah confirmed that all wounds heal with time. At that moment, the journey towards healing
begun for her. The belief that “Patience is indeed the mother of all virtues,” proved true to her that
same day.

It came as a surprise for her that her parents finally acknowledged their mistakes and sought to
make amends. She proved to them and everyone of her friends and husband that with resilience, a
wounded heart heals.

114 | P a g e
Her trauma notwithstanding, hers was a remarkable achievement. Especially, breaking a decade old
record had remained the most shocking news for them all. An achievement that earned her a well-
deserved whooping sum of 10 million naira.

Not only did she receive monetary and material gifts from various organisations, she also secured
scholarships that would shape her future. On that momentous day, she became a shining star,
bringing her parents into the spotlight.

Abdulganiy was forever grateful to Allaah for leading him to believe in Zahrah and standing by her
side when her own parents abandoned her. He saw Zahrah not only as a special gift to himself but
also to everyone fortunate enough to cross her path. Since their union in marriage, he had never
ceased to appreciate her strength and uniqueness, and he had no intention of ever stopping.

Up till this moment, he had remained supportive of his wife’s steady growth to academic stardom.
Barrister Al Hassan Abdulganiy, the proud husband of Dr Zahrah Abdulganiy, a PhD holder in
Information Science.

When Zahrah returned to the ward to inform her husband that they were leaving, the latter couldn’t
but express his heartfelt appreciation to his wife.

“Thank you, my dear wife, JazakiLlaah khayran. You’re such a special gift to me, thanks for giving me
solace. I don’t know how I would have coped with this loss without you. You’ve been so supportive
and understanding, I’m grateful to have you by my side.”

He was overwhelmed with gratitude for his wife’s support. Her strength and compassion has always
been a source of comfort for him in the wake of this tragedy. Having a spouse who loves and cares
about you is such a blessing! “What will become of Umm Nuurah now! Poor Anisah, how will she
cope with this irreparable loss?” He lamented.

Right there and then, it occurred to him that he hadn’t spoken with or informed her of the ugly
development. How does one break this sad news? What do I tell her?”

He picked his phone and called the Imam of their community Masjid instead and related the news to
him.

‘’If the reality of losing a friend is painful, losing a spouse is even worse. The pain will always be very
much present and fresh. The partner left behind will never feel normal again and may find it hard to
fully heal from such experience?” He thought. Abdulganiy couldn’t control his tears, he allowed it
flow freely.

When finally they got home, his wife went into action, yet again. She made him food and ensured
that he had a warm bath. She advised that he lay down while the food cooks. She rarely left his side
without a word of comfort. “Please catch some sleep my love, it’s been a long day. Lie down while I
go get some food prepared for you” she had said before leaving. Unknown to her, sleep was the last
thing on Abdulganiy’s mind. To sleep would be to deny reality, it would be difficult for him to do
that.

He chided himself and rose to make a few other calls. First, his friend’s corpse needed to be buried
according to Islamic rite. I hope the Imam had informed the widow, poor Anisah! Her JJ is gone for
good this time!

115 | P a g e
The last time, it had been a disappearance and after several weeks of unanswered questions, he had
reappeared, with genuine excuse. It was a kidnap and he was later released. A release facilitated by
Naqeeb Al Hassan Abdulganiy. A turning point in the lives of Anisah and JJ, one that returned the
duo to repentance, correct practise of Islam and dedication to worship. A trial that set their feet
back on track and made JJ become Abdulganiy’s friend, spiritual tutor and mentor. As Abdulganiy
remembered every bit of the past, he wept once again.

He called a few more brothers from the masjid, for the maqbara arrangements, his shroud and other
items needed for his interment. He felt a little lightheaded but “there is no time to concentrate on
that, I have to pay JJ my last respect.” He thought.

On the evening of that same day, friends and family bade JJ goodbye forever as he was interred
around 5:30pm according to Islamic rite.

Abu Hurayrah (may Allaah be pleased with him) reported that the Prophet (may Allaah’s peace and
blessings be upon him) said: “A Muslim owes another Muslim five rights: responding to the
greetings, visiting the sick, following the funerals, accepting the invitation, and responding to the
sneezing person.”

Epilogue

2023 MUSLIMAH RENDEZVOUS For UniFad Alumnae

QUEENS HALL

Orita Challenge,

Ibadan, Nigeria.

10am.

“It’s that time of the year when we the Muslimah graduands of UniFad come together for a meet
and greet. This Rendezvous is organised purposely to look out for, support and help one another
grow. Here, we encourage one another to open up and bare it all. A problem shared is half solved,
remember? This get together is aimed at identifying our individual and collective challenges and
brainstorming on permanent solutions to them. It’s a rendezvous of Muslim women of like minds
and I welcome everyone.”

“The theme of this year’s programme is…”

“HOW ARE YO MARRIED PEOPLE DOING?”

“I am your able Anchor:… let’s keep that information for now.”

“You know how we roll, don’t you? For the purpose of our new members, here’s what we’re
expected to do. Pick a number from this tray if you’d like to lend your voice or if you have something
to share. Once you’re up here, say what you’ve got first then mention your name, both names (ones
you’re bearing now and ones we knew you with back in university days.

The announcer continued.

“No playing games, no hide and seek for the niqabee (veiled) sisters, this is a strictly female
gathering so unveil and let’s recognise you.” She finished and dropped the microphone.

116 | P a g e
She needed no introduction, everyone knew her by her voice and her happy demeanour. She was
none other than Umm Mumtaz, Qurrah back in University days.

She motioned for the first speaker to have the microphone.

“I’ll go first,” the speaker said.

She appeared in a carefully-ironed coffee-brown jilbaab and a black veil. She had on a flat shoe of
black colour and her voice was gold when she spoke. This first speaker spoke with an air of authority
and intelligence. Her speech was eloquent.

“I think she’s a new member because no one recognised her.” One of the audience murmured.

“How are you married people doing getting married and staying so? The effort that goes into a
marriage is unimaginable. Marriage as an institution requires not only love but also wit, energy and
positive vibe to survive. Calm and chaos, war and peace, fear and faith, energy and meltdowns are
normal features of matrimony. These ups and lows make marriage a dicey option yet the married
stay so while the unmarried are eager to get in.”

Members could be seen nodding and sighing

“Again, I ask, how are you and your spouse navigating the challenges of marriage? Today, everything
may be running smoothly in your home – your partner is content, your children are thriving, and your
household is in order. But what happens when unexpected storms arise, throwing your life into
turmoil? In those moments, be grateful if you have a loving spouse by your side, ready to weather
the storm with you. Together, you can hold each other’s hands and provide reassurance that ‘this
difficult phase will pass.’ Even if you’re unsure of that assurance, you can still offer solace and
support to your partner when they need it most. How are you managing the weight of matrimony,
how are you married people navigating the unsteady ocean, and staying afloat.” She finished.

“This is Dr Zahrah Abdulganiy, Umm Nusaybah known as Chika back in university days.”

“SubhanaLlaah!”

“Oh my!”

“Allahu Akbar”

“Maa Shaa Allaah!”

“Chika, lift your niqab (face veil), come over here, oh my God!”

It was commotion galore, everyone would have bet it was Mumtaza.

“Can you please maintain decorum girls, calm down, the next speaker is coming on stage, let’s listen
to her.” Said the anchor.

“Next speaker please?”

“How are you married people doing?” For married couples, there’s always one thing to do or undo,
one sacrifice to make or unmake – children to tend, home to make, bills to pay, family issue to solve,
an important call to make, piles of laundry to wash, dishes to drain, the unfulfilled promise of a
hospital-visit, personal development programme schedule unattended. The reality of being
overwhelmed hits hard.”

117 | P a g e
Sometimes you break down, sometimes you break up! ‘Will my spouse understand?’ You ask. How
are you married people doing? This is Umm Sumayyah, Liz Okpara back in university days.

“Liz, which Liz? The same Mass Communication department Liz, the first Lady?” murmured the
crowd.

“Yes, the same Miss Mass Comm Liz! She retorted.

Allahu Akbar! AlhamduliLlaah rabbil alameen.

“Look at you.”

“How” Lots of questions started flying around but the programme anchor took charge.

“Next please.”

“How are you married people doing? You enter into marriage with dreams and aspirations,
discussing the number of children you’ll have, school’s they’ll attend and how much love you’d
envelope them with. You have it all meticulously planned, only to find yourselves waiting for years for
children to join the family, the very children you had already envisioned. How are you married people
coping with these immense challenges and trials that inevitably come with matrimony?”

“That’s Mumtaza , the Americana.” Qurrah murmured to the sister sitting next to her.

“And when they finally come? How are you married people, doing? How do you manage the
sacrifices you make for the education of your children? How do you cope with the selflessness that
comes with forgetting about your own needs, just so your children can succeed in life? The
heartbreaking sight of you wearing the same worn-out clothes for years. You work tirelessly but dare
not spend as such. You must be prudent for the sake of saving your earnings for your family’s well-
being? How are you married people doing getting married and staying so?”

Hmm, this is deep! It threw the group into a frenzy of emotions, the first to recover was the speaker
herself. “Jannah Queens, guess whom this is?” I am Mumtaza Umm Adna!”

“Mumtaza at last!”

“She came this time, AlhamduliLlaah.”

“It’s Ameerah, wow!”

“Ameerah let’s see your face.”

“America looks good on you!”

“When did you get back?”

“You’re welcome home to Nigeria.”

“Order please. We’ll get the opportunity to meet and greet after the programme, shall we continue?
The next speaker is…”

“How are you married people doing? Sometimes work is tough, you look forward to getting home to
your comfort zone. If you had a rough day after toiling several hours at work, one would think “I
deserve some rest.”

118 | P a g e
“All through the walk home, you've fantasised about your deserved rest only to be welcomed to the
cold embrace of your spouse (because of a minor fight you had earlier in the day.) A sick child is also
on cue.

Okay, fine, you struggled through the night, sleeping some, waking lots, tending your sick baby and
soiled mood. It’s one of those things, your friends and colleagues said. You wake early to bath your
aching body, dress your wounded spirit, whet the appetite of your mood, powder your heavy eyes,
don a neatly ironed cloth. Checked yourself in the mirror and got yourself a pass mark.

People set their eyes on you outside and wish they had what you have! Really? How are you married
people doing it staying married for so long? This is Umm Faiz wa Faizah, Ateefah back in University
days.”

“Wow, our own Prof’s Wifey” Zahrah teased.”

Maa Shaa Allaah!”

“You have twins, how are you coping?”

“ How’s Polygyny Ateefah, we’d like to know what it feels like… ?”

“How are you married people doing”

Another speaker had mounted the stage.

“Well, let’s be honest, marriage is tough. It takes work, compromise and sacrifice. In fact, it
sometimes demand your sanity but then, you have to be careful here. There are days when you
wonder if you had made the right decision marrying your partner in the first place. And there are
days when you’re so happy you could burst.”

“There are days when surprise is dumped on your doorstep and upon unwrapping the surprise, it’s
both pleasant and appalling at the same time. There are times you’re presented a puzzle to unravel,
and then the puzzle turned a precious gift. A wonder you couldn’t have ever in your lifetime thought
possible.”

Qurrah smiled as she peered directly into the veiled eyes of someone whom the audience didn’t yet
recognise. She continued… “…but through it all, you’re doing your best, as a servant of Allaah, you’re
balancing your roles as a devoted, submissive Muslimah wife. You do all that you do with utmost
intention of doing it for the sake of Allaah while also keeping hope alive that Allaah will reward your
effort.

“Even when it’s hard, even when you’re drained, you know that this is what you signed up for –
Making a happy Muslim Home. Marriage isn’t always easy, but it’s worth it. Because at the end of
the day, you have someone who loves you through the good and the bad. This makes it easy for you
to hold tight to the moments of joy, the moments of laughter, and the moments of trial.”

“How are you married people doing? You’re doing great. Keep going, keep fighting the good fight,
and keep loving your partner with all your heart, never give up on them, never give up on your
home!”

“I am Qurrah taen Umar, Umm Zayd.”

“Maa Shaa Allaah! The Effiko of our set, Qurrah , the bookworm!”

“Our own dear Qurrah ”

119 | P a g e
Some members kept shouting until they were cautioned.

“And the next speaker…”

“How are you married people doing? You hurt some, love some, yell some, snuggle later, you fight
some, fix some, you screw up, make up and love up all over again.”

“How are you married people doing? Your union, at times a blessing and sometimes you wonder it
it’s blessed at all!”

“How are you married people doing it pretending to be happy when your life’s in turmoil? How are
you coping with the stress that comes with keeping your home happy. How are you married people
staying calm when marital challenge rear it’s head.” How do you endure the loss of a spouse? How
do you cope when your marriage is tending towards being lifeless?”

Some members were seen adjusting their seats, paying closer attention to the speaker.

“What about that other loss we hardly want to talk about, how do you married people do it when
death enters unannounced and you find yourself in the spinster market again!”

“This marriage thing is not for the fainthearted, only He who relies on Allaah and commits the affairs
of her home to Him thrives in matrimony.”

“I got married three times, first when I was in school, when infatuation held my heart and Shaytaan
led me astray, I married promiscuity, got engaged to frivolities and became acquaintance with vices.

At this point, the hall had maintained a graveyard silence. One would hear the drop of a pin.
Everyone looked on eagerly. Curious and awestruck.

I got back on track, all thanks to Allaah and my friends here. Despite my many misconducts, Allaah,
in His mercy took me back. I got married again, this time, it was real, with “real Junaid” she smiled
and at the same time wiped a teardrop off her cheek.

I got married with the man whom I’ve always longed for. Little did I know that JJ eluding me the first
time was because it was not meant to last. Death came with his lethal claws and took Junaid away
from me.”

There was a long pause. The speaker took her time to get a grip on her emotion.

She continued…

“Married again?”

“Yes!

“Guess what? This time, it’s full of surprises but all for the best! Here I am, happily tied in the sacred
bond of marriage with our amazing husband.”

“You heard me right. Our amazing husband!” As destined by the divine powers of Allaah, Qurrah
and I are co-wives.”

It was like dropping a bombshell, the room erupted in a symphony of gasps and whispers. In a
matter of seconds, the noise escalated into chaos. There were chorus of voices, sisters looking here
and there as if to seek authentication of what they just heard. Everyone was caught off guard!

“For real?”

120 | P a g e
“This isn’t happening, is it?”

“My own childhood friend, I can’t deal?”

“How on earth are you two managing to stay married and keep your sanity intact?”

“What! You mean Qurrah accepted Anisah as a co-wife?”

“No, over my dead body, that can never happen to me, not on my watch! My own friend!”

“SubhanaLlaah, how on earth did they meet? How did Umar meet Anisah?”

“Whatever Allaah has ordained to happen will surely come to pass. You think Qurrah wouldn’t have
fought back?”

Someone moved swiftly to the podium, took the microphone from Anisah and spoke up, exerting her
presence.

“Sisters, please allow the speaker to finish, she wasn’t done here.” It was Ateefah.

Unlike others, Ateefah suffered no shock upon hearing the news. At least not this time. She had
heard her fair share of the shocking news about two weeks back when Anisah confided in her.
Though she was aware Anisah was going to remarry and become a thanniyah all along. This was
because Ateefah herself convinced Anisah to marry again when the latter decided to stay off men
after JJ’s death.

In fact, she was the first person Anisah consulted immediately after Umar proposed and confessed
he was a happily married man who only wanted another wife as a sunnatic practice.

As an experienced polygyny-home member, Ateefah had advised Anisah to consult her Lord and
hand the affairs of her life to His care. She had told her to ask herself if she’d be sincere and God-
fearing about the union. She had empahsised that Anisah should fear Allaah as regards the first wife
and not go into the marriage with evil-intent.

She said all these not realising it was Qurrah ’s husband (Umar) Anisah was getting married to. When
finally she was told, she almost talked Anisah out of it. Anisah herself got to know Umar was Qurrah
’s husband at the tail end.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Ateefah had asked Anisah.

“I’m not sure what I want, I’m not sure about anything, that’s why I’ve been asking Allaah for
whatever favour He would bring my way. I kept asking Allaah for friendship, for love, for a long-
lasting happy relationship. AlhamduliLlaah, Umar came along and I was grateful for him, I still am. I
saw Umar as an answered du’a. But then, Allaah said that wasn’t all, Umar told me about his wife
and I was alarmed. I kept supplicating, asking Allaah for what’s best for me.

When finally I met ‘his wife’ and it turned out to be Qurrah , I saw my du’a being answered with a
bonus attached to it. I called her a bonus because she did not just turned out to be my long-time
friend but she also accepted me with open arms.” Anisah declared.

“This is the more reason you have to fear Allaah as regards your co-wife. Be a good sister and friend
to her. Do not infringe on her right, don’t encroach into her time and be your husband’s peace. Be
his safe-haven, his comfort zone and happy place. Be his heartsease. All these can be achieved if you
fear Allaah while playing your role as a friend, wife and co-wife. May Allaah ease your affairs and
grant you the best behaviour, may He make you a barakah in that household.”

121 | P a g e
“Aameen, JazakiLlaah khayr dear. Thanks for your support always, I’m most grateful for having you
to tap from.” Anisah had expressed a heartfelt appreciation to Ateefah.

“And I’m most grateful to Allaah for His guidance.” Ateefah had returned the appreciation to The
One and Only Who was most deserving of it.

“One house please.” The house was cautioned again. “Let the speaker finish, she’s still speaking”
Everyone was jolted off their seats by those words.

Anisah continued, “...Introducing the formerly wild university student, Anisah Nuhu, now
transformed into Anisah Umar, Umm Nuurah. Alhamdulillaah rabbil alameen, I am forever grateful
to have my dear sister and friend, Qurrah Umar, Umm Mumtaz as my co-wife!”

Qurrah rose from her seat and made her way towards Anisah. She reached out for an embrace first.
Anisah also hughed her tightly.

“Surprise!” they both exclaimed in unison.

Mumtaza lifted her niqab (face veil), her eyes filled with bewilderment, while the rest of the audience
stared on, equally stunned.

THE END!

© Basirah Adejare Aderibigbe

Baseerah Ribigbe.

122 | P a g e
123 | P a g e