Tales of the Heart✅

Chapter 1|Amaani.

Amaani.

2003.

I was six years old when I lost my mum and her twin sister. That day my best friend and I who was also my cousin and my mum's twin sister's daughter couldn't process what was happening completely.

We knew something was wrong but no one said a word about death. We were six years old and a bit aware of what death meant. I saw my Daddy crying in his room and when I asked him what was happening all he did was hug me in response. At first it was only me and my two siblings Ya Abdullah and Hanifah whom everyone calls Lina. Then my Father's best friend came from Katsina to Kaduna along with his wife Aunt Muneerah and their 4 sons, Ya Sadik, Ya Umar, Ya Abdulmalik and Mujahid.

Ya Sadik was mates with Ya Abdullah, they were teenagers with freshly acquired stubble. They were older than me by nine years and were the nicest among the boys. Ya Umar was the playful one who always teases us and Ya Abdulmalik who was named after my father had a more serious persona, he was almost always scowling at such a young age, he was merely 11 years old then. Then Mujahid, the last son was 9 years old and was very good friends with Lina.

A couple of hours after their arrival, my best friend Imaan was brought to our house, she had a few bruises on her hand, and her eyes were swollen. Everything happened so fast, one minute I was helping Imaan into one of my pink dresses the next minute we were both being ushered into Daddy's living room where two bodies were laid on twin tiny beds on the floor, when we peered closer we were told to pray for them, pray for our mothers.

I did as I was told to while Imaan stood there watching, tears began to roll down her eyes.

"That's my Mummy," she cried, "and your Mummy too Amaani."

Curious, I turned to my father who was watching us with acute pain in his eyes.

"Is it Mummy there Daddy? Why is she covered like that? I want to see my Mummy. Mummy talk to me." I cried out only to be hugged by Aunt Muneerah who was dabbing her eyes with the sides of a handkerchief. I shrugged out of her hold when I noticed Imaan lowering to the shrouded bodies on the ground and praying for them before placing a kiss on the clothe covering each of them. I did the same before the grown ups in the room said a long dua for them and then they were taken out.

Just like that Lina burst into tears until Aunt Muneerah held her back. Ya Abdullah was among the men holding one of the sides of the tiny bed that had my Mum. Other men including Imaan's Dad, his brother, my Daddy, Uncle Ahmad and Ya Sadiq too were holding other sides of the two tiny beds.

I was devastated when they took them to some cars and drove away, Imaan fainted twice and was taken to the hospital all before our family returned.

The days that followed were so gloomy all I wanted was to have my Mummy and Imaan's Mummy back, we both were cuddled, pampered, spoilt, given everything we wanted way before we voiced our wishes. It was like everyone wanted us to not be sad.

But then why shouldn't we be sad when whenever we requested for our Mothers we were given different excuses, sometimes all they did was stare at us with sad expressions on their faces. I hated that so much and promised Imaan that I would be there for her always, she promised me the same thing.

My dad's best friend Uncle Ahmad and his family returned to Katsina where they were based two weeks later. Their absence was felt by everyone because their presence made my mother's absence feel less noticeable.

The only good thing about those days was having Imaan around. She was the only person who understood my pain, she shared my pain and feelings and she was the one who gave me the best hugs after Ya Abdullah. He was the one who gave both of us the very best. He didn't mince his words when he explained to us what happened, he told us our Mothers were in Jannah In Shaa Allah and they were overlooking us from there and made us promise to be good girls always. We pinky promised him and that took a huge percentage of our worries away.