When I mixed the colors of;
Love, peace and friendship,
It gave me you!
You know why?
Because, you have a charisma,
Of all; where ever you go!
~HalimatuAbdulrazak ✨
••• ••• •••
Two days later.
Anything with a beginning must have an ending, be it a living thing or not. That's a very familiar phenomenon.
After two days of staying at the hospital with her baby, after two days of watching him looking almost lifeless.
Today, he laid there on the bed, really lifeless. It was a great information to her, she grieved her loss silently, before Hayaat arrived, and just like that, she wished she could remember at least the father of her child, so they could mourn their loss together.
If only wishes were horses...
Hayaat walked into the wardroom with a basket, which contains breakfast for Zubaida.
"Salamu Alaikum." She salaamed.
Zubaida was lost in thoughts, so she didn't even heard the greetings from Hayaat.
"Zubaida?" She called again. But it all fell on deaf ears.
She tapped her on her shoulders which jolted her from her thoughts.
"Ya rasu." Zubaida said, staring at the cadaver of Auwal pathetically. The doctor had covered his body with the soft blanket she uses to cover him, but she had opened his face staring at it for a long time, trying to recover any memory of familiarity.
"Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi rajiun." Hayaat shook her head. "Since when?"
"Eight fifteen in the morning." Zubaida answered solemnly.
Hayaat glanced at her wristwatch and saw the time; nine o'clock— forty five minutes ago. She excused herself from the room and dialed Gaddafi's line, it rang but he didn't pick. She tried again and it was still same.
She then sent him a text, telling him to call her immediately and they've been discharged.
••• ••• •••
September 1, 2004.
The premises of Malam Musa's house was now getting less filled with friends and relatives that came to rejoice with yet again another addition. Two years ago, it was Ruqayyah's naming ceremony, and now, she has a sister.
Piles of used plates and trays were askew as some group of women were washing them, in another angle from the kitchen exterior was a large frying pan, with some ram intestines been fried, above the kitchen was the ram's body tied to a rope, before it gets cut into small pieces tomorrow by the butchers.
Zaliha wobbly arranged the burning woods amidst the tripod stones, she has been feeling very ill that morning. Even though Zainaba had requested she rests and leave any other work for the other relatives that were around to take care of it, but she had insisted saying Zainaba had been in every activity of her daughter Ruqayyah's ceremony, why won't she do same to hers.
She fetched a reasonable amount of the meat in a plate and took it to Zainaba.
"Well done, please have some rest, you look so tired." A relative said to her.
YOU ARE READING
Tears of Zubaida.
Romance~~~~~~ When two ends meet, does that mark it the end? Or the beginning of another roller coaster? ~~~~~~ There's a hausa saying "kowa ya bar gida, gida ya barshi." In the case of two sisters, could that proverb be the best description to their sit...
