Fallible

nineteen

Life, they say can appear very cruel. One minute, the noises from celebrations filled the streets. The next minute, the streets become overly silent, the rhythm of a neighbour’s breath can be heard. Indeed, death is the destroyer of all pleasures. Alhaji Adebola’s residence in the past week had been the headquarters of mourners. Family members, neighbours, the crème de lacreme, business associates, media houses and well wishers swam in and out of the mansion on daily basis extending their condolensces to the bereaved. It was indeed a sad period for the Adebolas.

Women from the mosque community, Mummy Saalim and relatives from the North all surrounded Mamman Suhail. Although the continuous sobs have stopped, she still at least twice in a day, tear up over the death of her only daughter. Considering the fact that Mamman Suhail had over 5 miscarriages, loosing a loved one wasn’t new to her, but this was different. She had always wanted girls, but everytime she had the scan done, even for the miscarried foetus, it showed male. She was overly excited when the scan report read female while she was pregnant with Maymah. She deposited in her every love residing in her, she was her companion. When her husband does something that hurt her so much, she told Maymah as young as she was, she was her confidant. Her eyes were still swollen from the frequent tears.

“Allah tries those he loves, He then grants them sabr through the trying period and then reward them with blessings they had no idea would ever be theirs. Trust in Allah’s plan Ruqayyah. I know you are a very strong woman, my strong woman.”

“If this would ease it a bit, Umaymah is In shaa Allah in Jannah. She died during childbirth, as a martyr. What she needs is our du’a, a lot of it.”

These words and more from her husband while they were alone in their chamber at night, comfort her. Although, she can read that he is as pained as she was, he has always been the one comforting them. Her sons have been there for her. Not as if they didn’t have their moments of somber, but being their father’s child, they knew well how to hide their pains and cater for those they loved. She has no reason to be ungrateful.

Ahmad had been residing in Mubeen’s apartment since the incident. The babies were with Salmah and he was never going to part with them, not even at a time like this. All he does is sit by their cots and stare at them till he hears the adhan. Once he returns from the mosque he resumes his routine. The death of Maymah was taking a very depressing toll on Ahmad. Sometimes, he sobs very hard while staring at his sons, other times, he stares at them emotionless, just blank. Mubeen, Farhan and even his mom have tried all they could to change that routine. They begged him to eat, to bathe, to change his clothes. Mubeen, putting himself in Ahmad’s shoes could have done worse; this allows him condone his excesses at times. The only thing Ahmad took delight in was salah. Everytime, he hears the adhan, he scurried up all excited like there was something very urgent he needed to tell Allah and the best time had arrived for such talk. His sobs were usually loud during tahajjud, it woke others up. Mubeen usually found him on sujood every time he attempts to come calm him. This was tough for Ahmad, he admitted.

Anyone who witnessed their love would understand better. The way they played around during family gatherings like teenagers, the way he cared for her during pregnancy, how he nearly met with an accident when getting the masa she craved from a roadside store, or is it how she bragged everywhere about she having the best of spouse, their cat and rat fights, how Maymah won’t eat until she sees her husband so they eat together, and more admiringly, the way she stood by him when he was financially imbalanced. She was brought up in luxury, she got whatever she wanted in high tastes but she never complained about the standards he was giving her, never. On top of that, she was a very grateful wife; good people don’t last.

“No one can fill her space, Farhan. Nobody can, wallahi” he sobbed on Farhan’s shoulder a day before.

“No one is meant to, Ahmad. You need to get a grip of yourself and stay alert for your boys. They need their father’s touch and affection in this critical period. Do this for her, Ahmad. She won’t be glad if she were to know you are this wrecked. Please bro, please.” Farhan patted his back.