She was holding her little kettle making ablution, about to perform Zub-hi, somehow,she got distracted by the flowers planted around the compound, their home an ancient one, that has been for over a decade. Her husband's from a polygamous family, if one wasn't told how old the house was he/she wouldn't know, being that the house was always renovated, three times every year, the flowers too were always changed by an Horticulturist, the peach color painting of the house gave it some uniqueness, the different colors of the flowers and its different forms also gave the house its beauty.
Her husband had decided to remain in the family house because it reminded him of so much memories and lots of histories were made there. More so, being the first son, he wouldn't want to leave, no first son of the Aberuagbas has ever left the family house, in all the history of the Aberuagbas.
She also liked it in the house, the vegetation around and the cool breeze it always brought, its serenity.
Allahamdulilah, Bisimilahi Ramaani Raheem, these were the first lines of the prayers she'd said before she got distracted by the flowers, looking at the Hibiscus, she gave a deep sigh, her cheek smiling from her eyes.
She sunk onto her rug, inadvertently hitting her hand against the little kettle she'd used for ablution the water poured on her mat, soaking some part of her hijab, she didn't bother to clean the mess up, she was too distracted to focus on that meaningless accident. Heaving an agonizing smile, Jameelah mumbled, 'how time flies!
I was once glowing like these hibiscus, she thought, she remembered her younger and beautiful self, growing up at the West side of the country, Osun State, in a family of four, and she being the eldest of her three male siblings, their family was somehow the least of families in their community. Her father a retired post master, and her mother a local fabric maker, the family survived on meager fare, her father Mr Ajankoko also was a devoted traditionalist, her mother with a weird religious background, Iya ogo Oluwa as everyone called her, her first name Remilekun had already become dominated by Ogo Oluwa, Oluwa l'ogo had always been her favorite exclamation sound, hence everyone nicknamed her Ogo Oluwa. She goes to Mosque for Asalatu and other services, and often goes to Church too, she believes every religion is centered on worshipping God, regardless where you are, as long as the name of God is called there, and purity is preached too, in any language at all.
The family lived in a two bedroom mud house, a house her father Ajankoko had always filled sacks with sands and stones to hold every corner of it, so as to keep it safe from erosion.
Jameelah grew in this mud house were oceans touch, she was really attractive, very fair to look upon, she rarely fed well, but her skin never stopped glowing, most times at night she'd hear her mother whispering to her ear, 'you are your father's retirement plan, you are the nourisher of your mother's old age.
She tried standing to touch one of these flowers, but she realized she'd rather remain sunken on her mat and adore these creatures. She saw her life through these flowers, she was 17 when she got betrothed to her husband Teslim, that was three years after she completed her secondary education, one year latter, her marriage rites were performed. It wasn't her decision to get married, she saw her life outside the boundaries of marriage, she knew she wasn't meant for it, but she had to give in to her parents plan of giving her out in marriage, 'you are your fathers's retirement plan, you are your mother's nourisher of old age, these words became a prison in which her invincibility was locked in.
Getting married to Teslim had become a chapter of a book in her life she wished was never opened, but nonetheless she had to live it up. What she wanted for herself was a good life, she wanted a life free of limitation, education was all she needed.
Jameelah remembered her father told her how the Aberuagbas assisted him in getting a job as a post master, even when he was under-qualified, and also promised each other future in-laws.
She loathed this act of theirs,but why do I have to be the sacrificial lamb here? does the Aberuagbas show kindness and expect to be paid back? she asked rhetorically.
Being Mrs Teslim has been a bitter-sweet journey, 30 years old Teslim hasn't been a bad husband so far, but she loathed his over zealousness when it comes to religion.
She'd been forced into becoming a housewife, made to wear long coverall hijab, restricted from having or visiting friends. These are never how she function, these are not so her.
She'd often become melancholic any time Teslim reminds her of his headship in the house, and how she has been subdued by him as the head. Jameelah swallowed everything thrown to and accepted them as fate.
One cold morning, Teslim almost brought the ceiling off the roof because she missed morning prayers. 'You don't have to do that woman!, that is an act of paganism, Allah would never be happy with anyone who misses even one out of the daily prayers!, he scolded. All her effort to explain how sick she felt that morning fell on rocks, all that mattered to him was that she prayed, even if she was sick or not, as long as she remained in his house.
This left her sorrowful, she wondered if her dear husband had a different God from the One she knows, cause somehow his own God is so fierce and inconsiderate, from all she had always known and learnt, God is kind and understands everyone's weakness, or somehow, had his religiousness ranked him up to speaking for God that he hasn't even seen?
She also thought about the evening, the weather was so gentle and soothing on the body, she took off her hijab, sitting at the balcony to feel the natural freshness of the air, Teslim almost hit her, called her a sinful woman, condemned her till her cup of goodness was emptied and were refilled with his contempt. Or the other day she was reading a fashion magazine, filled with pictures of undine looking models, and Teslim walked in scolding her, no follower of Allah reads such! Jameelah almost blurted out, 'is that how much boring this your Faith is, or did you just impose this self indicting torture on yourself, and now want to transfer its testiness on me all in the name of religion? but no! she recoiled her self back in the sacredness of the hijab she wore, hijab that she had found choking, and never stopped praying she doesn't one day slump.
Why didn't my parents tell me these were all it meant marrying a Muslim even a fanatic as Teslim, she'd asked, not expecting an answer from anything or anyone.
She doesn't have a love for religion, religion to her was a way of life and her way of life was reading, that was her love. She thought she'd love or come to accept at least one religion even if it's Islam, but then no!, because Teslim had shown her an adverse extremism of religion, and how sabotaging it is to her personality, she loves nature, she loves trying out new things, she loves fashion, sadly, this religion thing had become a prison.
She had thought so many times of running away, run from this life she is living to the life she loves. 'You are your father's retirement plan, and the nourisher of your mother's old age. She had to hold on to this devotion, she has to die at this post of marriage, for her parents
The dog in the next compound barked, she remained rather too still, she's Cynophobia, but she wasn't ready to be distracted from this road of thought she was on, she could afford to get distracted from completing ablution, but getting distracted from this road she was on, that was too expensive to afford.
Jameelah was 25 already, 8 horrible years of being Mrs Teslim, and no child yet, she was partly happy she hadn't taken in for Teslim, she wasn't ready to bear the cross of motherhood, marriage had never been a thing for her and giving birth can't be either.
Her hijab had already become dry, she looked at her wrist watch and it was past 45 mins, 45 mins! She exclaimed, i guess this is the most splendid splendid moment of my life, she began soliloquizing, tears dropping down her eyes.
I'm not meant for this, I have to embrace the life I love, I can't shell it in for too long, i need to unleash these potentials.I know I've been blessed by the universe with something that I can't even tell, I need to know myself more, I need to let my life free, she said tearfully.
Groggily she started up to the room, she took her journal, a black leather coated journal she had sneaked into the house through the help of a neighbor , she began to write, of course she could still read write, she had kept the edges of her intelligence sharp and piercing through her constant reading and writing of her tales in being Mrs Teslim. She wanted to write a long epistle to her husband, it's not worth it, I'm just going to write it to him straight and short, she said. She wrote thus; I'm leaving, I'm not meant for this, I'm going out in search of the life that I love, she tore off the page of her journal in which she wrote and then dropped it on the table, using a glass cup to shield it from falling.
She started for her room, packed few of her things, she did these hurriedly, somehow skeptical, she needn't be lackadaisical else this moment of escape slips and ruins her, as she was packing, she heard a sound at the door, she felt her heart sunk into her stomach, she hurried to the window, looked out, and it was just a Paw-paw that fell onto the rooftop, she heaved a sigh and went back inside, reached for her bag zipper, in 2 mins she was outside, she wanted to admire the natural beauty of the house once more, but she declined that fantasy, she must not let this sudden melancholy ruin things.
She doesn't know or have where to go, but she knew certainly she had to go.
Jameelah defied the odds, she'd taken the risk, she knew that in few hours the news of her disappearance would become a punch. She thought about her poor aged parents, their wish of her being their productive retirement plan, she thought about the impact of her action on her family, she cared less about Teslim, after all they were never fit for each other, she saw the hijab still on her body, testily she removed it, hanged it on one of the trees in the compound. I'll miss you dear sophisticating hijab, I hope I find a new meaning of your essence, and I hope I'll come to love your religion, but until then goodbye, she said.
With her bag still in her hand, she headed out for this improbable journey, unaware of what lies ahead, hoping she'd be happier.
Marriage was meant to be a 'till death do us part thing', but she wasn't ready to wait that long, she hopes by some other way she'd be able to accomplish her parents' wish and become a productive retirement plan to them.
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