Zubayr
kicks continuously, crying, “Umma! Umma! Ayyam hangry,” and I wonder why he
won’t stop because our mother is sitting by the fire, blowing furiously at it,
telling him the food will soon be ready. Only that there is no food in the
pot-just water- and everybody knows that except Zubayr, but we can’t complain
like him because mom had told us dad has gone to work and will soon be back
with plenty of money to buy rice and bread and spaghetti.
I
don’t really know what Abiyy does for a living, only that he goes out very
early in the morning and returns by nightfall. And whenever he comes home Ummi
will only ask him “how did it go?” And if he says “Alhamdulillah,” I will be
very happy because I know that there will be rice or spaghetti for us. But if
he says “Ah! Alhamdulillah” I will be sad because I know we’ll either take
garri or go hungry again.
The
call to Maghrib prayer has long been made and now I can see the red hot coal
clearly and the tiny sparks of fire breaking rapidly away from it. But dad is
not back yet and I am worried and losing the last of my resolve because dad
always comes home before the call to prayer.
Mom
unstrapped Faatimah from her back to breastfeed her and the tears in her eyes
glisten from the fire as she looks again in the direction dad always emerges
from. Zubayr is now asleep and Mulkah, my twin sister, is dozing beside me,
rocking back and forth until her head hits the wall in front of her and she
cries out and I can’t tell her sorry because I know it was hunger, more than
anything else, that made her cry and I don’t know what to do because I am also
hungry and I can’t tell mom because she is just crying all over Faatimah’s
head.
And
Allah knows I want to cry, too, but dad told me before he left that I am the
head of the family whenever he’s gone and heads of families are always strong
and they don’t cry for food and they wait patiently for the main heads of
families to come home. Or maybe dad was
wrong because I am five years old and my friend, Lekan, is seven and he cries for
food all the time and his dad doesn’t say anything about it and I wonder why it
is okay for a seven-year old head of the family to cry and not a five-year old
head of the family.
Soon
I burst into tears and Mulkah changes the melody of her own cry and mom cries,
too and say, “Hey! Hey! AbdulMalik, Mulkah, don’t cry my dear, dad will soon be
back and you don’t want to wake your younger ones.” And soon, a commercial bus
emerges from dad’s direction and mom says “you see! Dad is back.” But when the
bus stops in front of the house, it was not dad that alights but a man who
explains to mom that dad was involved in an accident and mom cries out and
Faatimah and Zubayr wake up and cry, too, and Mulkah cries, too. But I don’t
cry because I don’t know what accident is and I wonder why Mulkah and Zubayr and
Faatimah are crying because they are not supposed to know what accident is… and
I am hungry and I am still waiting for dad to come down with the spaghetti and
bread and rice.
TO BE CONTINUED! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK IN THE COMMENTS SECTION.
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