A SILENT DOUBT

★★★★★

It was the voice of the Muezzin that woke us up at five by dawn. I tossed and turned on my side in a futile attempt to get rid of the noise but it only got worse when my alarm started clanging and by God, it was an awful combination.

"Turn it off! turn the alarm off." I groaned at Salma who was closer to the alarm clock as she was yawning and stretching her body. "Ya Allah! this Muezzin is killing me. And please turn that creepy thing off." I cried out in displeasure.

"Okay, okay, I'll turn it off."

"Get out of bed, only a shaytan sleeps at this time."Kulthum was pulling at my leg.

"Leave me alone." I pulled away from her, throwing a pillow over my head.

"Get up, let's go and pray."She pressed on.

"Buzz off, you pest."I moaned incoherently into the pillow. She finally gave up on me after several futile attempts to get me off my bed. Salma and Kulthum went on to pray without me, while I lay on my bed until it was thirty minutes past five.

After observing my Fajir Salah I picked up my Qur'an which was right in front of me on the Tawla and then, as usual, I started reciting. I often recited at least four pages every day after Fajr.

Once I was done with my recitation I put the Qur'an back on the shelf and folded up my prayer mat, placing it carefully in its place.

I turned to look at my friend on my bed, sleeping like a dead wood. That was why she prayed early, just so she could have enough time to sleep till sunrise. Meanwhile, kulthum was still reciting. It was funny how she was naughty at the same time the most religious one among us.

"Hey, what exactly are you going to tell my mum?" I asked immediately after she put the Qur'an away. I did so because I was bored and tired of waiting for her to finish her endless recitation.

"That was fast. Were you waiting for me to finish? You know, I've not even made my dua." She sat back on the prayer mat in a monk style, placing both her hands on her knees.

"Why am I not surprised? What exactly have you been doing since you woke up from sleep?" I walked over to my closet and pulled out a light T-shirt, a pair of loose pants, and a pinkish headscarf.

"What exactly do you think I've been doing?" She answered my question with yet another question."I've told you not to worry about Umma. I'll convince her. You'll see"She assured me as I slipped on my T-shirt.

"Well, I don't want you to go lying to her, that's all. You know how much she hates lies. I don't want to be the one cleaning up your mess later." By the time I finished making that statement, I had already pulled my hair into a messy bun and tied it up with my headscarf.

"Just relax. I got your back. If I can't do this, nobody can." She said boastfully. She seemed quite confident.

"That's exactly what I'm scared of, your overconfidence when you lie. That's my problem with you. I mean, what if it backfires?"

"Hey! Are you indirectly calling me a liar?" She rose to her feet, giving me the feeling that she had lost the vibe to continue with her morning supplication. "I only said I'm going to convince her. I didn't say I was going to lie to her, get it right okay." She completed the sentence and there was something different in her tone. Now that I thought about it, I realized that she had never lied to me, not without a good reason.

"I'm sorry." I heaved a sigh and watched as she pulled off her jilbab, the one she borrowed from my closet.

"It's okay, but don't do that to me next time." She warned and I gave her a reassuring look as a sign of trust.

I walked to the other side of the room and headed for the exit" By the way, when are you leaving?" I asked once at the door, staring back at her as she folded up the jilbab.

"I'm not leaving today. I told my mum that I'm staying till the weekend." That being said, I knew that it was going to be a fun week for me with her around. At least having my friends around would ease the boredom because this house was always dry when it was just me and my mother home.

"Weekend? And you're just telling me now? What about her, when is she leaving?" I pointed at a sleeping Salma.

"I have no idea. Her dad wouldn't let her stay that long." Salma's father was very strict. She just couldn't do anything without his permission despite all the pampering and love he showered on her. I had never thought of a day that she would spend a night at my place ever since we became friends two years ago.

"Okay, see you downstairs." I decided to head downstairs and start up the day with my daily chores. I had to make the hard decision to wake up early now that my school was on break because I no longer had an excuse to get away with this laziness that was slowly becoming a habit.

"I'm right behind you." She declared and slipped into her slippers. She trailed behind me, saying random things I couldn't understand.

I started up by washing the dishes and by the time I was done Teslim and her kids were up. The kids found their way to the kitchen and graced me with their adorable presence, rushing to me like every other kid would do to their lovely Auntie.

"Good morning Aunty Hannan." My little minions greeted me simultaneously. They were just in time to lend me a helping hand.

"Morning lovelies."I knelt to their level on the kitchen tile and shared a hug with them. "You kids are up early." I swept Fahad, the younger one off his feet and planted a wet kiss on his cheek which made him giggle. The twins, Jaseem and Yaseera were both four years old. I couldn't lift them as easily as I did the younger one because of their weight difference.

"Hope you slept well last night my darling?" I asked sweetly and he nodded with an adorable smile plastered on his face. I have always doted that deep furrow on the left side of his cheek that always appeared anytime he smiled.

"Awe! Aren't you adorable." I pinched the bridge of his nose, placing him back down which earned me another cute giggle from him.

He stood next to me by the kitchen counter as I assigned work to his siblings. That was why I called them minions. I don't know how they did it but I found it intriguing that at their age they could work, at least clean something.

"Argh! Not my hair. Get away from me, you psychopath."A familiar voice cried from behind me as I was cleaning the windows. That was Yaseera, she was running away from her twin who was taunting her and splashing water on her hair.

"Psychopath? Where did you learn that from?" I questioned, deliberately ignoring Jaseem's tormenting display towards her. She was about to escape when I called her back.

"Yaseera! Come here." I gestured for her to come with my hand and she walked towards me stomping the floor as a sign of annoyance.

I threw a hand around her and planted a kiss on her forehead to ease her temper. "Now, where did you learn that word, psychopath from?" I asked quietly. When I was her age I didn't even know that word existed.

"On the television." She said, picking at the hem of her shirt in abashment.

"Now, do you know the meaning?"

"Nah ahh...but daddy said it means a crazy fellow."

"Oh! I see...so, did Daddy also tell you to call your brother crazy?"

She shook her head in disagreement, sparing a laughing Jaseem a quick glare, and then fixed her gaze on the floor.

"Okay then, don't ever use such words on your brother. Do you understand?" I warned sweetly and hugged her but she soon pulled away and I felt something cold and wet on my face. Jaseem! was at it again.

"Take that...and that." The restless child continued to splash water on his sister.

"Argh!" She cried out in frustration. That was exactly the reaction he was looking for. The pesky one couldn't help but laugh at his sister's frustration.

"Jaseem! Stop that" I warned and that silenced him."Don't ever...ever do that to your sister." I pulled at his ear. "Now, get back to work you two, "I screamed not meaning to sound harsh but there was something in my voice that made them stare.

"I said get back to work," I commanded and watched my minions carry on with their tasks.

Jaseem was a real troublemaker and a pain in the ass but unlike Mother and Teslim I had my way with stubborn kids like him. I found a way to bond with my sister's kids even though I wasn't fond of children, not that I hated them though. I wanted to earn a space in their hearts, even if it meant pretending to be a sweet Auntie.

I felt something tugging at my pants and when I looked down it was little Fahad, telling me to carry him.

"I'd love to play with you some more, but as you can see, I'm kind of busy. Now go to Mama, okay." I instructed baby Fahad who was just a year and six months old and I didn't know if he understood my language. He just wanted me to carry him, which would distract my work.

"What are you doing?" Teslim's delicate figure appeared at the kitchen door with her arms folded over her chest. Was that her new way of saying the salaam? Not like I cared about the greeting though. It seemed like she woke up on the bad side of the bed.

"I'm cleaning the kitchen..what does it look like I'm doing?"

"No, I mean my kids. Why are they helping you with your chores." I honestly didn't like the look on her face. From the look of things, it was clear that she was still mad at me for what happened the day before. She was the kind that slept with a grudge in her heart. And now it seemed she was even more upset about me engaging her kids.

"They're not doing my chores. They're having fun cleaning the cabinets."A nervous smile crept its way to my lips.

"Oh! I see. How old were you when you started working? Don't you think what you are doing is child abuse?"

"Child abuse keh!" I let the wet rag in my hands drop to the floor. "They're learning. I'm teaching them to do chores."

"You never cease to amaze me."She looked at me in disappointment and shook her head in disgust."Yaseera, Jaseem come on. Let's go, your daddy wants to talk to you."

"Yay! Abba! (Daddy)" And with that, the innocent children disappeared out of sight.

When I was done cleaning I took out the trash via the back door and when I got back inside my mother was back from her night shift and Salma was up too.

Both my best friends ended up doing the laundry and mopping the floor while I went on to organize my room. And by the time I came down to the living room I was told Teslim, my mother, and Kulthum were in the kitchen doing the cooking. It looked like everyone enjoyed doing their bit of the tasks too. I could never be happier knowing that I didn't have to plead with my friends to help me with my daily chores.

"Hi mum," I greeted, making my way towards the counter where Kulthum had been chopping vegetables.

"Wa alaikum salaam." My mother reciprocated with sarcasm, reminding me that she preferred the Islamic greeting to any other form of greeting.

Eyeing me curiously, she inquired"Are you alright? You have eye bags. Hope you slept well?" She brought her hand to examine my face.

"I'm just tired." I winced, dodging her touch which was somewhat silly. Even Kulthum was amused by my action. My mother decided to ignore me and carried on with her conversation with my friend which I had briefly interrupted.

I turned to look at my mother. There was something extra about her expression. Her eyes shone brightly with a glint of euphoria in every blink. I wondered what was so intriguing about their conversation that Umma was smiling nonstop.

I walked over to the cabinet, swung it open, and brought the items I needed to make custard and two mugs because Salma had requested earlier that I make some for her.

"make it three please."That was kulthum.

"And make it four."And that was my mother. I nodded and added two extra cups.

Turning to Teslim on the other side, I asked "Do you also want some?" And there was no response. She had looked at me and there was no telling what those eyes of hers held behind them. I couldn't bring myself to apologize for what I didn't do so I didn't bother to ask twice.

She carried on mixing the flour with some other ingredients. She was going to make Samosa.

I finished making custard and handed a cup each to Mother and Kulthum and took one to Salma in the living room. She and the kids had been watching another animation program before she subsequently tuned to her favorite TV series, The Vampires Diary.

I grabbed little Fahad and returned to the kitchen. Mother and Kulthum had been discussing something really interesting and I was dying to chip in.

Once at the kitchen door, my ears caught some part of their conversation that was when I heard something that instantly turned me off:

"After that day he stalked me to my parent's house and every other day." My mother was telling the history of how she met my father.

"So, did you later give in to his request or you kept playing hard to get," Kulthum asked with curiosity written all over her. How was she even enjoying this boring conversation?

"I wasn't playing hard to get. I didn't like him at first. But as time went on love crept its way into me." She confessed and I struggled to hold back a laugh that threatened to escape from my mouth.

"What about the other guy, how was he able to cope with the news of your marriage."

"Well, he got married to my best friend and they lived happily ever after." My mother said it like she was some narrator telling a fairy tale.

"Abba must be very lucky to have you. I would have gone for the other guy if I were you. At least he was rich and handsome." Sounded like something only Kuthum would say even at the brink of death.

"Love doesn't work that way, my child. It cannot be timed. We sometimes find love in the most unexpected places."

"Ahh, good grief. That was an interesting story."

After listening to their boring topic, I brought the mug to my lips and watched as my sister kneaded the dough together with so much concentration. She was peaceful and quiet, yet somewhat disturbed. What was it that went on in her head? What kept her in that state? It couldn't be that she was still mad at me. Was it something I said, I searched my thoughts, struggling to recall our previous conversations. I couldn't recall myself saying something that would upset her to that extent.

*****

Later in the day, after we had finished our tasks. We all sat around the dining table to have something I'll call brunch. Salma and I had put in our best to set the dining table in a ceremonial style as though we were having a family feast. The table was decorated with my mother's collection of exotic dishes which she had kept safe in a cupboard in her room for God knows how long. I was unable to wrap my head around why she had brought them out today and the reason for her unusual happiness. I wished that whatever kept her in that state of excitement would last long.

It's been a long time since I last saw her that happy. My mother had come face to face with grief on too many occasions that she had forgotten what joy felt like. I was glad that at least her eyes which were once blue and sorrow were now a thing of the past.

At the table, everyone was excited except for my sister who was resting a long face all through for some reason I didn't know. She had better not ruin this happy moment for us.

"So, mum, what's going on with you? You seem extra happy today." Teslim pointed out with a gloomy expression as she glanced at her phone. I saw her expression turn into anxiety the moment she held the phone to her ear.

"Yes umma, do you mind telling us what you're so thrilled about? Did an angel give you the glad tidings on your way back from work this morning?" I agreed with my sister as I munched on the Samosa which she had made, and oh! It tasted good.

"Shush, you'll ruin the surprise package." Mother hushed in a whisper and I mused, directing my gaze to Teslim who was on the phone. I guessed she was talking to her husband, Ahmad. On second thought, was she having trouble in her marriage? Was that the reason for her gloomy temper?

I scooped a spoonful of jollof rice, mixed it with salad, put some in my mouth, and then fed some to baby Fahad whom I had carried on my lap. Chewing slowly, I gave Kulthum a thumbs up for a job well done because the food was delicious.

"Wow! Keilah what's the secret recipe?" I beamed.

"It is love!" She stared and winked at me in a way that reminded me of SpongeBob. That made us burst out laughing. Teslim had excused herself from the table to attend to her call, otherwise avoiding the noise at the table.

"Wow! I just texted my dad and asked if I could stay till the weekend. Guess what he said." Salma told us with a mouthful of rice, mostly drawing my attention.

"He said you can stay?" That was an easy guess.

"Yes!" She confirmed it.

"That is strange. Your dad is slowly becoming someone I hardly recognize. He has gone soft on you. I don't mean that in a bad way. It's just that the man has suddenly stopped being overprotective of you."Kulthum said, and she had only known that much because she spent most of her childhood moments with Salma and her parents. They were her distant relatives. Specifically, kulthum was Salma's paternal cousin.

"He's getting old." I asserted, sparing my mother a glance. "You know these parents, once old age sets in they no longer have the strength for such things." Mama wasn't paying attention to our discussion, instead, she was attending to the other kids, telling them to focus on feeding themselves rather than playing with food. Kids! what a pain.

"He hasn't changed that much. Although he has been lenient in his disposition since my aunt returned." She was talking about her maternal aunt, who recently started staying with them.

"Your aunt! Bingo! That's a logical explanation." Kulthum snapped her fingers. "So, how is the preparation for her marriage?" She asked and I raised a questioning brow with a sudden surge of disgust flowing through me.

"What the heck! Your dad is marrying your aunt?" I blurted, almost spitting out the food in my mouth. I didn't know why my thoughts were leading in that direction.

"What? Hell no!" Salma cringed. "Nobody is getting married. Where did you get that from?" She looked back and forth between Kulthum and me. And amongst the three of us, I couldn't tell who was more baffled than the other.

"What! you guys don't know?" Kulthum stared at us with wide eyes and her mouth slightly opened." Wait! You don't know your aunt is getting married to some guy by the name...." She trailed off, struggling to remember something which made Salma and I look at her with a dubious glare and she didn't need a seer to tell her what that look meant. She had some explaining to do.

"Well, I saw it in the news." She said, a nervous smile creeping its way to her lips. "I swear, I saw it on Naija BBC. I didn't get to read it in detail because I wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth."

"BBC news keh?" Salma and I exclaimed in unison.

"You dey craze? (Are you mad)" Salma exclaimed, averting her eyes from me to Kulthum. "How could you believe such fake news on some blog?"

Naija BBC was a website that allowed users to share local and trending news but most of the blogs there were unreliable so I didn't trust anything from that site. I didn't trust any news on the internet. Recently I heard people deliberately cook up some spicy stories and post them online just to excite internet users. Regardless of how much civilization has encircled the world, people still fall prey to such things.

"Okay, okay I'm sorry for breaking the news to you like this. But if you want to confirm it I can show you. I had to screenshot it and save it to my phone gallery." She held out her phone to Salma.

"I don't need to confirm anything. If my aunt was getting married I should be the one passing the information to you, not the other way around."

For a moment we had forgotten that my mother was with us as we carried on gossiping about Salma's father and how he had changed over time. I knew the conversation was taking a wrong turn when Kulthum suggested that the man remarry and raise more children. Maybe it would help take his attention from Salma since he was overprotective of her. I noticed how Salma didn't like those comments and immediately suggested we change the topic.

When my sister returned to the table, I noticed her mood had changed. A small smile was playing on her lip as she spoke to my mother who took out a brown envelope and handed it to her, telling her to open it.

"What is this?" She asked with a curious stare at Mother, then at me before opening the envelope. She took out a white printed sheet. My eyes caught a glimpse of my mother's name boldly written on the paper.

I saw my sister's lips grow into a wide smile as she read silently. She covered her mouth with her hand and her eyes widened with surprise.

"Mama ta samun DNP! (Mum got her DNP)" She let the cat out of the bag impatiently with a huge smile on her face. I didn't know what DNP meant but I was sure it was something that had to do with her promotion.

Little wonder she had been happy as a clam ever since. We were all elated with the news and so had wide smiles on our faces as we congratulated our mother by giving her a group hug and kisses.

When everyone had settled down I finally brought myself to ask: "Umma, what is DNP?" Everyone paused and looked at me like 'What! you didn't just ask that', then my mother gave me a cheerful look and explained everything in detail.

"DNP means doctorate of nursing practice." Was the only thing I understood from the entire explanation.

Shortly after she said, "The professor" She paused. I noticed her staring down at the table. "He's back." She announced, a faint smile playing on her lips. Mother's sudden mention of the professor reminded me of someone I used to know. He was my father's close friend.

"I heard his son is back too. Ahmad had informed me over the phone earlier." Teslim told our mother.

"Yes, he told me too. The boy has been away for far too long. He wanted him to come back home and take over from him. He's going to hand over the hospital to the care of his son and that makes me nervous."I didn't know what those two were talking about. They seemed to know too much about this professor and his family than I did. I couldn't care less though, because I had only met the man once. I had heard so much about him from my parents, Ahmad, and my sister.

"It seems like everyone living abroad is returning home this time." I blurted upon listening to Mother and Teslim's discussion, not talking to anyone in particular. For no meaningful reason, my mind drifted to Imran's older brother who had returned from abroad.

Umma and Teslim chose to ignore me and carried on with their conversation."It's okay Mum, he's going to do better than his old man. I'm sure of that."

"I hope so. He's young and he may not be as experienced as his father. The work might be too much for him. His father is putting him through a lot already."

"He might be young and may not have much experience but in a way, he might have a better experience than his father. After all, he studied abroad at a world-class University. He still has much to give than we know."

"You do have a point there. The boy is so much like his father at heart. I don't expect less from him." My mother said and we ate quietly for a while. I was so glad the conversation came to an end shortly.

The professor was the man who gave my mother her new job at the Nigeria-Turkish Hospital. He was supposedly my late father's best friend, perhaps his childhood friend. Something seemed off about that man, I couldn't put my finger on it.

Why didn't he come to our aid when we were living from hand to mouth? when father was battling with malignant leukemia? Suddenly, on his deathbed, he popped up out of the blue and that was the only time I got to meet him in person. When my father passed away, I was told he came to his funeral, donated a huge sum of money, and gave charity to those who came for the condolence greeting.

Had my father not mentioned that he had been a good friend to him in the past, I would have said he was a wicked man.

★★★★★

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