Barakah Muhammad

“Oooh,” Hoor whines for the third time. Mommy hisses while I roll my eyes.

As mommy opens the car and goes to open the bonnet, I drag Hoor’s hand to enter, but she refuses, squeezing her face like what I don’t know.

“Oooh, mommy, Hoor is wasting time.”

“Hoorul’ain, inna kamaki ko?” Her voice rings from behind the open bonnet.

That only makes things worse because Hoor sits on the floor and burst into tears.

Oh God.

I glare down at her. “Better stand up!” But she only stares at me, still crying.

I hiss and roll my eyes. At this point, there’s nothing I can do but tell her sorry, even though I don’t know why she’s crying. “Oya,” I bend down, “sorry.” I rub her back. She twists away. Now I feel like slapping her. “Sorry now.” I drag her to me. “I will not buy you bobo again o.”

She turns to me. “I don’t want to go to school.”

I frown. “Why?”

She moves from side to side like a fish before saying, “I want to stay at home with mommy.”

I can never understand why some people don’t like school. I love it. I get to meet different people and learn new things, even though Brianna and her friends used to say that we might not become what we study. I don’t care about that. Besides, it’s temporary.

Mommy joins us, her ironed blue hijab now looking squeezed. “Seems you’ll take an okada. The car is having problem.”

“Noooo,” Hoor goes again, as if that’s why she has been crying in the first place.

“Okay.” I stand and brush my uniform. I look down at her. She’ll just slow me down. “I’ll go by myself.” I tell mommy.

She frowns, “for why? We’ll go together.” She turns to Hoor, “Who beat my baby?” She lifts her from the ground. Hoor keeps quiet and hugs her. I roll my eyes.

***

“I don’t want to say I told you so, but I did.” Brianna says to me, standing with folded arms as other students rush past us to the already full kiosk windows.

“Okay, fine.” I tell her. “But it’s just for today. Aunty Kemi always has fresh eggrolls and meat pies.”

“Maybe she’s sick.” Tinu, Brianna’s best friend says, her mouth already oily.

“Don’t tell me you’ve started eating already.” Brianna says, eyes wide.

I laugh. Tinu shrugs. Just then, I sight someone from afar, stretching her neck over some girls in a queue: Aliyah.

It’s almost a week since we talked. Did she notice?

“Okay, let’s go,” Briana says, “before someone finishes all her snacks and then comes back to beg for our own.”

Tinu shrugs, as usual, and I smile, and I don’t bother looking at Aliyah again.

***

I run fast. I didn’t know time has gone like this. Malam Mustapha will surely flog me today.

I don’t even bother to knock, I just open the door and run inside. Mommy will complain. But then I stop. The sitting room is dark. That means mommy isn’t around, but why is the door open?

Someone coughs. I turn. “Hello?” Nobody answers. “Who’s there?” I want to go and turn on the light, but I can’t move, and I don’t know why.

Am I in danger?

My heart beats faster than when I was running. But I still can’t move.

The person makes a noise again.

Run! Someone inside my head says. It sounds like mommy, my real mommy.

I start to move, slowly till I reach the wall where the bulb switch is.

What if it’s that aunty again? Should I scream? Or run?

I will run.

So I turn on the light and see…Aunty Rose!

“Ah!” She shouts, covering her face. “Please off it. Please.”

“Sorry.” I look around again. The only light is coming from the kitchen side. I feel my hijab gumming my neck. “Ma, I want to open the windows.”

She sighs, “Okay.”

After opening them, I turn to her. She looks so small under one of mommy’s blankets. I want to ask why she’s here, why she looks tired, and if Aliyah knows.

“Assalamu alaykum,” Mommy’s voice greets from the door.

I answer and go to her. She frowns as she sees me. “Ah ah, aren’t you supposed to be at Islamiyah. Then she sees Aunty Rose, “Oh, you’re awake already?”

“Mommy?” I whisper. I blink twice, something I’ve seen Hoor do whenever she wants to have a secret conversation. It’s silly but mom notices and takes my hand till we reach the dining room.

“Don’t tell me you also want to stay with mommy.” She says, smiling.

I shake my head. “What’s wrong with Aunty Rose?”

Mommy shrugs, “She was feeling sick so she came here to rest.”

I don’t believe that. They’re not even friends. “But why?” I ask.

“I don’t want nonsense questions. Go and prepare for Islamiyah.”

I frown, almost thinking of doing what Hoor did this morning. But I doubt mommy will answer me. Besides, I want her to take me seriously. I’m a big girl.

***

When we return home from Islamiyah later in the evening, only Daddy is in the sitting room watching a movie.

Daddy!” Hoor cries out and runs to hug him. “Mommy is a naughty girl.”

Our eyes widen, then I smile. “Toh? What did she do?” He asks.

Hoor sits on his lap, looking down, “She make me go to school.”

I roll my eyes and leave dad to investigate mommy’s crime. I check the kitchen. It’s empty. So I go upstairs, but mommy is not in the bathroom.

The guest room is open a little, so I peek inside. Aunty Rose is sitting down on the bed. Her voice is low so I can’t hear properly, but I want to know what’s going on. I open the door a little and bend down. Her back is facing me so she can’t see me crawling under the bed. Hoor’s favorite hiding place. But I have a good reason. I think Aunty Rose is in danger and I need proof.

“I’ve told you, I wasn’t feeling well so I left.”

The other voice sounds like a man’s own. Maybe ugly uncle.

She sighs, using her toe to scratch her other leg. The bottom of her long skirt looks dirty, or is it part of the skirt design?  “I didn’t say anything. Why won’t you believe me?” She hisses. “I’m not shouting at you.” She sighs again. “I’ve heard but please give Liyah money for food.” The man says something. “I didn’t say that.” She hits her hand on the bed. “I’m sorry, I’ll pay you back. I promise.” Another sigh. “Okay. I love you too.”

I squeeze my face. How can she love an ugly and wicked man like that?”

She finishes the call and keeps the phone of the bed, then stands and goes in to the bathroom.

I wait, thinking of what to do. I know they need help, and with the way aunty Rose is doing, maybe she didn’t tell anybody, just like Aaliyah. So I crawl out of the bed and carry the phone. The bathroom door is closed but the other one is still open. Anybody can come in and see me. So, I quickly turn on the phone. It’s a button phone. I frown. What happened to her iPhone? The one that she used to play makeup videos for us? I go to the contacts. I see the recent number she called: Rashid, my Hero.

I squeeze my face and recite the number. Thank God I’m good at cramming, especially numbers. So I drop the phone and leave.

I’m not sure what to do with the number, but I will still save it in mommy’s phone, just in case we need it. I hope we will.

 ***
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