DANGIN RABI
On a rainy Saturday night around 11 o’clock, with strong winds howling, my mother, whom I affectionately call Aya, secured our house by closing the door tightly. I found myself outside, desperately knocking and calling out to her, but she couldn’t hear me. It felt like an impenetrable barrier separated us. In my haste, I made a promise in a bid to get her to open the door, “I solemnly agree, Mother. I’ll marry as you wish. I’ll follow the path of tradition. Please, have patience, Mother.” My plea worked, and she reluctantly opened the door to let me in.
As I entered the house, she quickly closed the door behind me. I changed out of my wet clothes and dried them. Aya handed me a towel, advising me not to catch a cold. I accepted it, but my heart was heavy. She then shared her perspective on marriage, urging me not to be too patient when it comes to finding a spouse. She emphasized that waiting too long, especially without love or in the face of poverty and hardship, might not be wise.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I listened to her. I responded, acknowledging her viewpoint. However, I couldn’t help but express my frustration. Just recently, we had returned from a trip out of town, and she had rushed back to her hometown for a wedding. We were cousins, but from different cities and with different fathers, so there was no real connection. I warned her not to bring up the topic of my marriage again, or I’d leave. It pained me that she doubted my ability to make important life decisions and even threatened to send me away, just as my father had once done.
Aya then recalled how I used to bring fresh butter every day, explaining that Affa, a friend, used it for soup daily. I remained silent, unable to respond, and eventually went to bed. I pondered my situation, skipped school, and avoided my friends.
The next morning was pleasant, and I headed to Koko to buy some necessities. Upon my return, Aya tasked me with household chores, including cleaning the carpet in our room. While carrying out the chores, she noticed a mistake in my writing, specifically a missing diacritic mark in the Quranic text. She remarked on the error and shared her thoughts about marriage and the need to find a suitable partner.
I couldn’t help but giggle at her comment about her eagerness for me to get married. She continued, explaining that our circumstances didn’t allow for extravagant celebrations, and she believed it was time for me to enter married life. Her words weighed heavily on me, and I sensed the impending changes.
As the conversation shifted, Aya mentioned my family members and their indifference to our situation. She expressed frustration at our impoverished state, highlighting how we lacked basic necessities. Her concern was palpable, and she urged me to take responsibility for my future. She proposed a visit to our relatives’ homes before embarking on the next phase of life.