Five months later, Mariam and I are now very accustomed to each other. We have had chats and calls at odd hours and she had told me a lot about herself than I had about myself. She had a very oddly religious father who vehemently failed to understand the true nature of God, the Imam, he was pushing past seventy years and still run after young underage girls.
His heart is hard and treated his daughters as though they were burdens laden his life. A man with four wives and six divorced, he threw his daughter into marriage more like giving them out as a gift to the children of his fellow Imams ignoring the fact of whether these ladies wanted to be in marriage at all or not – once he’s ready, they’re and must be ready.
Actually, Mariam was out that late and at the party five months ago where I’d first met her because her father was planning to gift her away in marriage to another Imam’s son who happened to be a struggling carpenter who already had two wives and hardly take care of them. She told me she didn’t go home that day, she had to pass the night in a mosque she was lucky wasn’t locked and not far from home in Olókobi’s compound.
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She could have passed the night in any of her friends’ house but she didn’t want anyone to know she was about to be given out like a chicken in marriage to an elderly carpenter just because he was an Imam’s son and could say, “Salam alykhum warahmotullah wabarakatuh, Bismillah Rahmon Roheem, Audhu-billah, Subhanallah, Astagfirullah, Monshallah and etcetera.”
Mariam was only nineteen years old and a few weeks away from turning twenty and our chemistry were beyond any bond I’ve ever felt, she was very intelligent, reads a lot, trying to memorize the holy Qur’an and had started to make me more accustomed to the teachings of Islam, and for the first time in my twenty-seven years on earth, I tried praying the Muslim way and doubted my very own religion.
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Her intelligence in making logical things understandable was out of this world, just a few weeks away from turning twenty and she’d already almost converted me into a Muslim and I started skipping church services – BamKo thought I was crazy but he loved the fact that at least one time we went to the mosque together and my noisy prayers had drastically decreased to his taste.
Seven months into the relationship, I received a distress call from Mariam, she was crying her heart out and seemed very depressed so much that I thought she would take her own life if I didn’t do something about her situation. Well, I did, I transferred a sum of three thousand naira to her account and she was on her to Ogbomoso to come to meet me.
For the first time in my relationship with her, I felt very uneasy and thought I was doing it wrong – my room is not the right place for her to be. BamKo didn’t see anything wrong with it in his part but I sincerely felt it was all wrong maybe because I loved her so much.
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She arrived at around 9:37 PM on that very Tuesday, she was already in the room, she looked lost and helpless, petrified beyond doubts and I was drowning in fear too. Though this was not my first time having a female visit me in my room. I’ve had several girls pass the night in fact nights with me but with her, I felt different – the atmosphere was so tensed for me than it normally would.
I made her noodles for dinner and while she was having her dinner we had jokes and talk and her laughter and mine filled the room and she was all back to the most beautiful lady in heart and body I’ve known. I went out, met a Muslim lady who was living alone in my hostel and begged her if she would let Mariam pass the night and for the first time in knowing me.
This lady felt Islam had really changed me because she knew for sure Mariam was my lady. I was wondering if it was some ten months back if I would even let any girl come into my room and not want to touch her. She agreed with a smile and I felt instant relief. I went back into my room, BamKo was back, he stared at me in a very confusing way, I ignored him, we switched off the night and the night faded away.
To Be Continued.
About The Writer
Olamide Yakub Lateef is 26 years old. I am Yoruba, I’m 5ft5 tall and I hail from Osun State and I’m an indigene of Iwo. I am an undergraduate student majoring in computer science at the online University of the People, CA, USA. I’m a lover of writing, I’m a poet and I love to take tasks the same reason I’m into programming.
I started conscious writing when I was a little above sixteen years old; that was when I first wrote my first poem. I’ve been writing since then, I’ve written many unpublished poems, short articles and few proses. I love to write because it’s the easiest way for me to relax after I might have written a few lines of codes in programming and by telling stories I feel like I’m building my very own universe.
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