We are never as we used to be

And when we reach the end

of this mortal bridge

I'll weep, for I shan't know you anymore as you are.

We are separated forever

I won't know this you.

and you will know me no more

as I used to be.

Her mind was a maze of afterthoughts, perusing the short span of existence.

Wealth, beauty, knowledge. life and all its glamours were a fleeting distraction.

Death was a surety, it snatched and gobbled everything one had ever held so tightly. Every breath taken was diminishing of the self. everyday we drew closer to nothing.

Salima feared but liked the thought of not existing, her miseries vanishing from the face of the earth with her.

It was a frequent regret, that she would have nothing to miss if she was to stop existing. family was meant to cushion and protect from the harsher world, hers was fragmented though thinking of separation shattered her, to have already severed ties cut forever by the crossing to another realm. It was that life was too short that they had wasted much of it hating and breaking. She didn't know what to regret most, the life not lived or that time wouldn't spare enough of itself for amends.

The masjid held a sister circle at the last Friday of every month. Women who knew teaching other women willing to learn the vitals of their Faith. That afternoon, the Ustadha had delivered a lecture on the end of existence. Salima had gone cold since. She knew that every mortal was to perish and she was mortal too and bound to perish but ruminating the speech of the woman, her tranquil stance as she demonstrated bathing, binding and praying for a deceased.

it grilled her inside.

She prayed it was not the universe sending a subtle message that soon enough she'll put the knowledge to use. so distant with her thoughts that she didn't hear Nazifa demand her baby's bib.

"what are you thinking?" Nazifa asked as she wiped her child's mouth of the milk that trailed down.

"Nothing, you've finished feeding her?" It was an attempt to recover for the sudden intrusion of her thoughts.

"Is it what the Ustadha had said? "

Reluctant to admit, Salima confessed

"yes it is and so many thoughts I just can't get off my mind" jitters traveling through her blood, raising goosebumps. sudden fear crept up her heart and squeezed cruelly.she had a bad instinct, something was coming.

"and to know everything is temporary, It's all illusion." her eyes drooped with unmistakable sadness.

" we all have to return to dust, one day, definitely. that's why we have to make best of now, be not sad of the future unknown. And the good thing is, even our pain won't last"

even though Nazifa's tone weighted with optimism, her eyes narrowed, she had recently lost a brother. He was very young but she still was grieved.

"I had bathed him, you know. I was the only one who could. I always have to be everything for everyone especially my daughter. I want to be better, just for her"

A soft spot in Salima's heart tingled, a flare of need for the pure love of the mother-baby duo as they exchanged sweet smiles. Children were sweet and angelic and she wasn't guilty that she only liked their presence from far, she didn't know if she had the mind to keep children. Her need for them was conflicting, she wanted and she didn't want. If she bore children, she wanted them out of pure love and not selfishness, that she owed them everything by choosing to birth them. Salima wanted to give as much of her, with love.

"You're a lot of things. I admire your strength. motherhood is not easy especially if you're young" Salima complimented.

Nazifa rarely spoke of her husband and marriage life. She had been married very young as the last wife of a man twice her age. He wasn't bad to her but he was not the kind of man she had wanted. Their marriage was borne out of hasty decision, she had only wanted to flee her life and agreed to marrying him. It was a marriage of mutual respect and duty.

"you're a strong woman"

Nazifa laughed at Salima's comment

"I'm not that great. I'm just doing my best out here so I don't end up raising a child the way my mother raised me,"

"no child deserves a life like that"

they both went quiet. The ticking seconds weighted with the pressing truth.

"are you still that bitter? "

asked Salima. She had begin thinking that money mended hearts. That Nazifa had the life, a child to love and her own space that she had made home of.

"no I'm not. You only know you dislike people when think of them dying and you feel nothing, but I know I'll cry" she resumed gazing at her baby, pinching her cheek, an action that caused the baby to give a dimpled smile.

They were almost same people, except that where Salima cowered, Nazifa was fierce. she would never let anyone talk at her. She rooted not just for herself but for other people too. For all the years of her life Nazifa had lost in aches, she paid herself with the will to speak up. Salima had disliked Nazifa on first encounter.she misconstrued her character and thought her loud and proud. Physically she shared little semblance with her mother and Salima channeled her inner feelings of resentment on her. She saw Nazifa as another dimension of her mother and it was easier to hate the loud stranger than her own mother, maybe it was the same way her mother found it easier to hate her than her father.

It was until one time when Salima had lost consciousness due to an excruciating ache in her chest and Nazifa had been the one to look after her and gave her a drive home after. 'you'll only strain your heart with worry. Be patient.' Nazifa's tone had given off the feeling of warmth and true empathy. It was then they started talking. It was when friendship bloomed on the grounds of similar life pain that Salima knew she had been thinking wrong of Nazifa the whole time.

"thank you for staying back Salima,

You're always so helpful" Nazifa was grateful and Salima beamed unassumingly.

"always helping around the masjid, you just never say no"

Salima had no answers for why she did what she did even when sometimes she didn't wish to. When people mistook her pleasing acts for kindness, she would only blush in return.

" It's nothing please" genuinely, it was her wish to help Nazifa.

"You know, I used to be like that too." Nazifa started,

"The yes person to everyone at my own detriment. I read somewhere it's a kind of compensation for the neglect felt growing up. you get the validation for every yes you say, and I'll tell you this, be for yourself or no one else would. The only thing other people will dutifully do for you is to dig your grave" Nazifa's view sometimes made Salima suspect misanthropy yet she knew it wasn't Nazifa who named every act even altruistic as motives, It was she.

"Only you are your own,

alas, we all are humans just bound to others by strings of destiny. by blood or by respect or friendship. only the lucky few have true company to make their days count. I'll raise my children because I want to. I'm not expecting reward for my labor, I'll just do it for myself so I know it was worthwhile." Scared to be open, Salima knew Nazifa was only consoling the hidden bruised part of her that she didn't expect anything and expected the most unexpected from anyone. even though her eyes blazed with ethereal love for her baby. she was full of love she wouldn't show. the hope in her dimmed of expecting affection of others, but the hope was still there and flickering. "I will love and hold dear and I don't expect the same"

Nazifa sealed with a finality and salima took the talk from there

"there's still that fear holding you back. that place of yours, tender still wishes but dares not to utter and make known because you believe you'll never have it. Or you're not good enough to deserve it."

The precision of Salima's words marked a look on Nazifa's face that even if she tried, she could not hide anything because Salima could always see, they saw the world through the same broken rose-colored lens. their childhood were similar, children who'd been denied individuality and only lived to please and obey.

they had been mothers before, not by birthing but by bearing duties too big for their young minds.

"I do envy you a lot, I wish. I would only wish to have an inkling of your strength" Salima said eyeing the untainted walls of the Masjid thinking of her own fix of cowering in the face of demand while Nazifa's was the opposite.

"you're a fighter, you know your way through life. You're no victim but a wielder of your pain as weapon. your past the beacons that guide your mind. Your scars, marks of battles you have worn."

Nazifa laughed lightly

"You give me too much accolades than I deserve, you should see how broken inside me still is. I'm a well tied up mess. I can't show because nothing will change. no one can do anything for me. I am for myself. I am quite selfish and problematic, you don't know me. I've only learned to not succumb to the evil whispers in my soul, for my child's sake. I only strive to be better so please spare me the praise"

"It's no praise" Salima countered, taking a defensive stance.

"when I look at my little Amina, I just never want her to look at me the way I looked at my mother"

Despite Nazifa being five years older, she had shared more details of herself than Salima ever did. Her tongue was unfiltered, she said everything as it was without sugarcoats. telling her tale like she didn't care it was someone younger. She was so attuned to her past and yet lived the present without fearing the unknowns of tomorrow.

Standing at a height of 5'7 her strength and courage just as tall. A force to reckon, the exact opposite of society's expectation of the typical African woman. smart, she knew when and where to do everything without losing her feminine place.

Nazifa's combo of valor and feminity was a thing Salima would only dream of.

"there are many things I wish to have done different, my mother had never been good to me. she made my living unbearable for me but I should have acted with faith. I should have done better than exchanging words with her, all those scornful looks I gave her. my resentment conveyed in every glance

It was unwise of me. I'm still evolving. I'm changing, I'll be better In Sha Allah"

Salima wanted to be better too. her mother knew she wasn't fond of her presence around her. It could not hide. She didn't hate her but the divine cord that bound mother and child had slackened almost breaking and from the way she looked, her mother knew. All Salima could feel were ill-feelings channeled towards all of man and their kind. repulsion for the institution of marriage, disbelief in her race, yet the will to look at the world with hopeful eyes, the wills battled to gain font and her head was a chaotic war of many oppositions.

"No matter how you try to make people see, they say you shouldn't speak of your mother like that"

In a world that acclaimed mothers to be terrestrial angels, it was a universal truth that they were an extension of God's mercy. It was almost like a sin for people to hear of mother's who were otherwise.

but two of them knew the pain of mothers who objectified their children.

Nazifa and Salima knew exactly what it was like to be born to be used.

"You can do better than this selfish woman"

"you call yourself selfish?" Salima gave Nazifa an incredulous look, "because you can't stand mothers being reckless with their children and it triggers you. Is that what you call selfish?"

"yes it is, because everything won't stop reminding me of the life I've lived. when I see women eagerly toss their babies at people so they could have space, it makes my blood boil. No matter how long it takes, I remember, it still hurts and I hate it." Nazifa placed her sleeping child on the shawl she made bed beside her.

"When my brother had died, it was the end for me. I thought I could never look in my mother's face again. The things she had done had left indelible marks and my brother's death was the pinnacle of it all.

It was excusable when she was doing all she did, chasing after only her interest without thinking of us but getting a life involved, An innocent child. A child born to suffer and die for her own crimes"

Nazifa's eyes reddened. she was at the verge of tearing up.

'It's okay" Salima consoled.

"And the worst part is that you've had it worse doesn't mean it would get better. My only consolation is my child and the ones I'll have eventually. I'll try not to live through them, I'll see them grow up and become something for themselves and I'll feel happiest of the humans I had raised well. I want to be present, fight my own demons so that I don't groom my children in hell"

Salima used to think she had had it worse until she heard from Nazifa. It wasn't she who had to be mother for a brother who suffered autism and watch him being ate up by illnesses and still see him die in front of her.

"Her presence is still so heavily ingrained in my life, I'm suffocated. even when I had married and left home because I needed my own space I would feel guilty doing what I liked and being happy for my own self.

Guilt would eat me up when I thought of the chores my mother will have to do herself," Nazifa stopped to catch oxygen.

"It was the first time I lived for myself yet it felt like an offense. I'll almost be tempted to leave my home and go serve my mother at hers. The too much freedom I had felt unreal. I was always waiting for things to go wrong "

Salima mused. Imagining freedom but her's was not marriage as escape she dreamed to own her space. No kin. No husband. No child. just she living, for a few years at most then she might think of having to share her life after all its crowding.

"From cradle, I haven't known what it's like to be heard. I hoped to find it in marriage but my husband even though respecting, there's no feeling between us. holding conversations is as hard as slipping on a glass surface.

He gave me a comfortable life and I am grateful for that.

Seeing my kids grow up in ease with a providing father is enough for me to be thankful. It is not the life I want but I am grateful to Allah"

Love was a glamorized farce. Salima would believe the moon would turn purple than believe in love let alone to be in love and be loved in return.

If the day would come, if marriage was destined for her. She would choose mutual respect and responsibility before anything else.

"it's so hard to be this open. I had never met anyone I related so deeply with or who genuinely understood my pain"

"and when you do , you can't stop talking right?" To finally be looked at and seen was a huge favor for Salima and she tried to be for others too, if and when she could.

Nazifa choked on her constricted throat, painfully letting the word out

" how do you always know"

" Because, Same here sister. Same"

Nazifa looked at her baby that was taking in graceful breaths as she slept and heaved a sigh

" I saw my mother get married and divorced three different times. It took such a toll on me, especially as my own father died"

Salima hadn't known death of a close relation, her grandparents had been deceased before her birth and it was only her maternal grandmother she knew.

"As I was her firstborn, after her divorce she got married a second time without taking me with her. I remember being tossed around several relatives before finally staying with her mother."

The pricking pain of abandonment shot through her eyes "It was after her second marriage ended too, she left my sister behind with her father and came back home.

She remained unmarried for years because she had quite a reputation, feeding on the allowances my father gave out. My sister and I met sometimes when she visits mother but we don't know each other much"

Salima could read the thoroughness of her early life marked by fine lines on her forehead.

"I met my mother miserable, she was always like that. The only thing she loved was to squander and vent. From the allowances my father gave, she spent on her self first and I came second

I wasn't her first or best interest. She was interested in other things than she ever was in me. It was just like I existed to serve her and she did a favor by giving birth to me. A favor I can never pay her back even if I gave my life for her."

Nazifa paused, inhaling deeply before continuing " when my father died. The money flow stopped, we depended on the rents of the flats I got as inheritance and my mother knew she had to do something, she never had intentions of work and that was how she successfully married a third time,

he was a wealthy man so my mother tried hard to compete with his wives in bearing children but she was weak, at past forty you don't expect healthy eggs yet she was desperate and would do anything. She got diabolical, I was old enough to talk to her but she shut me out when I did.

To cut the long story short, my stepfather caught her mixing potions and divorced her though she was already pregnant with my brother

After giving birth she was sent out, the little innocent boy paid for his mother's recklessness. he was born premature and an imbecile. Medically, he wasn't diagnosed with any disability. he was perfectly normal like any toddler but could not talk or walk on his own. Doctors were baffled but I knew what my mother did as it was later known that he had some demonic presence, Jinns made a house of him.

I knew nothing was without God's permission but I was shattered to think her actions had a play in it. It was worse that she didn't think of her misdeeds. She only fought for his right of money from his father because he too didn't consider my brother of any use. he believed she was the cause of his predicament and should bear it alone. when I saw my brother unaware of his own self and feelings, it broke me everyday seeing him bear cross of my mother's cruelty. The only thing my mother had done for him was feeding him milk, aside that he was left to fate like the rest of us. Thank God she didn't have more than three children else what could it have been. reign of terror."

Salima was thankful her mother too didn't have more than two of them.

"may God forgive my utterances but I believe it was better he died. It wouldn't have been good for him. Life would not treat him well, his own mother doesn't even love him much, who else could. A disabled. If not his blood who would accept him. It was my sister and I that played with him when we could. We would laugh with him and cheer for him when he could pronounce a full sentence, or said his own name. We taught him with illustrated books it was no use but it was for him to feel loved. not neglected.

Salima when I think of certain things,I'm tempted to curse and hate even more but I'll restrain myself for the reverence of motherhood. The downturn of my life, sometimes I want to attribute it to her but God knows best.

I never planned on marrying this early, I had no choice yet it didn't turn out as bad. don't lose hope, there's light at the end of the tunnel"

Salima had little hopes. her tunnel seemed never ending, to let alone harbor light.

" I was fed up of getting guilted by my mother, how I was feasting and draining the life out of her, how despite after giving birth to me I hadn't been of much advantage to her or even myself. She told me she was only responsible for my school fees and I should start taking care of other things.

I got a small job after SS3. I didn't get too much yet I gave her out of what I earned, sometimes she even took my money out of my saving kit simply because I owed her it. At that age, my mother was expecting that I give to her because it was her right as a mother; the dues for her labor. at least now I have enough to give and I promise she'll get tired of collecting"

Nazifa bit the side of her mouth like to control it from uttering something so wrong

"Is the job the reason you had been roped in an early marriage?" Salima was wary of touching sensitive talks of other people but she wanted to know.

" Oh, yes. I was coming to that.

It was in my sixth month of work that day an elderly lady had come to where I worked, it was a subscription outlet. who would suspect she had something up her sleeves as frail as she looked.

She told me she was dizzy, and feigned slumping, as I was the only one in the shop, I didn't want to leave but for sheer humanity sake I went to the closest pharmacy where I could get ORS and when I came back the woman had vanished. It was suspicious yet it took long before I realized she had stolen all the money under the counter.

There was no narration left out as I explained to my employer even as other people testified to seeing the woman. he still got me arrested.

I won't forget the humiliation, I was drenched in my predicament thinking of a way out and all my mother did was to rain abuses and complicate the more. My mind was already a mess.

she asked the man to snoop the money out of me because she had not even a dime to pay him with.

My now husband had helped me out, fate had it that he would be the inspecting officer at the station where I was. He intervened when the torturers were about stripping me off my clothes. he had paid for me. I married him when he asked, I couldn't say no to a man who had saved my honor. He's kind."

Salima saw how Nazifa fought back her snuffles as she blinked her apparent glassed eyes.

" the only thing I missed about leaving home was my brother but now he's..he's gone." She let the tears out but wiped faster than they reached her chin.

"coming to this masjid is the best decision I had made. there's peace in the remembrance of Allah.

I'll keep praying for my brother, for everyone part of my life. even my mother too" blood betrayed. It made Salima think how no one gave up on family. once blood ties were tainted with a loved one's misdoing, no matter how terrible, hope doesn't lose face. No child could hate their parent or vice versa, you could be numbed of feeling but not hate.

None of the two of them realized the flight of time as they mused and mourned their stolen childhood. The fiery glow of the sun had simmered down as evening was approaching, they prayed midday prayer then Salima helped Nazifa to her car with her baby's bag. With Amina safely tucked at the back, her mother kicked the engine to a start.

"are you sure you don't want me to drop you off?"

"No thanks" Salima declined politely.

Nazifa waved good bye watching Salima get smaller through the front mirror waving back too till she had disappeared.

Salima reflected their conversation as she made way to their store. her heart less heavy of worry and a thought beating at the back of her mind that, that which is to come would indeed be better.

****

The wind frolicked with her veil, passing through her head easing the heat of her tightly packed hair. If a lot hadn't changed in a span of eight hours, she could have noticed that the onset of rain had made the garden greener, she could have noticed the sprouting leaves, new and shiny under the reflection of the golden hours light. the budding vegetables too, tomatoes red and plum and the butterflies climbing out their cocoon.

Their town was a dormant one but that day being the first day of Eid was alive with festivity. other households feasted while her grandfather's bungalow was in mourning and receiving troops of condolences. That morning her grandma appeared stronger, she ate more potion than she always did. She was dressed in her favorite tie-dye boubou. Salima was happy to mark Eid after a thirty days fast with her grandma's high spirit so early in the morning unknown to her it was a farewell disguised.

Her health had been failing and Salima had offered to stay with her for the fast period, she hoped Eid would be a full happy house, her uncles, aunties, her cousins would come home. It was a fulfilled wish that their family house was full, but for another reasons,Her grandmother, Asma'u Ladi Sani had passed away. It was like her grandma knew her time was near as she had kept perfumed white yards, many of them.

it was still early morning Salima had been with her, she had held her hand, she cried tears of pain and joy that her grandma could proclaim the testimonies of Faith. She prayed for her as she closed her eyes with trembling hands. In a dazed state,pained and unaware, Salima had washed her body, shrouded and perfumed her before informing any soul of it and when her uncles had come and questioned her why, she had no answers.

If death was not eternal separation and left painful stabs, she could have been slightly happy that her grandma seemed at ease at her time of meeting her Creator. She was still cold to bones and shocked. She was grieving and guilty. guilty that part the reason she had offered to stay with her grandma was to escape her mother. She had a feeling her grandmother was slipping away but she lied to convince her mind that she was only thinking it, that morning when her grandmother looked rounder with health, her light skin looking firmer. salima soothed her mind that the woman who gave a taste of what a mother was, was not going anywhere. The melancholy overloaded her mind that she hadn't only passed away, confirming her fear, her grandmother went up to God in her presence, her hands in Salima's. It would take time for her but she would recover the shock. Grains of moist sand scattered under her shoe as she drew meaningless patterns.

"I see you secluded yourself to grieve alone" Fauzan's voice had become a man's, before leaving for Europe for higher studies, they were almost same height despite he being four years ahead in age but now standing before her was a man that looked over her head.

" Just needed space. There's too much to bear for one day " Salima adjusted her posture, hands crossed. she looked as he took his seat opposite her's.

" You had been closest to her at her last. everyone in the house is in pain but it would hit you different"

Fauzan was her cousin's cousin and his best friend. she remembered he used to be the smartest and most boring of their clique. An intellectual giant, he had gone to study in Europe few years back but despite his privileges, he still had the same old values, the same levelheadedness that endeared him to all, old and young alike.

"It doesn't make a difference. The pain death leaves is the same. If anything, our parents who are her children should feel it most. they had known her young, and had seen her watch them grow up. we only knew her in her old age" Salima hated that her mother and her siblings acted as adult-adult with one another and not as siblings that should be close-knit. they were distant and only met once in a while. She thought of what the other family thought of her mother as even though they were distant with another, the space given to her mother was double and was a telltale sign it was intentional. her mother's siblings knew she was difficult. she was the black sheep among them and they avoided her.

"I pray and hope, she's in a better abode than the one she had in this world" he prayed.

" Aameen" answering his prayer while drawing the loose flaps of her veil to cover her properly. The garden was open to all view else she could have excused herself that it was wrong they should be together and she would go away.

"I know you're already thinking of sending me away from you. you still don't care about disregarding social norms" he was right and her guilty look confirmed it.

" It's emm... " She cursed her face that never concealed what her mouth refused to utter. her brain was empty of excuses.

"It's still you Salima, you haven't changed"

"neither have you" an awkward air growing heavy around them. it was uncomfortable holding conversations let alone with a boy. A boy she knew took a kind of interest regarding her and her mother saw him as a possible mate. His future seemed bright, his family was well-to-do. little wonders why her mother was playing matchmaker.

" So how could you visit,

you're done with school?" she knew her question didn't make sense, she was only trying to conceal the inconvenience his presence was causing her.

" No, on a long break. I had to make use of this one. there's no place like home. It's just sad the day I get a chance to, I don't get to meet her.

May Allah grant her Jannah" if Salima hadn't had her head down, she could have noticed his welled up eyes.

" Aameen "

"we never forget where childhood was most memorable and it was here.

Inna was my grandmother too" she wished the conversation would end already. his words were threatening to have her spill tears and the last thing she wanted was for him to see her cry.

"I'd always remember her in my prayers. It's a promise" wonders who he was making the promise to or why he made a point to mention but she appreciated that her grandma had a place in his prayer.

"It's getting dark. we should leave this place" She suggested.

"Yes, I see that too." He got up, gesturing she went first.

" you should go first, I don't mind" for whatever reason, Salima hated men walking behind or beside her. She liked her distance.

"as you wish" he reasoned with her going out the framed gate, Salima walked behind and was grateful he got distracted attending to another group of consolers. The air of the house was doleful and sniffing and words of prayers still reverberated all over. She walked through the sitting room accepting condolences and greeting back before reaching her grandma's room. opening the door, the subtle scent of the perfume her grandma had sprayed that morning hit her nose. The room was untouched, it felt alive. the place she had last laid was formed still on her sheets. Between six in the morning and the evening of the same day, too much had changed. She rubbed the sheets, bittersweet memories of her last laughter, her grandma's beautiful gap tooth. she had been so happy she narrated to Salima stories of the colonial era when white men ruled their town and had gifted her bronze in youth for winning a race.

They were reluctant I joined because I was a girl. With my big wrapper, I had defeated all the boys in race.the impressed white organizers gave me this as prize.

Salima held the bronze carving, tracing the edges of the art work of a boy sailor posed at the bow of a ship holding a star in one hand, his flying cape that had been bitten off with time gave an impression of a hero undaunted, with a star in hand implying the sky was not beyond his reach.She missed her grandmother dearly, lying in her space, she could still smell her and wanted the last of her feel. Salima promised in her heart, for her grandmother she'll be the star, the sailor and the stirrer of her own ship, life was a sea anyways. She would be a better human and uphold all the values she had left her with.

For her grandmother, for the first time, she was willing to think she could be and accept life as it comes, and even death. Salima pledged no day would pass without a prayer from her for ma Asma'u.

"It's time for Maghreb"

opening her eyes to see her mother's puffed eyes looking above her head. Salima had just realized she had dozed off. She got off the bed putting away the carving. the house seemed noiseless except the sound of call to prayer that blared the very quiet, mourning household.