Short Story: Where is My Khadija Chapter 6

By Alawiya Abdalla

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Bismillah

Mohamed

After my altercation with the horrid man, I made my way two doors down to dada Fawziyah’s house.

I just kept thinking about how to start my sudden interest but CASUAL topic of Khadija’s whereabouts

“So. Dada. Have you heard anything about Khadija?” I say it to myself to see how it comes out, and the verdict is__

Too blunt

“So. Dada. Isn’t it a wonderful albeit rather cold day today? And talking about the weather, do you know where Khadija is?” I have no idea how the weather can relate to Khadija there! So the obvious verdict is__

You were not so good with your literature at school now, were you?

“So. Dada__” I do not get to finish my sentence as the door swings open.

“No I haven’t found Khadija yet, come in before the neighbors call the police on the crazy man who’s talking to himself on my door.” Dada Fawziyah says it so simply, like she’s seen so many crazy people talking at her door step before

I go into the house thinking, have I been talking outside of her house THAT LOUD?? And did she hear me, and not think,

“YO, KITCHEN BOY. STAY AWAY FROM MY GRANDDAUGHTER!”

“Mohamed, my sweet boy, will you visit me when you find Khadija? Will my door hear that 5 o’clock knock every morning, or am I gonna be a lonely old woman?” She asks me, while holding her walking stick trying to sit on the couch.

“I will ALWAYS visit you Dada Fawziyah. In fact, you will live with me and my wife Inshallah and I’m not taking No for an answer,” I say it firmly

“Yes, you and Khadija can stay with me Inshallah,” she tells me so simply, that it takes me a while to realize that she said me and Khadija

Ermm, is everyone aware that she just said ME and KHADIJA

Woohoo, totally doing a mini celebration wave in my head__

Woohoo_

“Mohamed. Are you doing a mini celebration wave in your head?” She looks at me like I have lost the plot

“How did you know I do that?” I ask her COMPLETELY puzzled and bewildered and ASTONISHED, OK I am lying, I am just surprised

“Asha used to grab my arm to show me when you used to do it secretly,” she says smiling at the memory

“Dada. Why don’t you come live with us?” I ask her almost pleading.

“Your mum, may Allah bless her heart offered but I prefer not to burden anyone, Mohamed. Plus when I find my Khadija, I won’t be alone Inshallah. That is, if it’s OK with her future husband of course,” she says with a cheeky wink

my face forms all shades of red.

I say nothing.

Well OK, I say one thing with a silly grin.

“You are my Dada, as much as Khadija’s Dada. And I would be honoured if you live with us”

“Mashallah Khadija is one lucky girl if she gets you, son, The Prophet (SAW) said And He it is Who has created man from the water, and He has made for him blood-relationship and marriage-relationship” (25:54).

We settle into an easy banter, the conversation flowing easily between us as she complains about Ibrahim’s wandering eyes and Asha’s lack of culinary skills, and Ahmed’s refusal to get married before us.

She starts throwing her hands around like mum does, when she talks about Ahmed’s refusal to get married

“What do you think happened to Khadija Dada? She just VANISHED” I ask her, after bringing some tea and biscuits for us.

“She was in Tanzania Mohamed, her mum and her horrible husband took her there,” she says and the sadness clouds her eyes immediately

“He kept asking me to send money if I ever wanted to speak or hear from her, and I did. I stupidly did. I was holding on to any shred of hope or should I say lies they fed me all those years.”

“I have sold what I was entitled to from my son’s inheritance with the lowest price possible, just so I can talk to her.” She explains the horrible truth.

“And the worst part is, I kept sending them money even though they didn’t give me anything in return”

“Why didn’t you tell us Dada??” I ask her feeling anger rise in my chest as she continues.

“I didn’t want to burden you guys, plus I have felt like a fool but I just couldn’t help having that last shred of hope.” She replies to my question while looking out the window.

Silence fills the room for a bit as I try to digest this piece of information.

“You know what Dada? Let’s forget the past and start fresh. Do you have any clue as to where she lives in Tanzania? I’ll fly there, Inshallah,” I tell her with conviction

“You don’t have to fly my dear boy,” she looks at me with a hint of smile appearing. “I heard they came here, and that’s why I decided to come as well.”

Khadija is HERE?

HERE?

HERE?

AS IN ENGLAND?

AS IN LONDON?

OH.MY.DAYSSSSSSSSSSSS







All these facial expressions are on my face as I do not say anything.

But Dada Fawziyah understands because she starts laughing, as my face changes into million emotions.

Where should we start Ya Rabbi?

You know what everyone knows everyone’s business in London, sooooo

Woohoooooooo


A few months later

Well my woohoo turns into WHERE IN THE WORLD ARE THEY?? Within a couple of months, because no one knows someone called Khadija from Tanzania

But I am not losing hope , because she is in London__

In London! So close__

So So close


Khadija

It’s been a couple of months since we came to England, and I am very very very HAPPPPYYYY

First of all, because I get to go college AND have my own money from the government Obviously Saydi gets his hands on them as soon as I get paid, but I do not care about that at all.

I know I should have felt stronger and asked for my money, but I still feel like I owe them for picking me up from the streets in Tanzania.

I hate myself for being loyal, but one cannot help themselves when it comes to personality now do they

He can keep the money. I do not care__

I am just glad to get my basic human rights, like going outside to study

You see in order to get the financial support, I have to study ANYTHING in a college. And after a couple of months, sorting out the papers and everything I am ready__

I am ready for my first day of college.

I chose to study Hair and Beauty in North West London College because Alawiya and Zahra are going there too

Eeeeeeeeeeeeek, I am too excited. Words cannot describe how I am feeling right now, I can actually feel the beating of my heart through my fingertips

I am just happy__

Happy, Happy, Happy


First day of College

I am NOT happy

It is HORRIBLE being here! As soon as I stepped through the gates, I was faced with a bunch of guys standing at the corner pointing and staring at me

First of all I had to deal with the fact that I am leaving the house to go mingle with the world (After doing the housework of course.)

And now THIS happens

Maybe it is just these particular bunch of guys who just happen to be mean__

Maybe__

WRONG

It is seems like everywhere I go there is someone pointing and people laughing at me

I only understand the reason for their mocking reasons, when a handsome guy with black hair and tanned complexion says,

“Look at the moustache on that one!” He tells his group of friends, who are holding their bellies from laughing too hard!

I feel utterly and totally mortified I have never gave a tiniest thought about my personal appearance before!

I was cooped up in a house all these years, not realizing that times have changed

I look down at my Abaya, and I can clearly see that it is so dated and washed out. I cannot even begin to imagine how my face would look like in a mirror

I turn around to try and run back home, but a voice stops me__

“I see you haven’t changed your constant need to bully women,” I see a cute looking girl, with a long lashes just like that guy I ran into on the day I came to England.

In fact, she looks A LOT like him

He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again.

“Good, now get lost and get a life Amir,” the feisty girl tells him, before taking my hand.

“He’s a fool, don’t worry, you’re with me now. The name’s Asha by the way,” she says with an easy grin.

“Jawahir totally abandoned me and went to study English literature in Harrow College,” she looks at me, expecting a nod or a head shake like I know who Jawahir is

“She has her head stuck in a book most of the time, but I miss her wit around here. Everyone’s BORING,” She continues her chatter, and I nod along feeling grateful for her company.

“What are you studying?” She asks me, stopping suddenly, with a concerned face.

“Hair and beauty,” I answer her, feeling anxious.  I do not know why! Why am I feeling anxious I have no clue.

“Phewww, I’m doing the same, we’ll have fun Inshallah.” She exhales with relief, this girl is too interesting

We were making our way to the class when Asha spots someone_

“MOHAMED, COME HERE,” she shouts from the top of her voice.

Her brother seems annoyed at the way she yelled his name He makes his way to us wearing a cap, with face like thunder

“Stop yelling like you’re a guy Asha!! What do you want?” He asks her.

OH NO! OH NO! I recognize him!! He’s the guy that ran into me when I first arrived in England

“I just wanted to introduce you to my friend__Hey I DON’T know your name!” She states the obvious

“Habiba,” I barely get my word out as I try to conceal my stammer.

“Nice to meet you Habiba. That name is familiar to me, have we met??” He asks, his brows forming a curious shape

“No,” I lie, because I could not help but feel like the ugliest person alive standing next to these two gorgeous people

“Amir is bothering her, have a word with him please,” she asks him nicely.

“Is he still the same as he was in high school?” He looks in Amir’s direction in frustration.

He leaves us to go over to Amir the bully. He talks to him, and from the look of things Amir looks VERY scared.

He waves and smiles to let us know he talked to him, before dashing off.

I feel my cheeks burn with shyness at his kindness

Asha and I go to our classes, and she promises me a makeover but not too much. I do not know what she means by that, but I am ever so grateful to her for offering.

6 months later

Asha was true to her words. She completely transformed me from a mustache bearing girl into a normal girl

It was a painful process, involving something called wax! Oh the wax on my face!! Oh the pain__

We are studying beauty and that involves using wax, it’s a life saver invention for us ladies but Oh the pain

The pain_The absolute hideousness that is called wax. She also kindly gave me some of her stylish Abayas to wear, which I am ever so grateful for

I have even met Jawahir, who true to Asha’s words has her nose stuck in a book but she is also very beautiful, but rather thin which really bothers her.

The three of us hang out almost every other week, whenever we could. Saydi is not happy with all the changes that he sees in me!

But I sometimes notice him giving me side looks_

Creepy side looks which makes me feel very uneasy indeed. Asha told me how her brother is hang up on a girl called Khadija (not that I asked, but Asha always talks about her brothers casually) and I have to say I felt like someone punched me in my gut

I have developed some kind of crush on him!!! He is just so kind and sweet.

Oh well, he loves this Khadija person too much

I have also made good friends with my neighbor, her name is Fawziyah. I saw the poor lady carrying really heavy shopping and I offered to carry it for her and I go to her house whenever I can

The lady is entertaining! And there is something about her that makes me have a De Ja Vu, I cannot put my finger on it other than I love her company.

She knows about my horrible employer, who brought me to London with them. I told her all about them, and she has been very sympathetic towards me.

I even told her how they are all going to this charity event tonight, and how they do not want me to go

Do you wanna know what she suggested?

She told me,

“Let’s go together, they don’t have to know a thing. No one has to know, you can hide your face,” she tells me cheekily

Oh I cannot! I should not! It is too risky! What if I get recognized!! She saw the hesitation on my face and said,

“I even have the perfect Abaya for you.”

“What kind of Abaya?” I ask, thinking why do I care?? It is not like I am agreeing to this! I am just curious, that is all

“Oh this lovely green sparkly Abaya I bought from this lady who got it from Dubai,” she answers in such an infectious enthusiasm.

“Oh I don’t know!” I say it hesitantly, because green is my FAVORITE colour EVER.

“Please Habiba, you remind so much of my grand daughter. Pleeaaseeee,” she begs.

Oh NOT the begging!! How can I refuse now??

“OK then, but we have to be really careful so Saydi and his family would not see us,” I say it leaning towards her, like we are hiding a top secret MI5 information

I am going to wear a sparkly dress Inshallah

A GREEN sparkly Abaya__

GREEN__

My favourite colour in the whole wide world


______
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Posted in: Alawiya Abdalla,Fiction,Learning,Life,Reflections,short stories,where is my khadija,Women