Thursday 23 March 2017

The murmur of pearls (Season Premiere)

There is only one thing worse than being talked about and that is not being talked about. The only people who are not the subject of gossip are those at the very bottom of their social world. Gossip is self perpetuating... the more people talk about you, the more important you become and the more important you become, the more people talk about you.

 - IMAM- "Teqbir!"

 - CONGREGATION- "Allahu Akbar!"

- IMAM- "Teqbir!"

- CONGREGATION- "Allahu Akbar!"

-IMAM- We thank Allah, Subhanahu Wa Ta Allah, for adding to our fold another illustrious lady, hardworking woman, a dedicated servant of Allah, Hajiya Adagiri, we are indeed happy to welcome you to our As'alatu and may God accept our Ibadah

- CONGREGATION- (In a chorus)- Amin

- MOM- Salam Alaikum Warahmatulahi Wabarakatuh.

-CONGREGATION- Walaikum Salam Warahmatulahi Wabarakatuh.

MOM- Thank you all for the warm welcome, I really am grateful and may Allah continue to hear our prayers, amin. Mom quickly joined the rest of the women in a chorus of religious praising hymns and after an hour and half, the meeting came to an end for the week.

On getting home, Mom kept exclaiming with glee  how spiritually uplifting the Islamic women group was and how she has to not miss a single meeting from then on.

The week went by pretty fast and it was another Sunday again, the day of their weekly meeting. Being a meeting of professional and business women, "religious" socialites, wives of influential men, etc who as women of substance and caliber that they are who are wont to look good and not being looked upon as crass, Mom naturally decided to meet them at the middle fashion wise. Cladded in a beige crocheted gown with a flamboyantly embroided decolletage with a black, shiny and delicately soft undergarment underneath to protect her modesty which covered her entire torso down to below her knee, her fair, almost olive skintone shone luminous through her dress, seen from her arms which were visible through her crocheted dress and of course her face, hands and feet. She accessorized her outfit with a long band of shiny, milky pearl necklace, a vintage Patek Phillipe wristwatch gifted to her by our late dad, lovely Jimmy Choo heels and topping it all by throwing a sparsely sequined cream shawl over her head. Mom was the picture of perfection and I gave her the thumbs up that she was ready to slay.

What we didn't realise was the envy her ensemble would generate because unknown to Mom, most of the rich women "checked out" each other by doing a weekly mental calculation of what each woman was worth based on her sartorial choices, jewelry and...wait for it... How smooth and even her skintone is and while Mom is amongst the youngest of them all, I'd been for ages literally piling her with collagen, green smoothies, infused water, vitamins and also taking care of her skin with shea butter, almond oil... In short, just generally making sure she leads a healthy lifestyle like I do, so no wonder she looks like ten years was knocked off her age.

 On arriving at the prayer center, her entrance generated a rather subtle coos from a section of the room, keeping it subtle apparently so as not to get the attention of the presiding Imam who might rebuke them for being vain and shallow, reminding them that the vanities of life won't save them on judgement day and that however much they pamper their skin, it would end up been feasted upon by maggots.