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.


 Mom arrived pretty late and tiptoeing through the crowd of gorgeously dressed ladies, she found an empty spot and quietly perched down, cupping her hands in prayer along with others while acknowledging a nod of greeting from one of the Imams. A while later, Mom thought she felt the piercing gaze of someone on her and turned towards the direction of the perceived gaze only to meet the icy stare of Alhaja Monsurat, a wealthy cloth merchant and second wife of a honourable member of a state house of assembly. Although shocked, Mom smiled back at her and gave a nod of greeting whilst mumbling her prayer on, Alhaja Monsurat nonchalantly nodded back and swiftly averted her gaze. An hour later, the prayer meeting was ended and the women all trudging out, gathered outside to say their hellos and goodbyes when Alhaja Monsurat approached Mom and with an air of indignation, used her index finger to lift Mom's pearls and dropped it, asking how much she bought it and where, as some of her minions begin to gather behind her, Mom simply smiled and simply said "priceless", going ahead to subtly commend her outfit then bid the women farewell and walked off.

 "I don't get why she would do that to me...what was she trying to do? Intimidate me with her status? Besides who are we trying to impress? The imams or ourselves? This is crazy"

Mom lamented to us on getting home, Hamz shrugged while standing up to take his finished plate of food to the kitchen, saying,

 "The pressures you women put on yourselves...it never diminishes with age"

Then left for the kitchen. Karl simply smiled and QT seemed unconcerned with what Mom had said, taking heaped spoonfuls of well mixed rice with stew into his mouth and watching the telly.

 "I'm glad you slayed Momma..."

 I burst out, breaking the silence, I continued

"...Image is everything Mom and you don't have to have millions in the bank to wear good clothes, the most important thing is to have good packaging skills so don't fret Mom, the woman was that way because she got flustered by your appearance and carriage, apparently fearful you might be a contending rival and beat her in the fashion stakes. Mom! Keep being classy without obviously looking competitive"

I enthused. Mom beamed with a smile and asked what she'll do without me, I smiled and said it was ok.

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