The Seventh Schedule

Women are like beautiful flowers in full bloom and like flowers, when they slowly begin to wither, you could almost literally hear their scream of fright!  

So was the case when Mom and I went to the market to shop for food stuffs for the house which is one of my least favourite things to do with her as she's an expert at haggling with market women unnecessarily for so long it wears me and more often than not, the sellers out. 

Her excuse usually is that since I barely know what it feels like to work and cater for a family all on my own, I couldn't understand why she needs to bargain and get the fairest deals on food stuffs to which I always nod with sarcasm. 

After haggling back and forth with a frozen fish seller over a carton of frozen fish for so long, the woman got irritated and sneered derisively at Mom and trust her not to take things lying low, she immediately called her out so loudly it generated curious glances and attention from other close-by sellers who pleaded with Mom to be patient. Seeing that she was having the upper hand and the support of other market women and passers-by, the pitch of her voice went a little higher as she refused to be placated and kept reprimanding the fish seller who kept apologizing, not because she felt sorry but so as to sell the fish and make her money, intermittently saying "I'm sorry ma" whilst packaging the fish, I covered my face in shame as I sensed she was about to get even more upset as Mom takes offence to being regarded as a "Ma" especially from fellow women, more so, women who are also mothers, implying that she's probably aged, she retorted back swiftly, telling the obviously younger woman,

 "Save your sorries...MA" 

I turned away from them, fished out my phone and pretended to be on a call. Still upset while I was still busy on my fake call, Mom slapped me repeatedly on the back to get my attention and collect the packaged bag of fish and carry to the car, I was so incensed at her action that if it weren't for the fact that she is my mom and we were in public, only God knows how much I would have yelled at her, I felt rather embarrassed at her treating me like a child with that action of slapping me repeatedly on the back and she saw the scowl in my face but she didn't care, instead, she snapped at me to be fast about it...good Lord! 

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.

A hand of fellowship

A handshake is a greeting, an expression of trust, a mutual guarantee by two people that at least in one hand, they carry no weapon but it can also ensure a measure of distance and convey an articulation of reserve as if its participants are thinking, thus far and no further...in one short sentence, a handshake is not a hug.

The new Matriarch of the Adagiri extended family had come visiting us with the proverbial olive branch in hand to commiserate with us over the loss of our home as read in TSUNAMI but of course, we knew better than to take such words to heart but chose to quietly listen anyway. She prevailed on us to be patient with the family as regards inheritance, knowing now was a crucial time we needed money. Mom was quite surprised as she was typically expecting the Matriarch to rain fire and brimstone on her for daring to get a loan using her late brother's house as collateral, the non-payment leading to the loss of the house even though the house is legally Mom's after Dad's demise. Mom simply nodded and thanked the Matriarch for her concern, she thereafter settled down and engaged us in a bit of chitchat where she learned it was going to be QT's birthday the next day and we had no idea what to do for him...actually, I was the one who let that slip with the hope she would sponsor a treat for him, I blurted out after she asked what we were up to,

"Well, ma'am, we are quite well, obviously trying to cope in light of recent events...we had even made plans way ahead of time to celebrate Qatari's birthday which is  tomorrow but now....it's all gone to cinders with our home gone"

The solomon of settlement

Wayne Schubard is a close talker, a lawyer who represents *Dynamo corporations- a fledging  automobile company in the united states already doing quite well in the industry- and who doubles as the company's treasury department executive for compensation and accrued dividends payout, is a white, quite plumpy man in his mid 40s with a fast receding hairline preceding a sparse mop of straight black short hair with a sprinkling of grey locks with lines etched finely by the sides of his eyes and upper cheek bone who starts his sentences about 47 cm from your face and with a rather thick husky voice, leans in to make his point.

This is an unusual trait for a guy who has to deliver the type of news that most of us would prefer to dispense from across the room or better yet, by an email from a do-not-reply address as part of his duties is to fire members of their staff, buy out little company rivals and merge it with *Dynamo automobile as well as stated above, in charge of paying compensation and accrued dividends which is about the only nice part of his job.

"...Dollars are a surrogate for worth"

 He says to us, leaning in as usual, to end a long introductory speech which pretty much was advertising his own skills and expertise at what he does after dismissing a set of family before attending to us.

 "So, you're Habiba Adagiri, am I correct...with... um.. the pronunciation?"

 He said, referring to Mom as he raised his head from a paper he was reading from to look at her then pointing at Nicole, he says he reckons she's Nicole to which she affirms with an emphatic positive nod. Wayne cleared his throat, adjusted his grey jacket and sitting position as he got ready to go into business.

"So your late husband, made some.."

Skirmishes in persia!

It had been a rather tumultuous week for us all... Musa, the agent of the house where we are temporarily putting up in had been constantly harassing us for money, using us as his cash cow. He would smoke weed and get high then come with a group of thugs to harass us to either part with some money or leave the house and quite sadly and reluctantly, we always comply with his demands as Mom always sue for peace by preventing QT, Hamz and Karl from getting violent with them or calling his bluff, the times are hard and it's been pretty difficult having to dole out money to him virtually every week with our heartbeats sent racing as we always have to hurriedly hustle up some cash to meet his demand any time he comes calling.

Recently, Mom was able to get Musa to a sit down to draft an agreement on how much he wants to collect in bulk and for him never to show his face to harass us until the duration of the agreement had elapsed. Thankfully, Garba, our former gate man  arrived just in time to act as interpreter as Musa wasn't well versed in english language nor Mom in hausa. Garba had found it difficult living on his own and securing a steady job with a regular income to support his family in far away Sokoto state so he chose to come back and stay with us, as a mark of loyalty and having a sense of family in our home, despite our condition. Finally, Mom and Musa were able to reach an agreement for us to stay 3 months at a rather substantial amount of money but Mom, through the grace of God was able to pay and we were quite relieved we won't be seeing Musa's face for quite a while.

To blow off steam and let our hair down after a rough couple of weeks, QT had rather unusually suggested that we all go clubbing that night, this is unusually so as QT rarely suggests a fun day or night out and would rather pump steel in the gym. I declined going as I knew Mom won't buy the idea of all of us going out at night and leaving her alone at home... A home that outwardly looks deserted and almost dilapidated, furthermore, she hates the idea of night reveling, so mentioning "club" to her would mean them not  going altogether as she won't allow it. Hamz excitedly declared it was a good idea that I stay with Mom,

 "...After all, you're the sister we never had, so it would be cool that you stay at home with mummy"

...For mother is supreme!

"...A man belongs to his Fatherland when things are good and life is sweet but when there is sorrow and bitterness, he finds refuge in his Motherland, your mother is there to protect you...and that is why we say that mother is supreme" - Chinua Achebe, (Things fall apart).

A last stroke of makeup brush swept ever so lightly across  her fair cheeks to blend in her dull pink blush and she was ready as she assessed her overall facial makeup in her tiny oval mirror attached to her makeup block powder case to ensure it was perfect,

 "How do I look son?"

 She asked me, turning to look at me, I smiled and spurted out "Flawless" as I thought she was the strongest woman I know. Here she is, in a ramshackle of a house, in a room lacking her usual giant mirror and well placed lighting yet not letting her present situation dampen her soul, she still applies makeup and in lieu of her giant mirror, improvised by using a tiny powder case mirror, still looking high in spirit and ready to go, it made me be in awe of her as in a millisecond, memories of the many times she's  shown incredible strength flashed across my eyes, from  moments as a young child when Dad died and she was put in the midst of her sisters-in-law, her hair disheveled and was emotionally and psychologically tortured yet stood her ground and proclaimed her innocence to raising three boys on her own, enrolling back in school with the determination to change her story and make a success of her life, oh! How I remember the struggle or the memories of us eating low quality meals yet coming out with toothpicks in our mouth acting like we've just had a bountifully delicious meal just as I remember her late night cries when she thinks we were all asleep so we won't see her breakdown and how shocked she was as she shivered upon my hands resting on her shoulders to comfort her..I could go on and on.

Happy new month of july!

Happy new month of July Amazeballs! Wishing you all a month of victorious stories and happy Eid- Fitri in advance to all Muslims Amazeballs worldwide, love you all. Next episodes on Keeping Up With The Adagiris-