Chapter 38
Broken Not a halal love story Complete · about 10 min read
hen Malama Hassana sees Fa’iza’s mother for the first time in over
two decades, their reunion is colored with chants of ‘Allahu Akbar,
God is great’, as the ladies close the distance between them with an
embrace amidst teary eyes.
“Ashe da rabon zan sake ganin ki eh, so it had been destined that I
would use my eyes to see you again before my death, Hajiya.”
“Is this your face I am seeing?” Fa’iza’s mother asks in disbelief, she
holds her face in her hands before she hugs her again; they exchange
pleasantries with her sister Mallama Husseina, whose limp has gotten even
more noticeable due to the long flight into Nigeria, and Halime before they
make their way to the Ambassador’s section.
Justice Mohammed’s house in Abuja is traditionally designed and
divided into separate sections. The man’s affairs and businesses are kept
separate from the area that housed his wife and children. Today, however,
all members of the Mohammed family -all the siblings are going to be
present. Apart from the Mohammed family, there were eleven other people
in the room: two of Fa’iza’s uncles, Ahmad, two of his uncles, the
Ambassador and his wife, and the ‘yar Agadez twins – one is here with her
husband and the other who came from Saint-Malo with her daughter
Halime.
This is the third time Ahmad has been in this living room. The first time
was when he came with his parents to ask for Fa’iza’s hand in marriage; the
second time he was within these walls, his life unexpectedly fell apart. It’s
been five years and the white paneled walls, which are separated by floor-
length white drapes, still look the same to him, as well as the three-tiered
crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
Ahmad finds himself staring as Fa’iza walks into the living room in a
black abaya and scarf wrapped over her head, covering her neck and
shoulders. She gently sits on the floor next to his mother and Umma. This is
the first time Ahmad is seeing her since the day she came looking for him
after receiving the file, and he can tell that she has been crying. When she
settles, she looks up slightly, her eyes searching the room until their eyes
meet. Ahmad gives her a reassuring smile, and he watches as she
reciprocates the gesture for just the length of a heartbeat.
A few feet away from her, Justice Mohammed listens to both women
with rapt attention. They speak about their jobs for both families back in the
1990s, their claims supported by their companions – a husband and a
daughter. When they finish, Fa’iza’s father places the picture of the sisters
back in the file he’s now holding. “Allahu Akbar,” he says, and everyone
echoes his words.
Justice Mohammed is a very soft-spoken man. He pronounces his words
slowly and carefully, conscious of every utterance he makes, as though he
believes he will one day have to account for everything he has said. He
slowly looks around the room, then speaks: “In this very room, we were led
to believe that Ahamad and Fa’iza could not get married as they were
suckled by the same woman. Now, evidence has been adequately provided
that that was a misunderstanding. It was not done out of malice or with any
sinister intention; Malama Zainab made an honest mistake – one I’m sure
we can all forgive her for,” he takes a long pause before continuing. “In the
Quran, Allah subhana wa ta’ala says: Wa iz yamkuru bikal lazeena kafaroo
liyusbitooka aw yaqtulooka aw yukhrijook –”
“Wa yamkuroona wa yamkurul laahu wallaahu khairul maakireen,”
Ahmad completes the verse quietly with him.
Justice Mohammed translates the end of the verse. “They plan, and
Allah plans; but Indeed, Allah is the best of planners.” He looks at Fa’iza as
he speaks, “everything that happens is all part of Allah’s plan.” He stays
silent for a few seconds, then he speaks again, his eyes meeting Ahmads. “I
believe in this case, Allah has planned for Fa’iza to marry Umar.”
A murmur spreads across the room as the other men speak among
themselves. Justice Mohammed waits for the slight chatter to die down with
the patience of a man used to saying uncomfortable truths to courtrooms.
This particular living room is well air-conditioned, but Fa’iza starts fanning
her face with her hands. As Ahmad watches, his mom discreetly holds
Fa’iza’s hand and steadies it on her lap, squeezing her fingers gently as if to
reassure her. Ahmad looks away and his eyes meet Amin’s, who doesn’t
look away until Abba’s voice continues.
“I believe that if Ahmad and Fa’iza were meant to be together, this
would have been revealed – this information would have come to light –
before we gave our word to Umar’s family.”
One of Fa’iza’s uncles nods his head vigorously in agreement. Ahmad
looks at Fa’iza’s, and he sees her hand shaking, her eyes are downcast and
even though he can’t see the expression on her face, he can hear her tiny
sniffles before they are drowned by the athan for Asr as it rings out loud
and clear from the Masjid in the compound.
“I hear there’s a matter you would like to present before me?” he directs
his question to his daughter. Umma looks at Fa’iza for the first time and the
young girl nods. Fa’iza never thought there would come a day when she
would be on the opposite end of his counsel, trying to appeal his verdict.
“Okay,” he smiles at her. “Let’s table that till after we pray.”
The men stand up, filing out slowly to go and pray in the Masjid and the
women do the same, taking the doors that lead back into the house. When
they return, the group is considerably smaller, the twins from Agadez and
their companion are having lunch at the other section of the house and all
the uncles and her brother are in Abba’s dining area. In the living room,
Justice Mohammed is on his brown leather couch, now holding the Holy
Qur’an. To his right on the white leather couch are Ahmad’s father and
Ahmad, and to the Justice’s left on the white leather sectional are Umma
and Aunty Mami. Fa’iza sits on the floor next to them.
“What do we have here?” Justice Mohammad asks as the Ambassador
hands him a piece of paper. He squints at the paper, then wears his reading
glasses and listens as the former ambassador tells him everything he knows
about Fa’iza and Ahmad. To their sides, both mothers watched quietly,
Fa’iza’s hands are still shaking.
Justice Mohammed looks up at his daughter. He is blinking rapidly, as
though nothing could have ever prepared him for this day. Fa’iza looks
down, refusing to meet his gaze. He readjusts his falling glasses and looks
at the title of the document. It is a marriage certificate. He takes his time to
read every word on the piece of paper: the name of the Mosque, the
location, the names of the bride and groom, the date and time the marriage
of officiated, the name of the Imam, the names of the witnesses and the
amount was paid as mahr. After going through the certificate three times,
he removes his glasses and looks at Ahmad.
“Ahamad,” he speaks in Hausa, “What’s this? What’s this document?”
It takes a few seconds before Ahmad finds his voice. “It’s – It’s a –” he
clears his throat, “it’s a marriage certificate, Abba.”
The Justice’s eyebrows shoot up as he turns to Fa’iza again, as though
he is waiting for her to say something, to say that it isn’t true. When she
can’t meet his gaze, he sighs and returns his glasses to reread the document.
This time, even slower than he did the first time.
“Fa’iza, what madhhab – what school of thoughts of Islamic
jurisprudence – do we follow in this house?” he bellows at her. Still looking
at the certificate.
“Ma –Maliki.” Her voice is almost inaudible.
“So, Fa’iza, who gave you away in marriage?” He looks at her with his
features pulled into a worried frown. “I don’t see the name or signature of
your Wali. So, who served as your guardian during this marriage? Who
gave you away during this Nikkah?”
Ahmad’s father looks at the girl shaking next to her mother. She opens
her mouth a few times, but no words come out. Even though he knows that
the Justice already knows, he explains that the Mosque Fa’iza and Ahmad
got married at was a Hanafi Mosque. Unlike their madhhab requirements, a
Wali is not required, as a woman acts on her own behalf.
The Justice has a few more questions and seeks clarification from
Ahmad and Fa’iza directly. When he asks questions about each of the
witnesses and dowry, Ahmad answers him clearly, speaking with no ounce
of uncertainty. When he asks his daughter if they lived under the same roof
at any time after they got married, Fa’iza’s head remains bowed and she
can’t form her words between tears; her mother responds based on her
conversation with Fa’iza earlier that morning.
“You knew about this?” He asks Umma with surprise.
“She confessed to me just yesterday.” She answers.
Abba’s eyes trail towards Fa’iza and then at the crumbled tissue paper
she holds in her hands as she dabs her eyes every few seconds, and with a
resigned sigh, he leans back into his chair. He clasps his hands with both his
index fingers touching his lip, uneasiness written all over his features. He
remains silent for a very long time, except for when he utters verses from
the Qur’an to himself while praying for patience because he knows that this
is also a test for him. He picks up the marriage certificate again and goes
through it one final time. “If this is truly the case, then this marriage is
valid; all conditions seem to have been met,” he says as he puts the
marriage certificate back down. “We’re now looking at a case of
separation.”
Ahmad steals a glance at Fa’iza, recalling she told him that her father
would come to this conclusion.
“Now, there are stipulations regarding separation in marriage,” he
reached for a book next to him and starts flipping slowly. “If the couple has
no knowledge of each other, then four to six months is the longest they can
be separated for.” Meaning if they have not been intimate, six months is the
longest a couple can go without seeing each other before their marriage has
to be dissolved, according to Islamic law. Otherwise, the separation can be
years, if it is something they both agree to, but under two conditions,” he
flips the pages of the book and looks up at Ahmad. “The husband must
provide financial support to his wife during the time of separation, and two,
the wife must remain faithful during the time of their separation.” Justice
Mohammed removes his glasses and looks from Ahmad to Fa’iza and back
to Ahmad. “If these two conditions have been met, you’re still married to
each other.”
Fa’iza nods without looking at her father as though answering a
question he hasn’t asked. Ahmad brings out the papers she asked him to
print out and his father passes them to her father. They all watch as Justice
Mohammed goes through highlighted transactions on Ahmad’s bank
statements. The statements show money being transferred from his personal
bank account to a trust he set up for that sole purpose and the remittance of
the funds to Fa’iza’s account for her NGO. It went on for years. When
Ahmad set up the automatic monthly payments to The Cain Mosni
Foundation years ago, he was only doing it to support her dream; he had no
idea Allah was guiding his actions and that one day, this would be the string
by which his marriage to Fa’iza would be held.
Ahmad thinks of all the choices he made that brought them to this
moment – his impatience to wait for less than a year until Allah tested them
to wait for years. He almost laughs at the irony as he realizes that he’s a
patient man. In the past, he only respected her boundaries because they
mattered to her, he respected them to gain her trust. Yet a few days ago,
before he knew that their marriage was still intact, he could not touch her
because of Taqwa, the fear of Allah. There was a huge difference. His love
for her transcends his feelings; he would never do anything that will cause
her Rabb to be displeased with her.
W
two decades, their reunion is colored with chants of ‘Allahu Akbar,
God is great’, as the ladies close the distance between them with an
embrace amidst teary eyes.
“Ashe da rabon zan sake ganin ki eh, so it had been destined that I
would use my eyes to see you again before my death, Hajiya.”
“Is this your face I am seeing?” Fa’iza’s mother asks in disbelief, she
holds her face in her hands before she hugs her again; they exchange
pleasantries with her sister Mallama Husseina, whose limp has gotten even
more noticeable due to the long flight into Nigeria, and Halime before they
make their way to the Ambassador’s section.
Justice Mohammed’s house in Abuja is traditionally designed and
divided into separate sections. The man’s affairs and businesses are kept
separate from the area that housed his wife and children. Today, however,
all members of the Mohammed family -all the siblings are going to be
present. Apart from the Mohammed family, there were eleven other people
in the room: two of Fa’iza’s uncles, Ahmad, two of his uncles, the
Ambassador and his wife, and the ‘yar Agadez twins – one is here with her
husband and the other who came from Saint-Malo with her daughter
Halime.
This is the third time Ahmad has been in this living room. The first time
was when he came with his parents to ask for Fa’iza’s hand in marriage; the
second time he was within these walls, his life unexpectedly fell apart. It’s
been five years and the white paneled walls, which are separated by floor-
length white drapes, still look the same to him, as well as the three-tiered
crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
Ahmad finds himself staring as Fa’iza walks into the living room in a
black abaya and scarf wrapped over her head, covering her neck and
shoulders. She gently sits on the floor next to his mother and Umma. This is
the first time Ahmad is seeing her since the day she came looking for him
after receiving the file, and he can tell that she has been crying. When she
settles, she looks up slightly, her eyes searching the room until their eyes
meet. Ahmad gives her a reassuring smile, and he watches as she
reciprocates the gesture for just the length of a heartbeat.
A few feet away from her, Justice Mohammed listens to both women
with rapt attention. They speak about their jobs for both families back in the
1990s, their claims supported by their companions – a husband and a
daughter. When they finish, Fa’iza’s father places the picture of the sisters
back in the file he’s now holding. “Allahu Akbar,” he says, and everyone
echoes his words.
Justice Mohammed is a very soft-spoken man. He pronounces his words
slowly and carefully, conscious of every utterance he makes, as though he
believes he will one day have to account for everything he has said. He
slowly looks around the room, then speaks: “In this very room, we were led
to believe that Ahamad and Fa’iza could not get married as they were
suckled by the same woman. Now, evidence has been adequately provided
that that was a misunderstanding. It was not done out of malice or with any
sinister intention; Malama Zainab made an honest mistake – one I’m sure
we can all forgive her for,” he takes a long pause before continuing. “In the
Quran, Allah subhana wa ta’ala says: Wa iz yamkuru bikal lazeena kafaroo
liyusbitooka aw yaqtulooka aw yukhrijook –”
“Wa yamkuroona wa yamkurul laahu wallaahu khairul maakireen,”
Ahmad completes the verse quietly with him.
Justice Mohammed translates the end of the verse. “They plan, and
Allah plans; but Indeed, Allah is the best of planners.” He looks at Fa’iza as
he speaks, “everything that happens is all part of Allah’s plan.” He stays
silent for a few seconds, then he speaks again, his eyes meeting Ahmads. “I
believe in this case, Allah has planned for Fa’iza to marry Umar.”
A murmur spreads across the room as the other men speak among
themselves. Justice Mohammed waits for the slight chatter to die down with
the patience of a man used to saying uncomfortable truths to courtrooms.
This particular living room is well air-conditioned, but Fa’iza starts fanning
her face with her hands. As Ahmad watches, his mom discreetly holds
Fa’iza’s hand and steadies it on her lap, squeezing her fingers gently as if to
reassure her. Ahmad looks away and his eyes meet Amin’s, who doesn’t
look away until Abba’s voice continues.
“I believe that if Ahmad and Fa’iza were meant to be together, this
would have been revealed – this information would have come to light –
before we gave our word to Umar’s family.”
One of Fa’iza’s uncles nods his head vigorously in agreement. Ahmad
looks at Fa’iza’s, and he sees her hand shaking, her eyes are downcast and
even though he can’t see the expression on her face, he can hear her tiny
sniffles before they are drowned by the athan for Asr as it rings out loud
and clear from the Masjid in the compound.
“I hear there’s a matter you would like to present before me?” he directs
his question to his daughter. Umma looks at Fa’iza for the first time and the
young girl nods. Fa’iza never thought there would come a day when she
would be on the opposite end of his counsel, trying to appeal his verdict.
“Okay,” he smiles at her. “Let’s table that till after we pray.”
The men stand up, filing out slowly to go and pray in the Masjid and the
women do the same, taking the doors that lead back into the house. When
they return, the group is considerably smaller, the twins from Agadez and
their companion are having lunch at the other section of the house and all
the uncles and her brother are in Abba’s dining area. In the living room,
Justice Mohammed is on his brown leather couch, now holding the Holy
Qur’an. To his right on the white leather couch are Ahmad’s father and
Ahmad, and to the Justice’s left on the white leather sectional are Umma
and Aunty Mami. Fa’iza sits on the floor next to them.
“What do we have here?” Justice Mohammad asks as the Ambassador
hands him a piece of paper. He squints at the paper, then wears his reading
glasses and listens as the former ambassador tells him everything he knows
about Fa’iza and Ahmad. To their sides, both mothers watched quietly,
Fa’iza’s hands are still shaking.
Justice Mohammed looks up at his daughter. He is blinking rapidly, as
though nothing could have ever prepared him for this day. Fa’iza looks
down, refusing to meet his gaze. He readjusts his falling glasses and looks
at the title of the document. It is a marriage certificate. He takes his time to
read every word on the piece of paper: the name of the Mosque, the
location, the names of the bride and groom, the date and time the marriage
of officiated, the name of the Imam, the names of the witnesses and the
amount was paid as mahr. After going through the certificate three times,
he removes his glasses and looks at Ahmad.
“Ahamad,” he speaks in Hausa, “What’s this? What’s this document?”
It takes a few seconds before Ahmad finds his voice. “It’s – It’s a –” he
clears his throat, “it’s a marriage certificate, Abba.”
The Justice’s eyebrows shoot up as he turns to Fa’iza again, as though
he is waiting for her to say something, to say that it isn’t true. When she
can’t meet his gaze, he sighs and returns his glasses to reread the document.
This time, even slower than he did the first time.
“Fa’iza, what madhhab – what school of thoughts of Islamic
jurisprudence – do we follow in this house?” he bellows at her. Still looking
at the certificate.
“Ma –Maliki.” Her voice is almost inaudible.
“So, Fa’iza, who gave you away in marriage?” He looks at her with his
features pulled into a worried frown. “I don’t see the name or signature of
your Wali. So, who served as your guardian during this marriage? Who
gave you away during this Nikkah?”
Ahmad’s father looks at the girl shaking next to her mother. She opens
her mouth a few times, but no words come out. Even though he knows that
the Justice already knows, he explains that the Mosque Fa’iza and Ahmad
got married at was a Hanafi Mosque. Unlike their madhhab requirements, a
Wali is not required, as a woman acts on her own behalf.
The Justice has a few more questions and seeks clarification from
Ahmad and Fa’iza directly. When he asks questions about each of the
witnesses and dowry, Ahmad answers him clearly, speaking with no ounce
of uncertainty. When he asks his daughter if they lived under the same roof
at any time after they got married, Fa’iza’s head remains bowed and she
can’t form her words between tears; her mother responds based on her
conversation with Fa’iza earlier that morning.
“You knew about this?” He asks Umma with surprise.
“She confessed to me just yesterday.” She answers.
Abba’s eyes trail towards Fa’iza and then at the crumbled tissue paper
she holds in her hands as she dabs her eyes every few seconds, and with a
resigned sigh, he leans back into his chair. He clasps his hands with both his
index fingers touching his lip, uneasiness written all over his features. He
remains silent for a very long time, except for when he utters verses from
the Qur’an to himself while praying for patience because he knows that this
is also a test for him. He picks up the marriage certificate again and goes
through it one final time. “If this is truly the case, then this marriage is
valid; all conditions seem to have been met,” he says as he puts the
marriage certificate back down. “We’re now looking at a case of
separation.”
Ahmad steals a glance at Fa’iza, recalling she told him that her father
would come to this conclusion.
“Now, there are stipulations regarding separation in marriage,” he
reached for a book next to him and starts flipping slowly. “If the couple has
no knowledge of each other, then four to six months is the longest they can
be separated for.” Meaning if they have not been intimate, six months is the
longest a couple can go without seeing each other before their marriage has
to be dissolved, according to Islamic law. Otherwise, the separation can be
years, if it is something they both agree to, but under two conditions,” he
flips the pages of the book and looks up at Ahmad. “The husband must
provide financial support to his wife during the time of separation, and two,
the wife must remain faithful during the time of their separation.” Justice
Mohammed removes his glasses and looks from Ahmad to Fa’iza and back
to Ahmad. “If these two conditions have been met, you’re still married to
each other.”
Fa’iza nods without looking at her father as though answering a
question he hasn’t asked. Ahmad brings out the papers she asked him to
print out and his father passes them to her father. They all watch as Justice
Mohammed goes through highlighted transactions on Ahmad’s bank
statements. The statements show money being transferred from his personal
bank account to a trust he set up for that sole purpose and the remittance of
the funds to Fa’iza’s account for her NGO. It went on for years. When
Ahmad set up the automatic monthly payments to The Cain Mosni
Foundation years ago, he was only doing it to support her dream; he had no
idea Allah was guiding his actions and that one day, this would be the string
by which his marriage to Fa’iza would be held.
Ahmad thinks of all the choices he made that brought them to this
moment – his impatience to wait for less than a year until Allah tested them
to wait for years. He almost laughs at the irony as he realizes that he’s a
patient man. In the past, he only respected her boundaries because they
mattered to her, he respected them to gain her trust. Yet a few days ago,
before he knew that their marriage was still intact, he could not touch her
because of Taqwa, the fear of Allah. There was a huge difference. His love
for her transcends his feelings; he would never do anything that will cause
her Rabb to be displeased with her.
W