ACTS FIFTEEN
(Hazeemah is walking back from Mrs. Fashola’s office, heading towards M.K's office when she notices something unusual. Department managers and their teams are all leaving the building. She pauses, confused, watching them silently. She’s about to open M.K’s door when she bumps into him as he exits his office.)
M.K: Watch where you're going!
Hazeemah: (startled) Oh! I’m so sorry, sir. I brought the documents from the Engineering Department.
M.K: Follow me. (Without waiting for a response, he leads the way. His subordinates make way for him as they all follow him outside the company.)
(Hazeemah follows, still holding the documents. As they reach the parking lot, she notices the managers boarding a large bus, while M.K. heads towards his private car, his driver holding the door open for him. She stands still, confused.)
M.K: Are you coming or not?! (He roars at her.)
Hazeemah: (startled, she hurriedly gets into the car but freezes when she realizes she’s the only female inside. Panicking, she opens the door and gets out quickly.)
M.K: What the hell are you doing?
Hazeemah: Uhmm... I’m so sorry, sir, but... could I follow the bus instead?
M.K: What? You think I’m going to harm you or something?
Hazeemah: No, no, sir! It’s not that. Please don’t get me wrong. I’d just feel more comfortable if I could join the bus. Please, sir, I’m asking as a favor.
M.K: Go back to your desk, then. I see how stupid you are! There are people praying for a chance to sit next to me, and you dare reject it? Who the hell do you think you are? Do you think you’re attractive? You’re nothing but a rag.
(Hazeemah closes her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.)
Hazeemah: I’m sorry.
M.K: (scanning her from head to toe with disdain) Attracted to you? I’d rather be attracted to a man! Look at you, wearing a suit over your hijab. Who dresses like that? You look like expired milk!
(The employees in the bus, along with the driver, glance outside, wondering what's causing the delay. The driver is waiting for M.K’s car to lead the way.)
Hazeemah: (forcing a smile and waiting for him to finish his rant) May I join the bus now, sir?
M.K: (surprised by her calm response, expecting her to argue back) Whatever! Get out of my sight! (He slams the door in her face, and the car speeds off.)
(Hazeemah turns towards the bus.)
Mrs. Fashola: Hey! You! Are you coming or not?
Hazeemah: (relieved, she hurries to the bus. As she enters, she notices the seats are suspiciously "occupied" as employees subtly prevent her from sitting next to them. She suddenly spots Abdullahi and Reem sitting together.) Subhanallah...
Mrs. Fashola: Are you sitting or what?
Hazeemah: (gratefully sits next to Mrs. Fashola) I’m so sorry for delaying everyone, ma’am.
Mrs. Fashola: (coldly) Just sit!.
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(The bus and cars arrive at the site of a large, unfinished building. The employees, including Hazeemah, disembark, ready for a survey and further investigation. Hazeemah is captivated by the building's design, already envisioning its grandeur once completed. As the team follows M.K. inside for a briefing, she’s momentarily lost, admiring the surroundings.)
M.K: (addressing the group) Make sure the structural analysis is on point. No room for errors.
(He glances at Mrs. Fashola mid-speech.)
M.K: Where are the wiring and electrical installation plans?
Mrs. Fashola: (looking around, confused) Where’s Hazeemah? (She spots her in the distance.) Miss Hazeemah!
Hazeemah: (snapping back to reality) Ma’am? Sir? (she rushes over) Yes, sir?
Mrs. Fashola: What were you doing over there? Daydreaming?
(The subordinates chuckle softly.)
Hazeemah: No, ma’am, I was just admiring the exterior designs and... learning.
Mrs. Fashola: And the documents? The ones I asked you to submit?
(Hazeemah hurriedly stretches out her hand, mumbling to herself as she retrieves the documents.)
Hazeemah: (whispers) Thank goodness, I almost left it at the company...
Mrs. Fashola: (takes the document and hands it to M.K.)
M.K.: (briefly scans the document, then hands it back) Now, explain your designs so the other departments can align their plans accordingly.
Mrs. Fashola: (begins explaining, leading the group through different buildings and rooms. Meanwhile, Hazeemah is distracted, admiring the designs and greeting the engineers she encounters.)
M.K.: A.Z.
Hazeemah: (instantly alert) Yes, sir! (hurriedly joins the group again) Yes, sir?
M.K.: Every discussion we’ve had today—summarize it for me. I want it typed and printed.
Hazeemah: (shocked but composed) Oh! Okay, sir.
(From that point on, she starts moving closer to each subordinate who speaks, paying extra attention. M.K. almost smiles as he notices her focus.)
(Curtain)
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Scene: The Next Day at the Company
(Reem watches Hazeemah from a distance, deep in thought.)
Reem: (thinking to himself) If only more Muslim women were as strong and fearless as her. The world might see them differently. Despite all the challenges, she thrives harder. Imagine a hijabi sister wearing an oversized suit jacket just to fit into their protocols, but never letting that stop her. Amazing.
Abdullahi: (noticing Reem’s gaze, softly exhales as he follows his line of sight to Hazeemah) Beautiful, isn’t she?
Reem: (giving him a weird look) Instead of focusing on your marriage, you're busy following her around. Just like Salamah embarrassed you before, she’ll do the same if you don’t act your place.
Abdullahi: And look who’s talking—admiring someone’s future wife.
Reem: Exactly! If you provoke me now, I’ll just go to her father. Women like her don’t need courtship. I could make her mine in no time. Unlike you, who’s already married.
Abdullahi: Have you forgotten I’m entitled to four wives? Don’t push me. Now, get back to your department.
Reem: This is a waste of time. I’m out. (walks away)
Abdullahi: (mimicking Reem’s exit and happily turning towards Hazeemah’s direction) Let me go meet her...
(He eagerly takes a step forward, but pauses when he sees Hazeemah stand and head toward M.K.'s office. He sighs.)
Abdullahi: Always with that mannerless boss...
(Curtain)
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Scene: Abdullahi's Home (Later That Night)
(Abdullahi enters his home, finding the living room messy. He shakes his head and heads to the bedroom.)
Abdullahi: (removes his shirt and falls on the bed, exhausted) As-salam alaykum... What a day.
Halimah: (enters the room, smiling) Aha! Mai gida! (owner of the house) You're back? Welcome! How was work today?
Abdullahi: Hmm...
Halimah: (playfully, but with a hint of frustration) You’ve started again with this attitude. You’re never happy when you come home. Always frowning.
(Abdullahi remains silent, focused on his phone.)
Halimah: So, you’re not going to reply? Kai wallahi, this is what I hate! I don’t want us to argue again.
Abdullahi: Okay, what do you want me to say? All you ever do is demand this and that. And when you’re calm like this, I know what's coming—I'm broke! So go ahead, show your attitude.
Halimah: This is all you have to say? After I prepared your favorite dish?
Abdullahi: Please, Halimah. For Allah's sake, I just want to be alone. It’s not like you even know how to cook it properly. There’s nothing you’re good at except spending money on makeup!
Halimah: But I do all this to look beautiful for you. Why are you being so harsh? If you’re tired of this marriage, just say so, and we can go our separate ways. You never appreciate anything I do. If you don’t love me anymore, tell me.
Abdullahi: Wallahi, I am tired! You spend all day gossiping with your friends in our bedroom, telling them things you shouldn't. Let me be honest—your mother didn't raise you well at all. You can’t do basic house chores or keep up with personal hygiene. All you know is how to gossip and make yourself up. Look at this house! If a guest walked in right now, what would they think? You’re a full-time housewife, yet the place is a mess. I’d rather starve than eat this disgusting food!
Halimah: You see how you talk to me over small issues? If you never loved me, why did you marry me? No matter what I do, it’s never good enough for you. I’m trying—I just need more time. Treating me like this makes me understand why there are so many single mothers. Once you’ve taken what you want from my body, you treat me like trash. Fine, Allah will help me. (she gets up and leaves the room in tears)
Abdullahi: (feeling remorseful) Kai, Halimah! Honestly, I don’t know what to do with you... (gets up and follows her) Halimah! Kiyi hakuri, dan Allah! (I’m sorry, for Allah's sake!)
Halimah: Don’t touch me! You’re not the only one disgusted in this house—I’m disgusted by you, too. After treating me like trash, now you want to come back and touch the same trash you insulted? If you’re tired of this marriage, just say it! I’ll go back to my family, and you can repeat all this in front of them.
Abdullahi: (sighs) Haba, Halimah! I was only joking, you know…
Halimah: Ka sakeni! (Leave me alone!)
(Curtain)
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Later that Night, 7:28 PM (Kitchen)
(Hazeemah is turning amala on the fire when her phone rings. She stretches her neck to check who’s calling and quickly drops the turning stick to pick up the call.)
Hazeemah: (answering) As-salam alaykum, sir?
M.K.: I want you to forward the summary of our previous visit to the Lekki site. And I want it now.
Hazeemah: Got it, sir.
M.K.: One more thing. The first task I assigned to you the other day—you failed. And I’ll tell you why: because you’re not the designer. You didn’t draw it.
Hazeemah: (confused) Excuse me, sir?
M.K.: Don’t play dumb with me. You had someone else do the drawing, didn’t you? Well, first thing tomorrow morning, you’ll need to prove it. I’m not stupid enough to be fooled easily. I’ll be waiting for the email. (hangs up)
Hazeemah: (jaw drops in disbelief) Can you believe this man? The audacity! He actually thinks a woman like me couldn’t design it? Why do people underestimate us so much? Like, all we’re good for is religion? Can you imagine this guy? (talking out loud without realizing) Now he wants proof? Oh, he doesn’t know what’s coming! I’ll show him what I’m made of, even if it gets me fired! He lacks basic manners, and he thinks he’s perfect! (hisses)
(Hajia Shukroh enters the kitchen unnoticed and sees the amala burning.)
Hajia Shukroh: What are you muttering about in here? Are you alright? (sniffs the air and notices the burnt smell) Subhanallah, Hazeemah!! (rushes to take the amala off the fire) What is wrong with you? First, you’re talking to yourself, and now you’re burning the amala?
Hazeemah: (realizes what happened and quickly drops her phone) I’m sorry, Ummi… my boss called, and I...
Hajia Shukroh: Don’t even say something that’ll provoke me tonight! Is this how you’ll behave when you get married? Making your husband think I didn’t raise you properly? (starts turning the amala herself)
Hazeemah: (scratches her neck nervously and moves closer) Please, Ummi, let me finish. I’m really sorry, Mum.
Hajia Shukroh: Don’t make me slap you! You left what we’re supposed to eat because of a phone call. In this house, you’ll have to choose one—either live peacefully, or you won’t have peace at all! If you touch that turning stick, I’ll forget my hand on your face.
Hazeemah: (pleading) Ummi, I said I’m sorry! Please, I’m really sorry. (thinking) See the mess this guy put me in… subhanallah. Ummi, please…
M!
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