UNSTOPPABLE DREAMS - EPISODE FOURTEEN

 

ACTS FOURTEEN

Hazeemah: (in a calm voice) I remember telling you to always try and see the bright side of things. You’re giving away your happiness over things that aren’t worth it. Your happiness is more precious than that. You have all the money you need, but the most priceless thing you lack is happiness. Happy people are the richest because their hearts are light, and their bodies are at peace.

Please don’t take this as an insult, but you need to learn to smile, to be generous with your emotions. Life can be so beautiful if you just allow yourself to see it that way. Maybe it’s pain from your past that’s reflecting in your present. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but as your temporary personal assistant, I can see the pain behind your anger. I’m sure you don’t want others to see it too. I’m sorry if what I’m saying upsets you; it’s my first day, and I never wish to be fired or disrespected. I don’t want to be the reason behind your sadness, just as I don’t want you to be the reason behind my unfulfilled dreams. We all carry burdens, but please, try to smile. Please don’t fire me. (nervous)

M.K.: (sitting down, visibly affected by her words, takes a deep breath)

Hazeemah: (noticing his sudden change in demeanor, she steps forward) I’m really sorry, sir. Please don’t fire me! (realizing the situation) What have I done again? I didn’t mean to… Subhanallah! Please forgive me.

M.K.: (exhales softly) Stay back.

Hazeemah: (steps back) I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know what came over me. I wasn’t thinking…

M.K.: It’s okay. Just… leave my office. Now.

Hazeemah: (quickly exits the office)

(Curtain)

LATER THAT EVENING

Hazeemah enters the house, finding her parents watching the news, laughing and chatting. She greets them by kissing the backs of their hands before heading straight to her room, closing the door behind her. She drops her bag, opens her wardrobe, and begins tossing dresses—both khimars and long garments—onto the bed.

Hazeemah: (searching) What can I wear? Where are you? (continues searching) I haven’t even received my first salary yet… you better show up now. (pauses, thinking) Did I throw it out? No, I have three of them. (goes back to searching, clothes flying everywhere) Please, where are you now? I have an assignment to finish, pleaseee! (suddenly spots a suit jacket) Ah, there you are! (pulls it from its hiding spot and spreads it on the bed) It looks wrinkled, but at least there’s still power. Where are your matching pieces, hmm? (looks around at her scattered room, sighs heavily) Hazeemah! I’ll deal with this mess later. (heads out to the living room with the jacket and starts ironing it near a socket without saying a word to her parents)

Hajia Shukroh and Alhaji Nurudeen glance at each other, curious about her behavior.

Hajia Shukroh: (signals her husband to let her handle it) Madam?

Hazeemah: Yes, Mum? (turns around)

Hajia Shukroh: What are you ironing?

Hazeemah: Oh, just preparing what to wear to the office tomorrow. It’s a suit jacket.

Hajia Shukroh: How are you going to wear that? Over your khimar?

Hazeemah: (stands up, showing her the oversized jacket) See? It’s extra-large.

Hajia Shukroh: (still concerned) So, how exactly are you going to wear it?

Hazeemah: You’ll see tomorrow, Mum, when I’m ready for work.

Hajia Shukroh: You better not take off your khimar.

Hazeemah: A'udhu billah! Mum! How could you say that? I would never trade my pride or religion for this job. Please stop saying such things.

Hajia Shukroh: Good! (returns to her seat beside her husband)

After ironing, Hazeemah goes back to her room, tidies up the mess, and brings out an A3 paper and drawing materials. She puts on her headphones, listening to Islamic nasheeds, working late into the night. She only pauses for prayers and dinner. After dinner, she returns to her sketches, finally finishing at 2 a.m.

(Lights fade)

THE NEXT MORNING – 7:28 AM

The employees arrive and sign in, heading to their respective departments. Hazeemah stands in the parking lot with some security personnel, waiting for the acting CEO’s arrival, paying no attention to the gossip about her oversized suit jacket over her long khimar. She remains confident, despite the stares. Then, M.K. arrives.

Hazeemah: (heart racing, recalling her words from yesterday as she sees him stepping out of his car) Good morning, sir.

M.K.: (scans her from head to toe, saying nothing, then walks into the building)

Hazeemah: (remembers something) Oh! His documents. (opens the car and grabs them, heading to his office. Upon entering, she sees him on the phone. She quietly places the documents on his desk and begins to leave when…)

M.K.: A.Z.

Hazeemah: (nervously swallows and turns around) Yes, sir?

M.K.: What on earth are you wearing? And how do you survive in this heat? Wait—where are your suit pants or skirt?

Hazeemah: I’m wearing them, sir.

M.K.: Where?

Hazeemah: Underneath, sir. This is the best I could do to follow the company’s dress code.

M.K.: Whatever. (dismissively looks away) Get me my morning coffee. Or do I have to demand it?

Hazeemah: Oh! I’m sorry, sir. Please excuse me. (hurriedly exits to the office’s mini kitchen, where she bumps into Abdullahi)

Hazeemah: Yaa Salam!

Abdullahi: (jaw drops in amazement) Damn! Masha Allah! Wearing your suit without taking off your hijab? That’s so cool. Look at you, you look like a queen. Just amazing.

Hazeemah: (smiles) Thank you, sir. (starts making the coffee)

Abdullahi: Coffee for the boss, huh?

Hazeemah: Yes, sir.

Abdullahi: About what you asked me yesterday... concerning my marital status.

Hazeemah: (quickly cuts in) Please, let’s pretend I never asked. It was a mistake, and I’d really appreciate it if we didn’t talk about it.

Abdullahi: But I want to. I really appreciated you asking, and I’m sorry I didn’t respond sooner.

Hazeemah: (hurriedly finishes making the coffee)

Abdullahi: Well… I’m married.

Hazeemah: (surprised) Married?

Abdullahi: Yes, but not happily.

Hazeemah: (rolls her eyes, focusing on the coffee machine, muttering to herself) Here comes the story of his life.

Abdullahi: You know how they say marriage is a lifelong commitment, and challenges come along the way? Well… I’m not happy because my wife doesn’t know how to take care of me. She’s always demanding money for this and that, but she never considers our home. All she does is spend for herself. Sometimes, I dread going home.

Hazeemah: (sighs softly) May Allah ease your affairs.

Abdullahi: Amin. You know how in our culture, girls are often married off early to avoid falling into zina? Well, my wife is turning 19 in November. She’s still so young, and honestly, she needs more home training. Sometimes, I regret marrying her. I eat out most days because she can’t cook. It’s so disheartening.

Hazeemah: (finally done with the coffee) May Allah make things easier for you, sir. Excuse me. (hurries out of the kitchen)

Abdullahi: (sadly leans against the wall, sighing heavily)

(Curtain)

AT M.K.’S OFFICE

M.K.: (sipping his coffee while going through Hazeemah’s sketches) Hmmmmm...

Hazeemah: (standing patiently, awaiting his verdict)

M.K.: You may leave.

Hazeemah: (surprised) Sir?

M.K.: I said you may leave!

Hazeemah: (gratefully) Thank you, sir! (happily walks out of his office)

M.K.: (once she leaves, he pays closer attention to the sketches, smiling to himself)

(Lights fade)

At Hazeemah’s Desk

ON A TELEPHONE CALL

 Hazeemah: Hello? This is Hazeemah Nurudeen.

Mrs. Fashola: Meet me in my office.

Hazeemah: Okay, ma’am, but I need your office number.

Mrs. Fashola: Office 15. (hangs up)

Hazeemah: (sighs and gets up, ready to leave, then pauses) I better not make the same mistake. (dials her boss's number) Please pick up!

M.K.: (picks up the call) What is it this time?

Hazeemah: I was called by one of the department managers, sir. I just wanted to let you know where I’m going in case you need me.

M.K.: Okay. (hangs up)

Hazeemah: (drops her phone) Always so annoying! Ugh, see his annoying face in my head.

A Few Minutes Later – At Mrs. Fashola’s Office

Hazeemah: (knocks at the door) Can I come in, ma'am?

Mrs. Fashola: Yes, come in.

Hazeemah: (enters and stands in front of her) You called for me, ma’am.

Mrs. Fashola: (focused on the computer) Yes, have a seat.

Hazeemah: (obeys) Thank you, ma’am.

Mrs. Fashola: (finally looks up and notices her outfit) Hmm, nice office suit.

Hazeemah: (smiles) Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it.

Mrs. Fashola: (slides some documents toward her) Go through these and tell me what you think.

Hazeemah: Ma?

Mrs. Fashola: You heard me, lady!

Hazeemah: Oh, okay... (starts going through the interior electrical installation plans, visibly impressed) Amazing... Masha Allah.

Mrs. Fashola: (quietly studies her reaction)

Hazeemah: (after several minutes of reviewing) It’s breathtaking, ma’am.

Mrs. Fashola: Good. Take it and submit it to the boss.

Hazeemah: (stands up) Alright, ma’am. (about to leave)

Mrs. Fashola: (calls her back) If you don’t mind me asking, what did you study in school?

Hazeemah: Architecture, ma’am.

Mrs. Fashola: Oh really? In that case, I might need your help with a few things in the future. Alright?

Hazeemah: I’ll be happy to help.

Mrs. Fashola: Good! You may leave.

Hazeemah: (obeys) Have a nice day, ma’am.

Mrs. Fashola: An Hijabi sister, employed? I’ve never seen this before. And she’s an architect too? Wow!