ACTS TWELVE
Hazeemah: (Her hands shake, catching everyone's attention) Lailaha illallah!
Hajia Shukroh: What happened?
Alhaji Nurudeen: What's wrong?
(Everyone gazes at her.)
Alhaji Nurudeen: Speak up!
Hajia Shukroh: Hazeemah! (She moves closer to check on her.) Speak now!
Hazeemah: (Snapping back to reality, trying to control her emotions. She turns to her mother.) Ummi, can I speak with you for a moment? In private?
Alhaji Nurudeen: What’s going on, Hazeemah?
Jamal: I hope all is well?
Hazeemah: (Forcing a smile) Everything is fine, sir. I’ll be right back. (Grabs her mother’s hand and heads to her room.)
(In Hazeemah's room, Hajia Shukroh closes the door.)
Hajia Shukroh: What is it? You’re scaring the guests away.
Hazeemah: I got my job back!
Hajia Shukroh: Pardon?
Hazeemah: I’m serious! (She says happily.) I’ve finally gotten my job back—not as a personal assistant, but as an architect!
Hajia Shukroh: (Looking at her oddly) Are you out of your mind? We left the guests waiting for this? Hazeemah, why are you doing this to yourself? Why? (Roars at her.)
Hazeemah: (Surprised) Mum! I thought you’d be happy for me!
Hajia Shukroh: Hazeemah, I don’t want to show you my other side again in this house. When will you wake up? You’re not a child anymore! You need to marry and start a family.
Hazeemah: Mum, I can’t believe you’re saying this. Don’t you care about my happiness?
Hajia Shukroh: Will you shut up? Look at yourself, Hazeemah! You can’t marry a job. Fine, I’m happy for you, but if your father finds out you called me in for this, you’ll be in bigger trouble. Now, let’s go back and not keep the guests waiting. (Grabs her hand.)
Hazeemah: (Pulling her hand away) No, Mum! I can’t believe you're turning into this. After all these years, I finally have the job I want, where I’m needed. What happened to the woman who wanted nothing but my happiness?
Hajia Shukroh: Sometimes your happiness doesn’t matter, just like now. What matters is what’s best for you.
Hazeemah: And marrying a total stranger, someone I barely know, is what’s best for me?
Alhaji Nurudeen: (Shouting from the living room) Where are you two? Don’t keep the guests waiting!
Hajia Shukroh: We’re coming, dear. Just give us a minute. (Turns to Hazeemah) You better get your butt out there and fix your introduction date, or else!
Hazeemah: I’m not going, Ummi! You’re turning into someone I don’t recognize. Is this how desperate you are to get me married? Is this how you married Abu? Just because I haven’t brought a man home, you’re ready to throw me into a tunnel? Marriage is a lifetime commitment! You’re sick of me, just say it, and I’ll leave.
Hajia Shukroh: (Suddenly slaps her) Get this straight in your head—you’re getting married sooner or later. (Storms out, slamming the door.)
Hazeemah: (In shock) Did she just slap me? For what? (Tears stream down her face.) This is getting unbearable. Ummi slapped me... because of marriage to a stranger. Ahhh! Subhanallah! (She gently closes the door, locks it, and retreats to her bed, sobbing.)
Back in the living room
Alhaji Nurudeen: Where is she?
Hajia Shukroh: She’s not coming. I’m sorry, but I don’t think she wants this marriage to happen.
(Jamal and his relatives exchange glances.)
Alhaji Nurudeen: What do you mean?
Jamal: Please, speak to her. I promise to take good care of her. If you let me go, she might end up growing old under your roof.
Alhaji Nurudeen & Hajia Shukroh: Excuse me?
Hajia Shukroh: You’re full of yourself, aren’t you? What gives you the right to speak like that? (Turns to her husband) Is this the kind of man you want our daughter to marry? I warned you about this matchmaking! Selling our daughter to people with no manners. Kindly leave our house.
(Jamal’s relatives rise one by one and exit, except Jamal.)
Jamal: I’m sorry if my words were harsh. But I’ll still be available if you reconsider. You have just one week. (Picks up his car key and leaves.)
Hajia Shukroh: Can you imagine this man? (Turns to her husband) Is this the kind of man you want Hazeemah to marry?
Alhaji Nurudeen: What did you and Hazeemah discuss that changed her mind? Start talking now, or I’ll find out myself.
Hajia Shukroh: (Sighing, trying to stay calm, she sits next to him) Our daughter isn’t happy with this proposal. She wants to choose her own man, to fall in love first, to feel needed. If this matchmaking fails, she will resent us forever. I don’t want to take any steps that will make my daughter hate me. Also... she got her job back. That was the news. Let’s give her some space.
Alhaji Nurudeen: So, she’s poisoned your mind already? Do you think we’re getting any younger? Death comes without warning. If this year ends without her getting married, there will be bigger problems in this house. Take that as a warning.
Hajia Shukroh: You’ve said your piece, now hear mine. I’m her mother. Yes, I slapped her, trying to act tough. But I could see the happiness on her face when she talked about her job. I just want her to be happy. Besides, she never said she wouldn’t marry. Who knows? She might meet her husband at the company. Tell me, how will she find a husband if she stays cooped up inside all day? You need to stop worrying about what people say. Our happy home is not in their hands. (Walks away.)
Alhaji Nurudeen: (Resting on the couch, deep in thought) Hmmmm...
(Curtain)
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Scene: The Next Day - Marketplace
The sun beats down on a bustling marketplace. People are busy buying, selling, and hawking. Hazeemah moves between vendors, purchasing foodstuffs and loading them into her car. As she reaches for the last bag, she bumps into someone, causing her items to scatter across the ground.
Hazeemah: (breathing heavily) Ahh! Can’t you see? Am I that small you couldn’t notice me?
Reem: (quickly turns and starts picking up the fallen items) I’m so, so sorry, Hajia. I was in a rush to— (pauses, recognizing her) Wait, Hajia Hazeemah?
Hazeemah: (scans him angrily, snatches the remaining items from his hand) Please, watch where you're going next time.
Reem: Alright, ma’am. But wait a second...
Hazeemah: What now?
Reem: Don’t you recognize me?
Hazeemah: What do you want? First, you bump into me, and now you’re pretending to know me?
Reem: Relax, ma’am. Calm down. I didn’t mean any harm. Just look at me for a moment—don’t I seem familiar?
Hazeemah: (lowers her gaze) Have a nice day.
Reem: Please, wait! It’s me... Reem. From the interview at M&S Company.
Hazeemah: (glances at him, then looks away, trying to remember) Oh! Subhanallah! I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. How are you?
Reem: I’m glad you remember me now. I bet you're doing great with the coffee-making too!
Hazeemah: (gasping) Oh! You’re the coffee guy?
Reem: And the one at the interview—the day with that arrogant gatekeeper who wouldn’t let you in.
Hazeemah: (gasping again) You were there too? Why are you everywhere?
Reem: (smiling) I’m sorry for all this chaos. Now that you recognize me, congratulations on getting your job back.
Hazeemah: How did you know?
Reem: I handle the email notifications. In fact, I sent you the reemployment email.
Hazeemah: Masha Allah! Jazakumullahu khairan. I really appreciate that. I’m so sorry, I’d love to stay and chat, but I need to go—my parents are waiting.
Reem: No problem! (smiling brightly) Let me help you with those. Where’s your car?
Hazeemah: Thank you so much. It’s that old car over there. (points)
Reem: (picks up the items with ease) Here you go.
Hazeemah: Thanks a lot—for everything. (packs the items into the trunk) I really appreciate it. See you on Monday, insha Allah.
Reem: I can’t wait! Oh, before you go—can I have your number, if you don’t mind?
Hazeemah: Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t usually give my number to... (pauses, thinks) You know what? I’ll give it to you.
(They exchange numbers.)
Hazeemah: As-salam alaykum. (waves as she enters the car)
Reem: Wa-alaykum salam wa rahmatullah! (waves back with a bright smile) Yes!
(Reem whispers to himself in excitement. The light fades.)
********************************
Scene: Hazeemah's Home
Hazeemah arrives home to find her father, Alhaji Nurudeen, sitting in the corridor reading a newspaper. She parks the car, steps out, and locks the gate herself.
Hazeemah: (getting out of the car and carrying foodstuffs into the house) As-salam alaykum, Abu.
Alhaji Nurudeen: (responding angrily) Wa-alaykum salam wa rahmatullah. Where’s my car key?
Hazeemah: (hands him the key, staring at him for a few seconds, then turns away) As-salam alaykum... (she finds her mother resting on the couch) I’m back, Mum.
Hajia Shukroh: (glancing briefly, then looking away) Okay.
Hazeemah, disheartened, offloads the foodstuffs into the storeroom. Once inside, she breaks down, sinking to her knees and crying silently.
Hajia Shukroh: (hearing her daughter’s quiet sobs, she sighs deeply, thinking to herself) How long will this continue? Her father is angry with me for supporting her, and I can’t bear the coldness I’m giving her. Nor can I stand watching my husband avoid me... Why is this happening? (She gets up and walks to the storeroom, where Hazeemah is crying.) Stand up.
Hazeemah: (instantly obeys, keeping her gaze down as she continues to cry softly)
Hajia Shukroh: Wipe your tears.
Hazeemah: (quickly wipes her face)
Hajia Shukroh: (exhales softly and embraces her daughter) Stop crying now. Everything will be alright.
Hazeemah: I’m sorry, Mum... I swear, I want nothing more than to see you and Abu happy. It breaks my heart that I’m the reason for the tension in this house. That’s my biggest fear. I promise I’ll bring a man home soon... I just need more time. Please...
Hajia Shukroh: It’s okay. Stop crying. I’ve got you.
(Suddenly, Hazeemah's phone rings. She hesitates, not wanting to ruin the moment.)
Hajia Shukroh: Answer your call. (wipes Hazeemah’s tears)
Hazeemah: (picks up the call from an unknown number, putting it on speaker) As-salam alaykum.
Reem: Wa-alaykum salaam. It’s me, Reem. I just wanted to apologize for earlier and check if you got home safely.
Hazeemah: (trying to control her emotions) Alhamdulillah, thank you.
Reem: (noticing her tone) Is everything okay? You sound... different. I hope all is fine?
Hazeemah: (clears her throat) Nothing, I’m fine. Thanks for calling. I need to go now.
Reem: Alright, dear. Talk to you on Monday, insha Allah. I can't wait to see you.
Hazeemah: My pleasure, sir. As-salam alaykum. (hangs up)
Hajia Shukroh: (smiling curiously) Who was that?
Hazeemah: My coworker.
Hajia Shukroh: Hmm. That didn’t sound like he’s just a coworker.
Hazeemah: (dodging the subject) Let’s get back to what we were saying... Please, I just need more time.
Hajia Shukroh: And that’s exactly what you need. That call you just received proves it. My mind is at ease now. Don’t worry—I’ll talk to your father, okay?
(Curtain.)
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Scene: Monday Morning, 6:50 AM
(Hazeemah is hurriedly putting on her shoes in the living room.)
Hazeemah: (calling out) Mom! I’m ready to go.
Hajia Shukroh: Hold on. Have you told your father about the job?
Hazeemah: Yes, but he didn’t give me any feedback.
Hajia Shukroh: Go greet him before you leave. He hasn’t said anything to me either.
Hazeemah: (sighs softly) Okay, Ma. (She walks toward the room door.)
Hazeemah: As-Salamu Alaikum, Abu.
Alhaji Nurudeen: Wa Alaikum Salam wa Rahmatullah wa Barakatuh.
Hazeemah: Can I come in?
Alhaji Nurudeen: No. You’ll be late for work.
(Hazeemah smiles, opens the door gently, and finds him in bed.)
Hazeemah: Abu... (She climbs onto the bed, kisses the back of his hand, and places her head on his chest.) I need your blessings. I’m sorry I haven’t fulfilled your last wish yet, but I promise by Allah I will... soon, Insha'Allah.
(Alhaji Nurudeen remains silent.)
Hazeemah: I’m not leaving until you smile and bless me. I know if you’re not happy with me, this job won’t be a success. The bigger your blessings, the sooner I’ll meet my husband. Hmm, Abu... (She rubs her head on his chest.) Please, Abuuu...
Alhaji Nurudeen: Don’t rub that big head on your mother’s chest. She mustn’t find you like this. You’re blessed, now get going.
(Hazeemah sits up sadly and leaves the room.)
Alhaji Nurudeen: (feels like calling her back but chooses not to) Hmmmm...
(Curtain closes.)
Scene: Outside the Company – The Parking Lot
(The new employees, including Hazeemah, stand at the parking lot awaiting the arrival of their boss. The gatekeeper opens the gate as two sleek cars drive in.)
M.K.: (busy on his phone as the driver opens the door for him, but he continues focusing on the phone.)
Hazeemah: (noticing her co-workers bowing as he exits the car, she thinks to herself)
I can’t believe I have to see this spoiled brat again... Look at him, no home training. He treats people like slaves because of his father’s money. Tall like an iroko tree. (She hisses lightly and looks away.)
M.K.: (finally steps out and immediately notices Hazeemah) Hey, you! (points at her)
Hazeemah: Sir? Me?
M.K.: Yes, you. Get my things and take them to my office. (He walks into the company while the employees follow behind him.)
Hazeemah: (irritated, she glances at him walking away) Look at him... I hope he lets me breathe. I can’t be his nanny! (Aggressively opens the car door and struggles with his bag and documents.) So heavy! It wasn’t mentioned that I’d be his personal assistant. (Sighs heavily) This better not be what I think it is... (struggles to carry the bag into the company)
(Hazeemah stands by the door, waiting for the urgent meeting to end. They show her desk, but she’s preoccupied, fuming over M.K. She keeps staring at him with disdain, while M.K. notices but chooses to ignore her. After the meeting, the subordinates exit the room.)
Abdullahi: (approaches Hazeemah with a smile) Masha Allah, my sister is back! Welcome. You’re a fighter.
Hazeemah: (smiling faintly) Thank you.
Abdullahi: You’re doing great. I don’t know how you do it, but don’t worry, I’ll come and keep you company later, okay? See you soon.
Hazeemah: (forces another smile) Okay, sir.
Reem: (approaching with a wave) Welcome aboard, dear. (walks away)
Hazeemah: Thank you, sir. (waves back, not realizing M.K. is watching her.)
Mrs. Fashola: Don’t use up all your smiles just yet. You’ll need them when things get tough around here.
Hazeemah: (startled, she forces yet another smile) Thank you, ma. I’ll keep that in mind.
(Mrs. Fashola walks away, and shakes her head.)
M.K.: (throws a file at Hazeemah) Follow me.
Hazeemah: (surprised) Oh! Okay, sir. (sadly follows him to his office.)
(M.K. sits, placing his legs on the desk.)
M.K.: We meet again, old woman.
Hazeemah: Yes, sir.
M.K.: So, repeat what you said to me last time.
Hazeemah: Sir?
M.K.: Go ahead.
Hazeemah: No, sir. I didn’t mean what I said. I’m really sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.
M.K.: Hmm. This same "spoiled brat" employed you again. Anyway, you’ll remain my personal assistant until I find someone else. Got it?
Hazeemah: Sir?
M.K.: You heard me.
Hazeemah: (sadly nods) Yes, sir. Do you need anything else, sir?
M.K.: Not for now. Nice to see you again. (stretches out his hand for a handshake.)
Hazeemah: (hesitates)
M.K.: What, you can’t shake my hand?
Hazeemah: I’m sorry, sir. I can’t shake hands with a man. (takes a step back, bracing for his reaction)
M.K.: You’ve got to be kidding me. My sister has a lot to explain. And you, too—your "juju" must be working on her.
Hazeemah: No, sir.
M.K.: Oh, so you want to talk back now? Since you’ve been re-employed, you feel like the boss? Rule number one: I don’t want to see you dressed so unprofessional. I dont know how you will do it but, Tomorrow, wear a suit like everyone else. Got that?
Hazeemah: Yes, sir!
M.K.: Good. Now, go make me coffee and bring a snack.