LATER IN THE EVENING
Nusaybah: (She enters the house and finds no one, but a pleasant aroma awakens her spirit.) Is he cooking? (She moves to the kitchen.) As-salam alaykum, sir.
Haneef: (He turns to her.) Walaykum salam. (He continues his work.)
Nusaybah: (She scans him from head to toe, surprised to see what he’s wearing—just a vest and boxers. She quickly walks up to him.) Let me continue with the rest. Thanks for cooking.
Haneef: Let go of my hands.
Nusaybah: (She lets go.) I’m sorry. I just wanted to help, you know.
Haneef: Why do you want to help? Besides, your food isn’t included.
Nusaybah: Oh! (She nods.) I understand... but let me help you prepare it.
Haneef: So you can add something to it or what?
Nusaybah: Why would I do that?
Haneef: That’s the question I should be asking you.
Nusaybah: (Thinking) At first, I was amazed by his performance today, but I had forgotten—it was all just a display to attract attention. He might come up with another misunderstanding again, and I don’t want any more arguments or insults from him. I still can’t believe he slept with me again... men are so unpredictable. I thought I disgust him?
Haneef: (He has been calling her name.) Nusaybah!!!
Nusaybah: (Snaps back to reality) Sir? I’m sorry. Please.
Haneef: What are you thinking about?
Nusaybah: Nothing, sir. Please, let me take over. It’s not proper for you to do this while I’m here.
Haneef: (Yells) I said leave it! Are you deaf or something?
Nusaybah: (Startled, she quickly touches the table, panting heavily. She gently raises her head and stares at him for a few seconds, unnoticed. She smiles faintly and tries to walk away—but then collapses.)
Haneef: And where do you think you’re going? I don’t even see your benefit in this house. I make sure I do everything just to satisfy you, yet you’re selfish and ungrateful. So you don’t care if I die?
Nusaybah: (She tiredly turns to him again.) What are you saying again?
Haneef: What type of wife are you? Why is everything about you so annoying? A real wife should know what to do, but you don’t even have the common sense to know your next step. Sometimes, I wonder—did your parents not train you well? You seriously lack home training.
Nusaybah: (Tiredly stares at him.)
Haneef: If my family walked in and saw me preparing dinner for myself, your things would’ve been thrown out for being a bad wife. I defended you today in front of everyone just so you could come home early and make dinner—and yet you still came late. Now you want to walk away? No! Can you even listen to yourself? Why, Nusaybah? What kind of woman are you—selfish and foolish!
Nusaybah: (Sadly closes her eyes as his words pierce her heart, but she chooses to stay silent and listen to all he says.)
Haneef: Ever since I married you, instead of things getting easier for me, it’s the opposite. You stress me both physically and mentally. Why? Look—she’s still standing there, waiting for me to prepare her dinner.
Nusaybah: (She angrily moves toward him and snatches the spoon from his hand.) I’m sorry, sir.
Haneef: (Takes a few steps back.) Sorry for yourself! (Furiously walks out.) Rubbish!
Nusaybah: (She falls to her knees, touching her chest as bitter tears roll down her face.) Yaa Allah! Help me. I see no joy in this marriage, only pain. Help me, please. Help me make this marriage work. This is killing me... what kind of man defends his wife in public and treats her like a problem inside?
Haneef: (Storms back into the kitchen.) What did you just say? So I’m your problem, right? Ohhh Nusaybah! You’re crying to Allah that I’m your problem? So Allah should get rid of me, right? You’re very evil. I never knew you could be this cruel. Every wife prays for her husband, but all you do is curse—after all I’ve done for you—despite giving me no peace in this house?
Nusaybah: (Tears stream down her face.) What kind of man treats his wife nicely outside, but inside treats her like a demon? Obviously, this is all just pretense. I’m tired of the emotional trauma, Haneef. You are destroying my heart. You’re killing me with the words that come from your mouth. Please stop this. It’s affecting me mentally. Please… what do you want me to do that will make you stop all of this? What will make you love me again? Just say it. I promise I’ll do it.
.Haneef: Oh, really? You’re ready to do anything? Am I right?
Nusaybah: If that’s what it takes for you to love me again, why wouldn’t I do it?
Haneef: Okay then. Wipe my memory. Wipe all the good memories we shared before our marriage. Restore the trust I had in you—bring it back into my heart… and finally, be a virgin again.
Nusaybah: (Her jaw drops.) What are you saying?
Haneef: Oh! I guess you can’t do it. That’s the point—you can never win me over again. Never! It’s over between us. Just live under my roof as my neighbor and don’t stress my mental health. Mind your business, and never in your life interfere in my matters again. But you must still do your duty as my wife in this house. If you can do all that, then we won’t have any problem. But if you fail to abide by the rules… hmm, Nusaybah! You will see hell in hell. I promise you that. (He walks out and slams the door.)
Nusaybah: (She bows her head, bitterly crying.)
Twenty minutes later, she sets the dining table and sees her husband walking out of the house. She wants to ask where he’s going, but quickly cautions herself to avoid any further arguments or misunderstandings.
Nusaybah: (Exhales softly.) He slept with me this morning, and I was so happy—as if I were in paradise. My heart rejoiced, thinking he had finally forgiven me and that our marriage would be sweet again. But all of that was just a breath of fresh air blown away by a foul wind... I don’t even know where he’s going, and it’s not time for solat... See? I can’t kill myself.
---
Haneef: (Storms into the house.) Where is mother?
Ramat: (Surprised to see him.) I don’t know, oh. (She angrily looks away.)
Haneef: (Moves to her room.) Mum! Are you there?
Mrs. Gbenga: (She is counting money, then quickly hides it under her pillow.) If I’m not there, nko? You this senseless person.
Haneef: (Opens the door and finds her seated on the bed.) Can I come in, ma?
Mrs. Gbenga: You already opened the door and you’re still asking if you can come in? Stay there then.
Haneef: (Chuckles.) Iya Haneef. Iya Ramatah toh sure. (He enters and closes the door behind him.)
Mrs. Gbenga: (The moment he tries to sit next to her, she slaps him hard.) Never in your life try that stupidity again! If you don’t want me to curse you… you defended that useless wife of yours over me? You disgraced me in front of my co-senior wives, your uncles, and those little wives? How dare you? What has come over you, Haneef? Tell me—you’re such a coward!
Haneef: (Still touching his face, then takes a deep breath and gently holds her hands.) Mum, I know I offended you. That’s why I’m here—to apologize. Please forgive me. I don’t want to see you mad at me for long, hmm? I’m still your son. But let’s be sincere, this Yoruba tradition is too harsh on wives. They’re human beings, not slaves.
Mrs. Gbenga: Save that trash! Because the more I stare at you, the more I feel like disowning you. If not that you’re a photocopy of your father, I swear I would have disowned you today. Ungrateful fool!
Haneef: I deserve whatever you wish to call me. I’m deeply sorry, and I promise never to disgrace you in public again. Please… just forgive us.
Mrs. Gbenga: You think I don’t know who is behind your stupid behavior? Your wife! That Nusaybah girl. She has poisoned your mind against your family, abi? She’s been putting kayan mata in your food, abi? I knew it! That girl isn’t a good woman.
Haneef: Mum, please. Let’s not discuss these issues again. My wife isn’t that bad, okay? And I love her. Please forgive us.
Mrs. Gbenga: (Moves closer to him.) Don’t you see? She’s just using you, Haneef!
Haneef: Mum, can we not talk about this? I came here to apologize—nothing more. (He gets up.) By the way, I sent some money into your account before coming here. Please accept my apology.
Mrs. Gbenga: (Gradually smiles.) So you think you can win my heart with money?
Haneef: Actually, no—but just to calm your mind. I’ll be on my way now.
---
Ramat: (Standing by the door.) You know, sometimes I wonder why Brother Mi changed so much ever since he met that girl. That girl’s face boils the anger in me every time I see her. She’s bad luck. Let me ask you—ever since you married her, have you ever been happy? Even once?
Haneef: What kind of stupid question is that?
Ramat: Well? Are you?
Haneef: (Fails to respond.)
Ramat: Better find another woman to replace her, because I knew from the first day I saw her—she’s bad luck. And you’ll never find happiness until you replace her in your heart.
Haneef: (Stares at her.) I don’t blame you though. Now you’re stuck at home with your mother at this age while your mates are married. And if you keep ruining other people’s marriages, you’ll never get married—talk less of having a happy home. Sit down and think about your own life too. Now if you’ll excuse me, do have a lovely night. Maami, bye. (He exits the room.)
Ramat: (Panting heavily.) Mum! Did you hear what he just said to me, abi? I swear, I’ll make him pay for this.
Mrs. Gbenga: Will you shut up? He’s right, of course! If you were in your husband’s house, he wouldn’t even meet you here, talk less of saying such to you. Hurry up and bring your husband home—you’re getting old.
Ramat: Even you, mummy? Should I just go outside and bring in any man I see?
Mrs. Gbenga: Bring one first—let’s see.
---
Haneef: (walks in and sees his wife watching a movie. The rage in him begins to fade as he sees her laughing. He pauses for a moment to see if she notices him, but she looks away. Only after he makes a sound does she greet him — but he doesn’t respond. He walks to the dining table and sits.)
So I should be begging you now before you serve my food, abi?
Nusaybah: (rolls her eyes) I’m coming, sir.
(She does what he asks and returns to the living room.)
Haneef: Have you prayed?
Nusaybah: Yes, sir.
Haneef: Get me the juice from the fridge, since you want me to ask for everything before you bring it.
Nusaybah: (sighs heavily and walks to the kitchen)
Haneef: Did you just sigh at me, Nusaybah? Gosh! This girl is seriously pissing me off!
Nusaybah: (in the kitchen) God! He’s about to start another problem again. Why does he behave like a woman, nagging all the time?
Haneef: (shouts) NUSAYBAH! Are you deaf?
Nusaybah: Sir, I’m answering you from the kitchen now.
Haneef: You must be very stupid for that response! Are you okay? Even if you can’t respect me as your husband, have you forgotten we’re not age mates? Never in your life sigh in front of me again. The day you try it again, I swear I won’t hesitate to hit you!
Nusaybah: You will what?
Haneef: You heard me very well! I’ll make sure I forget my hand on your face. I’ll remove that stupidity from you!
Nusaybah: So now you’ve upgraded to hitting me? (Takes a deep breath and speaks softly.) I don’t know what came over me, but Alhamdulillah, I’m able to control my anger. Haneef, you want to hit me? Me—Nusaybah? Wasn’t it you who used to preach before our marriage that only an animal hits a woman? So what are you now? The animal?
Haneef: (tightens his fist) Did you just call me an animal? One more word from you and I won’t hesitate to do it!
Nusaybah: (walks to the dining table and pours juice into his glass) Here’s the juice you asked for. Please eat. Your food is getting cold.
Haneef: (exhales softly and sits back)
Nusaybah: (heart pounding, she gently walks into the room to get what she needs to sleep, then returns to the living room. Tears roll down her cheeks as she sadly turns off the TV and lies down. She breaks down in silent sobs.)
Haneef: Your noise is disturbing my peace, oh!
Nusaybah: (covers her mouth to cry quietly)
---
[Two months later – at the university]
Aminah: (walking quickly) Oh, I’m late! And today is my first lecture!
(A stranger bumps into her.)
Aminah: Subhanallah! Watch where you’re going, Mr. Man!
Abdullahi: Oh! I’m so sorry, I was in a hurry. Please forgive me.
(Scans her from head to toe.)
Aminah: (adjusts her khimar) It’s okay, mistakes happen. But please be careful next time. What if I were a pregnant woman?
Abdullahi: (smiles) I’m really sorry, Hajia.
Aminah: It’s alright.
(She walks away.)
Abdullahi: (smiles as she walks off)
---
[Aminah enters the lecture hall]
Aminah: (arrives and sees class in progress) Subhanallah, I’m late.
(Stands by the door.)
Good morning, sir.
Mallam Zubair: (scans her from head to toe) Why are you just coming in, young lady?
Aminah: (nervous, as all eyes are on her) Uhmm… sir, actually, I was preparing breakfast for my dad. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.
(The class bursts into laughter. Someone even mimics her.)
Mallam Zubair: You! Over there—get out of my class!
(The class goes silent.)
Aminah: (embarrassed) I’m really sorry, sir.
Mallam Zubair: Since you knew you were late, why didn’t you let your mom continue?
Aminah: (exhales softly) My mom has passed away.
Mallam Zubair: Oh… Subhanallah. Come in.
Aminah: Thank you, sir.
(She enters and finds all seats taken, so she stands for the rest of the lecture.)
---
[Back at Haneef’s house – Morning]
Haneef: Where’s my breakfast? Why are you so sluggish this morning?
Nusaybah: (looks plump and weak) I’m coming, sir.
Haneef: Hurry up now! I’m already late for work. First you woke up late, now you’re late preparing my food!
Nusaybah: I’m sorry. I just don’t feel too well today.
Haneef: That’s your problem. Once you’re done, take yourself to the hospital and stop behaving like a child.
Nusaybah: Okay, sir.
(She serves his food and heads to the living room to rest.)
Haneef: So you’re not going to work today?
Nusaybah: I said I’m not feeling well.
Haneef: Then quit your job and stay at home. I never sent you to work in the first place!
Nusaybah: I need to work. Besides, you’ve never given me money to buy anything for myself. That’s why I work—to take care of my own needs.
Haneef: Oh really? So now you want to insult me? How can I provide for you when you have your own job that pays you well? So you want me to waste my money on you, abi?
Nusaybah: (cuts in) It’s okay. No need for an argument, please.
Haneef: So I’ve become a talkative now, abi?
Nusaybah: (gets up immediately and walks out, slamming the door behind her) Don’t kill me before my time. Kilode?
How am I supposed to tell you I’m pregnant when all you do is nag like a woman?