<p>The loud music playing in the house could make you think you were in a club if you didn’t see it with your own eyes.</p><p>“Amjad!” A woman called as she entered the room, confident the music was coming from there.</p><p>The young man, Amjad, didn’t hear her as he was immersed in singing along with the music. Frustrated, she walked up to him and tapped his shoulder firmly.</p><p>Startled, he turned around quickly, letting out a small “Aww!”</p><p>“Will you please turn the music off?”</p><p>“Mom, I’m glad you’re back,” he replied before turning off the music.</p><p>“Amjad, this is too much.”</p><p>“Mom, I’m just having some fun. It’s awesome.”</p><p>“Where is Shaheed?”</p><p>“He just left.”</p><p>“To where?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“What about Zakia?”</p><p>“I guess she’s in her room.”</p><p>“Well, have you eaten?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Why? Aren’t you hungry?”</p><p>“Of course I am, I just don’t feel like eating.”</p><p>“Is something wrong?”</p><p>“No,” he replied curtly.</p><p>“I hope so. Let me make you an omelette. Try to eat a little, son. I don’t want to see you starving like this.”</p><p>He raised an eyebrow and said, “Okay.”</p><p>“That’s my boy,” she said, pinching his cheek with a smile.</p><p>He smiled back, and she left the room. As soon as she was gone, he flopped onto his bed and began tapping on his phone.</p><p>She returned to her room, removed her jacket and veil, and went to the kitchen. In no time, she was done cooking, arranged the food on the dining table, and went upstairs to Zakia’s room.</p><p>“Come in,” Zakia said after her mother knocked.</p><p>“Mom, so you’re back?”</p><p>“And you’re here, busy chatting.”</p><p>“Oh,” Zakia replied, scratching her head and closing her laptop.</p><p>“Have you eaten?”</p><p>“Yes, Mom.”</p><p>“Okay, then we’ll enjoy our omelettes alone.”</p><p>“Omelettes? That’s my favorite, you know.”</p><p>“I made them for Amjad.”</p><p>“Come on, Mom. Amjad isn’t a kid. You’re spoiling him too much. Dad is right,” Zakia said, pouting.</p><p>“Even you?”</p><p>“Even me, what?” Zakia asked in broken Hausa.</p><p>“You’re siding with your dad.”</p><p>“Why not? He’s right.”</p><p>“Okay, let’s go,” her mother said, putting an arm around her shoulder as they went downstairs.</p><p>“Amjad! Omelettes are ready!”</p><p>“Okay, Mom,” he replied from his room.</p><p>“You see?”</p><p>“Zakia?” her mom said amidst laughter.</p><p>“Yes, he’s almost 26, yet you treat him like he’s 16.”</p><p>“What are you two talking about?” Amjad asked as he descended the stairs.</p><p>“She—”</p><p>“Mom!” Zakia shouted, wide-eyed, signaling her mother to stay quiet.</p><p>“Okay, I get it,” her mom said, miming zipping her mouth.</p><p>“Are you two hiding something?” he asked, looking at them suspiciously.</p><p>“No,” they replied in unison.</p><p>“Zakia, I hope your hands didn’t touch my omelette?”</p><p>“What if they did?” she asked defiantly.</p><p>“R.I.P,” he retorted, pulling out a chair.</p><p>“Really? Let—”</p><p>“Shh! Let’s eat and stop chatting,” their mom interjected, knowing they’d turn the dining table into a battleground with their banter.</p><p>“Someone didn’t pray Asr today,” Zakia said after a while.</p><p>Clang! He dropped his spoon, realizing she was exposing him. He didn’t fully understand what she said but guessed it was about him.</p><p>“Zakia, are you serious?” their mom asked.</p><p>“Yes, Mom,” she replied.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Amjad asked, his face serious.</p><p>“Amjad, is that true?” their mom asked, her expression changing.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You didn’t pray Asr,” she said curtly.</p><p>He now realized her betrayal. Furious, he stood up. Zakia, knowing trouble was coming, jumped from her seat and ran toward the living room, avoiding the stairs. She had no idea where to hide, so she headed for the door.</p><p>Their mom called after him, but he ignored her.</p><p>She was almost at the door when their dad entered. She quickly hid behind him.</p><p>“Dad, help me!” she shouted.</p><p>Seeing this, Amjad halted, panting heavily.</p><p>“Amjad, what’s going on?” their dad asked.</p><p>He stayed silent, knowing if he mentioned the missed prayer, his dad wouldn’t take it lightly.</p><p>From behind their dad, Zakia stuck her tongue out at Amjad.</p><p>“She took my… my diary,” Amjad lied.</p><p>“Diary?” Their dad turned to Zakia, who quickly composed herself.</p><p>“Where is it?”</p><p>“In the locker.”</p><p>“Give it back, okay?”</p><p>She nodded in agreement, and their dad left.</p><p>“I saved you,” Zakia teased.</p><p>Amjad glared at her before heading upstairs.</p><p>“Honey, you’re back,” their mom said, hugging their dad as he entered the dining area.</p><p>“Uhm, what are you eating?”</p><p>“Omelettes,” she replied.</p><p>Amjad, hearing his dad’s voice, muttered, “Disgusting,” as he went upstairs without touching the food.</p><p>“Shaheed?” their dad asked.</p><p>“He went out. I’m sure he’s on his way back.”</p><p>“I hope so,” he replied, tasting the omelettes. “Uhhm, yummy.”</p><p>“Really?” She blushed.</p><p>“Sure,” he affirmed.</p><p>Zakia, watching them, smirked. Her mom always loved being praised for her cooking.</p><p>Meanwhile, Shaheed returned around 6:16 p.m. He bypassed his room and went to Amjad’s, finding him praying. He waited until Amjad finished.</p><p>“Asr, right?” Shaheed teased.</p><p>“Mind your business, silly boy. Where have you been?”</p><p>“Do I have to explain? You’re talking like you’re my dad.”</p><p>Amjad threw a pillow at him. “Get out.”</p><p>“Easy, I’m leaving.” Shaheed laughed as he walked out.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p>In Kano, Nigeria, a young girl, Laila, hurried home in her school uniform.</p><p>“Assalamu Alaikum,” she greeted as she entered.</p><p>“Wa alaikissalam,” came the response.</p><p>In the courtyard, she found her mother sitting by her ailing father, who was lying down.</p><p>“Sannu Baba,” she said softly.</p><p>Her father nodded weakly, unable to speak.</p><p>“Where are Maryam and the others?”</p><p>“They’re on their way. They’re slow, so I came ahead,” she replied.</p><p>“Laila, after you change, go to your uncle’s house and get the herbal medicine for your father,” her mom instructed.</p><p>“Mami, can’t we stop this endless treatment?” Laila whispered, not wanting her father to hear.</p><p>“What choice do we have?” her mom sighed.</p><p>After changing into home clothes and a hijab, Laila set off for her uncle’s house. She returned shortly after, just as her siblings arrived.</p><p>Mami knew the treatment was tedious but couldn’t refuse her in-laws’ suggestions.</p><p>Laila was the eldest of four siblings. At 19, she had just finished secondary school and was waiting for admission into university. She shared the household with her younger sisters, Maryam and Nusaiba, and their little brother, Fauzan.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
