Maimuna and Hawa’s Bloody Adventure
Night falls. Hawa clutches her hardened stomach as she makes another attempt to relieve herself.
The fiery mosquitoes provide a skirt around her fragile frame. The quiet wind blows into her — forcing another wasted moment of release.
She gives up. She hears footsteps approaching and slowly arranges her garments.
A mosquito yells in her ear, and she instinctively hits her face with a heavy slap.
The force knocks her back down into the stench of days past.
“Hawa! What are you doing?” Maimuna is standing over the crumpled figure at her feet.
Hawa annoyingly answers, “I was trying to kill this stupid mosquito and I banged my face like a fool!”
Maimuna starts laughing. The guttural sensation of unhinged muscles encourages more stolen joy.
Hawa gets up. The sand is stuck in between her fingers and the more she rubs them together — the stickier they become.
The wind has stopped and the moon provides comforting guidance as the darkness paralyzes the space between them.
“Your hair! Maimuna! What happened?”
Hawa frantically reaches for Maimuna but Maimuna grabs her hands and clenches them to her chest.
“It is well Hawa. Allah has a plan for me. I had to do it.”
Hawa is searching for Maimuna’s eyes in the dark. But the blackened lobes staring back at her gives her chills that the damp air can’t rival.
“Allah has a plan for all of us Maimuna. We are hearkened to his will, but why are you missing your hair?”
“It was the best part of you. What did you do?”
Maimuna releases her grip on Hawa and turns to the sky. She stands there quietly as if she’s assembling all the stars for her benefit.
Hawa covers her body with her arms as she also looks upwards in prayer. Her heart is beating fast and loudly. She’s afraid their captors will hear the vibrations and slaughter them under the moonlight.
She tries to think good thoughts. Happy thoughts. Images of mommy laughing with glee when daddy carries her and Shehu on each shoulder and pretends to cower in defeat. Or when she returns home from school to the smell of boiling pots and circulating spices.
She opens her eyes and catches Maimuna on her knees with her hands lifted up.
“Hawa, I’m going to be free. I want you to join me but Allah has other plans for you.”
“When I leave, my eyes will be on you. My sacrament of the day will be for your freedom.”
Hawa answers Maimuna’s stance. She sits on the ground in a cautious pose.
Maimuna is different.
Their brief separation will now last a lifetime as she tries to reconcile her beloved friend’s unhinged countenance.
“Maimuna, where are you going? You know there is no escape for us. The only way out is the passage that leads to our end.”
Maimuna stands up. Her demeanor saturates the energy between them. She’s stoic. Her once delicate features have aged under the rays of the moon.
“I have been permitted to leave. Only Allah could allow such a thing to happen without warning. I am being used for a greater purpose, Hawa. All I ask is that you pray for my safe delivery and also seek strength in my absence. Your time is also drawing near.”
Hawa is assuredly certain that Maimuna’s fate had been drafted even before their existence.
She is the chosen one!
She will go back and use her anointed status to seek the rescue of those she left behind.
Praise Allah! Could it be that the endless days of washing without the blood that seeps through the hole could have emancipated them from their Father’s traitors.
Maimuna was the chosen one all along.
Hawa jumps up from the ground and hugs Maimuna with torrents of tears crowding her face.
The night’s blackness suddenly converts to daylight as she pushes her compatriot’s stiff body closer to hers.
“’Maimuna, I always knew you were built for greater things. Allah used these men to give you powers. May you succeed in all you do. May you walk away and tell our story to all who will hear.”
“d’Allah, you are our rescuer!”
As soon as the words are uttered — he appears.
Militarily fitted and carrying a buffet of weaponry he grips Maimuna and douses her with alighted fittings that blind them both to their fate.
Hawa tries to decipher the technicolor renderings but covers her eyes from the over zealous showers of the sun.
She can sense Maimuna’s silent farewell but is unable to reach her open eyes as she watches her walk away with gallant acceptance.
The minutes after — convey acute temperance as the pathetic procession ends with the play of dynamites.
Hawa falls to the ground, the place that always accepts her grief without prejudice.
She is eye to eye with a golden shell — shining with the burden of pregnancy.
Her harried hands reach for the symbol of her immaculate exit as her shattered body welcomes her stony grave.
The tip of her instrument obeys her agitated actions as she penetrates even deeper into the flesh.
The awakened furrows that evacuate the river of her times painfully echo the ashes in the air that eagerly settle in the folds of truth and bravery that she’s provided.
Will they know what it took to give Allah worthy adulation in the face of defeat?
Will they know how they were saved in the heat of their faith and the comfort of answered prayers.
The blood runs long and warm alongside her revived spirit and the ligaments of a comrade — dearly departed.
Tonight the anthem of survival will be in their name.
But, for now they lay burning and bloodied for the cause.
