50~Gimbiya Jamila #4
"There isn't a restroom anywhere around here, and I'm seriously pressed. I need to head back to the palace."
"Okay." Hanan said. "We'll wait for you."
"No." Amina shook her head quickly. "Don't wait. I suddenly feel tired too. I'll probably use the restroom and take a nap."
"You sure?"
"Very."
"Alright."
"See you later." Amina waved before turning back toward the palace.
But the excuse was a lie.
A harmless white lie.
Amina had no intention of sleeping nor using the restroom.
She only wanted to speak to Jamila on behalf of Hanan.
After seeing Hanan being sad over her friend, she couldn't sit back and do nothing.
If there was one person capable of bringing Hanan's cheerful smile back...
It was Jamila.
Back at the palace, Amina approached one of the royal maids.
"Excuse me."
"Yes, ma?"
"Can you kindly take me to Princess Jamila's room?"
"Yes, come with me."
The maid led her through several long corridors until they stopped before a beautifully carved wooden door.
Just as the maid raised her hand to knock...
Amina heard it.
Soft sobs.
Someone was crying inside.
Her heart tightened.
So... Jamila was also affected as Hanan was, she was only pretending earlier.
The maid knocked gently.
"Assalamu Alaikum, Gimbiya Jamila."
The crying immediately stopped.
"Wa Alaikum Salam."
"You have a visitor."
A brief silence followed.
Then...
"Let her in."
The maid pushed the door open.
Amina stepped inside.
Jamila was seated at the edge of her bed.
Although she wiped her face, her swollen eyes exposed her.
She had been crying.
Hard.
"Hi." Amina smiled softly.
Jamila managed a polite smile. "You're here... Please, sit."
Amina settled onto one of the royal cushions.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
Finally...
"I came because of Hanan."
Jamila's expression instantly hardened.
"I don't know who you are talking about or anyone by that name."
Amina sighed. "You know her."
"No. I only know Habiba."
"Or rather... A friend who used to keep her promise."
The room fell silent again.
"I understand why you're angry." Amina finally said.
"Honestly... If I were in your shoes, I would probably hate her too."
Jamila slowly looked up.
"But before you condemn her completely... Please hear her story."
Jamila folded her arms. "I'm listening."
Amina inhaled deeply. "You mentioned someone called Little Me."
Jamila smiled faintly. "My goddaughter... The child she promised she would return with."
Amina lowered her eyes. "Little Me never made it into this world."
Jamila froze.
"What...?"
"She died before she was born."
Jamila's lips parted.
"Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un..."
She whispered.
"What happened?"
"Did that wicked husband of hers..."
"...and that woman, his cruel girlfriend kill her?"
Despite the heavy conversation, Amina couldn't help smiling sadly.
"My once wicked brother is that husband."
"The groom you're preparing for tomorrow."
Jamila stared at her in disbelief.
"What?"
"Najib? Is the man?"
"Yes, but not the same person anymore."
"And it wasn't him that killed their child, it was Zaitun."
"She caused the tragedy."
"But she and her accomplice paid for their crime."
Jamila remained speechless.
"So... Little Me..."
"Never lived?"
Amina slowly nodded. "No."
Jamila covered her mouth.
Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I... I never knew..."
"That loss destroyed Hanan." Amina sighed bitterly. "It changed everything."
"She became broken."
"She eventually left Nigeria to protect herself before she completely fell apart."
Jamila listened without interrupting.
"I believe she wrote you a letter before leaving?"
Jamila nodded. "She did."
"I received her letter after she disappeared."
"I read it."
"Again..."
"And again..."
"And again."
She laughed bitterly.
"I convinced myself she would eventually return after a few months."
"I kept waiting."
"I visited her house constantly."
"I cleaned it."
"I prayed there."
"I read every word she left me again."
"I wondered what I had done wrong."
Her voice broke.
"She ended our friendship without my consent... I wasn't even allowed to agree."
"I eventually moved on, somehow believing she was dead, I decided to bury her in my heart."
"Years later... They suddenly told me Princess Jamila would be hosting Habiba's wedding..."
"At first, I didn't believe it, in fact I laughed."
"Then, the address of the bride reached me that was when I realised that it was indeed true."
"And then I saw her after long years."
Jamila smiled painfully.
"She looked different."
"So different... I almost didn't recognize her."
"It wasn't until she said my name... that my heart remembered her before my eyes did."
Silence.
Heavy silence.
Amina slowly reached forward.
"She never stopped loving you."
"She came back hoping to find you."
"One of the main reasons she insisted on getting married here... was because she wanted to see you to apologize and also ask for forgiveness."
"She cried for you today."
Jamila closed her eyes as more tears escaped her
"I hated her." She admitted quietly.
"I wanted her to feel even a pinch of the sadness I felt."
"But now..."
She shook her head.
"I don't know how to keep hating someone who has already suffered this much."
Amina smiled. "So..."
Jamila wiped her face.
"I forgave her... the moment you told me about her baby."
"My Habiba has already carried enough pain."
She stood up gently.
"I'll go to her."
Amina calmly stopped her.
"Not yet. She went into the village with everyone."
"When she returns... I'll bring her to you."
Jamila nodded. "Alright."
"And..."
She smiled through her tears.
"Thank you."
"For making me understand... You gave me back my best friend."
Amina stood up as well. "No need to thank me. I only shared what happened, the rest is between the two of you."
The two women shared a warm smile as Amina took her leave.
And For the first time that day... Gimbiya Jamila felt lighter.
The scorching afternoon sun beat harshly on them as they all strolled around the village.
Amira fanned herself with her veil dramatically.
"Gosh it's so hot! My face feels like it's melting. We should've brought an umbrella at least."
Hanan laughed. "But you insisted on the village tour."
"Yeah, but I didn't know the sun would practically roast me this much."
Abdul chuckled. "Don't tell me you're already tired."
"Not me, but my feets are tired." Amira groaned. "Can we rest somewhere before I collapse?"
"There." Hanan pointed across the road.
"My old school, and beside it is a small shop. We can sit there."
"Really?" Najib asked with so much interest.
"Yes." Hanan's excitement was impossible to hide.
"Come."
She led them across the road.
The further they walked, the more Hanan noticed how much had changed.
The once dusty road leading into the village had now been tarred.
Electric poles stretched from one street to another.
Most compounds now had running taps and boreholes instead of old wells.
More small businesses lined the roadside.
New houses stood proudly where empty lands once existed.
Even the schools had multiplied.
"My village..." She whispered.
"Its developing."
"It is." Abdul agreed while looking around.
"I'm impressed."
A warm smile spread across Hanan's face.
"It wasn't like this before."
Soon they arrived at the school gate.
She paused.
Her heart squeezed gently.
The faded signboard was still there.
The giant mango trees still stood proudly in the middle of the compound.
Children ran across the football field laughing.
Some chased one another.
Others sat beneath the trees sharing snacks.
The classrooms looked exactly as she remembered.
Broken windows.
Old blackboards.
Crooked ceiling fans.
Wooden desks used by generations of students.
She smiled to herself. "Nothing has really changed in here."
"You actually studied here?" Amira asked curiosity growing in her eyes.
Hanan nodded. "Yes. From nursery to secondary."
"So this is where our bride was trained to become a top student." Abdul chuckled.
She laughed. "I don't know about being a top student..."
"Oh please." Amira scoffed. "You've always been the top student even on campus."
Hanan grinned proudly. "One thing I do remember is that I was every teacher's favorite."
Najib folded his arms.
"Interesting... Because you probably reminded them to collect assignments?"
"I did." She laughed out. "And I also reminded noisy students to keep quiet too."
Everyone laughed.
"You were definitely that one odd classmate." Amira teased.
"I was. And I'm proud of it."
She looked around once more.
"So many memories... Gisting and playing around with Jamila during break hours."
"Reading under those mango trees."
"Morning assemblies."
"Sports competitions."
"It feels like yesterday."
Silence settled for a moment.
"So..." Abdul asked. "Where to next?"
Hanan pointed further ahead.
"My house."
Before they proceeded, Amira entered one of the small roadside shop.
"Wait. I'm buying something."
"I'm thirsty."
The others joined her immediately.
The tiny kiosk instantly brought another wave of nostalgia.
Hanan recognized it.
It was the same shop where she and Jamila used to spend their break money on sweets and biscuits.
The elderly woman running the shop was still there.
She looks older now.
Her hair had almost turned completely gray.
She glanced at Hanan politely... But there wasn't even a flicker of recognition.
Time had changed them both.
They bought bottled water, chilled sachet yogurt, biscuits, cheese balls, sweets and chocolates before continuing.
The cheerful mood slowly faded as Hanan led them deeper into the village.
Finally... She stopped walking.
No one spoke.
Before them stood what remained of her childhood home.
Or rather... What used to be her home.
The mud walls had crumbled.
The roof had collapsed in several places.
Bushes had swallowed half the compound.