The devil’s handiwork

Tahir and I were quietly watching the network news when my phone began to ring. I looked up the name and rose to pick it up, only to feel myself being restrained. Thinking that my kaftan had got stuck to something on the settee where we sat, I subconsciously put out a hand to release it, my eyes still on the handset. I was shocked to feel Tahir’s hand holding my kaftan’s edge.
‘So it’s you?’ I said, looking back at him with a smile. ‘Why are you stopping me from moving away?’ I asked.
‘Because I want to know why you can’t just pick the call right here.’
He replied.
‘But I didn’t want to disturb your news-viewing, that’s why I rose to leave.’ I explained.
‘Still you could have picked the call and answered your caller by name before you rose to leave, if the call was an innocent one.’ He insisted.
‘Now, what do you mean by that? What constitutes an innocent call?’ I asked.
‘It’s the kind of call you pick in front of your husband because you know that nothing is being plotted against him or the rest of men-folk.’ He joked.
‘Well, believe me I always leave to answer calls in order not to disturb you.’ I repeated.
‘I hope so because it has become a pattern that when you receive the call, you will look at it then without picking you will go away and spend close to an hour talking. I was always left wondering who it might be.’ Tahir explained.
‘I see, still it’s not what you think. One, it’s not the same person every time. It’s a different friend or a different sister most of the time. Two we talk about a thousand different things under the stars, without mentioning men.’ I claimed.
‘No Bint, there is no way I will believe that. You people talk about nothing else but us and most of the time not in the best of terms.’ He teased.
‘If you insist hubby dearest, but allow me to pick the call this time. It’s my young friend Barira. She’s calling again.’ I announced.
‘Go ahead, just don’t leave my sight.’ He added.
‘Assalamu alaikum.’ I said into the phone.
‘Wa alaikumussalam, wa rahmatullah wa barakatuhu. Good evening Hajiya Bint. Were you at my house today, by any chance?’ she asked.
‘No Barira, why did you think so?’ I asked.
‘Then it really was a dream. Oh, what a nightmare.’ She said in reply.
‘A nightmare where, I don’t understand?’ I enquired.
‘I had a dream in which I was asking you what to do about Jibo’s mistress.’ She explained.
‘Jibo’s mistress? You mean your husband is one of those men?’ I asked in alarm.
‘Well that was what I found out in the dream. You see I finished praying Magrib and since he is out of town and there was no need to serve his dinner, I remained on my prayer carpet, waiting to pray isha later. Unfortunately I drifted off to sleep. While sleeping I dreamt that Jibo had sent his office driver to me with a birthday gift that was addressed lovingly to someone. I told the driver it wasn’t my birthday and he wondered aloud whether the gift was meant for one Madam 2. I forced him to tell me more and I discovered that my husband had a mistress who was so well known to them at the office that they named her Madam 2.
I now called you to cancel the Ladies Parliament meeting I was supposed to host because I was so disturbed by the discovery. You, in turn, offered to come and see me because I had hinted that something was wrong here. When you came you advised me to confront him and discuss the issue in a civilized manner. But my cousin Jummai had suggested ignoring the whole thing because most men are like that and I was lucky to have lived all those years without finding out about another woman.
Jummai further said any mistress wasn’t worth worrying about because if she was smart, she would have been the wife. While agonizing over which of your divergent pieces of advice to take, Jibo returned. I descended on him like a tornado. I called him all names I could think of but all he could say was it was the devil’s handiwork. That he had always wanted to end the relationship but he couldn’t break free. But now that I know, he promised to end it once and for all because he preferred me and our children.
Ironically, his admission of the affair made me feel even worse. Here was the man I loved, trusted and respected all these years admitting to me that he had been an adulterer for the last five years, that he had possibly exposed me to certain infections without my knowledge, that he had been unable to stop his sinful lifestyle though he wanted to; and I felt nothing but disgust for him. I ran away to my room and dropped on my bed, crying my heart out. That was when I felt a hand on my shoulder telling me ‘Stop crying mummy, you are having a bad dream.’
And I opened my eyes to see myself on the prayer carpet, with my daughter Dijah shaking my shoulder. But since then I’ve been unable to shake away the feeling that it wasn’t all a dream. I kept thinking you actually came and that my mind was playing tricks on me because the truth was too hard for me to swallow.’ She concluded.
‘No Barira dear, I wasn’t at your house today. You did have a bad dream and I sincerely pray that it will never become a reality for either you or I. Your husband is much too good and too religious to live a life of sin. Let’s hope that no amount of temptation will ever take him down that path. Amen.’ I prayed.
‘Well, amen to that Bint. But why did you think I had a dream like this Bint; and on my prayer carpet too?’ she asked.
‘Personally, I think you are watching too many Mexican soaps, some tend to remain in your sub-conscious mind to haunt your reality. So keep off those telenovellas for a while, it might help.’ I advised.
‘Ok, I’ll try Hajiya Bint. Thank you and good night.’ Barira said.
‘You are welcome Barira. Bissalam.’ I replied. Tahir looked up as soon as I ended the call and said.
‘Tell me that call wasn’t about her husband.’ He teased.
‘Yes it is, but it isn’t what you think.’ I answered, focusing my attention on the news cast on TV. ‘It’s just the tale of a nightmare.’
I added.