Samira

Hello Blogsville,

Hope we had a great weekend? Did you get to read my first attempt at a short story? If you didn't, you can read it here- Ikubiela- I really want to hear your comments (as genuine as it gets), so please feel free to use the comment box. 

The post below, Samira, is another attempt at a story. Turns out I have plenty of stories in my head. I didn't even know until I made an attempt.. Again, please feel free to use the comment box below to air your opinion.

...And don't forget to share it too! Be generous #wink

Many thanks,

Emaleecious.

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Samira huddled in the furthest and darkest corner of the room as the footsteps sounded closer than ever. All the way up the stairs as the footsteps got louder, she prayed and beckoned to Allah to save her from the ordeal, even though her heart knew there was no way out. Closer and louder, the heavy footsteps sounded in her ears, till the door knob turned quietly. She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her. The demon was about to descend on her again and would assault her senses until it was sated. Oh Allah, please help me! She cried.

The door opened, and her nightmare walked in. From her hiding place at the corner, she knew the game was up because Alhaji had worn only his Jalabia. If he had worn his Babariga, then he may have gone out after playing with her without putting her through the hellish nightmare.  She wished he were in his work outfit, and then maybe her little heart would have been spared the trauma that was to follow.

“Samiiiirrrraaaa. Samira, Sami…I see you! Come out and greet your husband like I taught you to”. Samira grimaced. How he could call himself her “husband” was beyond her. He was older than her father!!! Surely the word he needed was “grandfather” and not husband. Her body shook in revulsion as yesterday’s memory forcefully made its way to her mind. Shivering, she brushed it away, pasted a weak smile on her face, and came out of the corner.

“Good evening, my husband,” she said. “I hope you had a good day at work?” She was still on her knees, waiting for him to give her the order to rise. But instead of an answer to her question or a command to rise, she felt his hands grope her tiny breast, which was just beginning to show signs of promise. The same breast her father had teasingly called “Groundnut breasts” and said was “not ready for a beginner’s bra”. He pinched her hard, and she couldn’t help but cry and shrink away from his touch. He had anticipated her move and had already used his other hand to hold her head down, forcing her to remain in her bowed position. Samira gritted her teeth in pain but refused to show any sign of fear. He fondled the other breast for a while, then asked her to get up and go to bed. Her panic knew no bounds. Oh Allah, she prayed, please see me through. She got on the bed, and he tore off her Kaftan to expose her skinny frame. He tooted at no one in particular and told her, “With a few more sessions, you will become a fully grown woman.  Then you will be ripe for me and I will enjoy the fruit of my labour”. He chuckled at his private joke, then proceeded to remove his Jalabia. Samira closed her eyes as she waited for his violation to take place. She knew her trauma had started when she perceived the disgusting smell of garlic and tobacco. He placed a damp kiss on her forehead. He went on to kiss her mouth, making her gag, then went downward to her stomach, leaving a wet trail in his wake.

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She shivered and deliberately forced her mind out of the environment just like Bilikisu had taught her. She took herself back in time to her time as a child in her father’s house. Oh, Baba, how could you sell me off so easily? her heart cried. You always told me I was your favorite, yet this is how you make me see it.

Her mind wandered to the day her mother called her to her room and locked the doors in the face of her brother Amir. She said she had something to tell her. Samira, out of curiosity, couldn’t wait for the discussion. Her mother had sat her down and told her that she had reached the time when she would be groomed as a woman. She hadn’t understood what her mother was saying. In a sad voice, her mother asked her to lift up her blouse and touched her breasts. She then told her that she had gotten her some beginner’s bras, which she would have to wear every day. Samira asked her why, and her mum told her she was growing, that she needed to start dressing like a woman now. Her mother proceeded to tell her many other things about menstrual periods, being a wife, pregnancy, childbearing, and motherhood. But all that seemed confusing to her. The more her mother talked, the more confused she became. So she told her mother, if I see blood, I will come to you instantly, but her mother shook her head sadly while holding back her tears and said, “Sami darling, no one knows what tomorrow will bring. Just try to remember all I have told you. One day you will understand”. OK, Samira said. Before leaving the room, her mother said softly to her. Sami, don’t tell anyone what I told you today, especially about your growing breasts, not even your father. Samira looked at her, surprised she would ask her such. But mother, you know I keep no secrets from father, how can you ask me to do that? Her mother had suddenly aged in front of her, and she replied to her by saying, “Please, Sami, for your own good. Let this be our own little secret. Telling him now isn’t the right time. Neither will it help you in any way. Promise me it will be our secret?

She remembered how her father had come home whistling and how she flew into his arms. He asked her how her day went, and she proceeded to tell him all that had happened in school and at home. As she reached the point where her mum asked her to come to the room, she saw her mother’s face fall. She hesitated, but Baba prodded, and she had to go on. She never even thought of telling a lie to her father. If only she had known…If only she were wiser…if only she could go back in time to that day to change the outcome of events…As she finished her tale, Baba lifted her blouse to check her breasts, teasing her that they were like unripe groundnuts and she shouldn’t pay her mother any mind. She giggled and continued chatting away, being too innocent to see that the way her father looked at her had changed…All she knew was that at bedtime, her mother had hissed viciously at her and told her that telling her father would be her greatest undoing.

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She was drawn back to reality when she felt him force her legs apart and thrust his big manhood into her. She couldn’t help the scream that her throat released, and he slapped he,r grunting his approval. He began moulding the painful mounds on her chest and pawning her all over. Disgusted, she shifted her mind back to when she knew she had put herself in harm’s way, which happened to be her father…

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She heard her mother’s raised voice. No one had ever heard her mum raise her voice before, so Sami was naturally drawn to see what must have riled her. She was going to burst into the room, but thought better and stayed by the door instead. She could hear her mum sobbing and saying to her father, “Don Allah, she is still a child. Let’s not do this. Please give her at least 3 more years, let me teach her how to be a proper wife”. She couldn’t hear her father’s reply, but her mother continued. Remember how easily you used to beat me when we just got married, think of what Alhaji will do to her. Please let her grow up a little bit more; she will learn the ways of a wife and be ready to bear children, too. Her father just grunted and stormed out of the room, and came face to face with Sami. He sneered when he saw her, making Sami jump out of his way. She had never seen her father that way. His next words took the breath right out of her. “Get ready, Samira. By this time next month, you will be wed to my friend Alhaji Musa. He has greatly expanded my business and been there for me as a friend. If it were not for him, we would have been poor and living as beggars. He has asked for your hand in marriage, and I cannot refuse him. Your mother will get you prepared”. With those cold words, he stormed out of the house. Samira remained frozen on the spot until her mother came out of the room and held her. She noticed her mum had washed her face and reapplied her make-up. Her mother acted as though all was normal, but things changed after that. She made sure that Samira was always in the kitchen while she cooked, and she made the housemaids teach Samira how to go about the daily chores.

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Alhaji’s grunts brought her back again to the present. It was reaching a fevered pitch, and she waited with irritation for him to cry out as he usually did and roll off her. She was fixed to that spot and knew that even if she wanted to squirm, his belly wouldn’t give her the pleasure or room to do so. Like clockwork, he gave a final high-pitched cry and rolled off her, leaving a trail of sticky substance all over her belly and her thigh. She didn’t bother wiping it off. Alhaji will come in to her one more time then leave her to her thoughts in peace.

She had made a resolve to stop fighting him. Her senior co-wives, all four of them, had told her she had to “woman up”. There was nothing she could do. At least Alhaji was very generous. He always made sure they had food and clothing, and money to go shopping whenever they requested.

It was funny the way life had twists and turns. She had married a man old enough to be her grandfather, and one of her co-wives was her mother’s age grade. His youngest wife was 22 years old; only nine years older than her. They had become fast friends. Bilikisu had taken her under her wing and had promised her that she would survive it just like she did. She told her the easiest way to survive was to free her mind whenever Alhaji came into her. “Just think happy thoughts…whatever will free you from the walls of that room where you are, and everything will be all right. So far, Bilikisu had been right.  She always had something to dwell on when Alhaji came into her, and it worked like magic. 

But Samira discovered that Bilikisu's advice couldn't help her fight the demons that came into her room whenever night came. Neither could Bilikisu’s words wipe away the shame that came over her each time Alhaji climbed off her. Bilikisu’s theory didn’t hold the revulsion she felt for men at bay. She prayed to Allah to seal her womb to prevent her from bearing female offspring who would suffer like she was suffering…like her mother before her had also suffered…and her mother before her as well.