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A month later, we were all rushing around to get ready for Mohammed and Zeenah's convocation. From the London School of Business and zeenah's degree in gynecology.
"Zarah, come over, lemme help with your turban." I watch Zahra walk past the door in the vanity mirror and call out to her. The silk of her turban trailing behind her like a floor length tail
I begin to twist and turn the long parts of Zahra's Navyblue turban. She's wearing a white lace gown that Maama warned her not to wear due to London's weather unpredictability.
"Ya Affy. Did you know that Safiyya made this gown." I look at her again and see certain blueprints of Safiyya's handwork on it. Like the intricacy on the bodice. I nod with pride filling my chest.
"I'll call her later. She says she wants pictures." Zarah chuckles and tells me she sent some already to her. I pat Zarah's head and she gets up to admire herself in the mirror of the bedroom Adeel and I share in Baaba's house in Mayfair.
A few minutes later, we all walk out in an unusual drizzle in our coats and umbrellas to the Limousine idling in the driveway. September is a cold month.
"What about Hamma Adeel? When is he coming?" I look down at my phone for any message from Adeel on whether he'll be late. None.
"He'll meet us at the venue In Sha Allah." She nods and looks out of the window. And I take a picture of her smiling at a child refusing to have an umbrella put over his head. Baba and Maama are whispering at a far end of the seat. And if Maama's blush is anything to go by, they are whispering sweet words as usual.
When we reach the Venue, its the dome of the University College, London. We all find seats and I fire a quick text to Adeel so he can find us easily, he sends an emoji as reply. Soon enough, they call Zeenah's name. Talk about her achievements, when she did her internship at St Mary's in London. About her grades and how they are so proud of her.
"Let's welcome Zeenah Baba Hassan." The announcer makes it sound weird with his British accent. Just the way Adeel sounds when he's giving his name anywhere. Babau Hausan
Zarah, Maama and I scream as loud as we can. Cheering from our seats, Then I notice a louder voice, Adeel. I just smile at him and we all cheer louder much to the chagrin of other parents.
Zeenah walks up to the man. Refusing to shake his hands and instead gives a namaste sign. He sighs and hands her a cylinder scroll and a certificate with inlaid glass.
As she walks back to her seat, she smiles and waves at us. We cheer even louder at her. So loud. We take our seats and Adeel laughs in excitement. He looks like a proud father instead of brother.
"We have to leave now. Moh's school starts theirs in thirty. Zeenah is meeting us outside." Adeel whispers and I fold my black coat over my left arm in preparation to leave. I see Zeenah get up too. We stand up too and begin to walk the steps out of the large dome. I look around its glass stained windows, so gorgeous.
At coat check, my phone rings and I take it out of my skirt pocket. Struggling to wear my coat at the same time. I feel hands holding out my coat and I slip my hands into it easily.
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Soiled #ProjectNigeria ✔️
ChickLitNabeela has never had life easy, never ever. She is at her wits end. Love and living life has never been her known forte. But, what will she do when she gets tangled in a web of deceit and lies woven by her parents? What happens when the very ones...
