CLASSICAL MUSLIMAH

CLASSICAL MUSLIMAH: 15

Umariri Songhai, Maiduguri, Nigeria.
Monday 2nd April, 2018.

Abulkhair looked around for anything that was out of place. The place was beautiful. He still couldn't believe that it was actually a girl that decorated the place. The_Haajarah had made black and white look so regal he might have to reconsider his favorite colors.

It was one of the large parlors in Alhaji Muhammad's guest houses. The cushions and every other thing had been pushed to the dining room, the product a large vast space enough for a hundred guests, a platform and even a small space for food to be kept. It was that big.

There were three long rectangular tables adjoined to give a single one with snacks from Yasaf deserts, some sweets and a whole lot of fruit punch with wine glasses for serving them. Unlike the decor for Eesh's bridal shower, there was no banner. There were balloons though. Four large speakers were pushed to the far end of the room and DJ Gabby was handling them.

Abulkhair didn't know what his friends had planned for the bachelor's night. All he knew was that he was expected to wear black dresspants, white button up shirt and a black suit. He had asked why he needed to dress so formally and Habeeb had said something but Abulkhair wasn't paying attention. He heard protocols, formalities and social media though.

That was how Habeeb rolled. Everything he did was bounded by unyielding never ending protocols, rules, formalities and a lot of other things. Although their friends would always tease him and tell him that women didn't like uptight men, they liked carefree ones who didn't give a damn about things, he never wavered.

The call to Maghrib broke Abulkhair from his train of thoughts so he straightened the non-existent wrinkles on his Jalabiya and went back to where he was staying. He took a long bath and performed ablution. After praying Maghrib, he took out the Stuart Hughes Diamond Edition black suit among the five suits Sani —one of Eesh's cousins whom he had gotten acquainted to— brought for him.

After wearing it he used a brush on his low cut and then wore a Louis Vitto Richelieu leather shoe then sprayed some Oud Touch. His phone rang and the name Anwar flashed across his screen. Anwar was his secondary school friend whom he met again at one of their reunions.

"Assalamu Alaikum."

"Don't use that voice on me, I'm not sister in law that will forgive you once she hears it. We've been waiting for almost thirty minutes. What are you still doing up there? I know you're not talking to sister in law because her friend Ruqayya said they were having their bridal shower today too." Abulkhair made a sound at the back of his throat.

He hated it when they referred to Eesh as sister in law or when they said anything concerning his and Eesh's wedding. They didn't know, but it made him guilty about Nana Asma'u and even though he badly wanted to inquire about her, he was afraid to because he knew he'd blame himself for whatever he was going to find out. And heaven knew he wasn't ready for any form of self-loath.

"I'm on my way." He grumbled locking the door to the room he was staying in.

"That's what you always..." Abulkhair didn't wait to hear the rest of what Anwar wanted to say, he just ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. His friends had made it a priority to get under his skin, except for Habeeb of course. He walked downstairs and to the other side of the house where the hall like parlor was located.