At three on the dot, there was a knock on the brown steel door. The whole family were in the living room, reading their notes with the exception of Mama who was arranging the cutleries in the kitchen. "Quick, hide this." They rushed to hide their phones and novels that were lying about. Another hard knock again. The siblings looked at each other before Ibrahim summoned up the courage to go to the door and peep in the door hole. He turned towards them, "it's Papa."
That was enough for them to pretend they were concentrating on their books.
Heavy footsteps hit the floor, as he stalked in beaming, obviously in a good mood today. "Good evening Papa." They all greeted.
"Evening." He sighed, flopping on the couch opposite the T.V.
Mama returned to the room, and knelt next to Nana, who was the youngest child and a sharp smart girl of nine. "Good evening." She greeted her husband before rushing back inside. Faride went back to reading her notes, as she had a test next week. From the corner of her eye, she could see mama rushing in with a tray filled with food. She kept it on a small table in front of Papa. "Is it tuwo again?"
"Yes. With ogbono soup."
"Ogbono soup?" Faride peeped at them to see Papa grimace. "I don't like it. Isn't there anything else?"
"Well, there's tea." She replied hopelessly.
He waved his hands nonchalantly. "No, no. I don't want that. Hmm. I'll have to go out to look for food, it seems." He said in a dry voice.
Faride's heart skipped. That meant he was going to be angry at everyone in the house. She prayed he was going now so that she could rush inside and pretend to be asleep. She met Ibrahim's eye just as Papa stood up with a heavy cough. "I'll be back soon." He said to mama.
Mama nodded quickly and escorted him to the door, sending prayers his way.
As soon as the door clicked shut, everyone heaved a sigh of relief. Mama, looking dejected, look the tray back to the kitchen, shaking her head.
Faride locked eyes with her siblings. They were thinking the same thing, she was sure. Papa would make this into something else. Why did he always manipulate things into a huge deal? Mama was always getting the insults and of course, if they made a mistake, they were all in trouble. In this house, there was no room for mistakes. None. Perfection was the only thing that thrived. Faride looked at her older sister, Hajara. Tall, slim, mocha skin, with a dimple on her left cheek. She was simply flawless. To others, she looked so normal. Happy, cheerful and always helping out. Faride wished she could be as easy-going and helpful as her sister. No one had ever complained about her before.
But what no one except Faride, her siblings, Mama, and Hajara's closest friends knew that Hajara was deeply sad. A sadness that erupts from the inner soul. Depression was slowly setting in.
Faride now glanced at her, wishing she could do something to help. But what could a defenceless girl like her do? Love was a dangerous game. She would never fall in love ever lest her heart would break just like Hajaras'.
"I'm going to bed. Before he comes back." Farouq whispered to them.
"But it's just nine."
He shrugged. "And? If he comes back, there'll be trouble. I don't want to be a part of it."
Faride made sense of what he was saying. Papa had been in a bad mood since morning perhaps due to work. With what happened earlier, it would get worse. Better stay out of his sight. She quickly followed her brother's footsteps, and gathered her books, feeling awful for wanting to run away. Poor mama. She would have to be the one to face him alone. "Sis, how are you feeling?"
Hajara stretched, "tired. But my stomach's better now thank God."
"Ah. Alhamdulillah. Guys, I suggest we all go to sleep."
On the way to her room, she caught mama looking deep in thought in the kitchen. "Goodnight, mama."
"Uhm? Oh. Goodnight, my dear. Sleep well."
As soon as Faride's head hit the pillow, her thoughts ran into overdrive. As usual. Her bed was the only place she felt happy. She was herself here. She would daydream but was careful not to let it interfere with reality. Her reality. Her only friends – Nur and Liu – had said it was a prison that Faride was living in. She smiled remembering their discussion.
Nur and Faride had sat on a staircase in a smoking area next to an empty class. "Do you think your mama would let you visit my house?"
Faride's eyes bulged open. "What? Are you insane? No way."
"Ugh. Why can't they let you do anything on your own?"
"Technically, it is not my Mama's fault. It's Papa's. He doesn't let us do anything."
"You're living in a prison. Do you realise that?"
"I'm used to it."
"Nah. Nobody ever gets used to something like that."
Faride simply shrugged.
Now that their discussion came back to her vividly, she wondered whether Nur was right. She was indeed living in a nightmare. A prison. The saddest part of it all was that there was nothing she could do about it.
Had she been asleep for long? Was it an hour? She opened her eyes to complete darkness except for a stream of light filtering in through the door. Abida, her younger sister, with whom she shared a room, sniffed. "He's fighting her again."
"Haba?" Faride strained her ears to listen. But there was no need, his voice was booming like a loud thunder in the dead of the night. His words came back clearly to her.
"You and these children live here for me! You are nothing without me! Do you understand? How can you prepare Tuwo with that soup for me without asking me first? So what, if I like the soup. So what! It is compulsory for you to ask me what I want to eat. Is it because I have allowed you so much freedom? Huh? You are useless! Jaka kawai!"
Mama's sniffles could be heard, as she pleaded with him to forgive her. Faride felt her chest tighten. Sometimes she wondered why Mama wouldn't talk back. But the answer to that was clear as day. She was too scared.