Mawahib Book One – English Translation

As Mawahib entered the house, the cheerful security guard sitting by the first gate smiled at her.

“Mamy’s girls are back from Islamic school?” he asked warmly.

“Yes, Baba Musa. I am back. I hope work is going well,” Mawahib replied respectfully.

Without waiting for his reply, she continued walking and admired the large, shiny cars parked in the garage. She reached the second gate, opened it, and entered the main part of the house.

It was a well-built home that truly deserved to be called a home. Though it was not very spacious, it was beautifully decorated with colourful flowers.

Inside the compound, Mawahib found members of the household sitting together. There were two older women and a young girl who appeared to be around her age.

With a pleasant expression, Mawahib greeted them.

Nabiha, who had been focused on the phone in her hand, quickly lifted her head when she heard the voice of her sister, friend, and closest companion.

“Mawahib, you are back? How was Sayyadi’s revision class?”

Mawahib smiled teasingly. Her beautiful smile brought out the two dimples on her cheeks.

“The revision class went well, and our numbers were given out. You deliberately refused to come today.”

Hajiya Kilishi, who sat at one side on a plastic chair, immediately gave Mawahib a fierce look.

“So the workers’ child has returned. I can only marvel at Allah’s power. She went out wandering around and has now returned. I can see that this girl is looking for a husband. Is this how people look for a good husband?”

Mawahib’s body went cold immediately. Nabiha lowered her head, clearly unhappy with Hajiya Kilishi’s words.

Mawahib looked at Hajiya Kilishi quietly. She was a beautiful, fair-skinned woman of about fifty-five years. Luxury and comfort had hidden her true age, but her face was always filled with tension and unhappiness.

“Good afternoon, Momy. I hope you are resting well,” Mawahib said respectfully.

Hajiya Kilishi turned her face away without answering.

Mawahib gave a painful smile, then turned to the other woman sitting beside Nabiha.

“Good afternoon, Mama. I hope you are resting well.”

“Welcome, Mawahib,” Mama replied warmly.

Feeling unsettled, Mawahib entered the kitchen. She knew it was Mamy’s turn to cook that day and that Mamy had not returned early from work.

Inside, she found Mamy standing over a pot of goat-meat pepper soup. Its rich aroma had filled the entire kitchen.

Mamy was a woman of class and good organisation—educated, elegant, and calm in everything she did. Three large gold bangles decorated her hand. She wore a lace blouse and wrapper, with a small scarf tied around her head. The end of her braided hair fell gently across her back.

She was a beautiful dark-skinned woman. Though her complexion differed from Mawahib’s, they shared the same gentle nature and mannerisms.

“Mamy, well done. I hope the work is not too stressful,” Mawahib said softly.

“Welcome. How was school?” Mamy asked without turning around.

“School was fine, Mamy. Let me go and change my clothes, then I will come back and help you.”

Mamy looked at her for the first time and noticed the worry on her daughter’s face. However, she did not mention it.

“No, I have almost finished everything. Take this salad and slice it for me. Your father said he wants salad before he returns.”

Mawahib sighed quietly and removed her hijab. Her long Ankara gown became visible beneath it. She opened the food containers and saw goat-meat pepper soup, fried rice, potato balls, and fried cabbage with meat.

She picked up the salad and left the kitchen, heading towards their part of the house.

Hajiya Kilishi watched her closely and gave her another sharp, disapproving look.

“I can only marvel at Allah’s power,” she muttered.

She turned towards the woman sitting beside her.

“Sadiya, I must speak to Alqali. He should meet the headmaster of that Islamic school and complain about these girls. They cannot keep going to school without uniforms, dressing up heavily and making the teachers stare at them.

“And then they say they are looking for good husbands. I cannot continue living here, Sadiya. The pain this girl causes me can harm me. If you can continue sitting here waiting for food, then go ahead. As for me, I am leaving. How long will this punishment of hunger continue? Will they wait until I develop an ulcer?”

Still complaining, she turned away with the pride and authority of royalty and walked towards her own part of the house.