You, you think it is your doing. I will show you you’re nothing! This UK that we’re now living in right now, who made the runs? Who insisted on the UK? Did you even want to come? Weren’t you saying you can’t start all over. Oga doctor. Didn’t you prefer to stay at the hospital in Nigeria being owed money? Who used her network? Who sold her jewelry? Who dipped into her savings? Did you even have any savings? Did you? Foolish man! But now, just because, because…” she held her breath, trying to stop the tears brewing inside from letting loose.

Azeez just stood there in the kitchen, cup of juice in hand, not knowing what to say. He had only made a brief comment about the appearance of the kitchen and living room, littered with kids’ toys, dirty skillet and bowls. Now he walked away to his room, shaking his head, regretting his choice of words.

“Yes, keep walking away. Avoid me. Shake your head. It is not your fault. If not for…I am not dumb, you hear. We’re both doctors.” And the tears finally visited the beautiful but tired face of Jamila. Taking off his socks upstairs, Azeez could hear the sobbing. And he was pierced when Ali, their first son, ran from the children’s room to the kitchen downstairs and asked his mom why she was crying.

***
Later that night, after several efforts at truce, like casually helping out in the kitchen, making a bright comment on the beauty of his wife, Azeez was feeling tense and needed his wife, after all, it had been about 4 weeks of just sleeping every night. He made a move, putting his hand over the hip of Jamila who had assumed the infamous “back to him” while intensely facing the wall. “Take your arrogant hand off me, Mr. Doctor. Mr. passing the board exams.”

Azeez shot back. “Jamila, what exactly is your problem? Aren’t you happy at the very least one of us passed the exam? Do you know how much pressure we’d be under if we both flunked the exam? Remember a believer is patient and grateful.”

“I am grateful. And I am being patient. If I wasn’t, do you think I’ll be doing all your bidding, staying home, cooking,cleaning only for you to come here and act like you’re smarter than me! I have goals and dreams, Mr. Man. This was my plan, remember? I have people to send money to, too. So I can’t stay home anymore. You know these public schools are dangerous. We have to take the kids to an Islamic school. And with your pay and the debts we’re paying back. I need to be doing something.”

“But your visa…”

“No buts. I have found some ways out. I will keep studying for the exam. There are some care jobs under the books.”

“Jamila…”

                 ***
The problem was only exacerbated by Jamila’s work. They needed the money and she needed the money. But every night there was a quarrel. Azeez was caving in under the stress. The amount of patients he sees by day at the hospital is back breaking. And Jamila’s time is absolutely constrained. From the bus rides to the enormous task she had never done before in her life. Sometimes she’ll break down in tears in the toilet, looking at herself in the mirror. All she saw was a shadow of herself. Then she’ll get home to a husband who seemed absent minded and cold towards her. And it was interesting. Because that’s how Azeez would characterize Jamila too. He came home to a nagging and bitter wife. He would add to it. Jamila would say he’s arrogant.

Slowly but surely the crack in their marriage gets wider by the day and each argument adds to its festering more and more. The children could see it.

One night they were arguing about something trivial. And something broke in Azeez. “I regret marrying you, wallah! And they told me those sisters studying medicine are full of themselves o!”

Yes he was told by people that sisters studying medicine think of themselves as this and that. But back then, in the glory days of da’wah at the Better by Far, he had confidently said, well I’m going to be a doctor, too. And in all their years in Nigeria, he had never seen his wife as arrogant.

The words had left his mouth before he realized the gravity of what he had just said.

Jamila was in tears. “And you think I don’t regret accepting your proposal? Do you know how many well-to-do-people, ehn, tech people who were begging me? In fact, one of them is…” she bit her tongue.

One of her toasters then, a calm Muslim man, was now a big shot in America. He’s currently worth 400 million dollars and he recently divorced. And he had been chatting her up occasionally now.

“One of them what?” Azeez demanded.

“Just leave me alone, Azeez. If you regret marrying me, well, talaq is permissible because I sure won’t live with someone who regrets marrying me.”

“Don’t dare me.”

“I dare you. If you’re a man.”

“You’re divorced.”

And for a moment it seemed like the entire world stopped making sound. They both didn’t say a thing for the rest of that night.

Next morning, Azeez on his way to work called his friend in Nigeria, Tareq, and confided in him. Tareq, a secondary school teacher, had always been a good listener. He took Azeez on a journey of perspective taking. He asked probing questions that led to Azeez seeing his own mistakes and what he could have done better.

On his way home, he asked one of the older children in the Nigerian community of their city to come and babysit the children, offering her 25 pounds. When he got home, he went straight to the room where he found Jamila finishing up her asr prayer. He sat down with her and held her hands. There was a slight resistance but his grip was firm enough to hold her down and tender enough to send a message of love. The first thing he did was recite an Ayah of the Qur’ān in Surah Al’Isra. Then he apologized. It was the handiwork of shaytan. The horrible thing he said yesterday. “Please forgive me.”

Jamila was still silent. She remembered a hadith that talks about shaytan being happy in such scenarios when spouses use hurtful words until…

“I realize things have been bad between us for the past 6 months and I want it to end today. Will you please join me for a walk?”

Jamila was still silent. In her head she wanted to continue strong head, but her better side was telling her not to overdo it. Here’s Azeez going above and beyond to tame his own ego. The least she could do is humor him. And she listened to the better side.

They went for a walk, in the autumn afternoon. Leaves now yellow and red are falling from the trees. Cars zooming off in the background. Azeez saw things from her perspective. And Jamila saw through Azeez’s lens. And for the first time they both acknowledged the stressor that a new environment is and how they could have been more understanding of each other.

Later that night they sat down after dinner, after tucking the kids in, and talked. They put their cards down. And charted their path. And after months of drought in the other room, they were ecstatic about the heavy, soothing rainfall that finally came in sheets.

One year later, Jalilah passed her exam. And then they live happily ever after with little, negligible challenges here and there.

– Baba oni Story says salam alaykum onílé.