Tears filled her eyes. She replied, “Anything that needs to be done inside the house.”
“Then why didn’t you start working the moment you returned today? Why did you leave everything for her to do alone?”
“I’m sorry, Mumy,” she said quickly, crying harder.
Mumy stood. “Abban Yasmeen, it didn’t warrant a slap. Talking to her would have been enough.”
He turned to Jalila, furious. “Weren’t you the one who said you carry your mother’s load? Isn’t that what you said?”
“I said it,” she whispered.
“And you think you will live in her house, eat her food, drink her water without working to repay it?”
“I’m sorry,” she cried.
Mumy frowned. “When will you stop saying ‘her house, her money’? It’s also your home.”
“I know,” he said. “But to this girl and her mother, it must be repeated.”
She said, “Stop, please. She is your wife.”
He scoffed. “Wife? A wife I never wanted? Or this child who doesn't obey?”
Jalila cried silently. Yasmeen began crying, so they turned to her.
“What’s wrong, Auta?” Dady asked.
She pointed at the dropped ice cream. Jalila quickly went to the kitchen and returned with cleaning supplies. She cleaned the floor and said to Yasmeen, “Do you know the ants will come?”
“I know small,” the little girl said.
“Yes, they’ll come and finish it. Next time don’t drop anything, oke?”
The girl nodded and smiled.
After Mumy and Dady left, Jalila wiped her tears, noticing Safeena smirking from the doorway. She ignored her and went into the kitchen.
Safeena followed. “Mumy said you should make fried couscous with vegetable sauce.”
“Okay.”
She began cooking as tears fell from her eyes. Every insult thrown at her mother made her cry all day long. And sadly, her father and his relatives were always the ones disrespecting her mother.
And on and on
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