LOKACI NE  Complete Document Written By Maryam Abdulaziz Mai Kosai


She moved through each corner of the room with a deliberate slowness, memories flooding back about the heated argument with her mother regarding the impending forced marriage. The man her mother intended for her was no one but a problematic figure—a drunkard and gambler. Though marriage seemed like an escape from her current struggles, the prospect of being with her grandmother’s boyfriends weighed heavily on her heart.

A sigh escaped her lips, and her memory felt congested, as if she had endured a severe beating, possibly with a rod or hammer, centered on her throbbing head. Her once bold red eyes, now drained, shifted to the room’s wall clock. Her heartbeat echoed loudly, mirroring the ticking of the clock.

At twenty-two, she possessed captivating looks, from her flowing hair to her pink lips, though her eyes defied categorization. Despite lacking a robust physique, she commanded considerable height. Slowly, she contorted her body, struggling against an invisible force. A distant voice drew her to the window, but she recoiled and settled back, uttering the words “Hasbunallahu wani’imal wakil” as warm tears traced paths down her cheeks.

Attempting to summon courage, she rose again, pressing her aching head, tears streaming afresh. Divine condemnation hovered over her, regardless of abuse or mistreatment. Perspectives on danger differed, and when faced with sudden challenges, hearts tumultuously grappled with decisions.


A sleek and pricey car, like a beautiful body, captured attention. He examined his wristwatch, a red heart adorning it. “Mysss!” A distinctive sound, audible within twenty feet, emanated as he pulled a part for the third time.

“Abbas, still stuck?” The question turned his head, and he touched his lips before responding.

“I’m rooted, like a planted tree, not gone.”

“You should know that I have.” The suggestion hung in the air.

“I doubt icing the bent iron wizard will restore it.”

Abbas retorted, hand on his mouth.

“That’s your choice. Maybe you should air your pants and pray for protection.”

The young man concluded with a dismissive remark. Though similar in age and height, Abbas carried an air of maturity. Silent, he sensed turmoil within, aware that words spoken would linger in memory.

A nineteen to twenty-year-old girl, concealed behind a wall, observed the scene, though unheard. The tension between Abbas and the young man was palpable. A curse escaped her lips, prompting her to retreat into the house.

Upon her return, her mother bombarded her with questions about Abbas.

“Did he leave?”

“No, I didn’t even talk to him. It’s just that I can’t bear to hear his words.”

“Ah, you’ve grown defiant, turning into a scumbag.”

“Mother, why blame me? Love is not a necessity.”

“It’s not done, but you must tread carefully; I won’t let you get hurt.”

Ignoring her mother’s admonitions, she entered the room, the echoes of their heated exchange still ringing in her ears.

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