At MLM Aminu Kano International Airport, passengers disembarked from the plane, each carrying a small bag. From the side, I noticed a group of soldiers standing, each with their rifles, as though awaiting a battle.
A composed young man descended with grace and walked confidently. His demeanor exuded strength, and his hair was neatly styled. I tried to call out to him, but he did not respond. I wondered if there was an issue at hand.
“Subhanallah,” I murmured when I saw him because he was also exceptionally handsome. However, he was Ahmad, and his complexion was not fair.
I approached the young man, patting him on the shoulder, and overheard him speaking on the phone. In haste, he answered, “Hello, Abba.” His voice was filled with excitement as he eagerly breathed the air of his homeland. On the other end, Abba replied with warmth, addressing him as “Sadeeq,” and alluded to their intention to speak with Yazeed. Their camaraderie was evident.
Ahmad blinked his bright eyes and responded, “Alright, Abba,” before hanging up the phone. He extended his hand to Ahmad, and they both turned to face the plane. Kamun Ahmad spoke, and they observed him descending the stairs, each step taken energetically and with enthusiasm.
We all followed suit and waited by the side, where a group of cars from Dunfarosu had arrived to pick them up. There were at least 15 vehicles in total.
Seda and I joined them on the road to reach Sadeeq, who had lagged behind. He approached us with teary eyes and asked, “Yoshe kakira Abba YAZEED?” He gazed at Sadeeq for an extended moment, as though he were his own child.
Amidst the desert’s beauty and the presence of Sadeeq, Ahmad, and Yazeed, I found it challenging to decide who was the most handsome among them. They were like heroes on vacation, emanating sheer charisma.
These three young men were all part of one family, with ages ranging from 28 to 30. They shared deep affection for one another.
Their parents consisted of four individuals, with Alhaji Ali, fondly known as Abba, being the eldest and the father of Ahmad. Abba and his wife had four children: Sameer, Salman, Fauza, who was single and childless, and Ummayya, their younger sister. On the other hand, Sadeeq was the father of two children, and the family also included Aunt Khadija and Aunt Lele, who had Sumayya.
Sadeeq had joined the family just eight days ago, followed by Yazeed a month later. Ahmad was known for his patience and calm demeanor, while Sadeeq had a playful and humorous side.
All three were devout Muslims, with Ahmad and Yazeed embracing Sufi Islam, especially Yazeed, who held the title of Doctor in the army.
When they arrived at their house, the gates opened, revealing a sprawling five-story residence. Three floors belonged to their parents, one to the young men, and one to their grandparents.
The entire household came out joyfully to welcome their returning children, and the family rejoiced together. My heart swelled with happiness.
After some rest and greetings, they retreated to their respective rooms.
As I watched from afar, I noticed a group of women standing nearby, engaged in conversation, perhaps discussing matters concerning someone. Something seemed to be unfolding before my eyes.
I couldn’t help but admire the beauty of it all. Karasawana was bathing with a young man, and the young woman danced playfully around her. Their movements resembled those of newlyweds, and it was a sight to behold.
Then, a hand reached out to separate the two, and Izza withdrew her hand from the other’s grasp.
“Subhanallah, watafarakallah be ahasanil haliqeen,” I marveled, for indeed, this was where true beauty resided.
However, it appeared that someone had intentionally disrupted the moment. Mara, visibly upset, scolded, “You did that on purpose. You touched my body without permission. I don’t know you. You’re an audacious woman. I regret engaging with you, you son of a goat!” After her outburst, she stormed off towards Jakarta. I stopped by Jami’s office, and within a short time, the situation was resolved.
Babu B eventually returned to the shop.
