Chapter Eight: Answer (part one)

"Assalamualaikum..." Nadiah called out as she entered the kitchen, closing the door behind her. She set the groceries on the table and began to put the food away.

"Walaikumsalam..." She heard her mother's reply from the living room. Aminah appeared in the doorway a minute later and descended down the steps, carrying a tea tray in her hands. Nadiah hauled a stool to the counter.

"Did you manage to get turmeric powder?" Aminah asked, placing the used teacups in a basin and grabbing a brush. She emptied some water into the basin, added some soap and pulled a stool.

"Yes, I did." Nadiah answered from the stool as she stowed the dried foods on the upper shelves. "The shopkeeper was kind enough to add in twenty grams for free."

"Alhamdulillah, were there a lot of people in the market?"

Nadiah said, "Yes, everyone was out grocery shopping..."

As they both concentrated on their respective tasks in silence, Nadiah wondered when her mother was going to drop the marriage bomb on her. She hadn't had any thought of anybody who would actually like her and was interested enough to want to marry her. She felt she wasn't very pretty; she didn't have much fat on her, her collar bones visible and her small frame a flaw.

While her peers had already started to show signs of blossoming; Nadiah was still in her child physique, sticking out from the rest like a sore thumb. She only got her first period a few months back, at the age of fifteen, which, was considered to be pretty late for a growing girl. Once, she'd walked by a Peranakan girl who was wearing a Kebaya dress and noticed her tiny waist and slightly protruding bum. And when she stared down at her own physique, she looked nothing like that Chinese Nyonya.

She finished arranging and stepped down. Aminah rinsed the soap and brought the teacups to the table. She started to wipe them dry. Grabbing another towel, Nadiah picked up one teacup. After she had finished keeping the porcelain tea set in the cupboards, Aminah spoke.

"Nadiah, come and sit here once you're done. I have to talk to you."

This is it. Nadiah thought, closing the cupboard doors and pulling a chair. She had noticed how her mother was eyeing her every move.

"What is it, Mak?"

"We had visitors just now," Aminah began. "They were Harun's parents. They had come to ask for your hand in marriage to their son."

Nadiah didn't know what to say so she remained quiet, allowing her mother to continue. "You already reached puberty therefore you're eligible for marriage. Your father and I can only give you our opinions. We are not going to force you if you wish not to wed him. You have the right to reject the proposal. But, if you do like him, tell us and we will arrange the marriage for you. "

"Must I get married now? I...I don't think I'm ready for it. I think I'm too young."

Aminah's face softened. "Nadiah, in Islam, it's encouraged to get married as soon as one has attained puberty to avoid fitnah (temptation) and zina. (Adultery/fornication) You might have the highest level of iman (Faith), but, you might not have good control of your nafs (desires, lusts, ego) as you think you have. Especially when Shaytaan (Satan) is always out to create evil. I'm not saying that you must marry Harun. Even if you reject him, I would like you to start considering marriage. Why, I married your father when I was fourteen and he, eighteen. "

Nadiah felt a sudden added weight on her shoulders after her mother finished her sentence.

"I can't speak for your father. But personally, I think Harun's an alright man, though a little irresponsible and immature. But who am I to say? A person's heart, only Allah Knows. Every human being has a good and bad side. Not every kind person will always be kind; similarly not every bad person will always be bad. Because that's the nature of humans who are unlike angels. Whereas angels are pure and free from mistakes. His father mentioned that he's a better person now and is more involved in their family business - as you already know, he is their only heir."

" I've asked them to allow you five days to make a decision. Think through it carefully and don't be hasty. Make dua (prayer) and ask Allah SWT for guidance. InsyaAllah, He Will Show you the way. As the saying goes, 'Biar memilih, jangan salah pilih. ' [Malay proverb: It's better to be choosy rather than to choose wrongly] Ultimately, the decision is wholly yours. "

Aminah's last sentence was punctuated by the Islamic call to prayer, coming from the surau.

Allahu akbar Allahu akbar. [God is the Greatest, God is the Greatest]

Allahu akbar Allahu akbar. [God is the Greatest, God is the Greatest]

Ash-hadu an-la ilaha illallah [I bear witness that there is no deity except God.]

Nadiah glanced at the window and saw the skies were already tinted dark blue in colour and knew it would gradually change to black.

Ash-hadu an-la ilaha illallah [I bear witness that there is no deity except God.]

The scraping of a chair pulled Nadiah's attention." I shall not burden you any longer, it's already time for Maghrib prayer. I'm going to perform wudhu (ablution) first." Aminah told her and headed outside. She heard the tap running a moment later.

Ash-hadu anna Muħammadan-Rasulullah [I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of God]

Ash-hadu anna Muħammadan-Rasulullah [I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of God]

Hayya 'ala s-salah[Come to prayer]

Nadiah got up and tucked the chair neatly. She rolled up her sleeves up to her elbow.

Hayya 'ala s-salah [come to prayer]

Hayya 'ala 'l-falah, Hayya 'ala 'l-falah [Come to success, come to success]

Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar [God is the Greatest, God is the Greatest]

Laillaha illa-Allah [ There is no deity except God]

Nadiah cupped her hands before her face and silently uttered the Dua (prayer) to be recited after the Azan. Aminah came in after Nadiah finished saying the prayer, water dripping from her face and the front part of her scalp. Nadiah then went out to the backyard, heading straight for the bathhouse and began to perform wudhu.

***

Suprisingly, dinner was the same as usual. Nadiah was expecting to be subjected to an hour long of lecture from both her parents, persisting her to marry. There was none. From before they sat down to eat, her father was already busy tuning the rusty radio he had brought from the Karang Guni (rag-and-bone man) for two dollars. Nadiah set the bowl of steaming white rice on the table and laid out the plates.

"Abang, leave that and come eat. The rice and dishes will turn cold." Aminah said as she sat down, Nadiah taking a seat next to her. More crackles and fuzzy noises dripped from the small speakers as Hassan winded the knobs. He had been trying to connect to a radio station for a good two minutes now. Aminah remarked, "I think the radio's not working."

Hassan grunted and continue to fumble with the buttons. He wasn't about to give up; not after having forked out his money. "No, I don't think so," He insisted. "Ah Tan ran a trial test in front of me just now. It couldn't be spoiled. "

Nadiah observed her father with her mother. There was no use trying to persuade him because the one prominent characteristic which they both knew about him was his persistent stubbornness.

Sweat was beading on Hassan's forehead as he tried to search for the radio station. He blew out a loud sigh, reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Rolling the shirt into a bundle, he used it to wipe the perspiration before casting it straight into the laundry basket. With one arm akimbo, he tried again. A moment passed and still the same buzzing.

"Abang..." Aminah tried again. They couldn't possibly be waiting for him all night long.

That's when Hassan caught it. "Shhh!" He shushed her and listened closely. Yep, he heard a male's voice sandwiched between the crackles. Excitedly he adjusted the frequency and before long the newscaster's voice was audible to their hearing.

"See, I told you so!" Hassan said, shooting his family a toothy smile over his shoulder. He brushed the remaining dust from the radio with his hand, washed his hands and took a seat opposite his wife and daughter. They raised their hands together, read the dua (prayer) and began to dig in while listening to the broadcasted news.

"Latest update on the situation in Manchester, England: The situation had worsen with more bombings and raids occurring from Sunday night up till Tuesday-" Hassan's head whipped upon hearing the urgency in the tone, his eyes landing on the radio. Aminah followed her husband's gaze and they both listened intently while Nadiah was lost in her own train of thoughts. " ...marking this the heaviest raids by far. There were an estimated 684deaths and 2,364 people injured. Manchester Cathedral and the Royal Exchange were among the buildings damaged."

The news caster moved on to report about other ongoing battles happening in other countries. Finally the news segment ended and a Malay song started playing on the radio. The couple resumed eating.

"It seems there's growing trouble in the European countries. Let's not forget the war in China that is happening for three years now." Hassan said, as he tore a lady finger with his thumb and index finger with a crisp crunch. He popped a piece into his mouth. "Of late I have been seeing the British aircrafts depart every so often."

"Do you think it has anything to do with the wars ongoing?" Aminah asked.

"I very much believe so. Isn't that the country of origin of our rulers? It doesn't seem like any of the wars would end or lighten up soon."

As her parents continued to discuss about the topic; Nadiah was slowly eating her fill, the rice on her plate barely touched. She was battling her own inner war, her thoughts and emotions conflicting with one another, the world's affairs barely raising her concern.

Later that evening, Nadiah stumbled into her bed chambers to rest for the night. Even after her parents were asleep and the oil lamps were long extinguished, she could not sleep. She kept tossing and turning in bed, the quilt she used to cover herself laid on the floor in a bundle. Climbing out of bed, Nadiah began to unlock one of the windows. On other nights, she usually felt cold but tonight she felt extremely warm. The hinges creaked a little when she pulled back the doors a little, allowing the cool night air and moonlight to filter in through a tiny crack.

She made her way back onto the bed. Her mind once again clogged by the thoughts of marriage. The prospect of it was too sudden and overwhelming for her. She had so many questions, so many doubts. She kept imagining herself as a wife and a mother. She tried to imagine being a wife to Harun as a positive thing. But the images of the unpleasant occasions where he had made her uncomfortable came to mind instead. It made her scared. She didn't know who to ask. Her elder sisters were too far away for her to confide in; too far away to ask for advice. After getting married, both followed their husbands to their respective hometowns. Her eldest sister relocated to Johor Baru while the other sister headed to Penang. None of her closest friends were married. Only Ainum was and she was a year older.

The trees and bushes outside the house rustled as the wind picked up. Nadiah shivered from the cold, and reached for her toasty quilt, nestling herself under it. At the same time, she could feel her eyelids growing heavy. She made a note to consult Zainab tomorrow, reassuring herself that she could always reject the proposal before drifting to sleep a moment later.

***

A/N: Gah! I feel like I'm giving marriage advice to my imaginary daughter which is =.=" because I'm not married lol lol. I'm having a little difficulty writing but I'll try to upload the next part soon. Sorry this is short and if it's boring. Just a heads-up, this is a WWII story so expect more stuff on WWII. Oh by the way, nowadays muslim girls don't get married that early. The youngest is 16 (although that's very rare) but in my country, girls usually marry around the age of 20-26. Thanks to SSrockon who is kind to volunteer to make me banners and covers. :)

Additional Info:

The term "Abang" means big brother. Malay women almost always address Malay men who are older than them as "Abang". Wives also call their husbands that. Not because they're brother and sister. God Forbid, no. They aren't. It's just part of Malay culture.

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