Because love conquers all

‘I’m battling a stomach full of butterflies, if you want the truth Bint.’ She replied smiling and walking me down the hallway to her sitting room.‘No, you can’t have butterflies in your stomach this time around. This is your second marriage, you are veteran of the institution, you are way above having bridal nerves.’ I […]

‘I’m battling a stomach full of butterflies, if you want the truth Bint.’ She replied smiling and walking me down the hallway to her sitting room.
‘No, you can’t have butterflies in your stomach this time around. This is your second marriage, you are veteran of the institution, you are way above having bridal nerves.’ I replied assuringly.
‘Is that what you think?  Well let me tell you what’s going on in my life now. I am very nervous, very self-conscious, and not at all confident as I prepare to get married this time around. I had more confidence and self-assurance when I was getting married over two decades ago than I do now.’ Zuwaira explained.
‘Really? But that is strange. What is it about marriage that should scare you now? Is there anything that you don’t know? As a young bride that first time, you had fear of the unknown, so it was understandable that you should be nervous. But now you should walk tall, with your head held high.’ I encouraged.
‘You don’t understand Bint, as a young bride in my twenties, I had youth, a pretty face and virginity in my arsenal. I had confidence born out of the fact that I had all this to boast about. But now at forty-five, after all the childbearing and rearing and the toll of widowhood, someone wants to drag me right back to the bridal chambers. How do you expect me to be confident? What will I be taking there that will make me a worthy and treasured wife?’ she asked, rhetorically.
‘But your future husband knows you are no spring-chicken. He knows all about your marriage, your children and your age, do you think he will expect a younger woman in your place when you get married?’ I asked, collecting the glass of Zobo drink she offered to me.
‘No, but you see having courted me before my first marriage, I can’t help feeling that he somehow sees the young woman I was when he looks at me now. He talks and acts as if the last twenty years had not happened and we were still the young sweethearts we were before I married my late husband. I don’t want him to enter this marriage with great expectations because I am just not the young lady I used to be.’  Zuwaira declared.
‘Do you see the young man who courted you a long time ago when you look at him now?’ I demanded.
‘No I don’t.’ she replied.
‘Then what makes you think that he sees the old you when he looks at you today?’
‘I told you, it’s because of the way he talks about us as if the last two decades never happened. He remembered all we used to like, our favourite books, music, snacks etc. he makes me feel special, like an adored young lady instead of middle-aged widow who wants to take another shot at matrimony. In all honesty Bint, Mahmoud’s devotion scares me.’ Zuwaira admitted.
‘Tell me, why didn’t you marry him the first time? Did you have a lover’s quarrel which couldn’t be settled?’ I asked.
‘No, we never had a quarrel. He just wouldn’t commit himself. He seemed to have endless plans about what he wanted to do before he settled down. I, on the other hand didn’t have that luxury. To my parents, I was more than ripe for marriage. I had just finished university, was an eldest child and had many cousins who had married straight from secondary school and were now mothers. When Farouq came along he was just ready to settle down. He was eligible, well-educated, considerate, humorous, it was so easy to transfer my affections to him. He had that one advantage over Mahmoud, he wanted to get married. I went ahead and married him without regrets. I had the best 22 years of my life being his wife.’ She concluded.
‘What did Mahmoud do when he heard you were getting married to Farouq?’
‘He came to see me and accused me of deceiving him. I told him it was no deceit, it just seemed to me that he wasn’t ready to settle down and I didn’t want to pressure him into making a commitment he didn’t want to. He said all he needed was two years to be ready for marriage but I was too selfish to wait for him. He left after saying a few more hurtful things. I never saw him again for over two decades. Suddenly he showed up to condole me when Farouq died. It wasn’t hard to recognize him because he didn’t change much.
He came after the 8th day prayers so there were few people around. We talked about our families he said he had a wife with four children and I told him that my husband left me with five. He left soon afterwards and apparently ran into my brother at the gate. That was how he got my phone number. Throughout my mourning period he was sending me Friday messages every week. No other comments, just the Juma’ah texts which I always acknowledged with appreciation.
Then one day after my mourning was over he came to see me in the company of a friend. He brought me fruits and sweets for my children. From then on it became a weekly affair. I didn’t want to believe he was courting me because it just seemed so unlikely. He looked happily married and talked about his family with such joy and affection. Then one day, he came along with my elder brother to declare that he wanted to marry me. I couldn’t believe what I heard. But he seemed serious and my brother was sufficiently convinced to join in the campaign to turn over a new leaf and marry again.
I considered all obstacles on our path. My children, the fact that I was still mourning Farouq in my heart made it so difficult to buy the idea. There is also the fact that he has his family to worry about, I didn’t want to disrupt what seems like a happy marriage. But Mahmoud was adamant, he kept saying he had it all planned in such a way that his family will not be affected by our marriage. He wanted to get me and my children another house to live in. I told him I won’t move from here because Farouq had bought the house for us and we were all used to living in it.
And that was how it started, today we are just a few weeks to the d-day. But I still have my doubts and worries. My children’s reaction didn’t help either, they are all so disappointed with my decision to ‘replace’ their father. My eldest daughter keeps saying “Thank God I’m leaving soon, I won’t have to tolerate this” referring to her upcoming marriage in six months. Honestly Bint I feel so confused, sometimes I just want to call the whole thing off.’ She lamented.
‘Well, all you said is natural. It’s natural that your children are resentful of your proposed marriage, it’s natural that you are worried about the future and your supposed imperfections. But trust in Almighty God and go-ahead with your wedding plans. Know that you not doing anything wrong or unlawful. Just try to win your children over, with time they will get used to their new life. It’s a good thing you decided not to leave this house. Moving away will be even more upsetting for them.
As for Mahmoud please relax and allow yourself to love him. Your supposed imperfections surely mean nothing to him, all he sees when he looks at you is the woman he loves. And remember he isn’t the young man you used to know either. So you should just embrace your imperfections and know that love conquers all. Please accept yourself and just let go.’ I advised, patting her hand.
‘I’ll try Bint, it won’t be easy, but I’ll try my best.’ Zuwaira assured me, smiling back.

Al-Bint is 15
This diary turned fifteen years old two days ago. Its first edition came out on November 20th 1998. From a two-column, corner of a page space, it grew to half a page and then to an illustrated full page. Due to endless suggestions from fans and other readers of the column, we have decided to compile it in book form very soon. It will obviously run into several volumes, but your suggestions will certainly be helpful in doing this project. Please write us your thoughts on this. And thanks for fifteen years of being with me. Have a great weekend.

    – Al-Bint