by on Jul 11, 2017 - 2 min read
In category


Nobody asked me o. Nobody. I carried myself jejely and said "Yes, I'm going for Tahajjud,” when I was asked. Well. I don't want to say I regret it- you never know when thunder will strike. But what I can say is that I had other options. I chose to go. I slept early because I knew I'd need it, so I skipped taraweeh. 
At 1:30 PM, my brother woke me up and I groggily got up. I sat on the toilet seat for about ten minutes, thinking about how Tahajjud wasn't really compulsory anyways, but changing my mind meant having to listen to bro preach about the benefits of praying and how a good Muslim keeps to their promise. 
Luckily for me, Nana our grandma wanted to come with and because of her leg problem, we used the car- the mosque was roughly just four blocks away. We got to the mosque, and I was still yawning non stop. We had missed two rakaahs. 
I felt bad about it until we started praying and fifteen minutes later, we were still on one rakaah. Now I wasn't too remorseful. Hmm. Malam. Say Allahu Akbar na, I thought, my legs shaking. I wondered how Nana was feeling. Being the resilient woman she was, she chose to stand and pray. I started wondering who sent me, and imagined the softness of the lush pillows I left back home on my bed. I wished the car had broken down, or we got lost, or some mami water that could walk on land had come to abduct us.

To be Continued 
Story by @thatbavagal 
Feature by @hausaa_fulanii

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