Sittiehaya Lininding Omar
Have you ever seen a fairy? Well, on my part, I think I have met a fairy. Life is full of surprises, but how can you tell if it’s a good or a bad surprise?
“Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar.” I can hear the adhan for Maghrib from the masjid near the lake in our hometown, Ramain. As a child, I loved to play beside the lake, which is full of trees and flowers. I still remember how I would collect various flowers and would end up having skin rashes. I would play with my cousins, cook soup in tin cans, and playhouse with them under the pine tree. We would tell various stories like how we believe that the lake is full of tonongs and that we should always be wary of them, we also thought that the pine tree is a home for many duwendes and a kapre. “Tabiya rekano.”
We would always excuse ourselves whenever we played in that area but at that time, I was left alone because everyone had already left. I was waiting for my big brother to come and get me. I was sitting under the tree when the Iqaamah was called. I was on the verge of tears thinking about scary things and the assumption that my brother had forgotten about me. As I was weeping in silence, a voice whispered to my ear, it was consoling and somewhat warm. I turned my head to see a little boy not taller than myself asking me why I was sitting there alone. The first thing I noticed was him having no front teeth.
He was white as snow, his hair as silky as satin, his cheeks were as pink as cherry blossoms, and his voice was so soft that it felt like a humming wind in my ear. I told him my worries and he just laughed at me. He told me not to worry as he would guide me home. We both walked slowly because of his short legs. We talked from the lakeside to the waiting shed near our home until he bid me goodbye. I asked him his name and what he told me was a surprise to my ears. “My name is Fairy.”
Looking back to that memory, it has been fifteen years already. I remember how I would always brag about how a fairy escorted me when I was young. My friends would listen, but I could see how disinterested they were in it, I knew no one believed me yet I kept telling this story. As I grew up I have always been fond of fairy tales and that was the reason why I could always remember that day and how the story went. Whenever I walk home from school, I listen to music through my earphones and always enjoy the feeling of the wind that brushes my cheeks. The sun would be setting and the sky blushing red with reflection. “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar.”
I stopped the music as the masjid was calling for the Maghrib prayer. Ten meters away from our house gate I could see many luxurious cars parked outside our home. Many people were going in and out of our home but none of those faces were familiar. I strode to our house and went directly into my room ignoring everyone because of my anxiety. I sat at the bedside when my older sister opened the door and told me to change and help them in the kitchen. I hurriedly performed my Salah to help them in the kitchen when my auntie told me to bring a tray of 15 mugs of coffee to our living room. Everyone was looking at me with smiles and with interest. It was overwhelming for me as I could feel the sweat pouring down from my head down to my spine. After giving them the coffee, I decided to go out to catch some fresh air or, rather I would say escape from the pile of dishes that was waiting to be washed. I took a seat on the waiting shed near our home when a man sat across me.
The man was so tall that I chose not to look at his face, he was wearing a fullwhite clothing rolled up to his elbow, he was fair-skinned, and his smile was sweet, and I found it cute because of his pinkish cheeks. He asked me my name in his deep voice that came as a surprise to me, but I did tell him a name but not my name. He laughed at me and told me that I was still the same. He told me not to be scared as he would wait for a proper answer. I was very confused; why would he wait? When I was about to leave, he stood up and said, “My name is Bari.”
Memories came rushing, as I could no longer lower my gaze and glanced at his face. Now I see, it was Bari, not Fairy. I remember the kid that walked me home with no front teeth. He grew up so fast yet I’m still the same little girl from the past that never grew taller.
Questions popped up in my head, like why was the kid here? After their visit, as everyone was leaving, I greeted every lady that was present as it was a practice performed by everyone in our traditional home. They kissed me on my cheeks and hugged me and said, “Masha Allah Takulay.” They glorified the achievements of my parents, eldest sister, and mine. After all that ruckus my father and mother told me that what unfolded was called “Kapamamanikan”. My hand was asked in marriage by the youngest son of the sultan of our province, and his name was Abdul Barrie. My father declined the offer though they said that they would wait for my answer when I graduate in college. My Abe told me how they were following me these past few days with his consent and would always look for a way to talk to me, but they always failed as I was always surrounded by my friends and it’s either school or home for me. Abe told me that I did well and proved myself to be conservative and did not fail him nor embarrass him. Ome, my mother, told me to think it through as the man who asked me in marriage is graduating with a degree this year and that he had been saving his romantic life for this moment.
Indeed, life is full of surprises, but this surprise can’t be said to be good or bad. As a woman with big dreams, this may become a shackle, but I know it will not fail me in keeping my Deen. Yes, I had met a fairy in my childhood memories but in my teenage years, I met Bari.