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BIG UNCLE BOOK 1.
Dr. Na'eem stood up, and he and Haisam shook hands before walking out together, continuing their conversation as they left.
They walked a short distance until they arrived at the designated parking lot where Dr. Na'eem had parked his car. He unlocked it and got in, and they said their goodbyes. Haisam then took two steps back, checking his wristwatch.
It was Friday... a Friday on which he was supposed to be at the royal mosque, joining the congregational prayer just as he always did. This was the Friday he had planned to return to the emirate; the Friday by which he calculated his work would be finished. Yes, his work was finished... but he wanted to open just one single door for Mammina out of the thousands of doors she had opened, each of which he had removed the key from and discarded. For that reason, he needed Sunday.
It was on a Sunday that she had stolen Ahmad, separating him from his lineage and making him disappear. On that very day—at that exact time—he wanted to return her package to her.
"Shall we go?" Salana asked Haisam respectfully. Haisam withdrew his eyes from his watch. After checking the time and even the date, he calculated the months he had spent in Agadez—counting the months that had passed without seeing his Nanay.
He missed her... he missed her terribly. The recent workload that confronted him had prevented them from speaking on the phone at all. However, from time to time, he would see messages from Noorah Rumaisa and Anaani. Noorah in particular, along with Taufeeq, seemed the most troubled by the distance he had kept from them, though he knew everyone in the family felt the same way; they were simply better at hiding it.
"What about Khadeem and the others?" he asked Salana calmly.
"The wedding fatiah is today, and all of them are in Agadez. They said I should leave you to finish your personal errands."
"Ya Salam," he muttered, running his fingers through his smooth hair.
He had never envisioned Maleek’s wedding fatiah taking place without him there; he had never imagined Maleek getting married without him attending the ceremony.
He began searching for his phone. Why would they do this to him? Why would they tell Salana not to remind him? No matter how important his work was, their importance belonged to a different category altogether. He did not believe anything should come between their bond, and he was certain that every single member of Team 7 had attended except for him.
He didn't call Maleek directly because he didn't want to distract him during a moment he knew would be filled with intense excitement. Instead, he called Omar. The call went through, and after only three rings, Omar picked up.
"Why did you guys do this, Omar?" he asked in his characteristically calm, quiet voice, though his tone carried a distinct note of complaint.
"Noooo, Captain... you are already forgiven. The entire weight of Ethiopia rests on your shoulders, and you need to stay at home. Everyone else came, which means your presence at the venue wouldn't be right. Out of those who arrived, not everyone knows you are here. You must remain unseen until the designated day you are meant to step out. We are just about to perform the prayers and tie the knot for this shameless groom so we can rest, too. It's a secret, sir."
Haisam offered a subtle, hidden smile. He accepted Omar’s reasoning; he had to stay at the house to prevent any leaks to the people who had arrived. Still, Maleek and the rest were his people.
"Alright..."
"There's a reception they are hosting after the wedding fatiah is concluded, for both men and women... I believe your Madame will be there too." A brief silence ensued before Haisam’s eyes widened slightly. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind.
"Alright," he repeated, ending the call as he heard Naseeb’s voice calling out to Omar in the background.
He lowered the phone slowly, letting out a quiet sigh.
"A reception? For both men and women." The words lingered in his mind. He picked up the phone again and began scrolling for Abdii’s number. The call went through, but then he began to ask himself what he would even say to him. What reason would he give for calling? Before he could come up with an answer, he heard Abdii's voice answering the call.
"Blessed Friday, Obbo (Sir)," he uttered respectfully, a note of joy evident in his voice.
"Same to you, Abdii... I hope all is well."
"Everything is fine, Alhamdulillah, Obbo. Today, Obbo Maleek becomes a groom."
"That is not the assignment I gave you."
"Obbo, I am on top of my work... everything is perfectly fine, Obbo." Haisam paused for a moment, looking like someone who wanted to ask a question or interrogate Abdii about something he couldn't quite define.
"Very well... keep a very close eye out."
"In sha Allah, Obbo."
Disconnecting the phone, he placed it aside and focused his attention on the road ahead as Salana drove smoothly. This refined driving style was exactly why he had selected Salana out of all his drivers, and he always chose to travel with him wherever he went.
When they arrived home, he checked the time and saw there was still some time left before the Friday prayer. He remained seated in the car, looking at his phone like someone trying to recall something forgotten. He picked it up again, unlocked it, and searched for his Nanay's name.
At that exact moment, Nanay was sitting with Khansaa, reviewing the inventory list of everything that had been furnished inside the lavishly constructed mansion built for Haisam.
Khansaa, who was closer to the phone, reached out and picked it up. A small smile spread across her face when she saw the name displayed on the screen—her trusted confidant, advisor, and younger brother, Haisam. Even though she was older than him, she accorded him absolute respect in everything. She viewed him as an elder brother or a father figure; he looked after all their worries, problems, and provided guidance on everything that needed to be done.
"It's Obbo," she told Nanay with a laugh, before answering the call and placing it to her ear.
"Assalamu alaikum... I missed you," he said, feeling a sense of vulnerability wash over him. Whenever he was before Nanay, or as long as Nanay was around, he felt like he was nothing... like he was nobody. He felt just like an infant. Despite all the power, the massive fleet, and the highly dangerous operations he executed, in front of Nanay, he felt like a completely different person—far removed from Al-Saamit, the Silent One.
"Son of Nanay... it's not Nanay you're speaking to," Khansaa said, laughing softly. His facial expression softened slightly. He placed his hand over his smooth hair, stroking it gently as his eyes closed and then opened simultaneously.
"Oum Maheer," he uttered calmly.
"Captain Obbo... we have missed you. Everyone is ready. The entire emirate is waiting for you. We want to see our bride; all the preparations are nearing completion," she said excitedly, eager to see the wife of the Captain Sheikh.
He let out another silent smile. Had they elevated the matter to such grand proportions?
"Three weeks seems so far away, Captain."
"Take everything one step at a time, Obbolettii (Sister)." She rolled her eyes slightly, looking toward Nanay. It wasn't just them; even Nanay knew that simply knowing how seriously he took things wouldn't keep anyone calm until they witnessed their arrival.
"Do not worry, my brother... just make an effort to arrive early."
"In sha Allah," he replied before she handed the phone over to Nanay.
Within their voices, he could detect a profound joy; in their tones alone, he could hear the excitement for the wedding and their deep longing for his arrival in Ethiopia. He fell silent again after they finished the call. He still felt a strange emptiness that he couldn't trace—the kind of feeling where a person feels there is something they ought to do, yet they cannot pinpoint what it is.
He let out a quiet sigh, gathered his phones, swung his legs out, and stepped out of the car.
He walked straight into the house, which felt excessively quiet to him today. His cook approached, asking what he would like to be served.
"Black tea and dates." That was all he accepted. He drank the tea while pairing it with Ajwa dates, which the cook knew were Haisam's favorite. Even though he ate various kinds of dates, he preferred Ajwa above all.
He went in to take a shower and dressed immaculately in an olive green Moroccan thobe that bestowed upon him a soft, striking elegance. He picked up his phone again and scrolled through it, not even knowing what he was looking for. He let out a brief, quiet hiss of frustration and placed both of his phones on flight mode. Grabbing his prayer mat, he slid his feet into a pair of soft, simple flip-flops, sprayed himself with his gentle signature perfume, and headed for the door. There was a Friday mosque he had noticed just a short distance from their neighborhood. It wasn't far, so he decided to walk there to catch the congregational Friday prayer.
When the Friday prayer was concluded, he remained seated inside the mosque. The moment provided him with a brief period of peace and solitude away from the people who recognized him. The emptiness he felt was overwhelming, so he took a copy of the Quran from the mosque's storage drawers and began to recite. His recitation was remarkably beautiful, drawing attention and inducing a deep sense of serenity.
He spent just an hour reciting before closing the book. As he stood up slowly to return the Quran, he realized that many eyes in the mosque were stealing glances at him. He was long accustomed to such stares, especially now when he stood out so completely from the local demographic he was living among, so he expected such reactions.
He walked calmly back toward the house, yet that persistent feeling lingered. He exhaled slowly as Abdii's words flashed back into his mind.
"There's a reception they are hosting for both men and women... after the wedding fatiah is concluded." That meant everyone would come out... everyone would be present.
"But what about her?" he asked himself. A silence filled his mind, yielding no answer or movement that could serve as a response. He simply found himself changing his direction, heading back home.
AGADEZ PALACE
The emirate was overflowing on this particular Friday with a double turnout of visitors and locals who usually came to pray at the grand Friday mosque inside the Sultan's palace compound. Today’s crowd was vastly different from the usual, gathered to witness the wedding fatiah of Falaak, daughter of Sultan Muhammad Hammud, and Maleek, son of King Ja'afar.
The people of the Agadez region held a profound love and affection for the Sultan, whose justice and devotion to his people had earned him this immense loyalty. The wedding had been announced on very short notice, yet looking at the sheer volume of attendees, one would think it had been heralded for months.
The palace grounds were packed with guests. Foot traffic and ongoing preparations were visible everywhere, confirming that a momentous event was taking place within the emirate.
She stood in front of the large mirror fixed inside the room that had become her own ever since she moved into Morsa Safiyya’s quarters. It was a room beautifully designed with a striking aesthetic—a room she never imagined existed within the compound.
But that wasn't what caught her attention the most, nor what caused her to constantly fix her eyes on Morsa Safiyya whenever she stepped into her room. It was the realization that Safiyya knew exactly what she preferred in a bedroom... she knew her structural tastes... she knew everything that pleased and captivated her, from the color scheme of the room to the assortment of furniture arranged beautifully within it.
There was a wonderful, pleasant ambiance within the room, combined with the gentle fragrance of traditional incense with which she and Falaak were pampered every single day. Even though Falaak had her own separate room, everything was identical; Momma provided the exact same treatments for both of them.
These were authentic, traditional perfumes—specifically the specialized blends from Incense by Kabo Daughter. It was an intoxicating scent that seemed to emanate with every breath they took. The fragrance clung tightly to their clothes and skin, and before it could even fade, another layer would be applied.
Yet despite all this—despite the peace and comfort this fragrance brought her, and despite the fact that she loved it completely—something was still missing. There was still one distinct scent that she found herself longing for... she felt that amidst the vast collection of beautiful fragrances surrounding her, there was one singular scent she had lost.
Even now as she stood before the mirror, dressed elegantly in a luxurious gown imported from Dubai, a unique perfume wafted from her body. Yet, she felt an unfilled void... as if there was something else she was waiting to receive... something else she was waiting to feel.
She began to question her own thoughts as the loudspeaker of the grand mosque crackled to life. The Na'ib's voice rose as he called the Iqamah, and she found herself focusing all her attention on every word of the call. She reached out, pulled a stool in front of the mirror, and sat down slowly, her heart beating faintly with a strange sensation she couldn't explain.
Fixing her eyes on the mirror, she studied her own reflection. She saw how incredibly beautiful she looked... she noticed how her skin had transformed from its original state into a healthy, radiant complexion that genuinely impressed her. She admired her own appearance, yet at this precise moment, what her ears were listening out for felt far more important than her looks or her makeup.
"Allahu Akbar... Bismillahir Rahmanir Raheem... Alhamdu lillahi Rabbil Aalamin..." The voice of the Imam leading the prayer reached her ears.
She closed her eyes slowly, continuing to listen to the Friday prayer recitation, yet a heavy weight pressed down on her heart.
It was as if she longed to hear a completely different voice, not this one... as if she had expected a different voice to be leading the recitation right now.
"Today... makes four days," she whispered deep within her heart. Then, she quickly opened her eyes in surprise.
"Why am I counting? Why did I count the days?" She found herself interrogating her own mind. She stood up slowly, wanting to dismiss these thoughts. Her ears could pick up various chatter outside, more than half of it coming from the excited banter of Falaak, her friends, and almost all of their cousins.
She let out a sigh just as the bedroom door was pushed open. She turned calmly to see who was entering.
It was Morsa Safiyya—the same Morsa Safiyya who, today, looked at her with a profound, lingering gaze that traced the striking resemblance she shared with Safeena. A resemblance she herself only knew through a photograph—a photograph she possessed solely through and because of Morsa Safiyya. She felt her heart grow heavy as a feeling akin to the weight of orphanhood threatened to wash over her. But it was as if Safiyya sensed this; she stepped forward, placed her hands on her shoulders, and pulled her into a warm embrace against her chest.
"Alhamdulillah... Alhamdulillah," Safiyya repeated three times, her voice resonating deeply within Akhnan. Today, Safiyya’s voice sounded almost like Safeena’s—the voice she had come to know through that old recorded cassette tape, a tape that had become her constant companion, which she replayed countless times a day.
As Momma embraced her, she felt a heavy burden being lifted from her shoulders... she felt the overwhelming anxiety that plagued her begin to recede. A gentle sense of relief slowly washed over her—a feeling unlike anything she had ever experienced before.
"May the Almighty protect you all from every evil, and guard your front and your back... perform your prayers. I will send Birra so you can join the courtyard among Safeena’s family—among Safeena’s own blood and the children of her relatives. I am certain that if she were alive today, this is exactly what she would do. Sitting among them... watching the wedding gathering of your sister, Falaak." Safiyya concluded with an emotional tone, gently withdrawing her hands from Akhnan.
Akhnan kept her eyes on Morsa Safiyya, feeling an intense wave of emotional vulnerability. She continued to watch Morsa Safiyya, who smiled back at her until she turned and walked out of the room.
Quietly, she moved to the prayer area within the room, picked up the prayer cloak and the wide veil kept there, placed it over her head, and began her prayers.
As soon as she finished and offered her salutations, Birra entered. She helped her remove the prayer cloak and veil, adjusted her gown properly, restored everything to its place, and followed behind her, carrying her phones.
They stepped into a bright, sunlit courtyard. The sun didn't beat down harshly on the area due to an abundance of stunning, lush greenery. Everything within Morsa Safiyya’s wing seemed to perfectly align with Akhnan's personal tastes and preferences, though she didn't know why. Throughout all these years, this was the very first time she was exploring the different spaces and sections within this wing; she had never known any area other than Safiyya's main parlor, which she only visited whenever she was forced to come and pay her respects.
Young women were seated on beautifully crafted, eye-catching Turkish rugs. Almost all of them were her cousins—peers her own age and Falaak’s. They all blended in seamlessly together, as the age gap between them spanned only about three years.
Her appearance in the courtyard brought an immediate look of surprise to the faces of almost everyone present. Realizing this, Akhnan briefly felt like she was in a strange, unfamiliar place. They were shocked to see her mingling among them, but the warm way everyone attempted to welcome her and draw her close helped her relax slightly. She walked over to the section where Safeena's elders and aunts were seated and sat among them. Shehnaz walked over as well, dressed beautifully in a Mali-style shadda gown, and sat right beside her.
"I don't know where Momma intends for you to take all this beauty... don't drive the Sheikh crazy now... don't let all this studying go to waste." For the first time, a comment of this nature landed perfectly on her heart. Slowly, her mind drifted into a completely different train of thought. For no clear reason, she closed her eyes, feeling a sudden flutter resonate deep within her being.
Seeing that Akhnan didn't offer a response, Shehnaz dropped the subject and turned her attention to the nanny who was speaking to her, explaining that the bridal henna artist would be arriving tonight to finish working on all the brides.
It wasn't just her; nearly everyone in the courtyard and across the palace could feel the celebratory atmosphere of Falaak’s wedding building up. Slowly, Akhnan lifted her eyes for the countless time to look at Falaak. Ever since she entered the courtyard, she could read a deep-seated, serene happiness on Falaak's face... she observed that Falaak couldn't seem to sit still in one place. Even without being told, it was obvious she was experiencing a level of joy she had never felt before in her life.
"But... what makes me so different from her?" Akhnan asked herself, recalling her own demeanor during both of her past wedding ceremonies. Tears, sorrow, chaos, and absolute heartbreak. She had no close confidants or friends, if one excluded Aisa and Shehnaz—and even between Aisa and Shehnaz, there was a perpetual clash of opinions and understanding. They rarely understood her perspective or what mattered to her.
When Falaak’s guardian formally announced that he had given her hand in marriage to Maleek, Akhnan fixed her eyes on her sister's section. She saw Falaak bashfully shrink back, letting out a laugh that radiated shyness and pure bliss. Her friends began to tease her, and the chatter in the area grew a bit louder, though they were clearly trying to keep it down out of respect for the elders present.
Akhnan slowly widened her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. What exactly is in a marriage? she asked herself. Was it just youthfulness driving Falaak? Was she celebrating this much because she genuinely believed marriage was a grand gateway to endless pleasure? Or was it her instead? Was she the one who completely failed to understand anything? She shook her head slowly in a subtle manner that no one would notice. She leaned toward believing it was just youth... she highly suspected it was a simple lack of exposure to life's true bitterness.
"A marriage built on love is beautiful... look at Allah's wonders, this girl is actually going to beat us into the institution?" Shehnaz remarked, cupping her chin in surprise...
2. Summary of the Story
This excerpt focuses on the unfolding events surrounding a highly significant royal wedding within the Agadez Palace and the complex emotional states of the two primary leads, Haisam and Akhnan.
- Haisam's Dilemma: After wrapping up an intensive operation with Dr. Na'eem, Haisam realizes it is Friday, the day of his elite team member Maleek's wedding fatiah to Princess Falaak. Out of operational security to protect his strategic moves planned for the upcoming Sunday regarding a long-running plot involving "Mammina" and the missing Ahmad, Haisam's team (Team 7) intentionally keeps him away from the public event. Haisam battles a deep sense of loneliness, yearning for his family (Nanay), and an inexplicable emotional emptiness. He temporarily escapes into isolation by turning off his phones and seeking peace through Quranic recitation at a local mosque.
- The Gender-Mixed Reception: Haisam learns from Omar that a massive, mixed-gender reception will follow the ceremony, and that Akhnan will likely be present. This triggers his intensely protective instincts, prompting him to call his operative Abdii to ensure strict vigilance over her safety.
- Akhnan's Awakening: Inside the Agadez Palace, Akhnan is beautifully adorned for her sister Falaak's wedding. Surrounded by luxury and traditional perfumes, she experiences a strange emotional void—realizing she deeply misses a very specific scent and voice (implicitly Haisam's). Morsa Safiyya comforts her, recognizing her striking resemblance to her late mother, Safeena.
A Study in Contrasts: Joining her cousins in the courtyard, Akhnan watches Falaak's radiant, unadulterated joy upon being wed to Maleek. Having endured two previous disastrous, forced, or tragic marriages characterized by heartbreak and tears, Akhnan internally questions the nature of marriage, wondering if Falaak's joy stems from youthful naivety or if she herself is simply too broken by life's bitter realities to understand marital happiness.
3. Character & Setting Insights
- Muhammad Haisam (Al-Saamit / The Silent One): Operating under immense tactical pressure, he reveals his softer, highly vulnerable side when interacting with his family (Khansaa and Nanay), reverting from a hardened military commander into a deeply affectionate son and brother. He is naturally protective and quietly possessive over Akhnan.
- Akhnan: Her character arc shows a profound transition. While still maintaining her characteristic coldness and regal aloofness (miskilanci), she is developing an acute awareness of her emotional attachment to Haisam, marking the passage of time since they last met and seeking comfort in his religious advice.
The Agadez Palace: The setting is lavish, sensory, and deeply rooted in elite northern/Sahelian Islamic royalty. The use of premium imported Turkish carpets, specialized traditional incense (Incense by Kabo Daughter), and high-end Dubai fabrics paints a picture of absolute affluence and cultural pride.
4. Literary Analytics & Key Motifs
A. The Motif of Time and Specific Days
The author structures the timeline meticulously around specific days of the week to build anticipation:
- Friday: A sacred day of congregation, celebration, and public union (the royal wedding). It represents social harmony and external joy.
Sunday: The chosen day for operational reckoning. It is tied to past trauma (the day Ahmad was stolen) and future justice (the day Haisam plans to strike back at Mammina).
B. Sensory Contrast: Perfume and Sound
The excerpt relies heavily on sensory cues to convey internal emotional states:
- Scent: The palace is saturated with elite traditional incense, yet Akhnan feels an emotional void because she lacks the specific signature perfume of Haisam. This highlights that her attachment to him has transitioned from situational gratitude to a deep, sensory longing.
Voice: Akhnan filters out the beautiful recitation of the local palace Imam because her mind is unconsciously searching for Haisam's unique, calming reading style that she listens to on her nightlight MP3 device.
C. Structural Parallelism
The narrative beautifully parallels Haisam and Akhnan's current states. Both are physically detached from the main wedding crowd—Haisam is hiding out in a local neighborhood mosque due to security protocols, while Akhnan feels like an detached outsider looking in at her own family's festive gathering. Both experience an identical sense of "emptiness" (emptiness din da yake ji vs. tsananin kyan jikinta... amma wani abu yana danne zuciyarta), showing their deep psychological and emotional convergence.
