L’Américaine – Part 8 — Hayati Magazine

L'Americaine 5Femta phone’s rang and she eyed it suspiciously before picking it up. She could guarantee another lecture from the caller. “Wa aleikum salam Cuz, what’s up?” Femta said, lazily. “What did you eat today?” the male voice asked. “I don’t know, ask your Mom. She cooked,” Femta replied as lethargic as a chubby cat yawning.…

via L’Américaine – Part 8 — Hayati Magazine

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Kariman Abuljadayel : The First Saudi Arabian To Compete in the 100 meters

Read Post here on MVSLIM🙂. Thank you

Kariman

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Zulaykha : Wife of Prophet Yusuf (AS) — Hayati Magazine

vintage-140573_1280Zulaykha is the beautiful and infamous Egyptian socialite who tried to seduce Prophet Joseph also known as Yusuf (AS). So who was she besides that? A loving landlady Her first husband was Potiphar. And it was him who bought Yusuf (AS) for Zulaykha when he was about 10 years old in the slave market…

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L’Américaine – Part 7 — Hayati Magazine

l americaine 3Femta had been naive about love in the past so she recognized the signs. Uthman wasn’t being realistic and she had to make him understand that. They were from different background. They barely knew each other. His family would never forgive him for not going with their choice. He could stray of course since he…

via L’Américaine – Part 7 — Hayati Magazine

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Meet The Woman Who Won The First Bronze Medal in Fencing For Africa

Read on Inès Boubakri  at MSVLIM .

ines-boubakri-escrime-tunisie

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Meet Sara Ahmed: An Egyptian Winner at the 2016 Olympics

Read my post at MSVLIM on her🙂 .

Weightlifting - Women's 69kg

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Kianoush Rostami: The Iranian Gold Medalist and Weightlifter at the Olympics

Read my post on him at MVSLIM .

kianoush

 

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3 Years of Blogging!

Assalamu aleikum dear bloggers,🙂

three years

(Image by Quotestagram)

Can you believe it? I can’t. All I can say is alhamdullilah for a very expressive and therapeutic journey. I would go crazy if I couldn’t say my silent thoughts out loud.

Thank you to my followers and fellow bloggers for being a part of this journey too!

Wassalam,

Papatya*

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L’Américaine – Part 6 — Hayati Magazine

Femta folded early on that Monday night she arrived in New York. She had a long day ahead of her the next day, Tuesday. She slept peacefully for a change because Ahmadou seemed to have been knocked by the African food and the trip. The next day, her phone’s alarm rang for Fajr prayer and…

via L’Américaine – Part 6 — Hayati Magazine

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African Olympians Who Deserve Special Mention — Hayati Magazine

The 2016 Rio de Janeiro Olympics include several African athletes. All of them are impressive because they qualified to go to the Olympic Games. While we can’t mention all of the African Olympians, some deserve special mention. They are : 1. Mariam Usman : Usman is a weightlifter for the 75kg category. She won…

via African Olympians Who Deserve Special Mention — Hayati Magazine

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The Capsule Wardrobe : Can A Muslimah Make It Work? — Hayati Magazine

Bismillah, I was in need of a capsule wardrobe because since the baby came to our lives, most of my drawers and closet space have been filled with his clothes instead. And when I look at my clothes, I wonder if a Muslimah can make it work. I mean who doesn’t love a collection of…

via The Capsule Wardrobe : Can A Muslimah Make It Work? — Hayati Magazine

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‘Islamic Fun Brain Busters for Kids’ by Fawziyyah F. Emiabata — Hayati Magazine

A Ducktrinor Mom

Title: Islamic Fun Brain Busters for Kids Author: Fawziyyah Folasade Emiabata of Muslim Teen Reads Ilustrator: Kaltrina Ferizi Editor: Lateefah Binuyo Format: Paperback Age: 7 years old + Description: An excellent fun way to challenge your brain with lots of fun Islamic themed puzzles even if you are an adult you can enjoy them… Our…

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L’Américaine – Part 5 — Hayati Magazine

Uthman stared at the unknown number and deeply sighed. Gah, the fiance again. She’s becoming a stalker this one. He thought. When the vibration stopped, a notification on the screen alerted him of a voicemail. What now? His mind piped up. Reluctantly, he listened to the voicemail. At the sound of the voice and the…

via L’Américaine – Part 5 — Hayati Magazine

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Build Your Arabic Vocabulary Series by Dr. Alia Khaled

A Ducktrinor Mom

Build Your ArabicBuild Your Arabic Vocabulary series is by Dr. Alia Khaled. She’s a multi talented person masha’Allah. I enjoyed reading her four free books while my son pointed at images or just sat next to me and being mischievous as usual. I can read Arabic but at snail pace… This series is perfect because not only it’s for beginners, it’s also visual. The series is composed of four books : Arabic Letters, Arabic Numbers, Colors in Arabic, and Shapes in Arabic.

Arabic numbers

Arabic numbers

Link: https://www.amazon.com/Arabic-Numbers-Build-Your-Vocabulary-ebook/dp/B01F483B2G

Arabic Letters

This is assuming that your children or yourselves already know the different letter positions at the beginning, middle, and end.

Arabic letters

Link : https://www.amazon.com/Arabic-Letters-Build-Your-Vocabulary/dp/0997099941

Color names in Arabic

Arabic colorsLink : https://www.amazon.com/Colors-Build-Your-Arabic-Vocabulary/dp/0997099925

Shapes in Arabic

Arabic ShapesLink : https://www.amazon.com/Shapes-Build-Your-Arabic-Vocabulary-ebook/dp/B01F4837ZM

If you aren’t fluent like me, it’s definitely a collection to have to increase yours and your children’s Arabic vocabulary, some of which you might…

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When Communication Is Not Enough — Hayati Magazine

Bismillah, Too much communication can ruin a relationship like no communication can. I shall explain later but for now I want to digress a bit. Often times, we strive to keep the line of communication open in our marriages but it gets to a point where it is not enough. So what do I mean…

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L’Américaine – Part 4

l americaine 3

Read at HAYATI MAGAZINE.

Thank you,

Papatya*

OR

Read below……

Femta saw her next move clear as day. I’ll not fight my feelings. Besides, I’ve been in too many relationship rollercoasters to know that this is just a chemical reaction within me. Yes, Uthman was hot. He is hot. Such beautiful dreamy eyes… They are indeed the window to the soul and no wonder lowering the gaze helps avoid issues.  His eyes had had such a pull on her soul that she had to put her shades on to avoid staring and loosing herself in them. I’m attracted to him regardless of my attempts to deny it. I actually want to do un-ladylike and un-nikah things to and with him. There! I said it Mind. Now, let me carry on.

After she had showered and tended to the baby needs, Femta sat with her relatives to eat. They had an early dinner. Around the table, they chatted about everything and nothing until her uncle started meddling with her.

“So Geneviève, I met an eligible bachelor for Femta over here.”

“Where?” his wife had replied with a sudden interest.

“At the airport of all places.” The uncle and the aunt made deep throaty African agreement sounds while Femta chewed her rice with a detached manner as she stared at them. These two would never give up. Since Obê and her had fallen apart after so many years of being in different countries with different gender role expectations, she had taken a break from the male gender schemes and tricks. A dildo can perfectly do the job. I don’t need a man and I had my share of them. She silently added bitterly.

She wanted to enjoy her meal and they kept bringing up subjects that made human weak and while she had accepted defeat by admitting to liking Curly Locks it didn’t mean, she had lost the battle to show strength. It was all part of her new designed plan; admitting to having a ‘minor/slight attraction’ problem and live peacefully. Her love hormones levels had shot up since the airport and she needed them to stay a bay instead. New mission: Decrease my adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin levels. While they plan my life as usual in the States, I’ll calm down, stay off sugar, caffeine, and stay busy with the blog to stabilize my dopamine hormones. Thanks to the books she read as a Librarian.  Now, theory and reality were two different things and she was about to find out!

As she concluded her thoughts, she tuned back into their conversation and just asked a random question about the center of muddled feelings.

“What does he do besides working at the airport?”

“He’s a painter on weekends and he goes to night school to finish his degree in Math.”

“Hmm I see. Not bad,” she truthfully admitted.

“That’s what I said,” her uncle interjected. “He’s very smart and he seems like he has his head on his shoulders. I gave him your number.”

“What?! You meet a stranger in the street and you give him my number?”

“Calm down. You’ll like him. I can feel it. This is IT. I also know some of his people and he’s going to get it if he hurts my favorite niece,” Tonton Kaboré added, winking. Then his wife and him giggled as Femta’s frown deepened. They continued talking while she stayed quiet to ponder on the enormity of her uncle’s actions. Damn it! I’m not his to betroth as he wishes. Tell the truth, you like the fact that Curly Locks has your number. Think about it this way: he made/will make the first moves. Remember that time where you made the first move? A voice in her quipped. God, she remembered like it was yesterday and it still embarrassed her at times.

It was her second semester at TCU and as a History major, she had to take a Sociology class for her liberal art degree. The teacher was not very feminine for a woman but she was nice and knowledgeable in her field. Femta always sat in the front like the professional student that she was never looking around the class because her English was still in progress. This helped not engage in tough English conversations with the natives. Until one day she saw him in the back of the class. He always wore white t-shirts anddelaver (washed out) blue jeans that accentuated his almond tan. His hair was cut short in the back and it fell in his face. Very hipster white guy. He always brushed his raven hair back with his huge hands with such poise and a detached manner. She found it sexy.

From that day, Femta started stealing glances at him until one day she couldn’t anymore. She wrote him a little note. A dorky declaration of infatuation with the young man; that was what it was. She had called him out when he left the classroom, running after him before handing him the folded paper. She didn’t even know his name. And that was the last day she saw him. He must have changed classes since the teacher taught the same class during other time periods.

Femta fell ashamed. Hair face was just shocked as he read the small note of paper, smiled and never made himself seen to her again. He probably thought, crazy African stalker. What happened to wanting to have one night stands and non-exclusive relationships for the love of Obê, she didn’t know.

“Can I have his number so that I know not to ignore his call or text?” she asked, drifting back to reality. She convinced herself at that moment that she wanted to be polite. Deep down she was elated to have his number.

“Sure. I knew you would come around. I’ll give it to you after we eat.” Femta nodded and they ate as they asked her questions about the next days; her trip to the embassy of Burkina Faso and the Ivory Coast. She had taken the week off to renew passports and file for other nationality paperworks concerning Ahmadou and herself. At the end of the meal, they thanked their Lord for the food and Femta busied herself cleaning the kitchen for her aunt. It’s the least she could do after such a delicious meal in her honor before going to nap for a little bit.

When she went to her room with the baby, her uncle knocked at the door and gave her the number as promised.  She eyed him intently as he read out loud to her the digits one by one from his smartphone. She saved the number and the baby made a sudden move from her hips. This initiated a call and horror spread on her face. She dropped the phone not knowing what to do, mouth open.

“You’re a grown woman,” her uncle said to her before closing the door to leave at her issues. Finally, she recollected the phone from the carpeted room and left a brief voicemail. After she hung up, she deeply breathed out.

Not even a minute later, her phone rang back. It was him. “Oh hey, salams.”

“Hey,” she replied, her temple pulsing and her heart racing.

“I didn’t know who it was so let it ring. Don’t need to apologize, children can be a handful,” Uthman good naturedly joked.

What?! He didn’t have my number?! I made the first move again! Oh no! Tonton, you’re dead meat! Grrr…

To be continued …

Read part 3 here.

©Papatia Feauxzar 2016

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Personal Finance Tips Part 2

Assalamu aleikum,

Personal Finance Tips are a multitude and as technology evolves and new currencies are created in the virtual world you need more tips to stay alert when it comes to your personal finances.dollar-1362244_1920

1. Make sure to check your credit report and score regularly

Why? Because offenders can use your name to buy things, apply for large credit lines and leave the tab under your name. So stay vigilant even if you don’t use a credit card. Once a year, you can get a free report. Just do some inquiries online and make sure the sources are trusted.

2. Use public transportation or even walk sometimes

Why? Because it will help you save on gas and you’ll avoid traffic. You’ll also help the environment. Fumes have become a pollution problem for the ozone. Let’s be green Muslims. It’s our duty to look after earth. We’re the rightful vicegerents by the scripture words. (Al-Baqarah: 29-30) (Al-An’am:165)

3. Start your own business and let it be your passion

Why? Because it increases your financial freedom. You’ll always enjoy sacrificing for your dream job. And if Allah wills it, you’ll see the end of the tunnel. Don’t forget to make istikhara.

4. Live Simply

Material and pricey things don’t elevate you in status. In fact, they make you go bankrupt and pick at your wallet and savings. In my experience, the people who have the bigger bank accounts don’t look it as they dress modestly, they have simple cars, and things of that nature.

5. Start investing at a young age

Investments is not for old people. It’s also for young people trying to secure an unseen and unforseen future. Take the reigns of your financial responsibility and freedom by saving your money and investing it in halal and conservative outlets.

6. Use social media

Normally, I’m a bit iffy about social media because it is creepy. That said, it can help you get a quick refund or a complimentary product. Some companies take forever to reply to emails or even return phone calls. But if you Facebook or Tweet them about an issue, there are more prompt because people are really active on social media. A complaint on social media has the possibility to undo a company pretty quick nowadays. So take advantage of that and be responsible users. Don’t abuse the system because there are things called hak and qiyamah for defrauders. (Al-Muttaffifin: 1-2)

That’s it for today. Wassalam and see you next time for more tips on Personal Finance.

Papatya*

You can read more of my finance tips in our 13th issue of Hayati Magazine or here for additional tips.

My Original Source.

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Five Children Books To Have

A Ducktrinor Mom

13703052_1809712992594873_213265796_nGo Away Bad Mood : Bad Mood is chased away by Big Belle, Susie Squirrel and her friend Gus, Dorothy Doe, and Lady Golden Beak. In this rhyming fantasy, Bad Mood, the gloomy, ugly guy tries to ruin their day in his own special way. But trial after trial he fails until Fairy Felicia changes him to Good Mood. Only then is he invited to stay and play! From beginning to end, children and adults will be intrigued by the book’s message, the enchanting creatures, and the vivid imagery. Book’s message: Show the world your smile! With attached puzzle.

Naiya in Nature : When Naiya wakes up to her busy, loud surroundings, she decides to escape into nature! In this book, Naiya teaches you seven beginner yoga poses, to breathe and, most importantly, to smile!

Hector Hectricity and the Missing Socks : Calm days for the Parack family, filled with soft songs and peaceful picnics, are disrupted by hectic mornings because socks keep vanishing in their new…

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The Narrative 9 of Children’s Books

A Ducktrinor Mom

13741032_601437356691659_1103708176_n(1)Nightly News With Safa : Safa’s tired of the same old sad news she sees on TV, so she comes up with a wonderful idea! She creates her own broadcast about the who, what, when, where, and why about her day at school. Her bedroom becomes her very own newsroom to tell her mom all about her day, pulling her mom away from the negative news on TV she gives her an upbeat news story to cheer her up…every night.

Zachariah’s Perfect Day : Farrah Qazi is the author of Zachariah’s Perfect Day, a beautiful book chronicling the first fasting day of a young Muslim boy. The book discusses the typical routine of Muslim families who fast during the month of Ramadan. It explains the purpose and benefit of fasting. It also speaks of the joy, peace and gratitude that envelop this holy month. The book is easy to read, and will…

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L’Américaine – Part 3

Femta had to listen to Tonton lecture her on her rude behavior toward Uthman as soon as they sat in the car. “Where are your manners Femta?” he had chided her. She couldn’t place any word because the plan was to interrupt their talk curtly and get out of sight quickly. Why? Because Curly Locks seemed like someone that didn’t like to give up. She pursed her lips as he also complained about her not greeting him when she came out of the airport. “Did you have to be so snappy? What was that all about?” he had asked her miffed.l americaine 3

“Nothing. I just wasn’t in a chatty mood. I bet you tried to match-make me again with that guy.” She had accused and his silence confirmed her fears. “Whatever. Sorry about not greeting you properly.” She made up for it by hugging and kissing him on the cheeks. Tonton humphed, shook his head in disbelief, and turned on the engine. Then, they took off. She glanced back to check on the baby still peacefully sleeping and she caught  a glimpse of Curly Locks walking back to his booth. A pang of sadness spread through her bones and that feeling she knew all too well disturbed and alarmed her by the second. It brought back distant memories she had tried to suppress all this time. As they rode in silence, she let her mind wonder with the ‘WABAC’.

***

“You’re going to forget me,” Obê had told Femta not happy she had been accepted to an American University in Texas; Texas Christian University (TCU) to be precise.

“Of course not! I’ll never forget you. I love you too much Bébé for that. I’ll never do that.” Femta pouted sure of herself.

“I have so many friends who lost their boyfriends and girlfriends to the West. After a few months and when you’re horny, I’ll be history.” Obê who was an Ivorian leaving in Burkina Faso had told her that they should break up and resume their relationship if she happened to come back one day or if he also got a visa to go to Paris. He wanted to play soccer. Then they could meet a few times a year at the city of love, catch up, and make out like bunnies. Their puppy love was so naive.

Tu blagues?” Femta had asked him surprised of his proposition. Her big eyes bulged of their sockets and her butt clad boyshort underwear bounced on his dorm room bed, slapping her thin fingers on the mattress with a force that made him jump.

“I’m not kidding. I’ve heard so many infidelities about star-crossed étudiants that I rather be realistic and make a deal now. Remember what my name means?”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Not with your name again.” Then, she pondered on his words for a minute, biting her bottom lip. She loved the idea of being free to date anybody in America but she thought sleeping with a multitude of men will make her a bitch so she made the decision to decline his offer. “Alright Mr. Soyons D’Accord, does it mean you’ll be dating all these skanks I had to fight off you all along?”

She eyed Obê for an answer and he muffled a laugh, staying silent; his tongue in his cheek, giggling softly. At least he was honest. Whether they chose to shake on it and agree like his name meant or not, Obê was a very handsome black man if she said so herself, and there was no way he would wait for her indefinitely before becoming intimate again with another woman. He was sometimes an insatiable beast. The realization downed on her painfully and she promised herself that she would strive to return back home and marry him because when they made love, she completely lost herself in him. In her mind, there was no way she could find someone of his caliber to fill his shoes. That day, she made the promise to herself to never give her heart fully to any man that wasn’t Obê. Any man she would encounter would just be a fling, a one night stand, or a non-exclusive relationship because she didn’t intend to live overseas. She would be be going in and out; just to get an education and come back home and help her country become a developed country.

After something that seemed like a long silence between the two, she said, “If you have to marry while I’m out there, stop at three wives. I’ll be the fourth and no one will come after me.” Obê agreed, laughing and they made love again tenderly that night. It was goodbye. It was fun and sad. It was heart wrenching for them. They shed tears as they climaxed. It would be a while before they experienced their unique connection again. They knew that. They weren’t fooling themselves with futile promises.

They got dressed moments later in a thick and tense silence. He couldn’t come to the airport, her parents had no idea she had a boyfriend. For them, their daughter was still a good virgin Muslim girl who one day perhaps would wear hijab. Femta kissed him goodbye and released him from her tight embrace by his dorm room while he said with teary eyes, “Aurevoir L’Américaine. Try your best to come back to me, though I have no big expectations. You’ll certainly find a white boy and never return again.” Femta puffed in laughter but her heart sank. He was thus far the love of her life. She held the tears at the corners of her eyes by remaining calm and controlling her breathing. When he closed the door behind her, she headed down the hall to go see her girl friends as she ran her hand in her bouncy afro weave, mentally shattered and drained.

Before these girls opened the doors, she dried her eyes and plastered a big smile on her face while her hands were in her jeans back pockets. “L’Américaine!” they all chanted as one of them opened the door. “Let’s see what else you have left to gift us. On t’envie oh!! We’re so envious!!

Femta mustered all the strength in her to show a happy side with her girlfriends Maryam, Fatou, and Natacha. She owed them that much. They had helped shop for her imminent trip. Something told her that she would never see her first lover again and that depressed her mood but she tried her best to not show her sad feelings. They wouldn’t understand it. America was the dreamland they all wanted to conquer, and she chose to be grateful in their eyes. She forcefully chatted with her friends for half and hour or so and then took a taxi from the University of Ouagadougou to her parents’ home.

The next day, her family accompanied her to the airport. Two weeks before, her mother had split all her things between her five younger siblings and cousins. Femta was a bit disheartened that the gifting had happened so prematurely. What if something ominous happened? she thought. Besides, as the hoarder that she was, she wanted some time alone with her things to say a proper goodbye to them. Her mother told her that she had to start early because not everything must be gifted to outsiders since they could give her the evil eye with it by taking it to  a witch doctor. So, her mom made a prayer to God on her clothes and things before handing them to all the recipients. Annoyed, she left it at that. Parents know best. She had inferred.

***

“We’re here,” Tonton said, bringing her back to earth. She removed the toddler from the old carseat that had seen better years when her uncle’s children were younger. Femta smiled because Tonton Kaboré was definitely her mother’s brother and her relative. He was a hoarder too. His children were in college now and he still had this old carseat.

On the heel of that thought, baby Ahmadou cooed and stretched as she held him on the hip.

“I’ll bring the rest of the things inside,” Tonton told her and added, “Your aunt is inside busy cooking because she knows you have an ogre appetite.”

Femta gave him a throaty and warm laugh before stepping inside the house by the garage entry. “Oh, I love your outfit,” Aunt Gigi exclaimed, putting her cooking gloves down the kitchen counter before closing the short distance  between them to hug and kiss her niece and little nephew on the cheeks.

Surprised to hear her non-Muslim aunt compliment her modest clothing, Femta indulged her and twirled on her flat shoes with the baby in her hands. The cord of her handbag was still nestled on her shoulder as she pirouetted in her cobalt blue maxi skirt. She had tucked a long white sleeve blouse in the skirt and wrapped a white hijab with red roses on her head.

“You like? I need to get used to your compliments on hijab since they come once in a blue moon Tantie!”Femta joked and stuck her tongue out at her aunt who wore skinny jeans and a brightly colored African camisole hidden behind an apron.

“Stop it! I never complained about your choice of clothing. I just wouldn’t opt for covering my whole body for the sake of any religion.”

“I know. Anyways, what did you cook Tantie? I’m starving!” Femta asked as her aunt started playing with Ahmadou. Her mouth watered at the sight of sauce gombo (okra stew) with palm nut and white rice, (lemon shea butter corn meal patties) with sauce pklala (jute plant/molokhiya) and a soup of meat and fish. For dessert, her aunt had made dêguê (sweetened millet in yogurt). She couldn’t wait to shower and stuff her face. She made a mental note to get the baby out of the way by cleaning him up and breastfeeding him first so she could have peace as she ate and licked her fingers in delight! Then her eyes landed on the crate of Fanta glass bottles just like back home without the high fructose corn syrup in the corner of the kitchen. They knew she loved orange soda on hot days.

Next, the word ‘Femtastic’ flooded her thoughts and Curly Locks had finally lodged himself in her thoughts. The word would never be the same again because her stomach knotted and her appetite suddenly vanished. She felt light headed and sick. Oh no, ya Allah please let me not loose sleep and miss good food over this joker. I beg…

To be continued …

Read part 1 here and part 2 here .

©Papatia Feauxzar 2016

 

 

 

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