190 - Sheikh Mahjub Al-Makki

One Year Later

Sheikh Mahjub Al-Makki

Who would have thought that Allah would bless me as He did. Five years ago, I discovered the so-called “rock bottom”, a Brazilian expression my parents brought into our home, and with much pain, I discovered the real meaning of that phrase.

After our honeymoon, there was the celebration of my assuming leadership of our entire nation. Despite the implementation of a democratic government in Sudan over the years, something that pushes the poorest parts of my country into misery every day, we continue to do our best for those who seek us out.

It was a beautiful celebration, and my wife, as always, was wonderful by my side. Day after day, Hope continues to surprise everyone with her approach to the various charities she has embraced with such care.

The main one is the “Sudanese Ballerinas”. When she's not taking care of our home and family, she's helping and teaching young women in our country to stand on their toes and dance as beautifully as she does every day.

After a few months and all the media frenzy when they discovered that the number one ballerina of the Bolshoi had married. There were various speculations about whether she would return to Russia. Especially since all the images that started circulating of Hope showed her wearing a hijab or some traditional garment.

I had already talked to my wife that I wouldn't forbid her from doing what she loves; the only thing I asked for was her safety. I wanted her escorted all the time, and whenever possible, I would be there, or she would be here with me.

Something that didn't work out very well!

We had been seeing each other less in recent months; she's nearing the end of her contract with the Bolshoi, but our commitments have led us down separate paths this month. However, I've made up my mind that today I will attend her final performance.

My father-in-law had already called me in the early hours, asking if I was going to the ballet. Even though I couldn't give a definite answer, I felt that something was wrong. Everyone seemed very focused on my work schedule.

"Son?" I hear my mother's voice as she enters the office.

I see my mother, Carol, entering. Time seemed to make her even more commanding, without the need for her feared title as Madame Suíça, something Laís loves to use.

"Hi, Mom!" I say with a smile, stepping away from my computer to give her my full attention.

I look at the clock, it's not even five in the morning. This distance between my wife and me has been keeping me awake. Fortunately, the time difference between Khartoum and Moscow is only one hour. I'm just waiting for it to get a little later so I can call and talk to my beautiful swan.

"Why aren't you at the airport to meet your wife?" I squint and help my mother sit on the couch.

"I have a meeting with the Prime Minister today, but as soon as he passes through the gates, I'll be on my way!" At least, that's the plan.

But by the frown my mother gives, she doesn't seem to approve of my idea. I see her wave her hand, dismissing my plans for the day.

"Forget about that. Your father has already messaged the Prime Minister, your bag is packed, and there's a car waiting for you. Go be with your wife!" I glance sideways at the woman who begins adjusting her hijab, which got disheveled when she put on her glasses.

"Is something going on that I'm not aware of?" I ask, curious.

"Of course not, but if you were by your wife's side, I'm sure you'd know!" She says with a laugh, leaving me even more full of questions.

"Hope knows I probably won't make it today. I don't understand why everyone seems so insistent that I go!" I say, squeezing my mother's hands.

"I don't care about that, get yourself ready and go, don't make me kick your ass out of here. I may be old, but I can still throw you out!" She says, and I contain the desire to laugh.

"Of course you can, Mom!" I approach and kiss her on the cheek.

I see her rise in front of me, and for some reason, I believe everyone knows something. I look at my watch and check the date, it's not my birthday or my beautiful swan's. It's not the anniversary of any of our weddings, so what could it be?

I return to behind the desk and finish what I was doing; I had many things to sort out, even though my mother canceled my meeting with the head of state. I need to get some things in order.

I end up staying in the office for more hours than I imagined; I look at the clock, and it's almost noon. I stand up startled, and before I could leave, I am surprised by my parents entering the office, and from my mother's furious look, I'm sure I'll leave with the mark of her shoe on my body.

"Mahjub Alcântara Al-Makki, by this time you should be by Hope's side!" My mother says.

"I needed to finish what I was doing!" I say, stepping back before my mother hits me with something.

I start hearing my parents laughing and patting my shoulder; I leave the office feeling like something is happening. Earlier, I had called Hope to say I was coming, but I wasn't answered. I imagine she was in some rehearsal.

Now I will be unreachable on the plane for the next few hours, and several things are going through my head.

Five torturous hours separate me from my swan; as soon as I land in Moscow, I go straight to the apartment where Hope is living. As I arrived in the apartment hallway, there were some security guards scattered around.

"Is my wife still in the apartment?" I asked one of them.

I look at the clock; it's just before six o'clock, her performance will start soon. Of course, she's not here in the apartment.