He was walking as if the wind would blow him over due to his speed, muttering to himself like a newly caught madman. He stumbled again for the second time, but luckily this time, he caught the wall of his decrepit house, unlike before when he fell to the ground. He let out a long hiss, his heart filled with anger and swelling with frustration. Trying to vent his anger and irritation, he kicked the rusty door of his house, which had been eaten away by rust due to old age, as it hadn't been replaced since the house was built. The door creaked like an old metal drum.

He started by kicking the water pot at the entrance, which seemed to be their toilet area. The pot hit the far wall, the lid falling off to the side.

Baba Nafi, who was performing ablution for the Maghrib prayer, looked up at him calmly, then lowered her head because of the fierce glare he gave her, as if his eyes would fall out.

"Every bastard in this house come out!!" he shouted harshly, hitting the rickety structures around what was supposed to be their kitchen.

In frustration and anger, someone yanked the curtain of the middle room. "Oh, come on, Mallam, for God's sake, calm your heart. Everyone is preparing for Maghrib, trying to break their fast. Instead of being seen behind the Imam ready to greet the Almighty, you are here looking for trouble and preventing your family from peacefully breaking their fast, just as you are doing to yourself."

He looked at her with anger, gathering all his frustration and worries into his voice. He pointed at her with a finger, shaking his hand in warning. "Larai, how many times have I told you not to interrupt me when I'm talking? I swear to God, if I don't unload all this anger on you, then you can say my name isn't DAUDA, the rice-seller."

She pursed her lips and dropped the curtain, but she didn't keep quiet. From inside the room, she continued, "Go deal with your issues, not with me. You haven't fulfilled your obligation of providing food for us in this blessed month, and you won't also stop your empty threats and ranting. Your problems should stay with you, not Larai."

Even though he heard her, he didn't respond, continuing to call everyone to come out. No one answered, as if everyone in the house had died. A wave of frustration and anger rose from deep within his chest, making him shout out.

"Indeed, it is confirmed that I've been reduced to a useless street urchin. If not for the respect given to harlots' abodes, how can I, the so-called head of this house, speak and be ignored while you bastards remain silent, mocking me?"

"Please, Mallam, we are all just praying. I know they are also..."

Larai rushed out, adjusting her wrapper that was about to fall off due to her haste. She interrupted Baba Nafi, who was speaking softly to avoid further conflict. "Look, old woman, what do you know? We are also praying, so stop trying to stir trouble."

"God bless you, Larai. That's exactly what I was going to tell him," Baba Nafi said softly.

Larai pouted and turned away, fixing her headscarf on her forehead, revealing her wrinkled neck. Baba Nafi just smiled and shook her head, taking her eyes off her.

Despite their actions, he stood there, puffing with anger, glaring at the last room in their row. But he didn't say a word. After about five minutes, the curtain of the room was lifted, and a beautiful woman, who looked about thirty-five to thirty-seven years old, emerged. One could immediately tell she was a modern woman. She looked at him and the other women, chewing gum nonchalantly as if it wasn't just the time for breaking the fast.

"What's the matter with you, shouting during Maghrib time when we haven't even had a sip of water? There used to be a difference between then and now. We used to endure your tantrums because you had money, but now you neither leave us with a full stomach nor fulfill our children's needs, and yet you add tyranny and arrogance *LIKE A DARK SHADOW...*"

"Asabe! Now I'm the dark shadow?"

"Even in the middle of the forest, you are worse. The *SUN IS BETTER THAN YOU*."

Larai burst out laughing, clapping her hands and looking at Asabe. "You impress me, new wife. When we get trampled, he becomes easy to deal with, but you have surpassed that."

Asabe pursed her lips and looked away. A deep wave of anger engulfed Malam Dauda. He sighed deeply, glaring at Asabe like a raging bull. Indeed, marriage to a city woman didn't suit him. His face tightened as he reached out and pulled down the dangling string of their food container hanging by the kitchen wall.

"This is a problem. I want to know who the shameless bastard went to Jabiru's shop and took soda and cakes in my name?"

Baba Nafi and Larai looked at each other, but neither said anything, knowing he was aware of who could commit such an act. He had given her that liberty since she was a new wife, and now, seventeen years later, her daughters were wandering around the house, all four of them, with nothing changing...