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English Translation
"...Now we have checked your mother, and thank God her condition is stable now and it's improving. To be honest, your mother requires comprehensive psychiatric care along with ongoing treatment for her fractured hand and everything else concerning all of you collectively. Because of these reasons, she must stay here for at least two to three months. If she continues to respond well through medication and psychological support, we can discharge her and give you recommendations on how to continue caring for her normally when you return home..."
He spent a long time explaining to me, offering additional advice and methods for us to follow to ensure her illness healed completely.
With politeness, after he finished speaking, I nodded my head, and with a heart full of anxiety, I said:
"Thank you very much, Dr. Kenna. In Sha Allah, we will do our best."
"Alright... Now take this." He finished speaking while handing me a paper. After I accepted it, he said:
"Now you will go and pay this amount; we have already used everything we needed for now."
"Okay, then. Thank you."
Bahrain and I came out holding hands. As we walked, I looked at the paper containing the items he said they used, which totaled eighty-seven thousand four hundred naira.
We continued moving around until nightfall, and then we went to the designated place for patient relatives. Because if patients are in the ward undergoing treatment, nobody is allowed to stay with them except the nurses. We spread out and went to sleep around 11:45 PM after saying our prayers.
Shortly after lying down, I heard a zooo! sound right beneath our luggage bag, which I had rolled up and placed under my head as a pillow. I got up, opened the bag, and found that it was a phone ringing—one I had completely forgotten about!
By the time I picked it up, the call had already disconnected. When I checked, I saw 32 missed calls. I knew for sure it was none other than Yaya Ashiru, and I swear to God, I completely forgot that he had inserted another SIM card into the phone. As I was about to put the phone back into the bag, I heard it ringing again.
I picked it up, placed it to my ear, offered a greeting, and said:
"Yaya Ashiru..."
"Haba Beenafah, for goodness' sake! You worried me sick. Ever since you guys were on the road, I've been calling, but nobody answered until now."
"Oh dear, Yaya Ashiru! Please forgive me. Wallahi, I completely forgot about any phone business."
"Okay. Hopefully, you arrived safely?"
"We arrived safe and sound, Yaya Ashiru. She has already been given a bed and examined. And Alhamdulillah, the doctor assured me that she is showing great improvement."
"Well, Masha Allahu, I am glad to hear that news. May Allah grant her recovery."
"Ameen, ya Allah."
"How is Bahrain?"
I peeked at his face slightly, nodded my head, and said:
"Here he is beside me, sleeping."
"Take good care of him, you hear?"
"In Sha Allahu, Yaya Ashiru. Thank you very much for your care."
We spent two weeks at the hospital before they removed the POP from her hand—the arm that was operated on all the way from Gusau—after confirming that the bone had started fusing. They put her through physiotherapy so the hand wouldn't develop complications. Alhamdulillah, everything was going smoothly, and her recovery was progressing more and more.
After going to pay the bills, we found a spot in the hospital courtyard and sat down, watching people walk by. When one type of sick person passed by, shortly after you would see another whose condition was worse.
Ever since we sat down, I had been paying attention to Bahrain's mood. He was deeply engrossed, watching every patient being wheeled past with full composure. I shook my head and said:
"Bahrain, do you see? This proves to us that we are not the only ones facing this kind of trial. So we should thank Allah, because even among them, Ammie's condition is quite mild. And In Sha Allahu, the very day Allah decrees that she recovers completely, she will recover, along with all the other patients. Our prayer is that Allah grants them all complete health and lifts their burdens..."
"Aunty Beenafah, is Ammie really going to recover just like Dr. Basheer told us yesterday?"
I smiled broadly, shook my head, and said:
"Most definitely, Bahrain. In Sha Allahu..."
"So Aunty Beena, once she recovers completely, will we also return to Abuja where Humaida and the others are?"
It felt as though he had struck the center of my head with a sledgehammer when those words landed. I had not anticipated that question from him at all at that moment.
"Aunty Beena..."
"In Sha Allah, Bahrain. Don't worry, one day we will also go, even beyond Abuja..."
With excitement, he said:
"Really, Aunty Beena? Where is that?"
I gripped his hand tightly within mine, fighting back my tears while forcing a smile, and said:
"I don't know either, Bahrain, but In Sha Allah, if you work very hard in school, one day that dream of yours will surely come true..."
Bahrain was ten years old, but wallahi, whenever he asked me certain questions, I would find myself at a loss for how to answer him. We sat there as he kept firing questions at me, and I only managed to escape them when Yaya Ashiru's call came through on my phone. We spoke for a long time before I finally hung up after we were done.
Yaya Ashiru was a wonderful person—the likes of whom I had never met in this world, and I knew that even if I lived until death, I would never meet anyone as kind. Right now, he was one of the major pillars playing a crucial role in our happiness. Even though he wasn't with us, just the sound of his voice and his wise words over the phone sustained us. A deep bond had formed between us, such that every day we would spend over an hour talking on the phone, especially at night. We would chat until nearly midnight, until he sensed that sleep was starting to claim me, whereupon he would say goodbye and hang up.
Around 5:00 PM that Friday, Mummy came out looking gorgeously dressed, accompanied by Humaida; it looked like they were going out.
She found a seat to wait for Daddy, who was also inside getting ready, while Humaida went downstairs.
Biba offered a soft greeting and stepped into the parlor. Mummy threw a fierce glare at her all the way until she walked up and knelt down in front of her.
"What is it?"
In a very subdued voice, she held out the phone in her hand and said:
"Humaida said I should bring your phone to you; Aunty Aysha is calling..."
Mummy snatched the phone away forcefully, saying:
"Just because you brought me a phone, do you have to come and kneel in front of me? Wicked hypocrite!"
"Forgive me, Mummy..."
"For God's sake, get up and get out of my sight... wait, hold on!"
"Did you pick up Aysha's call and play your usual hypocrisy?"
Quickly, she shook her head and said:
"Wallahi, I swear by Allah, Mummy, I didn't answer it. Ever since you scolded me, I stopped answering."
"Get up and get out of my sight."
Aysha had been calling Mummy's phone continuously since earlier. Only when she felt like it did she finally pick up the phone casually and say:
"What is it?"
With a voice choked with tears from the other end, Aysha said:
"Mummy, good afternoon!"
"Good afternoon..."
Silence stretched between them for a long time, with nothing audible from the phone except the sound of Aysha's sobbing, her breath catching from the intensity of her distress and confusion.
"Are you trying to burst my eardrums on purpose?"
"Mum... Mu... Mummy!"
"Mts! I'm about to go out, you're wasting my time."
With a deeply pained voice, she said:
"I miss you, Mummy. I miss the Twins and Humaida."
"I heard you..."
"Mummy, Baffa also sends his regards."
Mummy twisted her mouth in disgust and said:
"I heard him, see you later... Wallahi, it would have been better for me if you just stopped calling me altogether, Aysha! Mts! I'm sick of this. The person has no self-respect. If it were someone else, after all this time, you should have forgotten about me entirely..."
"Mu...mmy! Have you ever seen a daughter who turns her back on her mother?..."
"How much did they charge?"
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, shaking her head as if Aysha were right in front of her, and said:
"Me? I can't do it... I can't do it, Mummy!"
She cut the call when she saw Daddy coming out, picked up her handbag, and with a carefree attitude, they went out for their planned ice cream.
We spent another nine weeks at the hospital. Now, Alhamdulillah, Ammie had recovered much better than before, with the help of Dr. Basheer and the other medical staff there, until we finally secured our discharge papers. By now, her hand had completely healed, along with all her injuries. Her mental state had improved beyond expectations, and Dr. Basheer even assured us that if she kept it up, In Sha Allahu, everything would return to normal as if nothing had happened. However, new rules were laid down for us—even stricter than before—regarding how to continue caring for her and administering her medication properly. Furthermore, our follow-up visits were scheduled every four weeks right here at FMC Gusau, as I had requested if possible, and they agreed in order to make things easier for us since we now had no other helper.
This time around, Dr. Basheer took us to his house along with Ammie after we were discharged, telling us to wash up and organize our clothes properly before heading back home.
When we were leaving the hospital, I actually cried because it had practically become a home to me—a place that brought me joy and relieved my distress even more than our own house in Gusau. Yet, this time around, In Sha Allahu, I would redouble my efforts and remain extremely cautious against any threat or obstacle to my Ammie's health. As for Daddy, I had long since resolved to cut him off forever, come rain or shine.
That night, Dr. Basheer's wife came over. She was a very kind woman. She had healthy, nourishing food brought to us and asked us to leave her and Ammie alone so they could talk. After we stepped out, they sat talking for a long time before she finally said goodnight and left.
I looked at Ammie, who was sitting on her prayer mat doing her adhkar, and said:
"Ammie... What a kind woman, right?"
She nodded and said:
"It's not just the wife, Beenafah; even her husband is a good man. Look at how hard he fought for us like we were his own relatives. Wallahi, I will never stop keeping this man in my prayers, Beenafah, because he is truly a good person..."
With a smile, I said:
"Ammie, just like Yaya Ashiru, right?"
She nodded and said:
"Most definitely."
"When we go back, can we visit Ammie's [Ashiru's] family?"
"Of course. In Sha Allahu, nothing will stop us from visiting Ashiru's house, because he has been very good to us..."
I looked at Bahrain, who was deeply engrossed in a phone, tapping away blindly, and said:
"Hey, what on earth are you doing with that phone since earlier? Please put it down and come eat..."
Only then did he get up, holding the phone, looking as sheepish as a chicken dipped in hot water, and handed it to me, saying:
"Aunty Beena, look at what this phone did..."
I snatched the phone away quickly, saying:
"What did the phone do, Bahrain?"
He just kept quiet and stared at me blankly.
"Oh my God!... Ammie, wallahi he locked the SIM card; you have to enter certain codes for it to open."
"Subhanallah! How did that happen, Bahrain?"
Tears trickled down his eyes as he fixed his gaze on me and said:
"Please forgive me, Aunty Beenafah, wallahi I didn't even know when I pressed that."
I let out a sigh, shook my head, and said:
"It's nothing. My only worry is about Yaya Ashiru; when he calls and doesn't get through, he'll be upset. But thank God since we're going back tomorrow..."
Ammie looked at me and said:
"Does he know we're going back tomorrow?"
I shook my head and said:
"He only knew that sometime this week or next week we would be discharged, but he didn't know it was today because, as you saw, it happened suddenly when even we weren't expecting it. And since yesterday when he called, he hasn't called again. He was actually calling with Umma's phone last time, saying his own phone fell, cracked its screen, and was with a repairer. I guess he hasn't been able to retrieve it yet."
From then on, nobody said anything else until we finished eating and prepared for bed.
The next day, early in the morning, he dropped us off at the motor park and put us on a vehicle, loaded with so many acts of kindness that words alone could never adequately thank him for; all we could do was pray for him for the rest of our lives.
We traveled on the road, discussing life further—myself and Ammie—until we arrived in Gusau. This time around, Ammie had received various forms of training from different organizations that care for people with her condition, so now, In Sha Allahu, whatever came her way, we had the faith and hope that she could adapt to a reasonable degree.
I started looking around after we got off the vehicle, foolishly wondering if I would spot Yaya Ashiru, but by the time we boarded a tricycle (Napep) and rode off, I didn't see anyone resembling him.
As soon as we reached the front of our house, we unloaded our things. I stepped forward and pushed the door open, but to my utter shock, it was locked from the inside.
Confused, I pushed the door harder, but it remained firmly locked. I remembered that on the day we left, I had managed to pull a rope across the gate, and we had just left it like that when we departed.
Ammie looked at me and asked:
"Beenafah, is everything alright?"
"Ammie, the house looks locked."
"Well, knock so we can find out."
With a heart full of anxiety, I began knocking just as Ammie suggested. We waited for about five minutes before a man opened the gate and came out.
Looking at us with a blank expression, he asked:
"Where are you people coming from?"
We remained silent—neither Ammie nor I could utter a word out of sheer shock—until Bahrain finally spoke up:
"It's our house, of course. We just returned from the hospital, open up so we can go in."
The man looked at Bahrain with a smile, shook his head, and said:
"Is this your house, young man?"
Sticking to the plain truth, Bahrain said:
"Yes, of course."
"Well, I was hired as a security guard, and the actual owners of the house are in Abuja, except for the younger brother of the landlord's wife who is living inside since he got married a month ago. Apart from them, I know of no one else living here..."
In a panic, I placed my hands on my head, let out a piercing, deafening scream, and cried:
"Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un! We are ruined, Ammie, we are finished... Where are we supposed to go now...?"
Ammie also clutched the side of her chest, squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and slowly began to recite:
"Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un! Allahumma ajirni fi musibati wa akhlufni khairan minha..."
She kept repeating that prayer until she felt a deep sense of calm within her. As her head throbbed violently, she pulled me into her embrace and said:
"That's enough, Beenafah... That's enough. You too, repeat the prayer I just said, and In Sha Allahu, the Almighty will replace this with something much better..."
Just as she was speaking, someone else opened the gate and came out.
Surprised, I looked at him and said:
"Uncle Isma'il?"
Uncle Isma'il was the younger brother of Mummy Zaliha, sharing both mother and father. Ever since they relocated to Abuja, he had been pleading with them to let him use the house to house his bride when his wedding date arrived. At first, Daddy had agreed, but Mummy vehemently refused, saying that whenever they visited town, they would surely need a place to stay, so she wouldn't allow it. While he was still searching for an alternative, he visited the house one Thursday and found it wide open—everyone had gone, the AC units removed, the large generator stolen, along with other items left outside. That prompted him to immediately call Mummy Zaliha. They held a meeting and ultimately told Isma'il to renovate Beenafah's wing and move his bride in there. That part consisted of a large parlor with a moderate dining area, a kitchen, one bedroom, and an en-suite toilet. Outside was a wraparound veranda and an external toilet, and the whole wing had been fenced off with a main gate that could be locked separately. After the wedding, Daddy sent them a new security guard to protect his property.
With a scowl, looking as if he had never known how to smile, he said:
"What is going on?"
With a trembling jaw, I said:
"Uncle Isma'il, don't you recognize us? We are the family of Dr. Bello Wazeer, the younger brother of Mummy Zaliha's husband..."
He gave us a look up and down and said:
"I recognize you, of course. Mulaifa, Beenafah, and Bahrain..."
Feeling a wave of relief in my heart, I pointed at the man who had blocked our entrance and said:
"This man said we can't go in. Please tell him to let us enter..."
He shook his head and said:
"You are not entering this house because you have no dwelling place here!"
With a crying voice, my body trembling intensely, I said:
"Please, Uncle Isma'il, spare our dignity, please let us go in. This is our house! It's Daddy's house—the elder brother of our father, and we have no one else in this world besides him..."
"Well, what do I care? It's not my fault..."
"Please, Uncle Isma'il, for the sake of your parents, don't chase us away from here..."
I saw him put his hand in his pocket, pull out a phone, punch some buttons, and place it to his ear. Without wasting any time, I heard him speaking, and finally, he handed the phone to me. With trembling hands, I took it, placed it against my ear, and burst into a fresh, heart-shattering cry as I said:
"Daddy! Please don't chase us away, Daddy. Daddy, if you chase us away, where are we supposed to go?"
From the other end, Daddy started speaking furiously:
"Are you going to sit there and toy with property while I just watch? You left the house wide open and irresponsible because you don't know the value of money; thieves broke in and stole from me, and now you want me to let you back in so you can continue doing whatever you please? I swear by Allah, that will not happen! I know today and tomorrow, after things outside are gone, eventually people will break into the house itself and strip me bare. Therefore, I swear by Allah, your stay in this house is over forever..."
Slowly, Ammie reached out, took the phone from my hand, and placed it to her ear, shedding bitter tears because she heard everything he was saying since the phone was on speakerphone. She said:
"Fear Allah, Alhaji Mudassir! Fear Allah. Remember that these children have no one else to call their own besides you..."
"Leave me alone, for God's sake, I am not talking to a madwoman. All I can do is pray that Allah restores your health... Isma'il, take the phone, let me tell you what to do."
I collapsed to the ground, crying uncontrollably like someone whose mother had just died.
Ammie similarly pulled Bahrain into her embrace, praying—which was her ultimate weapon—while her head throbbed as if it were about to split in two.
When Isma'il finished his call, he turned and looked at us, saying:
"Go inside, gather your things, and put them in the truck. I'm waiting."
Like someone learning how to walk for the first time, I dragged myself inside alone while Ammie stood near the gate. After searching everywhere and failing to find our belongings inside the main house, I finally discovered them piled together in the generator room, dumped together like garbage.
Seeing that I was wasting his time, the security guard had the items loaded into the Hilux truck I had seen parked in the compound—evidently his vehicle, since back when I knew him, he didn't own a car.
Another massive humiliation that I will never forget was that we were told to ride in the back of the truck with the luggage; we were not allowed to sit in the front passenger seat. Ah, such is life!
He drove slowly until we left the GRA and headed into a neighborhood we never even knew existed in this world. Children were playing about everywhere, and people were bustling all around.
He parked in front of a modest house and stepped out to unlock the gate. He called some children to help us offload the luggage, then pulled out a set of three rusty keys, handed them directly to my hand, and said:
"You better thank God I even finished renovating this house before they told me to let you stay here. And wallahi, listen well and heed my warning: don't let me catch sight of your feet near the gate of that other house, even as a joke. Don't even let me hear that you went looking for anything there, or I will treat you with a cruelty that even a dog wouldn't endure! And as for this house? Your stay here is temporary; don't you dare mess up my house, you hear what I told you?"
Without waiting for either me or Ammie to utter a single word, he turned around and left. We stood there crying—myself, Bahrain, and Ammie—until Ammie called out to a young boy among the children watching us and asked:
"What is the name of this neighborhood?"
"This is Hayin Malam Ibrahim."
She nodded and said:
"Thank you."
She looked at me and said:
"Come on, let's say a prayer and go inside. Never mind, bear it with patience; whatever life brings to a servant, they must endure with patience and thank Allah..."
Seeing her clutch the side of her head and start to collapse to the ground, I let out a terrifying scream, ran over to her, and cried:
"Ammie, what is it? What's wrong with you?"
She smiled.
