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English Translation
Chapter 1
She was walking briskly, her gaze fixed straight ahead, carrying a bucket of tigernut drink (kunun aya) that she sold. She had been wandering around for a long time but hadn't even sold half of it, plagued by intense hunger gnawing at her stomach. She walked faster, her only desire to get home so she could find something to put in her belly.
Hurriedly, she crossed the street. Just as she reached the middle of the road, she didn't pay attention to the oncoming car. Suddenly, she felt someone strike the bucket in her hand, sending her flying to the side.
Quickly, she jumped to her feet and watched as her tigernut drink poured down into the roadside drainage gutter. Then, she turned her eyes to the owner of the car that had hit her. He was sitting inside his vehicle, with no intention of getting out, let alone apologizing to her. In fact, annoyance was written all over his face because she had wasted his time.
She picked up her empty bucket and began to walk slowly, like someone carrying an egg that had broken inside. Quickly, he intercepted her path and snapped, "You woman, what kind of blind, foolish animal are you to wander onto the street and do whatever you please? I swear, if you had been crushed completely, I wouldn't have cared, because I have nothing to lose!"
Without another word, and without even sparing her a glance, he got back into his car and drove away. Tears burst out of her eyes. She looked back, saw people staring at her, quickly wiped her tears, and headed home.
Upon reaching home, she found Ummu sweeping the courtyard. Zuhra rushed over to her, threw herself onto her, and burst into bitter tears. Ummu lifted her head and asked, "Hey, what's wrong? Did someone do something to you, or did someone beat you?"
Through her sobs, Zuhra shook her head to say no. Ummu asked, "Then what happened to you?" With great difficulty, Ummu managed to calm her down so she could explain what had transpired.
Ummu's heart sank upon hearing the story, but she suppressed her feelings to comfort her daughter. Zuhra asked, "Ummu, what are we going to do about the spilled tigernut drink?" Ummu replied, "Don't worry, Zuhra. Allah will provide us with capital again, you hear?" Zuhra nodded, stood up, went to the kitchen, and started eating her food while Ummu resumed sweeping.
Then, greetings echoed from the entrance porch. As Ummu looked up, she saw her husband being carried in, held up by others. She hurriedly dropped her broom, knowing his illness had flared up. They opened his room, took him inside, and laid him down.
The men were explaining to Ummu what they had seen happen to him, but her mind wasn't on them. Her thoughts were entirely consumed by where she could find the money to take her husband to the hospital. Whenever his illness flared up, the hospital was the only place that could help him find relief. However, she had no idea where to get the money to take him there, though they already knew the exact amount required once they arrived.
"May Allah grant him health and strengthen his shoulders," the men who brought him prayed as they wished him recovery.
Struggling to find her strength, she replied, "Ameen. Thank you, and may Allah reward you with goodness."
They all went outside and stood around him as he lay down. Zuhra grabbed his hand and wept silently, unable to say anything. Mubarak said, "Take heart, Baba." The intense pain prevented him from answering. Hamza asked, "Ummu, why don't we take Baba to the hospital?"
Only then did their minds return to reality, and they remembered a hospital. Mubarak said, "Let me go hail a tricycle (adaidaita) so we can go." Zuhra interrupted, "Mubarak, finding a tricycle isn't the problem; the money needed is the real issue."
Their spirits suddenly sank, and they stood frozen. Ummu said, "Zuhra, bring me my hijab so I go to Inna Sani's place." Zuhra brought the hijab, and with a gentle greeting, Ummu entered Inna Sani's house. Inna welcomed her, asking, "Is everything alright, Aisha?"
Ummu replied, "He is getting better, Inna, but Baba Zuhras is sick. That's why I came to ask if you could please lend me five thousand naira if you have it." Inna exclaimed, "Subhanallah! How is Aisha's condition?" Ummu replied, "Wallahi, it's serious."
Inna stood up, went into the room, retrieved five thousand naira, and brought it to Ummu. Overjoyed, Ummu slightly lowered herself, accepted the money, and expressed her gratitude.
Within thirty minutes, they arrived at Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital. He was given emergency treatment, and by the grace of Allah, he began to regain consciousness. After receiving injections and intravenous drips, expensive medications costing five thousand seven hundred naira were prescribed. However, they only had five thousand naira total, from which they had already deducted the tricycle fare.
A day or two later, the doctor instructed them to buy the rest of the prescribed medicine. Ummu said they would buy it when they returned home because the money they had remaining wasn't enough. The doctor told them to buy at least two out of the five, and when they went home, they could buy the rest.
After seven days, he had recovered enough to begin going out for daily labor. When the month ended, he collected his salary of seven thousand naira. He gave one thousand naira to Ummu and set aside six thousand. He allocated five thousand of it for Inna Sani, asking for permission to visit her house and return it. But Inna refused to accept it, saying for the sake of Allah it was a gift to them, blocking another path of hardship.
Ummu said, "But Inna, if things continue like this, one day we might not have anything to give back." Inna replied, "Don't worry, Aisha. That is what living together is all about."
Ummu expressed deep gratitude, returned home, and told her husband what Inna had said. He smiled and replied, "May Allah bless these people. Even though I lost my own relatives, they have taken their place. While I am certain about Inna and her husband, I wasn't even that sure about Salisu and Rabi, who were supposed to be my closest kin. But never mind, that is how life is. May Allah make us successful."
Indeed, Ummu loved her husband, who had become both mother and father to her; in fact, his character was her greatest attraction. Her only prayer was for the Almighty to preserve his life, though she knew that the ultimate sorrow in the world was the loss of one's destined time. She felt that if she ever woke up to a day without her husband in this world, she would ultimately perish as well.
No, she did not even want to imagine that dark day accompanied by its grim events.
Chapter 2
A pile of papers sat before him, untouched while he stared into space. His eyes were fixed on the documents, but he wasn't looking at them. Ever since that incident happened, he couldn't get the girl's face out of his mind, despite the fact that she wasn't of his social class and lacked sophistication. Yet, she possessed one or two things that captivated him. Allah had naturally created her as a woman who truly embodied beauty, complete with fair skin.
Right now, he felt remorse for what he did to her, even though she was in the wrong. If he had the good fortune of seeing her now, he would follow her and compensate her for the loss he caused her that day. Back then, aside from her beauty, he would have slapped her or run her over with his car, but her beauty had saved her. Still, he wasn't happy about insulting her.
With a deep hiss, as if he might snap his tongue, he reached for the landline, pressed a few buttons, and shortly began to speak: "Rabe, please, if you're not busy, drop by. I want to have a word with you." He hung up the phone.
Two minutes later, Rabe knocked and entered. Rabe was much older than him—old enough to be his father. Yet, upon entering, he bowed slightly and said, "Ranka ya dade, is everything alright?" He smiled and replied, "Everything is fine. I just wanted to tell you that I'm heading home. If Munnir comes, tell him to meet me at home because I'm not feeling well."
Without waiting for Rabe's reply, he grabbed his briefcase and headed home. Rabe smiled, because he liked the young man whenever he left for somewhere and abandoned whatever he was doing—especially whenever he remembered how they had parted ways with his household companion, Lubabatu, over money that had been squandered while she claimed she hadn't seen it. He was certain she had taken it since her thievery had started, and today she had found a way to make up for his lost funds.
Upon arriving at the massive parlor—reminiscent of a presidential palace—she sat on a menacing couch that seemed ready to swallow anyone bold enough to climb onto it. Her hand held a remote control as she adjusted the large plasma television, flipping through the channels she desired to watch.
She wore an exquisitely tailored head tie (kwalisa) and a striking black lace outfit mixed with strong gold and blue, adorned with shimmering multi-colored stones. She was a master of tying head ties, and she chewed on a chewing gum, making a cracking sound: kas, kas, kas.
That was Hajir, a formidable woman who puts the fear of God into lesser beings. As she changed channels, she heard the roar of his car. Hastily, she stood up, adjusted the curtain, and peeked out to see that it was indeed him.
What could have brought him back now, when it wasn't yet time for him to return? She stood waiting as he walked in. She stepped forward to receive his briefcase and said, "Hubby, is everything alright? Why are you back so early?"
He looked at her with concern and said, "Hajir, I'm not feeling well, that's why. Where is Jawaheer?"
Immediately, her face stiffened like she had never smiled in her life. She retorted, "Hubby, why do you always want to humiliate me?"
Before he could speak, they heard footsteps approaching. She was also exquisitely dressed; looking at her, it would be difficult to tell who had better fashion sense. That was Jawaheer, another powerhouse of a woman who styled herself with elegance. Slowly, she walked over, reached out, grabbed the briefcase from Hajir's hand, took his hand, and they headed toward a room.
Hajir stood there, scoffed, and clenched her fist, punching her other hand.
Chapter 3
"Are you talking to me?" Hajir asked, before returning to her seat to continue watching television. But in truth, she wasn't watching; her mind was elsewhere.
After a full hour, Jawaheer emerged from her husband's room. Hajir glanced at her once and looked away, while Jawaheer didn't even look in Hajir's direction as she walked off to her own quarters.
Hajir rose sharply and headed to his room. He was lying on a long couch, wearing a singlet and shorts, with his hand resting on his forehead and his eyes closed. Though she knew he wasn't sleeping, she called out, "Hubby!"
He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Get up, I want us to talk," she said harshly.
He groaned, "Hajir, I told you I'm not feeling well. Won't you let me rest?" "See, if you are tired of me, tell me so I know what to do. I am tired of this humiliation! Why do you always ask me for your wayward wife or her belongings? Am I her guard? Why do you always lump me together with her trash? I don't want you to ever do that to me again!"
He stared at her fixedly as she ranted on. Then he said, "Now, what is my fault if I apologize to you? Asking about Jawaheer, right? Well, I've stopped. Are you satisfied?"
She remained silent. He asked, "Or are you still not satisfied?" He began using the charm he knew broke her defenses. Instantly, she forgot everything and started using her own romantic wiles to make him forget his troubles. But he stopped her and reminded her that today wasn't her day; it belonged to Jawaheer.
"So what?" she challenged. "Aren't I your husband? And we aren't fornicating; we are legally married."
He replied, "I know that, but Jawaheer is more truthful than us, because no one likes having their rights trampled upon. So go, I will come over later."
They heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Instead of moving away, Jawaheer stepped closer, walking right in without glancing at Hajir. She placed a cup of water on the table, popped out a pill, gave it to him to swallow, and handed him water to wash it down. Then she grabbed his hand firmly, pulled him into the inner room, shut the door, and locked it securely with a key.
This act hurt Hajir deeply, and she swelled up with anger as if she might burst. She felt deeply ashamed of herself because of how Jawaheer had handled her.
She sat for a while before getting up, returning to the parlor, and pacing back and forth. Finally, she found a way out for herself. Just before the Maghrib call to prayer, Jawaheer left the master's room, walked past Hajir without a word, and headed to her quarters.
A smile touched Hajir's lips as she muttered, "You think you can play games with me? I will soon get rid of this thorn so I can find peace." She also went to her quarters to perform the Maghrib prayer.
Chapter 4
She was sitting down, pouring tigernut drink into plastic bottles (faro), when Abbas walked straight into the compound with a greeting. She responded, and he walked over to where she sat, squatted on his heels, and smiled as he said, "Let me help you with the pouring."
He began opening the bottle caps. She said, "Oh! Don't stain your clothes, Yaya Abbas, I am almost done." He asked, "Where is Ummu? Is she praying?" She replied, "Yes, she is praying." He asked, "Have you prayed?" "Yes, I prayed before I sat down to pour the tigernut drink."
Ummu emerged from the room and asked, "Oh, is it Abbas?" He answered, "Yes, Ummu." They exchanged polite greetings. Ummu said, "Finish up the pouring and go inside to get him a mat." Ummu took the bucket of tigernut drink and bottles and went into the room to give them privacy to talk.
Abbas was the suitor who loved Zuhra. His father was a close friend of her father, which was why he was permitted to visit the house and court her, as their families trusted Abbas's good character. Their parents had given them time to understand each other well before fixing a wedding date.
They had their lovers' chat—though while he carried the conversation, Zuhra's responses were mostly limited to "yes" and "no," as she still hadn't fully grown comfortable around him. She was shy, and her shyness charmed him.
At eight-thirty, he stood up to leave for home. He looked at her and said, "Zuhra, I am leaving. See you another time." She replied, "May Allah make us reach that day." He asked, "No farewell escort?"
She lowered her head, and he knew it was difficult anyway—reminiscent of the proverb about the lame person and distant marriages. He smiled and said, "Alright then, I am leaving." She replied, "May Allah protect you." He answered, "Ameen, Zuhra."
They said their goodbyes. She rolled up the mat and went into Ummu's room.
Early the next morning, Lubabatu paid an unexpected early visit, heading straight to Ummu's room. Stopping at the doorway, she pulled the curtain aside and sneered, "Where is the bride? Though I shouldn't greet you since you didn't welcome me."
Ummu smiled and said, "Come inside, why are you standing there?" "Me? Enter the dwelling of the Oduduwa family? I'd rather collect rubbish than your relatives' hospitality! Just come out and let me tell you what brought me, since you lack manners and I don't want to waste my breath. By now, you should already know why I'm here!"
Indeed, Lubabatu's words pierced Ummu's heart, though by now she ought to have been used to it. But distress is never something one gets used to; every time someone inflicts it on you, it hurts.
Ummu spread a mat and said, "Sit down, Lubabatu."
Lubabatu twisted her mouth and replied, "I didn't come to sit. Rabe sent me to collect the house rent. He said from now on, you will pay the rent every single month."
Ummu said, "Insha Allah, we will try our best. But please, do us a favor today. You see, the month hasn't ended yet, but when salaries are paid, I will bring it directly to your house."
"Who? Your father up there?!" Lubabatu snapped. "If you see me leaving this house, it means you've paid your money. If not, I will throw your things out into the street and leave, because today I came for two thousand five hundred, and one of two things must happen: either you give me the money, or I rain insults on you, and I am far more skilled in that department!"
Ummu pleaded, "Lubabatu, please have mercy. Wallahi, as soon as the month ends, I will bring your money to you myself."
Glaring at her with disdain, Lubabatu said, "Ah, what is this? I didn't come here for you to beg me. If you have money, give it to me. If not, you better figure something out. Or are we the ones sharing a house?"
Ummu called out to Zuhra, who came out quickly and greeted Lubabatu. Lubabatu didn't reply; instead, she shot her a fierce glare. Ummu said, "Go to Salame's place and borrow five hundred naira for me."
Zuhra hurried out and returned with the five hundred naira, handing it to Lubabatu. Lubabatu snatched the money with a loud, aggressive hiss and stormed out of the house.
Ummu sat quietly, pondering the sheer wickedness of Lubabatu and her husband Rabe—after all, she was the expert in that field. May Allah guide them.
The entire day passed without them having any proper food to eat, because Ummu didn't have a single kobo left, save for meager improvisations. Ummu had to endure seeing her children suffer, even though they were used to it.
Before the month ended, through her tigernut business, Ummu had managed to save up the rent money for Lubabatu and her husband.
Chapter 5
A few days later, the master builder himself—the taskmaster—arrived in person instead of sending Lubabatu. There was nobody else at home except Ummu, who was busy pouring tigernut drink into bottles. He walked straight in without even greeting her, causing Ummu to startle slightly.
"You're welcome," she managed to say.
He stared at her fixedly until she grew uneasy, then she forced herself to ask, "How are you doing?"
He smiled and replied, "I am fine. Aisha, how are the children?"
She was extremely surprised, because he had never humbled himself before, given his deep hatred for her. Always, his words towards her were insulting and derogatory. Yet today, he had softened his tone and was even asking about the children. Did he not know that actions speak louder than words? You only have to hear someone utter words of hostility to know it's hard for them to truly mean love. But whatever his game was, may Allah protect her from his evil.
He looked at her and asked, "Where are the children?" Ummu replied, "They went to Islamic school." He said, "That is good."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small hair pick, and began stroking his beard with the practiced smoothness of a seasoned playboy. The whole thing felt bizarre and out of character, forcing her to pause her work to see how things would play out.
He spent a long time stroking his beard and eyeing her seductively until she grew tired of waiting for him to state his business. Then he dropped another question: "Where is Awwalu? Though I know he went out looking for work. Do you know what brought me here?"
"Why don't you tell me?" she replied, eager for him to leave the house.
He said, "I came to collect the house rent, but Awwalu isn't around. So, what do we do now?" He said this in a soft, gentle voice.
Quickly, she went inside the room—he followed her every move with his eyes. She didn't stay long before coming out with three thousand naira in hand, handing it to him.
Instead of taking the money with his hand, he brushed his palm against her palm before taking the cash.
Wallahi, in her heart, she didn't suspect anything sinister at first; she thought it was just human clumsiness. He counted the money, saw that it was a crisp three thousand naira, and slipped it into his pocket.
Instead of standing up, he stretched out his legs even further—a move that baffled her completely. She could only leave matters in the hands of the Almighty.
"Aisha, my dear, is this how visitors are welcomed without even a glass of water or food?"
Still astonished, she replied, "I only did this because in all the time we've known each other, you've never asked for such things from us."
He smiled and said, "Well, I am asking today. Isn't a husband's younger brother also a husband, or not?"
She retorted, "No, there is a difference. A husband's younger brother is a younger brother, while a husband is a husband."
He said, "As far as I am concerned, you and Lubabatu are the same to me. Therefore, you should treat me the same way you treat Awwalu."
Indeed, she was now beginning to suspect his underlying intentions. Though he held no romantic appeal for her whatsoever, she never imagined he would stoop this low. But let her see where this conversation was heading.
She stood up and went into the room again. He followed her with his eyes, even narrowing them in appreciation. She brought him a cold bottle of tigernut drink. He took it, drank it all down in one go, gave a loud burp, and said, "Truly, Aisha, you are complete in every way! Everything about you is wonderful. Did you feel how delicious this tigernut drink tasted? Even you, I know..."
He trailed off, then changed his phrasing to: "You are a star among stars."
She had grown tired of listening to his words. She wanted to chase him away, yet she feared the consequences that might follow.
By the grace of Allah, Zuhra and her four younger siblings rushed in, greeted him hurriedly, and dashed into the room. He stood up, then leaned forward, facing her. She drew back slightly as he reached up, stroked his beard, and said in a low voice, "I am leaving."
She quickly replied, "Alright, greet the people at home."
He stood up, headed for the door, turned back to look at her, stroked his beard once more, and finally walked out of the house.
Now, she had fully figured out what he was after, and she felt disgusted by how he was displaying his goat-like behavior. It wasn't that she felt intimidated by him; rather, she was disgusted by how shamelessly he was revealing his true nature—especially considering she was his own blood brother's wife.
Now, should she report this conversation to her husband?
Chapter 6
A fork was in her hand as she scooped up fruit and brought it to her mouth. If you knew him, looking at her was like looking at him; there was no need to be told she was his mother. She was as fair-complexioned as he was, the only difference being their gender—and naturally, as a man, he had facial hair and a hairy body. Aside from those traits, if she were a man, it would be almost impossible to tell them apart except by age.
He dropped to his knees on the carpet and offered greetings to his mother. After they exchanged pleasantries, he looked at her and asked, "Mom, today is Monday, right?"
She replied, "Yes, is something the matter?"
He said, "I remembered that you are fasting today."
She answered, "Yes."
He remarked, "Mom, I feel like you are just stressing yourselves out. This fast isn't an obligatory one, yet you keep putting yourselves through it every single Monday..."
Summary
The narrative weaves together parallel stories of resilience, hardship, and toxic relationships. In the first storyline, Zuhra, a young girl selling tigernuts to help her struggling family, is run over by a callous, wealthy motorist who ruins her goods and insults her. Her mother, Ummu, battles immense financial distress while trying to care for her ailing husband, who suffers sudden medical emergencies. Despite borrowing money from a kind neighbor, Inna Sani, and enduring harassment from ruthless landlords like Lubabatu, Ummu remains fiercely loyal and devoted to her husband. Meanwhile, Lubabatu's husband (and Ummu's brother-in-law), Awwalu, begins displaying predatory and inappropriate advances toward Ummu, leaving her conflicted about whether to expose him. In the alternate storyline involving the wealthy elite, a remorseful wealthy motorist reflects on the poor girl he wronged, while within his mansion, domestic tension brews between his competitive wives, Hajir and Jawaheer.
Description
This dramatic contemporary fiction piece portrays the stark contrast between the struggles of the urban poor and the complex lives of the wealthy. It highlights themes of marital devotion, parental sacrifice, poverty, domestic rivalry, and predatory behavior by trusted relatives. The prose vividly captures the emotional weight of daily survival in northern Nigerian settings, contrasted with domestic drama in upper-class households.
Analytics
- Primary Setting: Northern Nigeria (urban environments featuring street trading, teaching hospitals, and affluent residential villas).
- Core Themes:
- Poverty vs. Wealth disparity.
- Familial loyalty and marital sacrifice (exemplified by Ummu).
- Betrayal of trust and predatory harassment within extended families (Awwalu's actions).
- Polygamous rivalry and emotional manipulation (Hajir and Jawaheer).
- Character Archetypes:
- Ummu: The resilient, self-sacrificing mother and devoted wife facing extreme adversity.
- Zuhra: An innocent, hardworking daughter supporting her family and navigating young love with Abbas.
- Awwalu: A deceptive, immoral brother-in-law abusing his position of access.
- Hajir & Jawaheer: Wealthy co-wives engaged in psychological and emotional turf wars.
