Wulakanci Dodone Book Ummu Maryam

Description

Translation in English

"Because of unemployment, you don't have men you'd want except for military men. Truly, something is wrong with this place. You're really annoying me—how can you, my friend, want a military man?"

"Truly, Taff, you've lost out! But since you're my friend, let me tell you something you don't know. I know that once I tell you, you'll stop talking like that."

I even raised my voice a bit, as if I knew someone was listening, and said, "You know by Allah, soldiers are insatiable (jarababbu). There is nothing they are good at except for that insatiable urge (jaraba). Mark my words, so remove any idea of loving a soldier from your heart!" I finished my speech while rolling my oily eyes in a certain way.

"Tabb!" Ameena said. "As for me, I don't even know what jaraba means. Won't you explain it to me?"

"Truly, Ameena, you are so foolish! Right now, you don't even know what jaraba is? Truly, you started at 2-zero, wallahi!" (And wallahi, even Nabla herself didn't know what jaraba meant; she just said it.)

One thing about Nabla is that she is gifted; whenever something is said and she is present, she retains it. The only problem is that Nabla loves nothing more than playing, dancing, and watching Indian series. If you happen to be on the side of someone she hates, you could never be friends with that person. She is clever, but on some days she is also clueless and stubborn.

Even the word jaraba—that day she went to Ya Jidda's place in Abuja and heard her on the phone with her friend, she heard Ya Jidda repeatedly using the word jaraba. That was it; she held onto it until it became like a song to her, and now she just felt the word fit soldiers best.

He stood frozen like a statue upon hearing the words coming from inside the room. Hearing the speech, he recognized whose voice it was; even in a dream, he would recognize his stubborn baby's voice.

The things she said made him laugh—fancying that every soldier is insatiable. Truly, young girl, you have grown up, he thought to himself, since she even knew that soldiers are full of that urge.

You will soon find out just how insatiable soldiers are, he said so quietly under his breath, and suddenly he felt the anxiety weighing on him vanish. He turned around and left the spot, not even bothering to greet Gwaggo, and headed straight to Baffa's site.

All the arrangements were being handled by Baffa alone, without even informing his wives, because he knew that if they found out what he intended to do, they would enter a state that wouldn't be pleasant for him. What he wanted to do was right for their family, even if they didn't see it that way—although every time he remembered what he was about to do, he felt a sudden pang of anxiety.

As for his family members, namely Mama and Gwaggo, they noticed his anger toward me wasn't normal, so nowadays they were holding back a bit and pointing out my mistakes. Mama herself went to Baffa to beg for my forgiveness, and he just flashed her a smile and said everything was over. She was extremely surprised by his response and attributed it to the deep love he had for me.

Today is Friday. Ya Ahmad dressed differently; he wore an exquisite, high-end shadda outfit intricately embroidered with special designs. Today he even wore a cap—you should see how Ya Ahmad stepped out looking completely like a Shuwa Arab. He looked extremely handsome, and his body radiated a pleasant fragrance.

He headed straight to the mosque where Baffa had told him they would observe the prayers. By the time he arrived, the call to prayer was already sounding.

After completing the Friday prayers and listening to the sermon, the imam of the mosque—who had been informed about the wedding Fatiha scheduled for today—began making the announcement. Everyone settled down to listen to whose marriage was about to be solemnized now.

All the legal and Islamic requirements for a wedding were fulfilled. Baffa acted as the groom’s guardian (wali), while one of Baffa’s friends, Ameena’s father, acted as the bride’s guardian.

Right then, the marriage was solemnized between AHMAD MUHAMMAD AHMAD AND HIS BRIDE NABEELA JUNAID UPON A MEHR OF THE SMALLEST AMOUNT, 5,000 NAIRA.

No sound could be heard except for "Alhamdulillah! Alhamdulillah!"

He felt a profound calmness in his heart as he heard the Fatiha being prayed for them. Then the people gathered there began offering him congratulations, even though he didn't know most of them. Yet he wasn't surprised, knowing he wasn't an obscure person.

Even though he told Baffa that after the wedding he would go to Mommy Larai's house since he wanted to return to Abuja today, he started his car and left the mosque courtyard. After greeting everyone with a smile on his face, he took the road home, having lifted the heavy burden resting on his neck.

Since the break of dawn, I woke up with my heart pounding. Even if I stood up straight, I could feel my chest beating rapidly.

Nonetheless, I forced myself to take a bath and applied my beauty lotions. Since it was Friday, I brought out my prayer atapfa material, styled as a top and skirt, and it looked very nice on me. I applied light makeup to my face and sprayed my body with a cool, pleasant perfume.

I was reading a book Ameena had lent me titled Rayuwar Sauban. Seeing the lives of Sauban and Saubat was wonderful, as if they never suffered.

Suddenly, Baffa walked into the house with a smile on his face like someone who had just received glad tidings of a mansion in Paradise. Right from the compound, he began shouting for Mama and Gwaggo, and even I turned to look at him through the window.

Right then, my heartbeat stopped for a second, and then I felt it thumping heavily—dum, dum, dum. I didn't take my eyes away until Mama and Gwaggo both came out carrying woven mats. Mama mustered the courage to spread the mat for them to sit, and all the while Baffa’s face was beaming.

Baffa cleared his throat before beginning to speak like this: "I will never hide the fact that among all my children, I hold Nabeela closest to my heart. But alas! Nabla turned out differently among my children, which is why we can never find peace under the same roof. This didn't bother me as much as the fact that she knows how to sneak behind my back to collect a boy's phone. This is why I have reached a decision to marry Nabla off, under the current circumstances..."

Before he could finish, I let out a piercing scream accompanied by a deep, wailing cry, and I crashed heavily to the floor—thud! Together, they rushed toward me while I completely lost consciousness of where I was.

(Author's Note segment omitted for translation flow)

Seeing that I was not breathing, Baffa told Mama to bring him water. With a cup full of water, Baffa poured it straight onto my face, and instantly my color changed.

I gasped for breath, though I couldn't open my eyes. Then I began remembering what had happened, and immediately I burst into a severe, pitiful cry that would touch the heart of anyone listening.

Mama and Gwaggo stood there; neither of them uttered a single word, not even a hum, while keeping their eyes fixed on us to see what Baffa would say next. Each of them showed a different shade of pity toward me. If Baffa said he didn't feel pity for the state I was in, he would be lying, but he managed to suppress his heart and began speaking:

"I know you have heard the decision I reached concerning you. You know my character; you know what I can do and what I cannot do. I am giving you an order, not advice: right now, without delay, get up and pack everything you know will be useful to you. Right now, Ahmad is on his way; you are going to your husband's house."

Without waiting to hear what I would say—knowing I could break his heart—he swept his grand robe and walked out.

It wasn't just me who was struck dumb by Baffa's words; even Gwaggo and Mama had assumed he was marrying her off so she could at least finish secondary school first. Oh, Gwaggo of all people, despite her tough demeanor, couldn't utter a single word; instead, she simply left the room.

Despite all my crying, it didn't even cross my mind to ask who this AHMAD was—who is he? What is his relationship with Baffa that Baffa could just hand my marriage over to him, even knowing I was too far too young for this whole thing?

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate everyone who loves you! I hate everyone connected to you, I hate you!" I burst out crying, a cry that wrung the soul. By then, I had completely lost my senses; the hair on my head, unbraided, was scattered wildly, making me look like a newly deranged madwoman.

Mama mustered the courage to come over to me, despite feeling deep pity for my condition. In a soft, soothing voice, Mama took my hand and pulled me up into a sitting position. Slowly, she opened her mouth and said: "Nabeela, hurry up and get dressed before Baffa comes back and finds you like this. It won't be pleasant for you, nor for us."

Without waiting for my answer, she pulled my box over and began tossing my clothes inside, along with everything else a young woman would need. She was wondering what kind of marriage Baffa had arranged for Nabeela. Even though she knew my behavior had crossed the line, Baffa shouldn't have gone this far. May Allah make it turn out well, she whispered.

She finished packing while I remained sitting where she had left me, my crying volume increasing as I rubbed my feet together. She went into the toilet, prepared bathwater for me, and when she came back out without saying a word, she pulled me to my feet and led me into the bathroom herself.

Recognizing that there is no savior except Allah, I took a bath, but tears still streamed down my face whenever I remembered that I, Nabeela, had been given out in marriage.

When I came out of the bathroom, Mama brought out one of my prayer outfits for me. While crying, I applied Vaseline and lotion to my body—it was a material lace top and skirt. First, I put on my underwear, then I put on the top (which was a bit tight on me, making my budding chest clearly visible), and then I put on the skirt, all the while sobbing.

While I was doing this, Mama walked in carrying a food flask. She sat on the edge of the bed and I wiped my tears; she also sat on the bed and placed the food flask on the floor. She took one of my hands in hers and used the other to wipe away the tears that refused to stop.

With a smile that hurt more than crying, Mama looked at me and began giving me deep, soul-piercing words of advice. I could only hear her voice entering my right ear and going right out the left.

She picked up the food to feed me, just as Baffa walked into the room. He gave us one look, averted his gaze, and said, "If you're dressed, come out, don't waste his time," and with that, he left.

Still crying, I said, "That's it, everyone hates me, no one loves me, that's why they're doing this to me, may God..." Before I could finish what I wanted to say, Mama used her hand to cover my mouth while shaking her head at me.

He was dressed in a soft, fine brocade outfit tailored to fit him exceptionally well. As usual, he wore no cap, and the fragrance of oud perfume radiated from his body.

He walked into Gwaggo's room while she was sitting and thinking about her daughter. Just as they usually did, they greeted each other, and she prayed for blessings upon his life. Throughout her talk, she showed no sign of knowing about his marriage to the stubborn baby.

When he bid her farewell, she couldn't walk him out because she couldn't bear to look at the state the girl was in; she stopped at the doorway. At that moment, Mama walked me out holding my hand, draping a medium veil over me.

Suddenly, our eyes met with Gwaggo's. Quickly, she averted her eyes and hurried back into her room. I don't even know when I yanked the veil off, threw it down, and bolted away running. I hadn't even noticed there was a man standing there.

I grabbed Gwaggo, who was standing instead of sitting, and with tears streaming down my face, I said: "Gwaggo, even you now—I'm sure you don't love me, you don't care about me, since you could allow me to be married off at 15 years old? Gwaggo, what did I do to you all to deserve this, that you don't love me and don't care about my happiness? Gwaggo, why weren't Samira and Ya Jidda treated this way? Why wasn't Ummita, who is the exact same age as me, married off, but only me? Is it because I committed just one mistake, Gwaggo?"

"Even if you don't give me an answer, Gwaggo, I know it's because you don't love me..." The sharp sound of a slap landing on my face cut off the rest of my words. "Nabeela, are you in your right mind? Because you were married off, are you going mad or losing your senses? Ah, wallahi, you are not going to go crazy inside my room! Get out of my room right now before I beat you to a pulp!" she shouted angrily.

A mixture of a smile and tears hit me at once. Holding my cheek, I said: "Gwaggo, I am going out, I will leave. But once I leave, Gwaggo, I will never set foot in this room again!" Without waiting to hear what my mother figure would say, I walked out shedding hot tears.

"Inallillahi!" Gwaggo exclaimed, bursting into tears. "What kind of thing is this? May God forbid that Nabeela has gone mad!" Despite the terrible state she was in, it didn't stop her from praying, "May God bless you."

When I stepped out of the room, Mama was standing there with the veil in her hand. She flashed me a smile and handed it to me; I took it and draped it over myself, still crying nonstop. Since the mother who gave birth to me had shown she didn't want me, even if everyone else hated me, it wouldn't make a difference.

She didn't tell me to wipe my tears either; she just took my hand and we went outside. Near the door, we met Ummita and Ameena coming in. Seeing us, they stopped dead in their tracks, staring at us.

With trembling voices, they asked together, "Are you okay?" I didn't even look at them, because right now I hated everyone.

Mama was trying to speak when Baffa walked in. Somewhat testily, he said, "What are you waiting for? You've left Ahmad outside waiting, and I told you that today you are leaving this town!"

Every time Baffa uttered that name, I felt my chest pound, as if something was stabbing my heart. When we stepped outside, I couldn't catch a glimpse of this Ahmad's face because his back was turned to us as he spoke with Baffa.

Mama opened the front car door and placed me inside. A soothing, cool fragrance washed over my nose, and despite everything I was going through, it still made me close my oily eyes.

Seeing that Mama was about to close the door, I quickly grabbed her hand and burst into crying. Softly, I said, "Mama, you're not going to leave me and go back, are you?"

Just as Mama was about to say "Nabla," Baffa turned around, gently pulled Mama's hand away from mine, and said, "May Allah bless you." With that, he pulled Mama's hand and they walked away.

Ummita and Ameena just stood there staring in awe at the wonders of God, since they didn't even know what was happening.

Throughout my intense crying, I felt someone looking at me. Even so, I didn't raise my head; instead, I increased the volume of my crying.

He let out a sigh and said softly, "Won't you close the door?"

"Subhanallah!" I exclaimed upon hearing the voice of this servant of God, which made me lift my head quickly. At that moment, as luck would have it, he was still looking at me too, and our eyes locked directly into each other's.

Quickly, I looked away because I couldn't endure that gaze, coupled with a strange sensation moving through my body. Slowly, I used my hand—adorned with long, slender fingers tipped with henna—to pull the door shut.

Realizing that I was truly leaving the town where I was born, I burst into crying all over again, closed my oily eyes, and leaned against the seat as he started the car and began driving slowly.

As for me, with my eyes closed, I shed bitter tears of frustration and the lack of love shown by my parents, until we drove out of our neighborhood and hit the highway. We headed toward the GRA, with him driving at a moderate speed. From time to time, he glanced sideways at how I was crying and sobbing, but he averted his face and didn't utter a single word until we arrived at his house.

He honked, the gateman opened the gate, and he drove the nose of the car into the courtyard and parked. Without saying a word to me, he opened his door to step out. Seeing that he was about to leave me inside the car, I opened my door and hurried after him just as he was about to step inside.

He turned around, glanced at me fleetingly, and then flashed me a glare. "So you even know what you're supposed to do?" he remarked as he walked past.

At that moment, only I knew what I was feeling—my chest was heaving, a severe pain throbbed in my head, and my body felt weak. As I walked and placed my foot inside the parlor incorrectly, my foot slipped. I let out a scream and plunged downwards—woosh!—about to fall with my eyes closed since I had given up. Quickly, he caught me, and I fell straight against his chest.

A strange shock—or call it some indescribable sensation—surged through me from my head down to my smallest toe, making me tingle yarrr, as if my bones had been extracted. Quickly, I opened my eyes and fixed them on his face, noticing that he was completely out of it, staring intently at one spot.

I looked down at my chest, which was exposed because the top had stretched tightly over me. Quickly, I raised my hand to cover the spot, which made him lift his head and lock his melting, half-closed eyes onto mine. He bit his lower lip before letting me go. With my body trembling, he walked ahead and I followed behind, each of us carrying our own thoughts in our hearts.

(Author's Note segment omitted for translation flow)

With great difficulty, I managed to make it inside the parlor. I don't even know when I collapsed onto the cushion, bursting into a heavy, uncontrollable cry.

He didn't turn around; instead, he walked straight into the bedroom. Without wasting any time, he stripped off his clothes, took a bath, put on light home wear, and walked back out into the parlor.

By then, I was completely exhausted; my body was trembling, running a high fever, yet I felt a strange chill that made me wrap myself in the shawl I had draped over my shoulders.

Seeing the state I was in, he said "Subhanallah" quickly and hurried over to where I was lying. He placed his hand on my face, which was hot and flushed. He removed the shawl I had wrapped around myself and set it on the cushion. With his arms, he picked me up like a baby and carried me into the bedroom, laying me down on the bed while my eyes remained closed with thin trails of tears.

He went into the bathroom and returned shortly carrying a medium-sized bowl and a towel. He placed the bowl on the edge of the bed and climbed onto the bed, positioning himself over my body despite my attempts to wriggle away from him. He held me firmly against his body; feeling weak, I finally went limp against him.

Slowly, he began unzipping my top all the way to the bottom. He pulled his hand away and removed the top completely. He tried to take off the bra I was wearing, but I quickly grabbed his hands from behind and shook my head at him. Softly, into my ear, he whispered: "Just pull your hands away, let me help you."

The way he spoke, as if whispering a secret, sent shivers down the hairs of my body, and I lost control of when I let go of him and snuggled even closer to his body.

He removed the bra, and upon laying eyes on my breasts, he closed his eyes tightly as he felt a sharp surge pierce through him. He forced himself to remove the skirt as well, until my entire body—possessing a figure that could steal the sanity of anyone who beheld it—was fully uncovered. He closed his eyes and lowered them onto my face, which still bore dried-up tears.

He picked up the towel, dipped it into the water, wrung it out, and began wiping down every part of my body with the damp towel. As the heat in my body began to subside, he set the bowl down on the floor. He paused to gaze admiringly at my frame, unable to tear his eyes away. Seeing that staring wasn't enough, he reached out and placed his hand directly on my breasts, which had captured his attention above all else.

He began stroking them expertly, rolling the nipples. Sleep was already beginning to claim me, and I started feeling a strange shift in my sensations. Quickly, I opened my eyes and fixed them on the man Baffa had called Ahmad, who was now leaning down to press his mouth against my breast.

Before he could reach it, I burst into tears again, pushing him away with my hands. Quickly, he adjusted his posture, looking at me while silently praying to God that I didn't understand what he was about to do.

I pouted my lips, and despite feeling a headache, I said: "Even you—you know what you're doing is wrong, right? Staring at my body, and now trying to touch it! It turns out Baffa married me off to a pervert who doesn't even know your character!" I twisted my cute mouth and burst into tears all over again.

From the moment I started speaking, he didn't stop looking at me—not at anything else, but straight at my full, pert breasts. I was still wearing nothing but my panties; seeing that the staring was going on too long, I pulled the bedsheet over my body and shot him a fierce, furious glare.

He was about to say something when his phone, lying beside him, rang. As the phone was about to stop ringing, he picked it up. Seeing the name of the caller made him pause, feeling a flutter in his chest. He answered it with a faint smile on his face.

From the other end, speaking in a coy, baby voice, she said: "My soldier, my sweet! You left me waiting for a long time, and I even prepared a special surprise for you. Please come back, it's almost 5:00 PM and you're not back yet, even though I know you took a jet?"

He glanced at me briefly. I was looking at him too, but as soon as I saw him look back, I quickly closed my eyes. He let out a breath...

Comprehensive Summary

Chapters 17 to 20 bridge the dramatic transition from NJ’s (Nabeela's) chaotic life in Zaria to her shocking, forced marriage and relocation to Abuja.

• The Setup & Wedding (Zaria): In Zaria, Nabla and her friend Ameena gossip casually about soldiers being "insatiable" (jarababbu), a slang term Nabla picked up randomly. Unbeknownst to her, Ya Ahmad overhears this conversation from outside. Meanwhile, Baffa secretly orchestrates a marriage arrangement without consulting his wives. On Friday, after a grand wedding ceremony officiated at the mosque, Ahmad Muhammad Ahmad marries Nabeela Junaid for a modest bride price of 5,000 Naira.
• The Forced Revelation & Trauma: Baffa drops the bomb on his family, announcing that 15-year-old Nabeela is married and must leave immediately for her husband's house. Nabeela collapses in profound shock and grief, wailing hysterically. Gwaggo slaps her out of panic and frustration, and Mama tearfully helps her pack and bathe, offering words of counsel that Nabeela is too distraught to absorb.
• Arrival in Abuja: Nabeela is bundled into a car by Baffa and Mama and handed over to Ya Ahmad. Overwhelmed by betrayal, grief, and homesickness, she cries uncontrollably throughout the drive to Abuja. Arriving at Ahmad's GRA residence, she trips at the threshold and falls into his arms, triggering an intense, electric physical reaction between them.
• Tender Care & Romantic Tension: Inside the Abuja mansion, Nabeela runs a fever and is physically exhausted from trauma. Ahmad softens, carrying her to his bed, gently undressing her (over her protests), and wiping her down with a damp towel to cool her fever. However, the intimate medical care quickly blurs into romantic and physical tension as Ahmad is captivated by her body. Nabeela reacts with naive indignation, scolding him as a "pervert" and retreating under the bedsheet. The chapter closes with Ahmad receiving a phone call from an eager, affectionate caller (likely Lubna), interrupting the tense domestic atmosphere.

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