Zulfa Compelet Book

Description

Part 1: The night was filled with immense mercy, as everyone stayed indoors due to the heavy downpour. Vehicle owners were inside, while pedestrians and motorcyclists sought shelter because the rain was falling in blinding sheets. The night shift workers were out at their posts.

At this time, Zulfah was out in the rain, washing the dinner dishes outside. The intensity of the storm did not move Goggo Marka to pity her. Marka sat comfortably in her downstairs room on her rotting mattress with a brazier nearby, keeping warm alongside her daughter, Salaha. Off to the side sat Zulfah's father, Malam Ado, sitting with his head propped in his hands, secretly watching his daughter struggling in the rain. His heart burned with anguish, but he was utterly helpless because Marka dominated the household. Zulfah prayed desperately to finish quickly so she could retreat to her tiny room, no larger than six paces.

As soon as she finished, she hurriedly tidied the area because the rain seemed determined to wash her away. She quickly stepped to the threshold of her room, stripped off her wet clothes so they wouldn't soak the floor—especially since the door lacked a proper covering and the rain had already soaked the entrance. She wrung out her clothes and hung them over her washbasin, then slipped into some ragged, threadbare garments. Hastily, she climbed onto her mattress, which was no better than a woven mat.

She felt an agonizing hunger, as she rarely got leftovers today, save for a tiny bit from Kabiru, Salaha's older brother, which she had managed to scavenge. Yet, her intense longing to hear the voice that banished her loneliness and lulled her to sleep with happiness quickly outweighed her hunger. It was a voice that made her forget every insult and grief, wiping away the hunger gnawing at her stomach.

She picked up her old radio, which was missing its battery compartment cover. Looking at it, you would never guess it could work, but with the aid of a hairpin, she managed to switch it on. Eagerly, she tuned to Liberty Radio, turning the volume all the way up because the battery was nearly dead. She buried her head inside her wrapper, pressing the radio directly to her ear. It was five minutes to eight. She listened to the music playing, and right at eight o'clock, she heard a soft, soul-stirring love song. She closed her eyes, knowing this was the signature tune signaling the arrival of her favorite person. She adjusted her posture, and instantly, the cold gripping her vanished.

The voice of "Abubakar Sadiq Marafa" struck her eardrums with its signature tone of pride and elegance—a style that enraptured thousands of high-class women across Kaduna and its environs. He began with greetings in Hausa and Arabic, extended warm regards to his fans in English, and then smoothly transitioned into hosting his program in Hindi. He delivered it with such mastery that any respectable woman on a Friday night would be glued to her radio from eight to nine. Some even walked around visiting with their radios glued to their ears just not to miss it. Sadiq Marafa had barely spent six months hosting the show, but due to his immense skill and popularity, you would swear he had been there since the station first opened.

Because he was a man who deeply honored true love and the rainy season mood, he had curated this particular night with soothing, heartfelt music. By 8:40 PM, after completing his main presentation, he turned to answering listener questions. He announced he would only take three questions tonight because he wanted to say a proper farewell to his fans.

Zulfah's heart skipped a beat, and panic seized her. She threw off the wrapper she had covered herself with as a sudden wave of sweat broke out over her. In a soft voice, Zee Gayu threw out the first question: "The first question comes from Salma Ibrahim. A question Marafa always answers without fail—surely, Malam Salma must be a newcomer to our program! The question is: Is Sadiq married?"

Sadiq laughed heartily at Zee's delivery and replied, "Oh Zee! Malam Salma, I am not married. But please pray for me to find a righteous and complete woman." Zee teased back, "You have no intention yet, but women out here look like they could devour each other!" In a hushed, intimate voice so the audience could barely hear, Sadiq confessed, "Zee, I haven't met the desire of my heart just yet." He closed his eyes, visualizing the kind of woman he had dreamed of since childhood.

Zee raised her voice excitedly, "There you have it, listeners! Marafa says he hasn't met the desire of his heart yet. So keep praying for him to find her soon. And if the woman destined to be his heart's desire is listening right now, pray that God brings you together no matter how long it takes!" You should have seen women in their homes shouting "Ameen!"

Zulfah wiped a tear from her eye. She knew she could never hope to meet Sadiq because he was far out of her league—way beyond the social class of a girl with no standing or patronage. Yet, the voice that always made her forget the daily abuses at home was about to say a final goodbye to her ears. Why on earth is he saying goodbye? she asked her heart.

Before she could find an answer, he had already finished answering the questions. In a gentle voice, he said: "I am saying goodbye to you, my beloved fans. I am laying down this program because circumstances require it. I ask anyone I may have ever offended in life to forgive me, and I freely forgive all who have offended me. To those who do not know my face, I pray that God unites us in Jannatul Firdausi. Thank you for your love, and may God bring someone worthy to take my place. Finally, I ask for your prayers that God helps and grants me success in what I am seeking. Thank you, thank you, and may God keep us together."

Music began to play softly in the ears of his weeping fans. Zulfah tossed her radio into her rumpled bag of clothes and burst into uncontrollable tears. A night that was supposed to be cool, sweet, and comforting for lovers turned out to be the hottest, most agonizing night for the poor maid, Zulfah.

(Written by Mrs. Tijjani Shattima / Aysha Ya'u Kurah)

Part 2: The next morning, she woke up around five o'clock despite getting barely any sleep. She stepped out into the courtyard and saw a massive pile of laundry by her door—belonging to Goggo Marka and Salaha. Her heart sank at the sheer volume, coupled with the dampness from the rainy season. Her head pounded viciously from exhaustion. She sat down, propping her head up with a water jug before her, reflecting on the bitter life she had endured ever since her mother died when she was just ten years old. Ever since, her life had been one of endless servitude without a single moment of joy or adequate meals. This constant misery was why Zulfah was never cheerful, even at school. Speaking was an immense effort for her, and when she did speak, her voice was so soft people often missed it. She had suffered countless beatings from Goggo for her soft-spoken nature, but she couldn't change who she was.

A sharp, heavy knock on the head cut short her thoughts. She scrambled down from the concrete slab, clutching her head. Goggo barked, "What useless thing are you sitting there doing? All the chores of this house haven't even been started, you lazy, witch-like creature! Let me tell you, if day breaks and you haven't finished this laundry, I will curse you mercilessly!" Marka marched off to her akara-frying station, grumbling fiercely.

The neighbors were well used to Marka's morning rants. As for Zulfah's father, Malam Ado, it had become a familiar tragedy, but he was powerless to rescue his daughter from Marka's clutches. He constantly prayed that she would find a husband to marry and escape the house, resolving that even if a common laborer came to seek her hand, as long as he could provide for her food and shelter, he would give her away.

Zulfah finished her dawn prayers, quickly picked up a large paint bucket, and went to fetch water from the borehole at their neighborhood mosque. Luckily, there was no queue because it was still pitch dark. Saleem—the local imam's son and her Islamic studies teacher—spotted her fetching water after coming out from morning prayer. Compassionately, he walked over to the borehole. While she was pumping away, panting heavily, she heard his greeting, smiled weakly, and said, "Good morning, Malam." "Morning," he replied, stepping up to help her pump. "Please don't bother, Malam, I'm already done. This is the last one," she protested. Without listening, he finished filling the bucket, reached down to pick it up, and she grabbed the edge, pleading, "Please, Malam, leave it, lest I burden you." He looked at her and commanded, "Drop the bucket and let's go."

She obeyed silently, and they walked together until they reached the front of her house. He set the bucket down by the entrance slab, visibly straining from the heavy load. Calling her name softly, he said, "Have patience, Zulfah. Hardship doesn't last forever; everything in this world passes. Always pray that God brings a way out of this dark life." Tears welled in her eyes as she replied, "Thank you, Malam. May God reward you abundantly." "Ameen," he said. "You know your exams start today, so hurry up and come to school." "Okay, thank you, Malam," she said, picking up the bucket and rushing inside.

She began washing furiously, finishing around 6:30 AM. Despite the biting cold, Zulfah didn't feel it due to sheer exhaustion. As soon as she finished rinsing, she hung some clothes in her compound and took the rest to Inna Delu's house to hang them there. Hanne emerged from her room stretching, having just woken up. She glared at Zulfah, hissed, and spat, "You perpetual sufferer! You'll stay wretched till the end of your days, acting with such arrogant pride as if you're a king's daughter."

Zulfah ignored her entirely, completely used to the hostility of Inna Delu and her daughter Hanne. Goggo Ameena stepped out and scolded, "Hanne, leave the girl alone. Haven't you caused her enough trouble with Marka and Salaha? If anything happened to her, you'd all be held responsible!" This only infuriated Hanne further, who launched into a vicious verbal assault alongside Inna Delu, even giving Zulfah a shove.

Faiza, Goggo Ameena's daughter, came out and helped Zulfah finish hanging the clothes while ignoring Hanne and Delu completely. Goggo Ameena called out, "Faiza, tell Zulfah not to leave yet; she must eat some tuwo." Fa'ee agreed and sat with Zulfah, chatting about their upcoming exams while Goggo served leftover guinea-corn tuwo with sorrel soup. They washed their hands and ate heartily until they were full.

Zulfah suddenly jumped up, saying, "Goggo, thank you so much, let me rush back home." Goggo Ameena replied, "Have patience, Zulfah. The patient person reaps the rewards; one day your story will change." Zulfah thanked her again and hurried out.

As she re-entered her home, she found a crowd of men gathered around Goggo Marka's akara stand, making a lot of noise. She quickly grabbed cold water from her stash, rushed to the bathroom to bathe, and changed into her faded school uniform. Returning to her tiny room, she dug into an empty Vaseline jar to scrape out the very last remnants to rub on her face.

She went to the kitchen area, squatted, and greeted, "Good morning, Goggo." Marka looked at her with utter contempt and sneered, "Where do you think you're going, stubborn girl?" "Goggo, Islamic school exams start today," Zulfah answered.

Salaha, who was sitting close to a tricycle taxi driver looking at a phone together, hissed loudly and snapped, "Who do you think is going to clean your room? You're leaving it filthy just because you don't sleep in it!" Zulfah didn't even look at Salaha, pleading softly, "Goggo, exams start today, I promise I'll clean it the moment I return."

Without warning, Marka hurled a pot lid at Zulfah, striking her directly. Palm oil and soot smeared all over her hijab. Screaming furiously, Marka raged, "Get out of my sight and go clean everywhere, fill all the water drums in this house, and when akara frying is done, wash everything and start cooking!"

Tears filled Zulfah's eyes as she stood up and retreated into her room, listening to the men at the transport station laughing and mocking her alongside Salaha. She quickly cleaned Goggo's room, grabbed her bucket, and headed outside. At the front of the house, she bumped into Fa'ee. "Where are you going with a bucket?" Fa'ee asked. "To fetch water. Go on ahead so I don't delay you," Zulfah replied.

Fa'ee violently snatched the bucket, hurled it back into the compound in defiance, grabbed Zulfah's hand, and dragged her away forcibly despite Zulfah's resistance. Fa'ee refused to let go until they rounded the corner.

Crying softly, Zulfah burst out, "Fa'ee, do you realize what kind of trouble you've just brought down on me? Why would you do that? You know I have no escape, Goggo will never believe I didn't throw that bucket myself. Today God is the only one who can save me from her—she might actually kill me today!"

She broke down sobbing on the ground. Fa'ee scolded her, "Your cowardice is what causes your problems! Look at you, Zulfah, you're old enough, yet you let them beat you like a drum. Can't you fight for your own freedom instead of just sitting around crying?" "What freedom, Fa'ee? Do I have any freedom in this life? My father couldn't secure my freedom, so I have to seek it myself? Fa'ee, the life I'm living... I don't seek help from anyone except God. Only He knows why He leaves me in this condition, and I thank Him always for keeping me alive and with—"

“—and health,” a voice finished from behind them. Fa'ee squatted down with a smile and greeted, "Good morning, Malam." He acknowledged her, staring intently at Zulfah who was still weeping. She greeted him as well. He replied briefly, "Hurry up and get to school, time is running out." Fa'ee grabbed Zulfah's hand as she wiped her tears, and they hurried off. He followed them with his gaze full of profound pity, whispering silently to himself, "O God, bring a change into the life of Your servant, Zulfah..."

(Written by Mrs. Tijjani Shattima / Aysha Ya'u Kurah)

Part 3: I was walking quickly, my legs aching from the lack of transportation and the long distance to my destination. My feet finally stopped in front of a massive, opulent mansion—a house so grand that even among the luxury estates of GRA, there was none quite like it. I stood by the gate because looking east, west, north, and south revealed no other way in. I lingered near some flowers to rest.

Suddenly, as if summoned from thin air, soldiers swung the gates open. I crept inside stealthily so they wouldn't catch me and get me into deep trouble. Standing near a 2014 Ford, I spotted a handsome, well-built, distinguished-looking man in a white Navy uniform. By all appearances, he was a high-ranking naval officer. Beside him stood a stunning black-beauty woman holding a little girl of about four years old. Their striking resemblance to the man made it clear she was his daughter.

In the distance, I spotted a breathtakingly gorgeous young woman of about eighteen, holding hands with two younger twins who looked identical and wore matching outfits as they walked over. They stopped near the woman. The older girl greeted, "Yaya, good morning." He replied cheerfully, patting the twins' heads. He took the baby from the woman and said, "Adda Laila, good morning." She replied, "Morning, dear." "You two hurry up and get inside so we can leave before Daddy gets back," he instructed.

They boarded two vehicles—each driven by soldiers, with an extra security car filled with armed guards. The motorcade rolled out of the estate as the guards snapped salutes.

Inside a lavishly furnished, air-conditioned, and beautifully scented parlor sat a gorgeous, fair-skinned woman dressed in exquisite attire, holding a tasbih (prayer beads) and reciting her dhikr. I heard footsteps descending from upstairs and looked up to see another equally breathtaking woman dressed in glamorous, heavily made-up attire. She walked over and sat beside the first woman. "Good morning, Yaya," she greeted cheerfully. The woman seated looked up with a warm smile and said, "Anty Amarya, did you sleep well?" "Very well," she replied as they continued chatting. It was then I realized they were the senior wife and the junior wife (co-wives).

About an hour after leaving, they returned home. With greetings echoing, an elderly white-haired gentleman entered first, followed closely by the others. A young man wearing a uniform matching the elder gentleman's—whom I assumed was their father—walked over to greet the family's wives who stood waiting to welcome their husband. "Mummy, Anty-na, good morning," the young officer greeted. Anty affectionately stroked his head and replied, "Morning, my son, how are you?" "I'm fine, hope you all are well?" "Splendid," they all chorused. Everyone settled comfortably, chatting happily together.

(Written by Mrs. Tijjani Shattima / Aysha Ya'u Kurah)

Part 4: Readers will surely want to know the history of this household, so let's dive in.

We have arrived at the residence of the Chief of Air Staff of the Nigerian Air Force, Air Marshal Hasheem Abubakar Marafa. He has two wives: Hajiya Aisha (Mummy), the senior wife, and Anty Hadiza (Anty Amarya). He has six children in total, all born to Mummy, as Anty Amarya has never been able to bear children.

• Usman (Nurain): The eldest. He is a successful naval officer currently holding the rank of Naval Commander. He is married to Laila, and they have one daughter named Ayda. He lives with his family in his parents' compound, and they live in peace because Laila is a very kind and amiable woman.
• Abubakar Sadiq (Abba): The second born. He graduated from Stanford University in California and is currently undergoing a two-year military training program at the Air Force University in Montgomery, Alabama. They had just completed all registration formalities, and his father is set to return there within a week. Before securing this training, Sadiq hosted a program on Liberty Radio, launched through his former secondary school classmate, "Zee Gayu." Since childhood, he had a deep passion for media, drama, and broadcasting. Despite his father's fierce resistance—insisting his son join the military instead—Mummy eventually persuaded Sadiq to choose the Air Force, a transition made smooth by his father's high rank.
• Umar (Farouk): The third born, currently studying at Oxford University.
• Jalila: The fourth born, who finished her secondary education at Dambo International School.
• Afrah & Amrah: The seven-year-old twins currently in Primary 2 at Legacy School.

Anty Amarya was deeply distressed by her childlessness. They visited countless hospitals, but doctors confirmed she would never conceive. Though it tormented her initially, she eventually found peace due to the immense affection she received from her husband, her stepchildren, and Mummy. Mummy treated Anty Amarya with absolute fairness, fearing God's judgment regarding injustice toward co-wives. Mummy was a woman detached from worldly vanities, her lips constantly moving in praise of God. Anty Amarya, on the other hand, loved comfort; her entire life was built on outward appearance and luxury, her greatest desire being to wear expensive clothes, ride in guarded convoys, and hang out with high-society friends. The fact that she was childless was the only thing preventing her from indulging even more—a thought that frequently crossed her mind.

Every Friday, Mummy took Islamic studies lessons. She and her young teacher, Saleem Abdulrahman, sat in a small thatched gazebo. Today, as usual, after finishing their lesson, Jalila packed away the Quran and textbooks into a room. Malam Saleem offered Mummy some parting words of advice, as was their custom, and handed her an invitation card for his students' graduation ceremony coming up in two weeks. Delighted, Mummy accepted, saying, "In sha Allah, you will see us there. But after the graduation, you're heading off to Law School, right?" "In sha Allah, Hajiya," he replied. "Alhamdulillah, may God keep us alive," Mummy prayed. "Ameen, Hajiya," he said, bidding her farewell before leaving.

Later that night, the family gathered in the parlor. The twins and Ayda were doing their homework supervised by Jalila. Daddy and Nurain were out. Sadiq lay near Mummy chatting with her, while Anty Amarya and Laila bustled about in the kitchen.

The door was pushed open without a knock. "Hello dearies!" a voice chimed as the door swung wide. Jalila looked up quickly, jumped to her feet, and squealed, "Sanah love, oyoyo!" Everyone rushed to hug her, including the twins. She set down her suitcase and walked over to Mummy, who gave a constrained smile since Sanah's behavior didn't entirely sit well with her. Sanah hugged Mummy and asked, "Mom, how's home?" "Splendid, Sanah. How is your mother?" Mummy asked. "Fine," Sanah replied.

She glanced at Sadiq sitting near Mummy, who had frozen and couldn't take his eyes off her. She blew a light breath toward his face and teased, "Yaya Abba, alright?" He closed his eyes for a second, intoxicated by the pleasant fragrance wafting from her. Jalila grabbed her hand, and they took the suitcase inside to freshen up. After changing into a stunning flowing gown, they returned to the parlor.

Anty Amarya gasped in mock astonishment, "Sanah, when did you arrive?" Mummy remarked dryly, "Well, you wouldn't notice her since she went straight to her friend." Sanah laughed and greeted, "Anty Dee, how are you?" Anty smiled back, continuing to set the dining table.

Sadiq, paralyzed by the sight of Sanah, stared fixedly at her. In that single moment, the young woman had completely captivated him. He felt an intense, sudden love stirring deep within his heart—she was the exact embodiment of the woman he had dreamed of. He didn't know her, but who was she to this household?

Sanah Hameed was the niece of Anty Amarya, living in Abuja. Her mother was a prominent politician, and her father...

(Written by Mrs. Tijjani Shattima / Aysha Ya'u Kurah)

2. Summary

The provided excerpt follows two contrasting lives bound by socioeconomic disparity and fate in Northern Nigeria. Zulfah is an impoverished, orphaned girl trapped in a household of servitude under the cruel thumb of Goggo Marka, enduring backbreaking chores, abuse, and hunger. Her only solace is listening to a popular radio love program hosted by Abubakar Sadiq Marafa on Liberty Radio—a voice that brings her emotional comfort and helps her forget her daily miseries. However, the emotional high shatters when Sadiq tearfully announces his retirement from broadcasting to pursue military training.

Concurrently, the narrative introduces the opulent lifestyle of the Marafa family, headed by Air Marshal Hasheem Abubakar Marafa. Sadiq Marafa is revealed to be the charming, educated son of the Air Marshal who is preparing to leave for advanced military training in America. The plot thickens with the arrival of Sanah Hameed, Anty Amarya's niece, who immediately captures Sadiq's heart at first sight, setting the stage for intersecting destinies between the privileged military elite and the downtrodden Zulfah.

3. Description

Set against the backdrop of rainy Nigerian townships and elite GRA mansions, the narrative paints a vivid, sensory-rich picture of domestic life. It contrasts the stark, squalid conditions of Zulfah's existence—marked by rotting mattresses, unrelenting downpours, smoke-filled kitchens, and verbal abuse—with the luxurious, air-conditioned, and orderly environment of the Marafa household. The author employs descriptive depth to highlight themes of patriarchal helplessness, societal class divides, the healing power of media and voice, and the quiet resilience of marginalized youth.

4. Analytics

• Character Dynamics: The story thrives on binary oppositions. Zulfah and Goggo Marka represent the oppressed versus the oppressor, while characters like Malam Saleem and Fa'ee serve as supportive anchors for Zulfah. On the elite side, the harmonious co-existence of Mummy and Anty Amarya highlights a functional polygamous household, contrasting sharply with Marka's tyrannical domain.
• Thematic Motifs:
  • Rain/Weather: Symbolizes both cleansing and trial (the heavy downpour mirrors Zulfah's emotional turbulence).
  • Radio/Voice: Acts as an ethereal bridge connecting two completely different social strata (Sadiq and Zulfah).
• Narrative Structure: Shifting perspectives seamlessly blend grassroots struggles with upper-class familial logistics, building emotional investment in Zulfah's plight while setting up a grand romantic convergence.

5. Comments

The excerpt is a classic piece of contemporary Northern Nigerian Hausa popular literature (often termed Littattafan Soyayya), skillfully adapted into narrative prose. It successfully evokes deep empathy for the protagonist through emotional manipulation of hardship while maintaining reader engagement through the allure of high-society romance and family secrets. The pacing effectively balances slow, agonizing domestic scenes with dramatic radio broadcasts and elite introductions.

6. Conclusions

The text serves as a compelling opening arc that establishes deep emotional stakes for its protagonist, Zulfah, while laying down an intricate web of elite family background. By intertwining Zulfah's secret infatuation with Sadiq Marafa's radio persona and the physical introduction of Sanah into the Marafa household, the author masterfully builds anticipation for how these disparate worlds will eventually collide.

7. Keywords Table