Overall, Ummi felt her feet grow cold, as if they were about to give out. She struggled to pull herself together and entered the room directly, not stopping where Iya was.
Her passing didn’t make Iya speak or intervene; instead, she just watched silently. Ummi, however, was resolute, continuing her complaint: “I am tired of this Mariya and her disasters. I must rise and seek order so that the torment and chaos of these people stop tracking me. Mariya doesn’t have to go insane for my child’s right never to leave her. Even if, God willing, she begins wandering naked, it won’t bother me. My rights and my child’s will never let her enjoy life. Now she has started her madness but hasn’t realized anything yet.”
Ummi paused in the room, staring around. Being a young child, she was not used to enduring such things, and it made her speculate about all that had happened in this room.
The arrangement of the room, the smell of the incense that her mother often lit, the way she used to sit on her father’s lap to eat, the night she was assaulted—though she couldn’t remember everything—she could not forget how her mother had tried to please Iya. She looked at how the room now seemed foreign and desolate, like a forest scorched by fire.
She knelt and burst into tears, crying bitterly, while hearing Iya continue to insult her mother with curses and wicked words.
Ummi could not leave the room until almost mid-afternoon, as God helped her reach the Qur’anic school she attended, where they were being trained in religious observances—a training she had already received from her mother. But because of Iya, she hadn’t prayed in a year; she didn’t care about that.
She performed ablution, returned to the room, and prayed the noon and afternoon prayers without even thinking about going to school.
She could hear that whenever someone came in, Iya would tell them that Mariya had gone insane, and that her life was under scrutiny. Mariya had begun behaving recklessly and picking at things.
Ummi cried until her eyes swelled, for no matter how much she cried, her eyes didn’t turn red but just slightly moistened and became swollen.
She looked at the money that her elder brother Danlami had given her and threw it across the room, clutching herself and letting tears stream down.
Unexpectedly, she saw Magaji in front of her.
“Ummi,” he called softly.
She raised her head to look at him. “Why are you crying?”
“Elder brother, Magaji.”
“Yes, Ummi?”
“Did my mother go insane?” she asked, tears gathering on her lips.
“Subhanallah, who told you that?”
“The one who took her came and gave me this money.”
Hashim said, “Don’t say she’s insane. She’s unwell, that’s all. She is seeing a psychiatrist, that’s what they said.”
“A psychiatrist? Isn’t that only for someone who’s gone insane?”
“That’s not the case.”
“Then why does Iya say that my mother killed my father, that it wasn’t an accident?”
“Don’t worry about what Iya says. Calm yourself, and pray for your mother that God grants her health.”
“Please, Elder brother Magaji, take me to her. I want to see her,” she said, clasping her hands in pleading, crying.
Out of deep compassion, he said, “Ummi, Maiduguri is far, and I don’t even know where your mother is in Maiduguri. It was when she got married, and you’ve never been there. But be patient, stop crying; I will find out for you, God willing.”
“You will search for her in your mother’s house, the hypocrite. Don’t fail, by God, Magaji, if you don’t take care of me, I will sit on a thorny chair and curse your father publicly. Don’t fail to take her to her mother—you’ll see what humiliation I will bring upon you. I am fed up with you. You and your mother are alike; all my efforts for you go unseen. Whenever someone comes, you keep silent, but I will make sure Mariya and you will never separate from my child. And this money—what is it?” she said, pointing to the money Ummi had thrown.
Hashim said, “Her elder brother gave it to her.”
“Collect it for me and hand it over,” Ummi demanded, grabbing the money.
She took it, looked at Hashim, and said, “Will you leave now, or should I anger you? From today, I am at odds with you and her, since you are the one guiding her, you fool.”
Hashim left quietly, for if he spoke, he could anger Iya, so he stayed silent.
“Go, measure the cassava, and grind it for me, since you didn’t go to Qur’anic school,” Ummi said.
Thus, Ummi dragged herself out and began the tasks Iya had set, hoping that, if she could, she would escape to her mother in Maiduguri.
The items her elder brother Danlami brought were inspected by Iya, who kept what she wanted and discarded the rest. She hated anything related to Mariya.
At every prayer, Ummi prayed for her father’s mercy and her mother’s health, asking God to return her to her.
Since Danlami’s visit, no one in their family inquired where Ummi was. Their attention shifted entirely to Mariya’s well-being. Mariya’s situation was severe; there was no leniency. Now she sat safely, only crying and muttering like someone mentally disturbed.
Ummi continued handling chores at their house, enduring harassment and bullying both at school and home.
Iya kept a close watch on Magaji, the one helping Ummi, forbidding him from intervening.
AFTER TWO YEARS!
Quickly, she finished the heap of washing in the center of the house, separating each section to give to its respective owner. Whenever she stopped, she sighed, for only she knew how she felt.
The remnants of her clothes and her school uniform were washed carefully. She scrubbed every crease and fold, even lifting and wringing pants’ legs, scrubbing knees until sore.
It was the dry season, wells had dried, so she fetched water with a bucket, emptying the contents of an empty bag into the toilet for washing.
She stood for a long time, anxious about where to start. She had been holding her urine since morning at school due to suffering.
Slowly, she removed her clothes, combed her hair, tied it tightly, and wrapped it to prevent wetting. She took off the worn-out pants—oh, what tattered pants they were! Every stretch of fabric was frayed, even the stitched areas, so she hung them on the door, feeling discomfort.
She squatted to relieve herself, thinking it would prevent further trouble, but the pain was excruciating, as if pouring chili over her. She bit her lips to bear it, yet the discomfort persisted.
She took her time, moving carefully, enduring pain and hardship.
Slowly, she moved, squatting with a foul-smelling liquid near her nose, took cold water, and began washing herself. The water brought relief, yet pain persisted. She even injured herself slightly, bleeding.
She leaned against the wall of the toilet, wondering if everyone endured such suffering, or if she alone faced this misfortune. Eventually, she calmed, washed with water from the bag, and cleaned herself thoroughly. Her pants were washed with plain water, dried, and worn again carefully.
She applied ointments from Na’ima and Man, wore her uniform, and secured her shoes with plastic, for they were worn. She carefully set off for school, walking carefully due to pain. Her clothing was so damaged that her private parts were partially visible, and the cold worsened her suffering.
Iya, meanwhile, focused on preparing Idris’s wedding. She arranged the house, balancing both Islamic and Western traditions. She wanted a proper wedding without the hardships that Hashim complained about.
Kawu Yahaya went to oversee the marriage arrangements, hiring a house with two rooms, a kitchen, and a toilet. They found a girl in their neighborhood for Idris, chosen by Iya to marry him.
They prepared the bedding, utensils, and other household items. Ummi, inexperienced, took on the chores of cooking and cleaning for the wedding, not noticing the strain on her small body.
Idris, informed of Iya’s decision, protested, not wanting Ummi. His father scolded him, saying marriage must proceed to save family honor, despite Idris’s complaints.
Iya instructed Saminu to retrieve the wedding items discreetly at night. He complied, bringing the items as directed.
The next day, as promised, Hashim gave Ummi money to buy beads. She thanked him from afar, and he smiled, noting the beads were good. She hurried to enter the house, as Iya was looking for her.
Saminu, observing, warned Iya that Idris had no interest in Ummi, who was only thirteen. Iya responded that secrecy must be maintained until a solution could be found.
Ultimately, it was decided that Idris would marry Ummi to protect the family’s honor, despite his protests.
Mafaka, a fragrance shop on Ring Road, supplied perfumes and other wedding items. Saminu breathed a sigh of relief, while Iya directed everyone carefully.
Hashim laughed at Ummi, telling her to go slowly as she ran fearfully with items. Iya confronted her about where she had been, scolding her for not preparing her beads early.
Iya monitored her children closely, explaining the situation. Some objected, noting Ummi’s young age. Iya and others argued that the arrangements were necessary, and preparations continued.
Idris, frustrated and furious at the forced marriage to Ummi instead of his desired Hindu girl, complained bitterly. Hashim delivered the items, and Ummi prepared for the wedding, unaware of the full complications
Overall, Ummi felt her feet grow cold, as if they were about to give out. She struggled to pull herself together and entered the room directly, not stopping where Iya was.
Her passing didn’t make Iya speak or intervene; instead, she just watched silently. Ummi, however, was resolute, continuing her complaint: “I am tired of this Mariya and her disasters. I must rise and seek order so that the torment and chaos of these people stop tracking me. Mariya doesn’t have to go insane for my child’s right never to leave her. Even if, God willing, she begins wandering naked, it won’t bother me. My rights and my child’s will never let her enjoy life. Now she has started her madness but hasn’t realized anything yet.”
Ummi paused in the room, staring around. Being a young child, she was not used to enduring such things, and it made her speculate about all that had happened in this room.
The arrangement of the room, the smell of the incense that her mother often lit, the way she used to sit on her father’s lap to eat, the night she was assaulted—though she couldn’t remember everything—she could not forget how her mother had tried to please Iya. She looked at how the room now seemed foreign and desolate, like a forest scorched by fire.
She knelt and burst into tears, crying bitterly, while hearing Iya continue to insult her mother with curses and wicked words.
Ummi could not leave the room until almost mid-afternoon, as God helped her reach the Qur’anic school she attended, where they were being trained in religious observances—a training she had already received from her mother. But because of Iya, she hadn’t prayed in a year; she didn’t care about that.
She performed ablution, returned to the room, and prayed the noon and afternoon prayers without even thinking about going to school.
She could hear that whenever someone came in, Iya would tell them that Mariya had gone insane, and that her life was under scrutiny. Mariya had begun behaving recklessly and picking at things.
Ummi cried until her eyes swelled, for no matter how much she cried, her eyes didn’t turn red but just slightly moistened and became swollen.
She looked at the money that her elder brother Danlami had given her and threw it across the room, clutching herself and letting tears stream down.
Unexpectedly, she saw Magaji in front of her.
“Ummi,” he called softly.
She raised her head to look at him. “Why are you crying?”
“Elder brother, Magaji.”
“Yes, Ummi?”
“Did my mother go insane?” she asked, tears gathering on her lips.
“Subhanallah, who told you that?”
“The one who took her came and gave me this money.”
Hashim said, “Don’t say she’s insane. She’s unwell, that’s all. She is seeing a psychiatrist, that’s what they said.”
“A psychiatrist? Isn’t that only for someone who’s gone insane?”
“That’s not the case.”
“Then why does Iya say that my mother killed my father, that it wasn’t an accident?”
“Don’t worry about what Iya says. Calm yourself, and pray for your mother that God grants her health.”
“Please, Elder brother Magaji, take me to her. I want to see her,” she said, clasping her hands in pleading, crying.
Out of deep compassion, he said, “Ummi, Maiduguri is far, and I don’t even know where your mother is in Maiduguri. It was when she got married, and you’ve never been there. But be patient, stop crying; I will find out for you, God willing.”
“You will search for her in your mother’s house, the hypocrite. Don’t fail, by God, Magaji, if you don’t take care of me, I will sit on a thorny chair and curse your father publicly. Don’t fail to take her to her mother—you’ll see what humiliation I will bring upon you. I am fed up with you. You and your mother are alike; all my efforts for you go unseen. Whenever someone comes, you keep silent, but I will make sure Mariya and you will never separate from my child. And this money—what is it?” she said, pointing to the money Ummi had thrown.
Hashim said, “Her elder brother gave it to her.”
“Collect it for me and hand it over,” Ummi demanded, grabbing the money.
She took it, looked at Hashim, and said, “Will you leave now, or should I anger you? From today, I am at odds with you and her, since you are the one guiding her, you fool.”
Hashim left quietly, for if he spoke, he could anger Iya, so he stayed silent.
“Go, measure the cassava, and grind it for me, since you didn’t go to Qur’anic school,” Ummi said.
Thus, Ummi dragged herself out and began the tasks Iya had set, hoping that, if she could, she would escape to her mother in Maiduguri.
The items her elder brother Danlami brought were inspected by Iya, who kept what she wanted and discarded the rest. She hated anything related to Mariya.
At every prayer, Ummi prayed for her father’s mercy and her mother’s health, asking God to return her to her.
Since Danlami’s visit, no one in their family inquired where Ummi was. Their attention shifted entirely to Mariya’s well-being. Mariya’s situation was severe; there was no leniency. Now she sat safely, only crying and muttering like someone mentally disturbed.
Ummi continued handling chores at their house, enduring harassment and bullying both at school and home.
Iya kept a close watch on Magaji, the one helping Ummi, forbidding him from intervening.
AFTER TWO YEARS!
Quickly, she finished the heap of washing in the center of the house, separating each section to give to its respective owner. Whenever she stopped, she sighed, for only she knew how she felt.
The remnants of her clothes and her school uniform were washed carefully. She scrubbed every crease and fold, even lifting and wringing pants’ legs, scrubbing knees until sore.
It was the dry season, wells had dried, so she fetched water with a bucket, emptying the contents of an empty bag into the toilet for washing.
She stood for a long time, anxious about where to start. She had been holding her urine since morning at school due to suffering.
Slowly, she removed her clothes, combed her hair, tied it tightly, and wrapped it to prevent wetting. She took off the worn-out pants—oh, what tattered pants they were! Every stretch of fabric was frayed, even the stitched areas, so she hung them on the door, feeling discomfort.
She squatted to relieve herself, thinking it would prevent further trouble, but the pain was excruciating, as if pouring chili over her. She bit her lips to bear it, yet the discomfort persisted.
She took her time, moving carefully, enduring pain and hardship.
Slowly, she moved, squatting with a foul-smelling liquid near her nose, took cold water, and began washing herself. The water brought relief, yet pain persisted. She even injured herself slightly, bleeding.
She leaned against the wall of the toilet, wondering if everyone endured such suffering, or if she alone faced this misfortune. Eventually, she calmed, washed with water from the bag, and cleaned herself thoroughly. Her pants were washed with plain water, dried, and worn again carefully.
She applied ointments from Na’ima and Man, wore her uniform, and secured her shoes with plastic, for they were worn. She carefully set off for school, walking carefully due to pain. Her clothing was so damaged that her private parts were partially visible, and the cold worsened her suffering.
Iya, meanwhile, focused on preparing Idris’s wedding. She arranged the house, balancing both Islamic and Western traditions. She wanted a proper wedding without the hardships that Hashim complained about.
Kawu Yahaya went to oversee the marriage arrangements, hiring a house with two rooms, a kitchen, and a toilet. They found a girl in their neighborhood for Idris, chosen by Iya to marry him.
They prepared the bedding, utensils, and other household items. Ummi, inexperienced, took on the chores of cooking and cleaning for the wedding, not noticing the strain on her small body.
Idris, informed of Iya’s decision, protested, not wanting Ummi. His father scolded him, saying marriage must proceed to save family honor, despite Idris’s complaints.
Iya instructed Saminu to retrieve the wedding items discreetly at night. He complied, bringing the items as directed.
The next day, as promised, Hashim gave Ummi money to buy beads. She thanked him from afar, and he smiled, noting the beads were good. She hurried to enter the house, as Iya was looking for her.
Saminu, observing, warned Iya that Idris had no interest in Ummi, who was only thirteen. Iya responded that secrecy must be maintained until a solution could be found.
Ultimately, it was decided that Idris would marry Ummi to protect the family’s honor, despite his protests.
Mafaka, a fragrance shop on Ring Road, supplied perfumes and other wedding items. Saminu breathed a sigh of relief, while Iya directed everyone carefully.
Hashim laughed at Ummi, telling her to go slowly as she ran fearfully with items. Iya confronted her about where she had been, scolding her for not preparing her beads early.
Iya monitored her children closely, explaining the situation. Some objected, noting Ummi’s young age. Iya and others argued that the arrangements were necessary, and preparations continued.
Idris, frustrated and furious at the forced marriage to Ummi instead of his desired Hindu girl, complained bitterly. Hashim delivered the items, and Ummi prepared for the wedding, unaware of the full complications