Bilyn Abdull, from my understanding of everything my past, my present, and my today have brought me, I can say that COURAGE is the true essence of LIFE. PATIENCE is what guides breathing and grants long life to every living being in peace. Whenever some people ask us, “What is our adornment?” the first answer we look at in our hearts and say is (GOOD MORALS). But as for me, I say that is not entirely so. I can say it quietly, loudly, and even proclaim it publicly. Do not be surprised by my understanding or think it is an extreme opinion. I am not saying morals are not an adornment, but the truth is RELIGION is the greatest and highest adornment in my view. And it is the same for you and everyone. I stand on this opinion because I honor my RELIGION above everything that defines my life.
The WORLD is the first SCHOOL for every breathing soul, because it is in it that we struggle and strive to earn the RESULT that leads to the HEREAFTER. The way you live in it is the same way it gives you value and honor. Every living person fears DEATH, but that does not stop us from loving LIFE and hoping to enter PARADISE, because it is there that everything the heart cannot even imagine exists. Likewise, the passing of our days does not stop us from planning our DREAMS, even when we are not certain we will see TOMORROW. Every human being lives only according to what the book of their destiny contains. No matter how much you struggle to gain the world or run from it, you cannot go beyond your destiny.
Let me not take you too far. Let me explain clearly so Bilyn Abdull and everyone can understand me. My name is SAMRAAH ABDUL-WAHAB GWARZO. In reality, I am nobody special except the daughter of Malam Abdul-Wahab Gwarzo. My father was not a ruler, not rich, and not a famous scholar. He was a driver working for wealthy people. Allah took his life in a car accident when I was seven years old. He had only three children with my mother, and she also passed away after giving birth to my younger brother when I was not yet three. My elder brother is Musaddiq, then me Samraah, and our youngest brother Hafizullah.
After our mother’s death, my mother’s younger brother, Uncle Imam, took care of us. His wife breastfed Hafizullah alongside her own child, so they grew up like twins. After our father’s death, he also took custody of Musaddiq. Even though our father was not rich, he left us inherited farmlands, a house, and some money in an account. Our mother also left inherited farms. All these properties were in Gwarzo town. Because we were young, Uncle Imam took control of everything, saying he was keeping it until we grew up. He farmed the land and rented out the house. He paid for our schooling and cared for us.
However, life in Uncle Imam’s house was never easy because of his wife’s cruelty. She treated her children better than us. They attended private school while we attended government school. Their clothes, food, and rooms were better. Even Uncle Imam himself showed favoritism. Before we understood life, we would cry and wipe our tears. But when I grew older, I began to resist. I endured their insults, but I never ignored injustice. Even though I appeared quiet and innocent, I was strong inside. Because of this, I suffered more punishment than my siblings.
We endured everything patiently until we finished secondary school. Then Uncle Imam said he had no money to send us to university, even though he was paying for his own children. I was angry and asked him to sell part of our inheritance to pay for our education. He beat me severely and chased me away. My brother Musaddiq was upset but remained silent. He later found work as an apprentice mechanic. I became a housemaid in the house, doing all chores, while still attending Islamic school. After one year, I memorized the Qur’an, but no proper celebration was held for me except what my brother managed.
Later, Uncle Imam forced my brother to use his earnings to provide food for the household. He divided his small income into two — one half for the house and one half saved for his future.
One day, our former teacher, Malam Saminu, came with news that changed my life forever. He announced that I had received a scholarship to continue my education. My siblings and I were overjoyed, but Uncle Imam, his wife, and their children were unhappy and jealous. They tried to stop me, but the teacher warned them that the government could punish anyone who prevented me. So they had no choice but to allow me. That same year, I gained admission into Bayero University Kano (B.U.K), where their children were also studying.
That day became the ROOT and BEGINNING of my story… a story whose END has not yet come as long as I am still alive.
Bilyn Abdull, from my understanding of everything my past, my present, and my today have brought me, I can say that COURAGE is the true essence of LIFE. PATIENCE is what guides breathing and grants long life to every living being in peace. Whenever some people ask us, “What is our adornment?” the first answer we look at in our hearts and say is (GOOD MORALS). But as for me, I say that is not entirely so. I can say it quietly, loudly, and even proclaim it publicly. Do not be surprised by my understanding or think it is an extreme opinion. I am not saying morals are not an adornment, but the truth is RELIGION is the greatest and highest adornment in my view. And it is the same for you and everyone. I stand on this opinion because I honor my RELIGION above everything that defines my life.
The WORLD is the first SCHOOL for every breathing soul, because it is in it that we struggle and strive to earn the RESULT that leads to the HEREAFTER. The way you live in it is the same way it gives you value and honor. Every living person fears DEATH, but that does not stop us from loving LIFE and hoping to enter PARADISE, because it is there that everything the heart cannot even imagine exists. Likewise, the passing of our days does not stop us from planning our DREAMS, even when we are not certain we will see TOMORROW. Every human being lives only according to what the book of their destiny contains. No matter how much you struggle to gain the world or run from it, you cannot go beyond your destiny.
Let me not take you too far. Let me explain clearly so Bilyn Abdull and everyone can understand me. My name is SAMRAAH ABDUL-WAHAB GWARZO. In reality, I am nobody special except the daughter of Malam Abdul-Wahab Gwarzo. My father was not a ruler, not rich, and not a famous scholar. He was a driver working for wealthy people. Allah took his life in a car accident when I was seven years old. He had only three children with my mother, and she also passed away after giving birth to my younger brother when I was not yet three. My elder brother is Musaddiq, then me Samraah, and our youngest brother Hafizullah.
After our mother’s death, my mother’s younger brother, Uncle Imam, took care of us. His wife breastfed Hafizullah alongside her own child, so they grew up like twins. After our father’s death, he also took custody of Musaddiq. Even though our father was not rich, he left us inherited farmlands, a house, and some money in an account. Our mother also left inherited farms. All these properties were in Gwarzo town. Because we were young, Uncle Imam took control of everything, saying he was keeping it until we grew up. He farmed the land and rented out the house. He paid for our schooling and cared for us.
However, life in Uncle Imam’s house was never easy because of his wife’s cruelty. She treated her children better than us. They attended private school while we attended government school. Their clothes, food, and rooms were better. Even Uncle Imam himself showed favoritism. Before we understood life, we would cry and wipe our tears. But when I grew older, I began to resist. I endured their insults, but I never ignored injustice. Even though I appeared quiet and innocent, I was strong inside. Because of this, I suffered more punishment than my siblings.
We endured everything patiently until we finished secondary school. Then Uncle Imam said he had no money to send us to university, even though he was paying for his own children. I was angry and asked him to sell part of our inheritance to pay for our education. He beat me severely and chased me away. My brother Musaddiq was upset but remained silent. He later found work as an apprentice mechanic. I became a housemaid in the house, doing all chores, while still attending Islamic school. After one year, I memorized the Qur’an, but no proper celebration was held for me except what my brother managed.
Later, Uncle Imam forced my brother to use his earnings to provide food for the household. He divided his small income into two — one half for the house and one half saved for his future.
One day, our former teacher, Malam Saminu, came with news that changed my life forever. He announced that I had received a scholarship to continue my education. My siblings and I were overjoyed, but Uncle Imam, his wife, and their children were unhappy and jealous. They tried to stop me, but the teacher warned them that the government could punish anyone who prevented me. So they had no choice but to allow me. That same year, I gained admission into Bayero University Kano (B.U.K), where their children were also studying.
That day became the ROOT and BEGINNING of my story… a story whose END has not yet come as long as I am still alive.