Gudun Aure Book 1 by Binta Umar Abbale

Description

GUDUN AURE BOOK 1

Ten minutes after I made the post, my husband called. As soon as I answered, he frantically started shouting, demanding to know what reason I had to sit down and write a long, defamatory post about a prominent man like Alhaji Tajo. He claimed it showed I didn't appreciate any of his efforts, since I went ahead and took matters into my own hands without his permission. I repeatedly tried to explain that I hadn't slandered the man at all, but had simply sent a message via social media, which I believed would make him take the issue seriously. He refused to listen. He kept yelling in frustration, so I just hung up, sat down, and burst into bitter tears. What on earth was I supposed to do? That day, I grew exhausted from answering phone calls. Some people blamed me for what I did, while others believed it was the right move, since my post had now spread across social media and everyone was weighing in. I was certain the message had reached its intended target.
When my husband came home, we had a heated argument over the post. He was furious, yelling that I had humiliated him and that if any trouble arose from this, it would fall squarely on my shoulders because "only a fool picks a fight with a wealthy man."
When his words turned insulting, I lost my temper. I said, "I fear no one but Allah. And his wealth won't stop me from seeking justice. I apologized to you but you refused to accept it. Whatever you decide to do doesn't matter to me anymore; right now, my children's lives are all I care about."
My response enraged him even further. Bare jealousy flared across his face. At that moment, the inevitable happened; he said, "Go back to your family's house, I divorce you with a single divorce—since no one can speak to you and expect you to listen."
I fell into utter despair. My lips trembled as I tried to apologize, but he rushed out of the room. I could only repeatedly recite, "Innalillahi wa'ina ilaihi raji'un" (To Allah we belong and to Him we shall return). Once my heart calmed down slightly, I stood up and began packing my clothes into a suitcase. I didn't leave immediately; I waited until Yusi returned from school.
Our father wasn't too harsh. He told me to clear out a room and stay there until the dust settled. However, Baba Sule came by that night and unleashed a torrent of anger on me, claiming I had brought disaster upon myself. He noted that the trouble had already started with Alhaji Muntari divorcing me, and warned that whatever consequences followed the post would ruin me.
I was amazed by how intensely they reacted. Apparently, everyone just wanted me to remain silent. Because the man was wealthy, everything he did was deemed right. I hadn't insulted him, nor had I spoken ill of him; I had simply spoken up as a mother. Yet, it caused total panic. Even so, I was not intimidated, nor did I believe the man would triumph over me.
I had never seen Sahura as angry as she was that day. She called me on the phone and scolded me, asking why I hadn't consulted anyone before posting. She explained that his mother was ill, which was why there had been a delay.
I replied, "Sahura, all of you fail to understand the trauma I am facing. Kamalu is just a young boy. What do you think will happen to him when he is locked up with hardened, adult criminals who have long practiced immorality? They will corrupt his character. Sahura, look at my reasoning carefully: it has been nearly three weeks of the same thing. If that man truly intended to do right by these children, he would have called from wherever he is and ordered their release. But whenever anyone opens their mouth, they just say the boys will get leniency. Where is the justice in that? I accept that his mother is ill, but why hasn't he spoken up? He returned four days ago; he should have prioritized this matter. Just as he is distressed over his mother's illness, we, the mothers of these children, are also in agony. In my view, this was the easiest way for my message to reach him. Go back and read the post carefully; I swear to God I didn't insult him."
"But you practically insulted him, my friend," Sahura countered. "Insulting someone doesn't just mean hurling explicit curses at them. No, certain words are worse than outright insults, and you used them to deliver your message. There was no humility, my friend. That man is not a child; he is well along in years. Besides, you yourself know the honor and status Allah has granted him."
I said, "Look, Sahura, I don't care about any of that; I am only looking for a way out. I can't just sit here and let my heart burst from overthinking. Sahura, I always tell you that these rich people rarely care about matters concerning the poor until they see their own reputation on the line. I am here waiting for whatever follows. I swear I am completely numb now because I have already witnessed the worst kind of misery. As for marriage, I am done with it forever." I hung up the phone as heavy crying overtook me.
She kept calling back, but I couldn't bring myself to answer because I lacked the energy to respond. The tears that had long been suppressed poured out of me uncontrollably.
Hadiza's mother entered the room, calling my name. I couldn't answer due to the overwhelming crying. She said, "You must have patience. Crying is not the solution. This situation is painful and heartbreaking, but every servant of Allah has their destiny—some face trials through themselves, others through their children. Keep praying that Allah stops the affliction here. It is a trial of youth, and everyone has theirs."
I asked, "Hadiza's mother, for God's sake, what is my crime here? Just because I went on social media to seek a solution, everyone turns against me. Is that it? The rich can do as they please and sleep soundly, while the poor must watch their children's lives be destroyed over their rights and are expected to stay silent?"
"Amina, it's not that you are forbidden from speaking," she explained. "Rather, it is the method you chose and the sarcastic tone of your writing that has deeply worried your parents and everyone who cares about you. You know well that he is a prominent man. Why would you write him a letter filled with mockery and broadcast it to the world when he is the aggrieved party? If this angers him, he might just stay silent, leaving the authorities to keep the children indefinitely."
"Umma, you all don't understand the agony I am in. I can't even sleep. Yusi cries every day. Moreover, my boy is the youngest among them; what do you think will happen? I swear, I still don't see anything wrong with what I did."
She shook her head sorrowfully and said, "Very well then, may Allah bring us a good outcome. Once the tension eases, you should seek out your husband and apologize to him, because truly, you made a mistake. You did wrong by taking matters into your own hands without informing him while he was doing his absolute best."
"Umma, drop the matter of Alhaji Muntari. I am completely finished with marriage; I will never return to his house." She stared at me for a minute. Seeing no flexibility in my expression, she nodded and left the room.
One, two, three days passed, stretching into a week, and there was no word from Alhaji Tajo's camp. Even though the message had reached him, seven full days passed without him uttering a word. My anxiety reached its absolute peak; I felt lost. My greatest distress was seeing how depression was beginning to take a physical toll on Yusi; both he and I were losing our minds. Hamusu would come over every day after returning from the market, and we would sit together trying to figure out a way forward.
Hearing rumors that Hamusu was visiting me made Alhaji Muntari even angrier. To make matters worse, I hadn't called him since leaving his house. He complained to Baba Sule that I was the one at fault, so I should be the one to seek him out and apologize. He added that he knew about the frequent visits from my ex-husband's younger brother, so if I wanted to remain married to him, I had to apologize and admit my mistake.
I was utterly astonished when Baba Sule came to tell me about their conversation, as Sule had been desperately trailing Muntari to beg him to take me back. I didn't argue because I already knew his character, so I simply told him I would call and apologize. I only said that to get him off my back, but I had no intention of ever calling that man to beg him. My primary concern was the release of my son, not my marriage.
I called Sahura with deep humility, admitting my mistake and acknowledging I had acted wrongly, and asked her to arrange a face-to-face meeting with their boss.
She said, "My friend, if you had taken this approach from the beginning, things wouldn't have escalated so badly. The boss was indeed deeply offended when he saw your message, but since he is a calm man, he overlooked it—even though he has many ways he could have punished you. I swear I was more worried than you were, but since you've admitted your mistake, I will try to secure an appointment and guide you to see him."
I replied, "Alright, Sahura, thank you so much. May Allah preserve our friendship."
Two days later, Sahura called me joyfully to inform me that he had agreed to meet us at his office on Saturday. She added, "My friend, please speak softly and apologize for what you did. You know yourself it was wrong. Do not bring up past events since you are there to ask a favor of him, and I swear to God, he is a just man."
I said, "Alright, Sahura, I will try my best, by God's grace."
I informed our father about the arrangement. He said, "That is good. Go and apologize to him, and mind your tongue. Let this be a lesson to you that one does not fight a wealthy person, even if you are in the right." I said nothing; I went into the room and lay down, utterly overwhelmed by the weight of the world.
On Saturday, I got ready early. Yusi burst into tears, insisting on coming along because he assumed I was going to pick up Kamalu. That was why he cried when I told him he couldn't come. Sahura arrived, and after saying goodbye to the household, we departed.
Even inside the tricycle, she kept lecturing me to speak mildly, and I kept replying, "Okay." Seeing how worried she was, I eventually said, "I swear, Sahura, I'm starting to suspect this man handles people aggressively, especially his employees, since no one wants his faults pointed out. Even if I were going to speak to the President, you wouldn't lecture me like this. I told you I will apologize, and that's it! I just want my boy released."
She replied, "See, that's exactly what I mean. I think I should enter the office with you so you don't end up insulting him, because you are fully capable of doing that."
I gave a bitter smile and said, "You know that goes against my upbringing." She fell silent, her face clouded with anxiety.
Yusi held her hand and asked, "Umma, when we get there, will they give him back to us?" She quickly replied, "Yes, by God's grace, blessed child."
We sat in the reception area for about thirty minutes before his secretary emerged and permitted us to enter. I stood up and adjusted my veil. Sahura pulled Yusi onto her lap, saying, "Sit tight, your mother is going inside now and will come out with your older brother." He sat back down, smiling.
I looked at her seriously and said, "Stand up, let's go in together." She shook her head. "Just go in, Amina. For the sake of God and His glory, do not humiliate me." My body trembled at how she invoked God's name. Anxiously, I walked toward the office, my heart pounding violently.
I turned the handle and entered with a greeting (sallama). The office was massive, featuring a set of sofas on one side, where I spotted him sitting with a phone in his hand. He wore a cream-colored polished brocade (shadda) top and trousers, with the large outer robe (babban riga) laid beside him. As always, his eyes were hidden behind white glasses, which he never took off, even in photographs.
He calmly responded to my greeting and fixed his eyes on me—eyes that felt as though they were trying to break my resolve. My legs began to shake and give way. He wasn't physically massive, but he commanded immense presence and authority. If I hadn't armed myself with silent prayers, I don't think I could have stood my ground.
He gestured toward the chair directly opposite him. I sat down quietly, my heart racing as I kept reciting prayers. Silence enveloped the room, save for the cool air and a pleasant fragrance wafting into my nose. He kept looking at his phone, saying nothing after his initial response to my greeting.
Forcing myself to lower my voice and bow my head, I muttered, "Sir, good morning." He looked up at me with an indifferent expression. "Good morning, Amina Salisu, the one who wears the cap, is that the name?"
"Yes, that is correct, sir," I answered, making a brave effort to look in his direction.
He placed both hands on the table between us. "I was trying to place your face."
"I am a friend to Sahura, one of your employees. I accompanied her the day she started working for you, which was the same day you came to inspect the department."
"Ah, yes, I remember that day now. How is everyone? How is the struggle?" I looked at him, analyzing his question because it sounded patronizing. I remained silent and gave no reply.
He paused before speaking again. "What brings you here today?" I adjusted my posture to face him fully. The prayers I had been reciting for strength had pushed away the initial dread of being in his presence.
I said, "It is regarding the boys who caused damage to your property."
He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes slightly as I watched him. He looked at me thoroughly. "Are you married?"
"No, I am not," I answered directly.
"So, you are a divorcee?" I stayed silent and did not respond because he was beginning to irritate me. My heart began to race; he was digressing wildly from the purpose of my visit with irrelevant questions. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
For nearly seven minutes, I sat there like a statue while he ignored me. I lightly tapped the table and said, "Sir, what is the status? I am one of the mothers of those children. They are orphans; their fathers are deceased, and we are the ones struggling to raise them. Please have mercy, forgive them, and keep us in your prayers so we can endure this trial. If you feel this is too much trouble, please let us know so the authorities can pass judgment, and we can finally have peace of mind."
He opened his eyes and leaned forward. "I forgave them a long time ago. But why did you choose to humiliate me on social media by writing such harsh words about me? What did I ever do to you?"
His first phrase—"I forgave them a long time ago"—instantly shattered eighty percent of the suspicions I held against him.
Softly, I said, "Please forgive me, for God's sake. I didn't do it to humiliate you; I did it so my message would reach you quickly. I had no intention of tarnishing your name."
He merely smiled. "I am not angry with you. There are many malicious people who have done far worse than you did, so do not worry, okay?"
"Thank you very much. May God increase your stature." He replied, "Amen, O Allah."
Silence fell over the room again. Forcing myself, I asked, "So, when should we expect to see the children?"
"This week, by God's grace," he said, staring at me until I felt uncomfortable.
I bowed my head respectfully and said, "We are very grateful. May Allah reward you with goodness and grant good health to Hajiya." He replied, "Amen, O Allah."
I stood up and adjusted the bag hanging on my shoulder. He said, "Sit back down, I want to speak with you." Suspecting nothing, I sat back down and looked at him.
He exhaled deeply, looked straight into my eyes, and said, "I need you to be my girl. You will keep me company whenever my desires arise, and in return, I promise to provide everything you could ever want for a luxurious life."
Utter shock paralyzed me. From my youth up to my current age of over thirty, no human being had ever insulted me with such a vile proposition. Secondly, I was stunned that such a statement could come from a prominent man whom many widely testified to be a righteous person. "I need you to be my girl to keep me company whenever my desires arise."
I kept repeating the words in my mind, wondering how he dared say them to me. Did he view me as a loose woman, or was he exploiting the fact that I had come to ask him for a favor? This was why he had first asked whether I was married. Why are divorcees viewed as easy targets for immorality? Why has the sin of fornication been reduced to a trivial matter in this day and age? Innalillahi wa'ina ilaihi raji'un! To think that today, a man was propositioning me for adultery.
Before I could process it, I realized he was standing right next to me, towering over me with his hands in his pockets. I slammed my hand on the table in front of me, stood up abruptly, and pointed a finger at him. He stepped back slightly, looking surprised by how close my finger was to his nose, yet he showed absolutely no remorse.
"If I must commit immorality with you before you order the release of our children, then for the sake of God's majesty, have them hanged tomorrow and send us their corpses! I want you to know that chasing vile men is not my character, and I will never do it, even if you offered me the entire world. By Allah, you should be deeply ashamed! An elder like you engaging in such filth—you have humiliated yourself and dishonored your lineage. Furthermore, you have shown ingratitude to Allah, who elevated your status, honored you, and blessed you with wealth whose limits you likely do not even know. You have wronged me, and I swear Allah will avenge me." The tears I had been suppressing finally spilled over, and I wiped them away. "Move aside and let me leave, because breathing the same air as you is a sin!"
He stood there as rigid as an unyielding log, refusing to move or say a word. I hissed loudly and tried to bypass him, but he quickly blocked my path.
"If you like, you can take what just happened between us and write another long post on your Facebook page; it doesn't bother me. But if you hide it, it's like digging a grave to bury your own dignity. Now, there is the door, get out of my office."
I sniffed out of sheer frustration and sorrow. Unable to counter him, I quickly turned the doorknob and rushed out, my heart aching violently as if a physical lump were stuck in my throat.
Seeing me emerge in such a panicked state made Sahura and Yusi jump to their feet. She immediately began asking what happened, while Yusi held my hand, asking where Kamalu was.
With great difficulty, I muttered her name. "Sahura, let's just leave."
"Sis, what happened? What did he say to you?"
In a screaming tone I couldn't control, I yelled, "For God's sake, just move, let's go, I told you!"
Yusi burst into tears, crying, "Mama, you said you were bringing my brother back, where is he?" The boy wept intensely and resisted, which fueled my frustration.
The office door opened right at the moment I slapped him across the face—a slap harder than any I had given him since he was born. He was completely stunned and panicked by the sudden shock. Not knowing where to go, he ran straight toward the boss, clutching his legs and crying hysterically.
I turned my face away, my heart burning with rage. The boss walked over to where Sahura and I stood, as she continued to scold me for slapping the child. Once he reached us, she bowed slightly to greet him.
He asked, "So, you are together?"
"Yes, sir. Please forgive her."
"What did you people do to me?" he asked, looking at her. She fell silent and said nothing.
"Is this her child?" he asked in an annoyed tone.
She quickly replied, "Yes, he is Kamalu's younger brother."
To my surprise, he reached down, lifted Yusi up, and placed him on his shoulder, cradling him like an infant. He then looked at me. "If you don't want him, leave him with me. This slap you dealt him—if you had hit me like that, even I would be dazed. And you're the one who gave birth to him!" I looked up and our eyes met; the tone of his voice made it clear he was genuinely angry.
He paused before adding, "Look at how he is sobbing; this is pure cruelty. Isn't it?" he said, looking at Sahura.
She quickly agreed, "That is exactly what I was telling her." He turned around with the boy on his shoulder and carried him back into his office.
Sahura looked at me, completely drained, and said, "For God's sake, what happened? I saw you come out furious! I swear I am entirely shaken."
"Sahura, just drop it. That man has no character, I swear. He is a vile man."
With wide eyes, she gasped, "A vile man? How?"
"Just drop the matter, Sahura, but Allah will surely judge between us." As soon as I finished speaking, they emerged from the office.
Yusi was holding money and some biscuits. The boss looked at Sahura calmly and stated, "By God's grace, this Monday—the day after tomorrow—I will have your boy brought directly to your house. May Allah prevent such an occurrence in the future."
Overjoyed, she began showering him with gratitude. He didn't stay to reply and left the area. Seeing this, I headed toward the exit, marveling at his hypocrisy; no one looking at him now would ever believe he was the same man who had just tried to compromise my chastity.
Sahura followed me, holding Yusi's hand, almost running to catch up because I had walked far ahead and was nearing the exit. She reached me, panting slightly. I didn't look at her; my entire focus was on hailing a vehicle. My heart felt choked, and I felt completely weary of the world and how it was tossing my life around. By the time we boarded the tricycle, she was still...

2. Summary of the Original Story

The text is an excerpt from a contemporary Hausa drama/fiction narrative focusing on a distressed mother named Amina.

• The Conflict: Amina's young son, Kamalu, has been detained by authorities for three weeks alongside adult criminals for causing damage to the property of a wealthy, highly influential man named Alhaji Tajo. Out of desperation, Amina bypassed her husband, Alhaji Muntari, and wrote a scathing, sarcastic public post on Facebook to catch Alhaji Tajo's attention and demand justice.
• The Backlash: The post goes viral but causes a severe domestic and social crisis. Her husband feels humiliated, accuses her of foolishly fighting a wealthy man, and divorces her. Her family (father and Uncle Sule) and her friend Sahura blame her for being reckless and disrespectful to an esteemed elder, insisting she should have stayed quiet or begged privately.
• The Meeting: Sahura, who works for Alhaji Tajo, arranges a face-to-face meeting on a Saturday so Amina can apologize and beg for her son's release. Amina brings her younger son, Yusi, along.
• The Twist: In the privacy of his luxury office, Alhaji Tajo acts polite at first and claims he forgave the children long ago. However, he then abuses his power by propositioning Amina, offering her a life of luxury if she becomes his secret mistress to satisfy his sexual desires.

• The Climax: Amina fiercely rejects the proposition, rebuking him for his hypocrisy and hidden immorality. When she rushes out of the office crying and traumatized, her frustration boils over and she harshly slaps her crying son, Yusi. Alhaji Tajo steps out, takes the crying child into his arms to comfort him, and acts like a benevolent, righteous benefactor in front of Sahura, promising to return Kamalu to their home on Monday. The excerpt ends with Amina leaving in a tricycle, completely disgusted by Tajo's double life and the injustice of society.

  3. Character Description

• Amina (The Protagonist): A fierce, fiercely protective, and independent mother in her early thirties. She refuses to accept the status quo of the poor remaining silent under oppression. However, she is highly impulsive, emotionally volatile (as seen when she slaps her traumatized child), and currently experiences deep existential despair due to her sudden divorce and social isolation.
• Alhaji Tajo (The Antagonist): A powerful, wealthy, and highly respected public figure who projects an aura of piety, calm, and benevolence. In reality, he is a predatory, manipulative hypocrite who uses his wealth and influence to sexually exploit vulnerable women (specifically targeting divorcees) who come to him for help.
• Sahura: Amina’s loyal but submissive friend. She represents the average citizen who holds a deep reverence for the wealthy and powerful. She is anxious, desperate to please her boss, and entirely blind to Alhaji Tajo’s dark side.
• Alhaji Muntari: Amina’s ex-husband. He is status-conscious, fragile in his masculinity, and deeply insecure. He values his public reputation and submissiveness in a wife over the safety of his stepson, choosing to divorce Amina out of jealousy and embarrassment rather than supporting her.

• Yusi: Amina's youngest son. Innocent, deeply traumatized by his brother's absence, and caught in the crossfire of his mother's emotional breakdown.

  4. Literary Analytics

• Themes:
  • Hypocrisy and the Dual Persona: The core of the narrative is the stark contrast between public perception and private reality. Alhaji Tajo is widely celebrated as a righteous "just man," yet behind closed doors, he is a sexual predator.
  • Classism and Power Corruption: The story highlights how wealth insulates the elite from accountability ("only a fool fights a rich man") and leaves the poor vulnerable to systemic abuse and transactional exploitation.
  • The Stigmatization of Divorcees (Zawawa): Tajo’s immediate inquiry into Amina’s marital status exposes a societal vulnerability where unmarried or divorced women are automatically viewed by predatory men as targets for illicit sexual relationships.
• Tone and Mood: The tone shifts rapidly from frantic domestic anger to a tense, suspenseful atmosphere during the office meeting, culminating in a heavy, suffocating mood of despair, disillusionment, and psychological trauma.
• Social Commentary: The author utilizes the narrative to critique contemporary northern Nigerian or broader Hausa societal dynamics: the toxicity of social media weaponization, the breakdown of marital support systems during crises, and the collective societal blindness that protects corrupt elites while silencing victims.