Ruma stood still, looking at her mother. In a serious tone, she said, “Mama, what have I done?”
“I don’t know, get out of my room. No respect for the bed! I didn’t give birth to you in this house, and now I am told to change your ways. When things go east, you go west—what’s with all this trouble?”
Ruma stood there playing with her hair, staring at her mother.
“You won’t leave the room on your own? Must I drag you out?”
She went out into the courtyard just as Yasir and Huzaifa arrived.
Yasir shot her a sharp look and said, “What did I tell you about coming to our class?”
She pouted and said, “I didn’t come to you; I came with Malam Habibu.”
“So why didn’t you go to Huzaifa’s class?”
Huzaifa scoffed and said, “I swear she came to our class. I even gave her a whipping; she saw for herself.”
She kept insisting, swearing she would go.
After Huzaifa changed his clothes, he went into their mother’s room to grab his bag.
Ruma raised her voice: “Mama, Huzaifa is here. He brought your bag.”
Her mother said, “Wicked boys!”
“Really, I am not wicked, Mama. Huzaifa is going to steal your money.”
Huzaifa said, “Mama, I need to borrow 100 naira.”
Mama replied, “Put down my bag. I won’t lend you money. If you take money from me, don’t think it’s yours.”
“Please, Mama, I’ll give it back, I swear.”
From the kitchen, Mama said, “You won’t leave my bag unless I come to the room?”
“Mama, I swear I didn’t leave it.”
Annoyed, Huzaifa put down the bag, shooting Ruma a disdainful look, as if to hit her, then left.
Ruma said, “Since I knew he would take it, why should I stop him? I owe Mama, but she won’t accept it.”
---
Today was the last day of school before the holidays. It was also the day for the Spelling B competition in Ruma’s class.
She kept following her teacher, insisting she be placed in the Spelling B group.
The teacher said, “Relax, we’ll see what can be done.”
Because of Ruma’s persistence, they placed her in the Spelling B group, but she was told not to speak.
In the end, Ruma helped her classmates. She had memorized all the words perfectly. The teachers were amazed—even though she hadn’t received any prior instructions, sheer determination had made her excel.
Ruma received many awards—her second ever—rewarding her academic effort.
She was given books, study materials, and school supplies.
Ruma went home beaming from ear to ear. Mama saw her with all the new things.
“What are all these things?” Mama asked.
Ruma emptied her bag and said, “Mama, all of these were given to me at school.”
“Why did they give you these?”
“This certificate they gave me. Nobody would teach me, so I studied by myself. That’s why I got the award today.”
Mama said, “Hmm, that’s good.”
“Mom, I feel like you don’t approve of my explanation.”
“Well… almost. Because what you did seems difficult and remote, like a strange path.”
Confused, Ruma asked, “Mom, what path?”
Tired of her questions, Mama said, “Go take off your uniform and take a bath.”
Ruma went, fetched water, and started bathing.
While bathing, she heard Usman’s voice. From the bathroom, she called out, “Yaya Usyy, any good news?”
“Ruma, didn’t I tell you not to talk from the bathroom?”
She said, “Sorry, Mama.”
Even before finishing, she came out in excitement: “Yaya Usman, let me show you something amazing.”
She didn’t realize how she came out of the bathroom until Mama scolded her. She went back, grabbed her wrapper, collected her awards, and showed them to Usman.
He looked at Ruma and then at the items and said, “Ruma, I don’t believe you.”
“Why?”
“Look at all this. You, who almost came last in class, did all this?”
Ruma smiled: “By God’s will. You wouldn’t understand the frustration I felt being told ‘impossible.’ That’s why I insisted and succeeded.”
“Congratulations! Keep working hard; you will see progress in life.”
She spat out, “It was hard, really. You know the suffering I endured to do this. If anyone told me ‘impossible’ again, I would not even try.”
Usman smiled, patted her shoulder, and said, “Sister, life is like that. It starts with struggle. You must face challenges boldly. Never let difficulties break your spirit. Stand firm, and you can achieve anything.”
Ruma breathed deeply and said, “Yaya Usy, really?”
He nodded: “Yes, really. Look at our life here. Even though we don’t have much, everyone struggles in their own way. Look at Mama—she didn’t study deeply, but she is a heroine. You’ll understand what I mean someday. Stand on your feet, face fears—you're brave. Don’t let anyone say otherwise.”
Ruma paused, then said, “Yaya Usy, God willing, I will focus on my studies and stop playing around.”
“That’s better,” he said.
“And I’ll continue striving, becoming strong. Whoever teases me, I will discipline and defend myself.”
Mama, overhearing, said: “You must hope to grow and be wise. Fighting is not for girls.”
Ruma said, “No, Mama. Let me learn strength properly.”
“Yes, do that.”
Usman smiled and said, “I mean real strength—not just physically, but strength of heart and mind. Handle every problem, no matter how big. Stand up to challenges directly.”
Ruma said: “Hmm, you’re speaking Hausa, but I don’t fully understand you. It feels like another language.”
“I know you don’t understand now. Your age and mind are not ready. For now, just enjoy life, then later, these words will help you. Now, go serve food.”
Ruma went to the kitchen.
Mama said, “Even you, you just talk, how will she understand? Apart from her foolishness and mischief, what does she know?”
Usman paused: “I just feel for her. Her life requires struggle—struggle in ways we can’t intervene. She must stand on her own and succeed.”
Mama said, “By God’s will. Whatever happens, I pray for you daily—not just for you, but all Muslim children. May God protect your life and guide your path.”
Ruma said: “Amen, Mama. May God give you long life, and many days.”
That day, Ruma showed everyone her school awards. She proudly told even the neighbors about her achievement. At the Islamic school, she reported to the head teacher and staff. Everyone congratulated her. She felt proud—she had done something she had never done before.
She asked the teacher: “Malam, please let me know when the prayer ends.”
The teacher asked, “Let you know what?”
“I worked hard at school and even won prizes. I memorized almost 250 words for spelling.”
The teacher replied, “But this is not the same as the other school. Let it be announced there among the students.”
Ruma said: “No, teacher. Let it be announced, so those who doubted me know my mind works. One day it will surprise them.”
Malam Habibu said, “Very well. The students must be informed about your effort. I also did not see anyone else match your performance. Don’t worry.”
Ruma happily said, “Thank you, Malam.”
After prayer, when the students were being dismissed, she went to the men’s prayer area and reminded Malam Habibu: “Don’t forget to announce my achievement.”
Malam Habibu agreed, “Yes, we should celebrate such effort.”
He stood and announced: “Students and teachers, let’s congratulate Ruma, who excelled in a competition at her school, winning prizes. Pray for her continued success.”
Ruma was overjoyed. Some laughed, some were annoyed.
Huzaifa and Yasir, who had prayed together, said: “Did you hear what this bedless girl did?”
“No competition, even the teachers following her couldn’t match her. If she had played, I would have burnt the books she got. Everyone else just relax.”
Ruma went home feeling fulfilled, telling Mama she had won. At home, Yaya Abubakar was on break, and the elderly woman (Gwaggo) sat in the courtyard.
Ruma rushed to hug her: “Gwaggo Atine, when was the last time I saw you?”
The elderly woman laughed: “I wanted to see you, but your father stopped me because I’m from the village.”
Mama said: “Gwaggo, it’s not like that. You know the school situation. Ruma never noticed anyone else; she only wanted you.”
Ruma climbed onto the woman’s lap happily.
The woman said: “It’s fine, bring her here. I want her. I have always loved her and wanted to see her.”
Mama said: “God willing, she will visit regularly.”
Ruma laughed and said, “Gwaggo, please stop crying. Your face makes me laugh when you cry. See how you frown?”
Yaya Aliyu said: “She’s just testing you.”
The elderly woman stopped crying: “Ruma, my crying makes you laugh?”
Ruma: “Yes, but stop calling me Rumaisa all the time. Call me something else. Everyone has nice nicknames here, but mine is just Rumaisa.”
The woman nodded: “By God.”
“Where is your daughter? A girl like me?”
Ruma asked Lawisa’s whereabouts. The girl had been sent to greet her.
Ruma laughed: “Lawisa? Her name is like mine? She’s grown so fast?”
“No, you’ll match her height,” she was told.
Ruma smiled and lifted her foot.
Abubakar said: “Ruma, lift your foot.”
“No, leave her. She’s still young. God willing, you’ll get married before her.”
Ruma said: “Amen. Pray I grow tall and marry a beautiful rich man.”
Mama laughed: “Ruma, you are still so young, yet you know about husbands?”
The elderly woman said, “Mind your own business and leave Ruma. Let’s talk to her.”
Ruma: “Amen, blessed child. May God bring you where you rest, and we enjoy together.”
“May I marry a good man,” Ruma said.
Aliyu teased: “With that sharp nose of yours, you’ll marry a good man?”
Gwaggo: “Lie! She’s like your father, and her nose too. God willing, my future daughter-in-law will be beautiful and skillful.”
Ruma asked: “Gwaggo, who do you want me to marry?”
“No, I won’t tell.”
“Do you watch wrestling?”
“No, I don’t know it.”
“Football?”
“Where will I watch it?”
Ruma: “If you watched, I’d tell you who I want to marry.”
Mama, interrupting the chatter: “Ruma, go change your clothes. I’ll send you.”
Ruma got up and went to change her uniform.
Since Gwaggo had come to their home, Ruma had become bolder. She refused to be bullied and defended herself.
“This boy, such a mean face! You’re cruel. How can you keep hurting this little girl? Hauwa, this boy is wicked!”
Ruma and Gwaggo dominated the household. Ruma even feared “Mai Sunan Baba” (her disciplinarian).
At school, Ruma played and snacked, finishing lessons with Malam Habibu. She even discussed dreams:
“Malam, if a girl dreams of a boy, she should bathe and pray. I always dream of my brother, and sometimes Mama won’t let me go to school to bathe.”
Her classmates laughed because her mind was elsewhere.
Malam Habibu said: “Your bathing with Mama is enough; one time is enough.”
Ruma: “Ah, I understand.”
Later, she told Abubakar about her experience at the Islamic school:
“I changed classes because our teacher doesn’t like me. Yasir’s class threatened to block me if I came again, so I went to Malam Habibu’s class.”
Abubakar: “Besides, you’ve seen construction start from the foundation before the roof.”
Ruma said: “Some students don’t pray, even skipping Quran study, saying girls don’t always pray. I refused to skip, but a prefect asked why I don’t pray; I said I was celebrating.”
Gwaggo, after prayer, said: “Subhanallah,” feeling relief at Ruma’s words.
Ruma insisted: “I told my father I was celebrating, not skipping, so I wouldn’t pray. Some girls don’t pray, but Mama insists I do.”
Abubakar said: “That’s your story; Mama will answer.”
Ruma: “Mama…”
Mama interrupted: “Shut your mouth. No more nonsense. Pray as you should.”
Ruma: “Mama, we celebrate instead of praying.”
Mama: “Do you know what celebration is?”
Ruma: “What is celebration?”
Mama: “If you don’t pray, I will spank you with this stick.”
She asked Gwaggo: “Tell me.”
Gwaggo, shocked: “I don’t care. Your mother will explain. This is serious; children nowadays are very aware.”
Ruma: “Oh, I’ve done wrong, then.”
Since then, Ruma ignored everyone and stayed silent, upset.
Even until Maghrib prayer, she ignored everyone. Gwaggo gave up talking to her.
Yaya Sadik asked: “Ruma, when you grow up, what do you want to become? At your PTA, they said starting Primary 6, they will prepare for Common Entrance. Do you want Art or Science?”
Ruma: “Art? Does that mean drawing?”
“What kind of drawing?”
“Art isn’t drawing?”
“No.”
“I just want a career that earns money—maybe a policewoman, handing out money to motorists, or opening a shop, or a singer or actress.”
Abubakar shook his head.
“Why silent?”
“Ruma, everyone seeks their own way in life. But you, what about you?”
“Did I say anything wrong?”
“Now, in Hausa land, have you ever seen a girl on the street doing that?”
She shook her head: “No. What about singer or actress?”
“I’m not criticizing, just think differently.”
Ruma: “Then no shop?”
“Now in your neighborhood, where are the shops with women?”
She pointed: “Mama Olu, Beyerabiya.”
“Are you Beyerabiya?”
“No, but…”
“You see, I am talking career, not just any business. Since you don’t understand, that’s why…”
Gwaggo began preparing to leave. Yasir celebrated because she had endured many struggles and eyes watching her.
Even “Mai Sunan Baba” was relieved she left.
Mama commented: “Hauwa, your children are old enough to marry, but you hold them back at home.”
Gwaggo: “They are many, and their fathers haven’t reached thirty. They grow strong, but you see life is hard. Without skill, how will marriage help?”
Ruma laughed hearing about Yaya Umar: “Like gruel face? I must pull my lips.”
“Umar, I mean you,” she said, teasing him. He looked at her and went back to eating.
Ruma said: “God willing, I’ll leave tomorrow, pack my things, and go.
Kanobooks
15, January 2026
Ruma stood still, looking at her mother. In a serious tone, she said, “Mama, what have I done?”
“I don’t know, get out of my room. No respect for the bed! I didn’t give birth to you in this house, and now I am told to change your ways. When things go east, you go west—what’s with all this trouble?”
Ruma stood there playing with her hair, staring at her mother.
“You won’t leave the room on your own? Must I drag you out?”
She went out into the courtyard just as Yasir and Huzaifa arrived.
Yasir shot her a sharp look and said, “What did I tell you about coming to our class?”
She pouted and said, “I didn’t come to you; I came with Malam Habibu.”
“So why didn’t you go to Huzaifa’s class?”
Huzaifa scoffed and said, “I swear she came to our class. I even gave her a whipping; she saw for herself.”
She kept insisting, swearing she would go.
After Huzaifa changed his clothes, he went into their mother’s room to grab his bag.
Ruma raised her voice: “Mama, Huzaifa is here. He brought your bag.”
Her mother said, “Wicked boys!”
“Really, I am not wicked, Mama. Huzaifa is going to steal your money.”
Huzaifa said, “Mama, I need to borrow 100 naira.”
Mama replied, “Put down my bag. I won’t lend you money. If you take money from me, don’t think it’s yours.”
“Please, Mama, I’ll give it back, I swear.”
From the kitchen, Mama said, “You won’t leave my bag unless I come to the room?”
“Mama, I swear I didn’t leave it.”
Annoyed, Huzaifa put down the bag, shooting Ruma a disdainful look, as if to hit her, then left.
Ruma said, “Since I knew he would take it, why should I stop him? I owe Mama, but she won’t accept it.”
---
Today was the last day of school before the holidays. It was also the day for the Spelling B competition in Ruma’s class.
She kept following her teacher, insisting she be placed in the Spelling B group.
The teacher said, “Relax, we’ll see what can be done.”
Because of Ruma’s persistence, they placed her in the Spelling B group, but she was told not to speak.
In the end, Ruma helped her classmates. She had memorized all the words perfectly. The teachers were amazed—even though she hadn’t received any prior instructions, sheer determination had made her excel.
Ruma received many awards—her second ever—rewarding her academic effort.
She was given books, study materials, and school supplies.
Ruma went home beaming from ear to ear. Mama saw her with all the new things.
“What are all these things?” Mama asked.
Ruma emptied her bag and said, “Mama, all of these were given to me at school.”
“Why did they give you these?”
“This certificate they gave me. Nobody would teach me, so I studied by myself. That’s why I got the award today.”
Mama said, “Hmm, that’s good.”
“Mom, I feel like you don’t approve of my explanation.”
“Well… almost. Because what you did seems difficult and remote, like a strange path.”
Confused, Ruma asked, “Mom, what path?”
Tired of her questions, Mama said, “Go take off your uniform and take a bath.”
Ruma went, fetched water, and started bathing.
While bathing, she heard Usman’s voice. From the bathroom, she called out, “Yaya Usyy, any good news?”
“Ruma, didn’t I tell you not to talk from the bathroom?”
She said, “Sorry, Mama.”
Even before finishing, she came out in excitement: “Yaya Usman, let me show you something amazing.”
She didn’t realize how she came out of the bathroom until Mama scolded her. She went back, grabbed her wrapper, collected her awards, and showed them to Usman.
He looked at Ruma and then at the items and said, “Ruma, I don’t believe you.”
“Why?”
“Look at all this. You, who almost came last in class, did all this?”
Ruma smiled: “By God’s will. You wouldn’t understand the frustration I felt being told ‘impossible.’ That’s why I insisted and succeeded.”
“Congratulations! Keep working hard; you will see progress in life.”
She spat out, “It was hard, really. You know the suffering I endured to do this. If anyone told me ‘impossible’ again, I would not even try.”
Usman smiled, patted her shoulder, and said, “Sister, life is like that. It starts with struggle. You must face challenges boldly. Never let difficulties break your spirit. Stand firm, and you can achieve anything.”
Ruma breathed deeply and said, “Yaya Usy, really?”
He nodded: “Yes, really. Look at our life here. Even though we don’t have much, everyone struggles in their own way. Look at Mama—she didn’t study deeply, but she is a heroine. You’ll understand what I mean someday. Stand on your feet, face fears—you're brave. Don’t let anyone say otherwise.”
Ruma paused, then said, “Yaya Usy, God willing, I will focus on my studies and stop playing around.”
“That’s better,” he said.
“And I’ll continue striving, becoming strong. Whoever teases me, I will discipline and defend myself.”
Mama, overhearing, said: “You must hope to grow and be wise. Fighting is not for girls.”
Ruma said, “No, Mama. Let me learn strength properly.”
“Yes, do that.”
Usman smiled and said, “I mean real strength—not just physically, but strength of heart and mind. Handle every problem, no matter how big. Stand up to challenges directly.”
Ruma said: “Hmm, you’re speaking Hausa, but I don’t fully understand you. It feels like another language.”
“I know you don’t understand now. Your age and mind are not ready. For now, just enjoy life, then later, these words will help you. Now, go serve food.”
Ruma went to the kitchen.
Mama said, “Even you, you just talk, how will she understand? Apart from her foolishness and mischief, what does she know?”
Usman paused: “I just feel for her. Her life requires struggle—struggle in ways we can’t intervene. She must stand on her own and succeed.”
Mama said, “By God’s will. Whatever happens, I pray for you daily—not just for you, but all Muslim children. May God protect your life and guide your path.”
Ruma said: “Amen, Mama. May God give you long life, and many days.”
That day, Ruma showed everyone her school awards. She proudly told even the neighbors about her achievement. At the Islamic school, she reported to the head teacher and staff. Everyone congratulated her. She felt proud—she had done something she had never done before.
She asked the teacher: “Malam, please let me know when the prayer ends.”
The teacher asked, “Let you know what?”
“I worked hard at school and even won prizes. I memorized almost 250 words for spelling.”
The teacher replied, “But this is not the same as the other school. Let it be announced there among the students.”
Ruma said: “No, teacher. Let it be announced, so those who doubted me know my mind works. One day it will surprise them.”
Malam Habibu said, “Very well. The students must be informed about your effort. I also did not see anyone else match your performance. Don’t worry.”
Ruma happily said, “Thank you, Malam.”
After prayer, when the students were being dismissed, she went to the men’s prayer area and reminded Malam Habibu: “Don’t forget to announce my achievement.”
Malam Habibu agreed, “Yes, we should celebrate such effort.”
He stood and announced: “Students and teachers, let’s congratulate Ruma, who excelled in a competition at her school, winning prizes. Pray for her continued success.”
Ruma was overjoyed. Some laughed, some were annoyed.
Huzaifa and Yasir, who had prayed together, said: “Did you hear what this bedless girl did?”
“No competition, even the teachers following her couldn’t match her. If she had played, I would have burnt the books she got. Everyone else just relax.”
Ruma went home feeling fulfilled, telling Mama she had won. At home, Yaya Abubakar was on break, and the elderly woman (Gwaggo) sat in the courtyard.
Ruma rushed to hug her: “Gwaggo Atine, when was the last time I saw you?”
The elderly woman laughed: “I wanted to see you, but your father stopped me because I’m from the village.”
Mama said: “Gwaggo, it’s not like that. You know the school situation. Ruma never noticed anyone else; she only wanted you.”
Ruma climbed onto the woman’s lap happily.
The woman said: “It’s fine, bring her here. I want her. I have always loved her and wanted to see her.”
Mama said: “God willing, she will visit regularly.”
Ruma laughed and said, “Gwaggo, please stop crying. Your face makes me laugh when you cry. See how you frown?”
Yaya Aliyu said: “She’s just testing you.”
The elderly woman stopped crying: “Ruma, my crying makes you laugh?”
Ruma: “Yes, but stop calling me Rumaisa all the time. Call me something else. Everyone has nice nicknames here, but mine is just Rumaisa.”
The woman nodded: “By God.”
“Where is your daughter? A girl like me?”
Ruma asked Lawisa’s whereabouts. The girl had been sent to greet her.
Ruma laughed: “Lawisa? Her name is like mine? She’s grown so fast?”
“No, you’ll match her height,” she was told.
Ruma smiled and lifted her foot.
Abubakar said: “Ruma, lift your foot.”
“No, leave her. She’s still young. God willing, you’ll get married before her.”
Ruma said: “Amen. Pray I grow tall and marry a beautiful rich man.”
Mama laughed: “Ruma, you are still so young, yet you know about husbands?”
The elderly woman said, “Mind your own business and leave Ruma. Let’s talk to her.”
Ruma: “Amen, blessed child. May God bring you where you rest, and we enjoy together.”
“May I marry a good man,” Ruma said.
Aliyu teased: “With that sharp nose of yours, you’ll marry a good man?”
Gwaggo: “Lie! She’s like your father, and her nose too. God willing, my future daughter-in-law will be beautiful and skillful.”
Ruma asked: “Gwaggo, who do you want me to marry?”
“No, I won’t tell.”
“Do you watch wrestling?”
“No, I don’t know it.”
“Football?”
“Where will I watch it?”
Ruma: “If you watched, I’d tell you who I want to marry.”
Mama, interrupting the chatter: “Ruma, go change your clothes. I’ll send you.”
Ruma got up and went to change her uniform.
Since Gwaggo had come to their home, Ruma had become bolder. She refused to be bullied and defended herself.
“This boy, such a mean face! You’re cruel. How can you keep hurting this little girl? Hauwa, this boy is wicked!”
Ruma and Gwaggo dominated the household. Ruma even feared “Mai Sunan Baba” (her disciplinarian).
At school, Ruma played and snacked, finishing lessons with Malam Habibu. She even discussed dreams:
“Malam, if a girl dreams of a boy, she should bathe and pray. I always dream of my brother, and sometimes Mama won’t let me go to school to bathe.”
Her classmates laughed because her mind was elsewhere.
Malam Habibu said: “Your bathing with Mama is enough; one time is enough.”
Ruma: “Ah, I understand.”
Later, she told Abubakar about her experience at the Islamic school:
“I changed classes because our teacher doesn’t like me. Yasir’s class threatened to block me if I came again, so I went to Malam Habibu’s class.”
Abubakar: “Besides, you’ve seen construction start from the foundation before the roof.”
Ruma said: “Some students don’t pray, even skipping Quran study, saying girls don’t always pray. I refused to skip, but a prefect asked why I don’t pray; I said I was celebrating.”
Gwaggo, after prayer, said: “Subhanallah,” feeling relief at Ruma’s words.
Ruma insisted: “I told my father I was celebrating, not skipping, so I wouldn’t pray. Some girls don’t pray, but Mama insists I do.”
Abubakar said: “That’s your story; Mama will answer.”
Ruma: “Mama…”
Mama interrupted: “Shut your mouth. No more nonsense. Pray as you should.”
Ruma: “Mama, we celebrate instead of praying.”
Mama: “Do you know what celebration is?”
Ruma: “What is celebration?”
Mama: “If you don’t pray, I will spank you with this stick.”
She asked Gwaggo: “Tell me.”
Gwaggo, shocked: “I don’t care. Your mother will explain. This is serious; children nowadays are very aware.”
Ruma: “Oh, I’ve done wrong, then.”
Since then, Ruma ignored everyone and stayed silent, upset.
Even until Maghrib prayer, she ignored everyone. Gwaggo gave up talking to her.
Yaya Sadik asked: “Ruma, when you grow up, what do you want to become? At your PTA, they said starting Primary 6, they will prepare for Common Entrance. Do you want Art or Science?”
Ruma: “Art? Does that mean drawing?”
“What kind of drawing?”
“Art isn’t drawing?”
“No.”
“I just want a career that earns money—maybe a policewoman, handing out money to motorists, or opening a shop, or a singer or actress.”
Abubakar shook his head.
“Why silent?”
“Ruma, everyone seeks their own way in life. But you, what about you?”
“Did I say anything wrong?”
“Now, in Hausa land, have you ever seen a girl on the street doing that?”
She shook her head: “No. What about singer or actress?”
“I’m not criticizing, just think differently.”
Ruma: “Then no shop?”
“Now in your neighborhood, where are the shops with women?”
She pointed: “Mama Olu, Beyerabiya.”
“Are you Beyerabiya?”
“No, but…”
“You see, I am talking career, not just any business. Since you don’t understand, that’s why…”
Gwaggo began preparing to leave. Yasir celebrated because she had endured many struggles and eyes watching her.
Even “Mai Sunan Baba” was relieved she left.
Mama commented: “Hauwa, your children are old enough to marry, but you hold them back at home.”
Gwaggo: “They are many, and their fathers haven’t reached thirty. They grow strong, but you see life is hard. Without skill, how will marriage help?”
Ruma laughed hearing about Yaya Umar: “Like gruel face? I must pull my lips.”
“Umar, I mean you,” she said, teasing him. He looked at her and went back to eating.
Ruma said: “God willing, I’ll leave tomorrow, pack my things, and go.