Kibiya A Ido Book Compelet

Description

KIBIYA A IDO BOOK MAMAN AFRAH 

Careful to the one with whom we will undertake this journey, the story contains at least three parts, each with an important role to play. Follow along slowly as we plunge into the story.

With a racing mind, Hasiya stared at the doctor in absolute shock, fear, and confusion, saying, "Doctor, why do I see you covering him?" She asked as if someone had forcefully dragged the words out of her mouth. Doctor Asim felt a wave of deep pity wash over him, but his lips refused to cooperate to tell her that her husband Zahraddin had passed away!

After a few hours. Just after performing the Asr prayer, people who had prayed at the mosque closest to Zahraddin's house gathered in crowds at his doorstep to accompany him to his final home. After his corpse was fully prepared, which coincided with the time of the Asr prayer, an order was given to perform the funeral prayer before heading to the cemetery.

Some performed the prayer at the neighborhood mosque close to the house, while others formed a congregation right at his doorstep. Hasiya stood at the doorway of the house, hugging Nasira on her left and Zainaba on her right. Both of them were crying bitterly as they watched the corpse stretched out in front of the imam while the prayer was being conducted. When the bier was lifted, their anxiety reached its peak, and people had to hold them back, taking them by their hands and leading them inside the house.

After returning from laying Zahraddin to rest in his grave, Hasiya sat with her eyes all swollen, thinking about the man who had sacrificed so many things for her, only to leave her today with two orphans. She was thinking about the world, wondering how she would continue to care for the children since their father had left them no inheritance!

By Maghrib, she was sitting on the prayer mat. Condolence visitors were coming, though now only a few people remained because many had dispersed right after the shroud was laid. Such is life; once you die, your part is finished.

The entrance of Abdulsalam broke her train of thought, and his greeting brought her back to her senses.

The people sitting around greeted him, and he responded while they offered their condolences. He looked up at Hasiya, a profound sense of pity piercing his body and veins, and with a soft, weak voice, he said, "Be patient, Hasiya, may God forgive him." He said this as tears streamed down the edges of his face. People around him were comforting him, and he said, "I have lost a friend, the kind of friend one rarely finds in the world today."

One of the women remarked, "Indeed, the way Zahraddin loved you, he treated you like a blood brother, holding you very dear in his heart." Abdulsalam closed his eyes, remembering his friend's loyalty.

Hasiya lowered her head, wiping away her tears. Abdulsalam said, "Hasiya, do not worry; if there is anyone who will stand by you, it is I." This statement coincided with the entrance of his wife, Ramla, who had gone to perform ablution. After completing her ablution, she sat in the courtyard of the house to perform prayers, having stayed at the house continuously since the shrouding.

She was slightly stunned upon hearing her husband's declaration. She began thinking to herself that she saw no point in support or help rendered to someone after they had passed away, especially knowing how hard and persistently her husband used to treat his friend. What Ramla did not know was that Abdulsalam was helping Hasiya.

Hasiya merely nodded without uttering a word, because whenever she remembered that Zahraddin had left the world today, she felt the pain deep down in her soul.

When he stood up to leave the room, he said he wanted to talk to her. She answered with an affirmative and followed him out as he walked away. As he stepped outside, he paused and looked around the courtyard, thinking to himself: 'The time has come! To get you out of this house. This house is not suited for you at all, my Hasiya; living in extreme poverty does not befit a beautiful woman like you.' He said this with a faint, hidden smile. Ramla, sitting on a mat nearby, watched him and began wondering what had made him stop, surprised that he hadn't called out to her despite knowing she was left in the house.

Hasiya's voice brought him back from his brief reverie as she said, "Father of Humaira, here I am." The soft, fragile tone of her voice made him feel like bursting into tears. With care, he asked, "Hasiya, what do you and the children need?"

She lowered her head and replied, "Whatever has been brought, may God bless it." With that, her eyes filled with tears. Ramla stood up, folded her prayer mat, and walked toward them. Seeing Ramla reminded Abdulsalam that she was actually in the house; he had completely forgotten her presence until now.

Approaching them, Ramla took Hasiya's hand, saying, "Be patient, Ummu Nasira, everyone is just waiting for their time." Hearing her words, Hasiya embraced her and burst into tears. Abdulsalam completely lost his composure, watching her weeping, which broke his heart. His own eyes filled with tears of pity, and as they rolled down, he turned his head away to wipe them, shifting his gaze toward two women busy by the hearth, one of whom was stirring soup.

Ramla bade Hasiya farewell after comforting her. Abdulsalam walked ahead, stepping outside feeling uneasy. When Ramla came out, she saw him holding two large plastic bags. She looked at him questioningly. Gathering a bit of false courage, he said, "I bought some food for Hasiya and the children, you know they might not be able to cook, but if..."

She cut him off, saying, "That's right, you did well." Her remark gave him a boost of confidence, because he had only intended to buy food for Hasiya, and hadn't even realized the thought of the children had slipped in until he saw her looking at him. Looking at him, she said, "Give it to me, I'll take it inside for her. Look, you haven't gone back into the house, even though there are still a few people around."

He replied, "True," and handed the bags to her. She took them and entered the house. He walked back to the car, sat down, leaned back, closed the door, and shut his eyes, thoughts of Hasiya flooding his mind alongside a deep sense of pity. Yet, he wished he had been the one to deliver the items himself, as he was not tired of looking at her.

Meanwhile, inside Ramla's room, Nasira and Zainaba (Hasiya's children) were inside, having joined the room earlier. Hasiya's mother was comforting Hasiya, advising her to stop crying and instead pray for her husband, as prayers were what he needed most right now above everything else!

When Ramla brought in the food, saying it was from the Father of Humaira, Hasiya expressed her thanks, but Hasiya's mother gave Ramla a sidelong glance of resentment. She was bitter that while Ramla's husband had grown wealthy, he left her daughter's husband in abject poverty, struggling even to afford daily meals. When Zahraddin was hospitalized, massive sums were billed for his treatment, but Abdulsalam had claimed the costs were too high and suggested they resort to traditional herbal remedies instead. She knew that if Abdulsalam or his own family were ill, he would move mountains, yet he had gone days without visiting Zahraddin in the hospital. Now, out of mere hypocrisy and gossip, he was showing up to play the savior.

Ramla set the bag down, turned, and walked out, carrying her small handbag containing her phone. Emerging from the house, she spotted Abdulsalam leaning his head out of the car window, staring fixedly in one direction. She turned to look where he was gazing, and her suspicion was confirmed: three young girls were walking past, dressed in matching attire with their scarves draped stylishly over their shoulders, walking as though they disdained touching the ground. Annoyance gripped her. Fortunately, none of the neighborhood men were around because people had gone to the mosque for Isha prayers, or else everyone would have dispersed from the mourning gathering anyway.

Turning back, she walked to the passenger side of the car, opened the door, and sat inside, leaving the door slightly open. He was so deeply engrossed in watching the young girls that he neither noticed her arrival nor heard her get into the car. Filled with exasperation, she reached over and poked him. His heart skipped a beat, his immediate thought being that a jinn had manifested inside the car. Turning around in a startle, he came face-to-face with his wife. He let out a loud, clear sigh of relief and quickly stammered, "Subhanallah, you've already delivered it to her?"

She frowned slightly before saying anything. He quickly added, "Zahraddin's death really touched me deeply; I'm still picturing the moment he was lowered into the grave, I was just lost in thought about it."

She ignored him entirely, thinking to herself, May God have mercy on him, and slammed the door shut. Sensing that his excuse had fallen flat, he turned the ignition, started the car, and drove off.

As they began moving, she took a breath and said, "Father of Humaira, I've told you that these habits of yours are incurable. For years I've struggled with you over this behavior, yet you refuse to stop. Do you not think of your daughters? You are a father of girls, yet you persist in this vile habit that you refuse to drop..."

Before she could finish, he snapped angrily, "Ramla, that's enough! How many times must I tell you to stop calling this behavior a vile habit? Do you even know what a vile habit is? You speak as though I'm an adulterer, calling it a vile habit! You always have your mind stuck on one thing, assuming the worst. You find me lost in grief and mourning for a friend, a confidant, and a brother, but instead of sharing my sorrow, you hurl false accusations!"

He overwhelmed her with a torrent of words, shouting at her as if she had committed a grave offense merely by speaking her mind.

Softening her tone, she said, "May God forgive you, I didn't say it with any ill intent, nor am I fabricating what I saw. I am simply pointing out what is proper and what you ought to do. I caught you with my own eyes staring fixedly at those young girls to the point where you didn't even notice me leaving the house of mourning or getting into the car until I poked you and you jolted back to your senses. Zina begins with the gaze, for the eyes guide what follows..."

He pulled one hand off the steering wheel, driving with one hand while pointing a finger at her, warning, "If you ever link me to zina again, you will see a very ugly side of me!"

She fell silent, wondering if even this death could not bring him to his senses. He gunned the car down the street toward their home.

Back at Hasiya's place, after Ramla left, Hasiya leaned back against the wall, having no appetite to eat anything. Her mother pulled the plastic bags over and opened the first one, revealing three large roasted chickens, while the other bag contained various cold drinks. Her mother clicked her tongue in annoyance, took out some food, and gave it to Nasira and the others, who ate a little. Hasiya refused to eat, only sipping a little juice.

As for Abdulsalam, he remained silent the entire ride home, while Ramla occupied herself with silent adhkar (remembrance of God) in her heart. Upon arrival, he honked, the gateman opened the gate, and he drove in, parked, and stepped out of the car even before she could. She followed him out and headed toward the house.

She walked straight to her room, sensing his anger because he hadn't even spared her a glance. He headed back out, presumably to the mosque for Isha prayers.

Inside her en-suite bathroom, she took a bath and performed ablution, having earlier noticed Humaira and her sister performing prayers. Emerging, she donned a lightweight flowing gown, applied perfume, put on her hijab, and rolled out her prayer mat to perform her prayers. After finishing her adhkar and supplications, she sat quietly in deep reflection about life. She looked around her room, filled with every modern comfort one could possibly need, yet true peace of mind was sorely lacking. She recalled the bitter struggles they endured during their days of poverty, but now, despite breaking ties with poverty, instead of finding tranquility and honor from her husband, her situation remained unchanged.

While she sat there, Humaira and Aslamiyya entered the room with greetings. She turned to respond, and they approached respectfully, sitting close to her, offering greetings and welcoming her back. She embraced them, stroked their heads, blessed them, and asked, "Where is Aslam?" Humaira replied, "He went to the mosque."

They chatted for a while until they heard the footsteps of Aslam and Abba returning. Aslam went straight to Mama's room knowing she was there. Greeting her respectfully, he offered his welcome-back regards. As he prepared to sit, she announced, "Let's go eat." They all agreed and stepped out.

The dining table was fully laid. Everyone took their seats. Rabiya, the maid, walked in with a tray of cups, greeted Mama, and left. Abba's seat was empty, and since dinner was a family affair, Humaira asked, "Hasn't Abba come out yet? Did he go to take a shower?" Mama smiled and said, "Let me go get him for you." She stood up and left.

Pushing open the door with a greeting, she found him standing before the mirror wrapped in a towel around his waist. He neither turned nor answered. She closed the door behind her, walked up to him, and said, "My dear, we're all waiting for you, dinner is served on the dining table, and here you are just getting ready for a shower." He muttered an unintelligible "Uhm." Stepping right in front of him, she said, "If it's because of the mistake I made earlier, please forgive me. I'm asking for your pardon, Your Excellency." Frowning deeper, he snapped, "It's in the past," and headed toward the bathroom. Reaching out, she playfully tugged at his towel. It slipped slightly, and he quickly grabbed it with his hand, exclaiming, "Woman, don't leave me naked!" She laughed and replied, "Come on, what night is it that a bat hasn't seen before?" He chuckled slightly and said, "Fair enough. Let me take a quick shower, the kids are waiting for me." Tilting her head, she purred, "Let me come help you." To himself, he thought: 'If this were Hasiya, she wouldn't even have to offer, I would beg for it.' But aloud he said, "No, leave it, I'll spare you the trouble. I'll be right out." Without waiting for a reply, he pulled his towel free from her grip, walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

She let out a sigh of relief, turned around, and sat on the edge of his luxurious bed, waiting for him to emerge because she didn't want to return to the children alone.

When he came out of the bathroom dressed in a jalabiya and sprayed with perfume, he sat down and picked up his phone, scrolling through it. She prompted, "Shall we go?" Without looking up, he said, "Go ahead, I'm coming. I just need to speak with Tukur." Surprised, she protested, "You expect me to sit here waiting just so the kids don't see me returning alone, yet you tell me to go ahead?" Lifting his gaze with an expressionless face, he retorted, "Did I say I wasn't coming?" She stubbornly refused to leave. Reluctantly, he put down his phone, stood up, and they walked out together. There was a specific number he had been dying to call, but she had always denied him the opportunity, and he didn't want to call it in front of her to avoid suspicion—even though he had saved the number for a long time without ever dialing it. In fact, the owner of the number didn't even know he had it. Today was the first time he intended to call her!

ABUJA

Hajiya Naja'atu sat in her expansive living room, legs crossed, chatting on her phone with her friend Hajiya Zuhra, complaining about how adamant Alhaji Muhammad had been regarding having children, despite knowing her firm resolve and dream of having only two children in her entire life. Mero, the maid, walked in with a greeting. Seeing that Hajiya didn't respond, she approached, knelt before her, and placed a bowl of fruit salad on the table.

Despite the air fresheners sprayed in the room, the moment Hajiya sat down, a distinct fragrance emanated from her. She was dressed in a nightgown without even a bra underneath.

Setting the bowl down, Mero left the room. Hajiya picked up the spoon, eating the fruit salad while typing on her phone with her other hand.

THE NEXT DAY

Alhaji Muhammad hurried into Hajiya's living room, wiping away sweat despite the chilly morning weather. His face was etched with worry, his eyes sunken like someone recovering from a severe illness.

Gathering his strength, he called out to Hajiya: "Hajiya!" There was no answer. He called out a second time: "Hajiya Naja'atu!" After calling about four times, she finally emerged from the room yawning. She wore a long nightgown, her hair unkempt and uncombed, and her face showing clear signs of just waking up. Without even glancing at Alhaji, she walked past and sat down, making a face. "Are you alright?" Alhaji asked. "I'm fine," she replied dismissively. "Do you know what time it is? I expected you to prepare breakfast for me. Today is Monday, and I need to leave for work early." She shrugged, saying, "Why didn't you ask Mero to make it for you?"

Hearing those words yet again, Alhaji stared at Hajiya in utter shock and said, "Am I married to Mero or to you?" Suppressing a yawn, she replied, "That's why she is paid a salary, isn't that what she was hired to do?" Alhaji let out a heavy breath. This wasn't the first time. Ever since their marriage, he had tried hard to endure her behavior because of his intense love for her. He stepped closer, his breath mingling with hers, and softened his voice: "Naja'atuna, please take care of yourself for my sake. You know very well that you are my sole desire, the only one I want to spend my life with forever! That is why I want to receive everything I need from a woman exclusively from you, yet you play games with my desires and neglect your own care." He reached out and took her hand. She said nothing, nor did he expect her to. He couldn't understand why Hajiya Naja'atu was his ultimate weakness. Even just now, he had stepped out of his room furious like a cornered viper to reprimand her, but the moment he saw her, his love for her completely overshadowed all her faults.

Softening his voice further, he continued, "Please dress up nicely, even if we aren't going anywhere. I want to come home and find my wife smelling fresh and looking lovely." He said this with a coaxing tilt of his head like a little child.

She let out a mocking laugh and said, "You too, Alhaji! All this talk about makeup, fashion, and glamour just for a man—I see no point in it, it's just a waste of time and money." He fell silent. She kept talking, completely oblivious to how her words pierced his heart: "I'm not one of those women who spend their entire lives trying to please a man, wasting their existence revolving around men. Their minds are constantly obsessed with how to impress a man, always visiting cosmetic shops and hair salons just to maintain an illusion. Women even go to salons just to sit and have their feet scrubbed. I have no interest in doing those things because they don't appeal to me in the least. I much prefer sitting and chatting with relatives, friends, and loved ones. If you want those things, go look at them outside." Alhaji swallowed the retort burning on his tongue. He turned to leave, but she added, "And stop bothering me about having children. I told you before marriage: I will only bear two children. My firstborn passed away, and now I won't even think about another child until after ten years." Her words struck the core of Alhaji's heart like a heavy stone, but he managed to endure it and walked out of the living room while she sat unbothered, acting as though nothing had happened.

He went upstairs, his spirit completely crushed. He got dressed for work, but feeling so emotionally drained, he knew he couldn't ask Mero to prepare anything for him since he had no appetite for food.

Meanwhile, in another part of the house... Hajiya Kaltume sat rolling her prayer beads, her heart heavy with anxiety. "Ya Allah," she murmured softly. To herself, she thought: 'God gave me only one son. And now, even grandchildren are proving difficult. I dreamed of gathering a massive lineage from my son's offspring, but it has hit a brick wall!' She raised her head as she heard Alhaji Muhammad enter. One look at him told her everything about the distress he carried. In her heart, she resolved: 'The time has come. I must save my son's life, even if Naja'atu won't like it. I must make him take another wife, because I am desperate to see my grandchildren.'

After he responded to her greeting, he came in, hung his work bag, and greeted her. She accepted his greetings and prayed for him before he bid her farewell and left, escorted by his driver.

NIGHT

Lying awake in his massive bed, he tossed and turned, unable to find peace, until finally, unable to bear it any longer, he raised...

Summary

The narrative centers on grief, marital discord, and moral hypocrisy across different households. In the first plotline, Hasiya is devastated by the sudden death of her loving husband, Zahraddin, leaving her destitute with two young orphans. Abdulsalam, Zahraddin’s hypocritical friend who previously refused to help finance Zahraddin's medical care, pretends to play the savior by providing food, while secretly harboring inappropriate intentions toward Hasiya. Abdulsalam's wife, Ramla, confronts him about his wandering eyes and unfaithful tendencies, leading to fierce denials and emotional abuse from him. Meanwhile, in Abuja, a wealthy businessman named Alhaji Muhammad suffers in a cold, loveless marriage with his self-absorbed, modern wife, Hajiya Naja'atu, who refuses to have more children or care for his emotional needs, driving his mother, Hajiya Kaltume, to desperately plot for him to take a second wife.

Description

This rich contemporary domestic drama explores themes of marital betrayal, grief, societal hypocrisy, and socioeconomic disparity. Set against the backdrop of traditional northern Nigerian family life, the story contrasts the tragic desolation of a widowed mother in poverty with the hollow luxury of the upper class, highlighting how personal selfishness and hidden vices fracture domestic peace.

Analytics

• Character Dynamics: Highlights the stark contrast between genuine loyalty (Zahraddin) and hypocritical opportunism (Abdulsalam), as well as the emotional resilience of wives (Ramla and Hasiya) facing neglect and manipulation.
• Thematic Contrast: Juxtaposes the raw, grinding grief of a traditional mourning household with the sterile, emotionally bankrupt luxury of an elite Abuja marriage.
• Narrative Structure: Utilizes parallel storytelling to examine how different strata of society deal with familial duty, marital discord, and moral failing.

Comments

• The transition between Hasiya's tragic loss and Alhaji Muhammad's marital woes in Abuja effectively broadens the scope of the social critique.
• Abdulsalam’s character represents a chilling archetype of toxic performative empathy masking predatory intent.
• Naja'atu’s blatant disregard for her husband's emotional and reproductive desires provides a compelling catalyst for the mother-in-law's intervention.

Conclusions

The excerpt portrays domestic life as a battleground of unmet expectations, where public facades often mask private corruption. Whether through the predatory posturing of a grieving friend or the cold indifference of an elite spouse, the characters are trapped in cycles of emotional starvation that demand dramatic resolution.

Keywords

Grief, Marriage, Hypocrisy, Betrayal, Family Dynamics, Social Status, Loss, Nigeria, Domestic Drama, Relationships.

Table List

Detailed Story Analysis

Comprehensive Narrative Summary

The story opens in deep sorrow as Hasiya learns of the sudden death of her husband, Zahraddin, leaving her destitute and grieving with two young children. Abdulsalam, Zahraddin’s hypocritical friend who previously withheld financial support during Zahraddin's illness, arrives at the mourning house putting on a show of grief and offering provisions. While his wife, Ramla, delivers the food to Hasiya, Abdulsalam is caught ogling young women outside, sparking a tense confrontation in their car where he aggressively shuts down Ramla's valid accusations. Later at home, despite Ramla's attempts to bridge the emotional gap and apologize for calling out his behavior, Abdulsalam remains cold and preoccupied with secret motives.

The narrative then shifts to Abuja, introducing Alhaji Muhammad, a wealthy man trapped in an emotionally vacant marriage with Hajiya Naja'atu. Naja'atu is self-absorbed, neglectful of basic wifely duties, and adamantly opposed to bearing more children or putting effort into pleasing her husband. Burdened by loneliness and unfulfilled emotional needs, Alhaji Muhammad seeks solace at home only to be rejected. Meanwhile, his mother, Hajiya Kaltume, observes his deep distress and resolves to intervene by forcing him to take a second wife to secure the family lineage and bring him peace.

Extended Description & Thematic Depth

This excerpt delves deeply into the complexities of human relationships, societal expectations, and moral decay within domestic settings. It establishes a sharp dichotomy between two distinct socioeconomic spheres: the raw, communal grief of a low-income family struggling with sudden widowhood and poverty, contrasted against the sterile, cold luxury of an elite Abuja household plagued by emotional starvation.

At its core, the text exposes the masks people wear—how public gestures of sympathy often conceal hidden, predatory agendas (as seen in Abdulsalam), and how financial comfort fails to buy domestic peace when mutual respect and affection are absent (as seen in Alhaji Muhammad's marriage). The female characters—Hasiya, Ramla, and Hajiya Kaltume—anchor the emotional gravity of the narrative, each navigating systemic vulnerability, marital frustration, or maternal anxiety in a society heavily influenced by patriarchal dynamics.

Comparative Summary & Structural Analytics