“Destiny has only one name, but its meanings and expressions are countless. The way I understand destiny makes me see the world and everything inside it as destiny.
When I say destiny, I truly mean destiny.
But the way I understand it is not the way other people understand it. People often only call something destiny when something bad happens to them.
For me, everything that happens to a person is destiny — happiness and hardship, wealth and poverty, life and death. Even the world itself and everything inside it is destiny.
A person coming into this world is destiny too.
But most people only call painful events destiny.
Maybe the reason I understand destiny this way is because my whole life has been surrounded by it like a ring.
Or maybe that is just my own assumption.
I don't know.
In this story I am about to tell you, there is nothing inside it except the many destinies that happened to me, my parents, and my siblings in this suffocating world — a world without windows for us to breathe through or even see the people living in it.
Sometimes I feel it would have been better for us to live inside burning embers than to face the destiny that was handed to us — a destiny we had no choice but to accept with tears instead of smiles.
Especially me, Fatima Zahra, a fifteen-year-old girl. Destiny showed no mercy to my youth, just as it showed none to my mother when we lost our relatives and family.
So prepare yourselves and listen carefully to how destiny rolled and slipped over our lives.
Only strong faith stopped us from losing hope completely and leaving this world behind.”
---
The Night Everything Changed
It was 12:09 AM when we arrived at Umaru Musa Yar'Adua Airport in Katsina.
My mother was driving a Mercedes 3400. We entered the airport just as we heard the sound of an airplane preparing to land.
That meant we would not have to wait long for my father to arrive.
I smiled happily and my mother said joyfully:
“We arrived just in time. My love is about to arrive.”
She parked the car and I quickly opened the door and stepped outside.
I looked up at the sky watching the plane descending beautifully. I even shielded my eyes from the bright airport lights so I could watch the landing clearly and later tell my siblings what I saw.
My mother kept looking between me and the plane with excitement.
Soon the plane touched the ground and slowed down.
A vehicle carrying stairs approached the aircraft so passengers could come down.
I grabbed my mother’s hand and pulled her along, but she wasn’t walking fast enough.
So I let go and ran ahead.
I wanted to be the first to hug my father when he came out.
I loved my father more than anyone — even more than my mother.
He always listened to me, played with me, and cared about my feelings. My mother, on the other hand, paid more attention to my brothers.
But my father always made me feel special.
What I didn't know then was that this love for my father would become the first destiny I would taste in my life.
---
The Terrible Moment
The plane door opened.
The first person to come out was my father’s friend Alhaji Mustafa.
His face looked serious.
Then another man came out.
Then some strangers appeared carrying something that looked like a hospital stretcher.
On the stretcher was something wrapped in white cloth.
My heart suddenly began beating painfully.
I turned and looked at my mother who ran toward the stretcher and uncovered the face.
The face she saw was my father’s face.
But he was not moving.
He was not breathing.
Before I could ask what happened, I heard my mother scream in a voice I had never heard before.
---
My Mother's Cry
“Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un!
Where will I go now? Why did you do this to me?
What about the promise you made to me — that you would be both a husband and protector to me?
You know I have nobody except Allah and you.
Please wake up!
Don’t leave me with your children who have nobody but you.
Umar, please wake up and tell me you are still alive!”
She shook his lifeless body while crying uncontrollably.
At that moment I realized something terrible had truly happened.
My father was dead.
I had never imagined death for him. In my mind he would live until he saw my wedding and my children.
But destiny had a different plan.
---
The Funeral and Humiliation
We cried loudly at the airport until my father’s friend Alhaji Mustafa shouted angrily at my mother:
“Stop this crying! In Islam excessive crying for the dead is forbidden. Control yourself.”
His harshness shocked my mother because he had never spoken to her like that while my father was alive.
They placed my father's body in the car and we drove home.
At home the body was laid in the living room.
My mother called my father’s relatives in the village.
Soon they arrived in large numbers.
The house turned into a mourning house filled with crying and shouting.
My father was prepared for burial.
When my mother approached to say goodbye to her husband, my aunt suddenly pushed her away violently and shouted:
“What do you know about Islam to stand here making prayers?
Your repentance means nothing. Go away before you cause trouble for him in the grave!”
My mother was treated with hatred because she had originally been a Christian before marrying my father.
My father had always protected her from their cruelty.
Now he was gone.
---
After the Burial
After the burial, the mourning continued in the house.
But instead of sympathy, my father’s relatives showed greed and hostility.
They ate food, searched through the house, and treated the place like their property.
My mother remained silent as advised by a neighbor named Mama, who warned her not to argue with them.
---
The Shocking Accusation
Seven days later my father’s friend Alhaji Mustafa gathered everyone.
He said:
“I gathered you here to announce something important. Umar owed me 15 million naira before he died. This debt must be paid before the inheritance is shared.”
I was young, but even I knew the truth.
It was actually Alhaji Mustafa who owed my father money, not the other way around.
But now that my father was dead, he reversed the story.
My mother protested:
“You must be mistaken. It was you who owed him that money.”
But they shouted at her and accused her of lying.
My father’s relatives supported Alhaji Mustafa.
They demanded that everything belonging to my father be brought out to pay the supposed debt.
My mother brought out everything she knew belonged to my father.
But they still accused her of hiding more.
They even took her gold jewelry.
Finally Alhaji Mustafa took many of the properties as payment for the false debt and left.
And my father’s relatives continued dividing what remained.
---
Meaning of the Story So Far
This part of GARWASHI shows:
The sudden death of Fatima’s father
The cruelty of relatives after his death
False accusations and greed
The beginning of a painful destiny for Fatima and her mother
GARWASHI (Embers)
Introduction
“Destiny has only one name, but its meanings and expressions are countless. The way I understand destiny makes me see the world and everything inside it as destiny.
When I say destiny, I truly mean destiny.
But the way I understand it is not the way other people understand it. People often only call something destiny when something bad happens to them.
For me, everything that happens to a person is destiny — happiness and hardship, wealth and poverty, life and death. Even the world itself and everything inside it is destiny.
A person coming into this world is destiny too.
But most people only call painful events destiny.
Maybe the reason I understand destiny this way is because my whole life has been surrounded by it like a ring.
Or maybe that is just my own assumption.
I don't know.
In this story I am about to tell you, there is nothing inside it except the many destinies that happened to me, my parents, and my siblings in this suffocating world — a world without windows for us to breathe through or even see the people living in it.
Sometimes I feel it would have been better for us to live inside burning embers than to face the destiny that was handed to us — a destiny we had no choice but to accept with tears instead of smiles.
Especially me, Fatima Zahra, a fifteen-year-old girl. Destiny showed no mercy to my youth, just as it showed none to my mother when we lost our relatives and family.
So prepare yourselves and listen carefully to how destiny rolled and slipped over our lives.
Only strong faith stopped us from losing hope completely and leaving this world behind.”
---
The Night Everything Changed
It was 12:09 AM when we arrived at Umaru Musa Yar'Adua Airport in Katsina.
My mother was driving a Mercedes 3400. We entered the airport just as we heard the sound of an airplane preparing to land.
That meant we would not have to wait long for my father to arrive.
I smiled happily and my mother said joyfully:
“We arrived just in time. My love is about to arrive.”
She parked the car and I quickly opened the door and stepped outside.
I looked up at the sky watching the plane descending beautifully. I even shielded my eyes from the bright airport lights so I could watch the landing clearly and later tell my siblings what I saw.
My mother kept looking between me and the plane with excitement.
Soon the plane touched the ground and slowed down.
A vehicle carrying stairs approached the aircraft so passengers could come down.
I grabbed my mother’s hand and pulled her along, but she wasn’t walking fast enough.
So I let go and ran ahead.
I wanted to be the first to hug my father when he came out.
I loved my father more than anyone — even more than my mother.
He always listened to me, played with me, and cared about my feelings. My mother, on the other hand, paid more attention to my brothers.
But my father always made me feel special.
What I didn't know then was that this love for my father would become the first destiny I would taste in my life.
---
The Terrible Moment
The plane door opened.
The first person to come out was my father’s friend Alhaji Mustafa.
His face looked serious.
Then another man came out.
Then some strangers appeared carrying something that looked like a hospital stretcher.
On the stretcher was something wrapped in white cloth.
My heart suddenly began beating painfully.
I turned and looked at my mother who ran toward the stretcher and uncovered the face.
The face she saw was my father’s face.
But he was not moving.
He was not breathing.
Before I could ask what happened, I heard my mother scream in a voice I had never heard before.
---
My Mother's Cry
“Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un!
Where will I go now? Why did you do this to me?
What about the promise you made to me — that you would be both a husband and protector to me?
You know I have nobody except Allah and you.
Please wake up!
Don’t leave me with your children who have nobody but you.
Umar, please wake up and tell me you are still alive!”
She shook his lifeless body while crying uncontrollably.
At that moment I realized something terrible had truly happened.
My father was dead.
I had never imagined death for him. In my mind he would live until he saw my wedding and my children.
But destiny had a different plan.
---
The Funeral and Humiliation
We cried loudly at the airport until my father’s friend Alhaji Mustafa shouted angrily at my mother:
“Stop this crying! In Islam excessive crying for the dead is forbidden. Control yourself.”
His harshness shocked my mother because he had never spoken to her like that while my father was alive.
They placed my father's body in the car and we drove home.
At home the body was laid in the living room.
My mother called my father’s relatives in the village.
Soon they arrived in large numbers.
The house turned into a mourning house filled with crying and shouting.
My father was prepared for burial.
When my mother approached to say goodbye to her husband, my aunt suddenly pushed her away violently and shouted:
“What do you know about Islam to stand here making prayers?
Your repentance means nothing. Go away before you cause trouble for him in the grave!”
My mother was treated with hatred because she had originally been a Christian before marrying my father.
My father had always protected her from their cruelty.
Now he was gone.
---
After the Burial
After the burial, the mourning continued in the house.
But instead of sympathy, my father’s relatives showed greed and hostility.
They ate food, searched through the house, and treated the place like their property.
My mother remained silent as advised by a neighbor named Mama, who warned her not to argue with them.
---
The Shocking Accusation
Seven days later my father’s friend Alhaji Mustafa gathered everyone.
He said:
“I gathered you here to announce something important. Umar owed me 15 million naira before he died. This debt must be paid before the inheritance is shared.”
I was young, but even I knew the truth.
It was actually Alhaji Mustafa who owed my father money, not the other way around.
But now that my father was dead, he reversed the story.
My mother protested:
“You must be mistaken. It was you who owed him that money.”
But they shouted at her and accused her of lying.
My father’s relatives supported Alhaji Mustafa.
They demanded that everything belonging to my father be brought out to pay the supposed debt.
My mother brought out everything she knew belonged to my father.
But they still accused her of hiding more.
They even took her gold jewelry.
Finally Alhaji Mustafa took many of the properties as payment for the false debt and left.
And my father’s relatives continued dividing what remained.
---
Meaning of the Story So Far
This part of GARWASHI shows:
The sudden death of Fatima’s father
The cruelty of relatives after his death
False accusations and greed
The beginning of a painful destiny for Fatima and her mother