Mabaraciya Book 1 Complete

Description

Chapter 1

A crowd of beggars surrounded the gate of a massive mansion. They were all seated, murmuring restlessly and rising to their feet as if sensing the master of the house was about to emerge. They began shoving each other. As if dropping from the heavens, a young girl appeared, cutting aggressively through the crowd. Her sole objective was simply to catch a glimpse of the front lane, knowing that was the only way to get close enough to see the master of the house—or failing him, the mistress, whose sight alone would satisfy her.

Reaching the front row, she stopped dead in her tracks. To her surprise, everyone present was elderly; not a single youth was in sight. It was evident she was a regular here, as none of the women complained about her intrusion.

She kept blinking her eyes like someone caught in a lie. Over thirty minutes passed without the slightest sign of the household occupants emerging, draining the warmth from her body. Hot tears welled up and tracked down her cheeks. An old woman standing beside her gently patted her shoulder. "Have patience, Ameerah. It looks like the masters aren't home today either. But child, where are your parents that they let a young girl like you wander around begging? Surely, if they knew, they would keep you safe at home and come out themselves. In today's wicked world, someone could use their wealth to ruin your life."

Ameerah’s mind was miles away, untouched by the warning, entirely consumed by thoughts of how to bridge the gap between herself and the master of the house.

When the old woman shook her gently, Ameerah snapped back to reality. She forced a weak smile and said, "Don't worry, Innah, I'll be back tomorrow. A seeker never tires." With that, she turned to head home. The old woman watched her retreating figure with a puzzled gaze, struggling to understand the girl. Looking at Ameerah, you would never call her a beggar; she lacked the ragged weariness of true mendicants, and she carried an air of distinct cleanliness. “Oh Allah, grant us sufficiency,” she whispered to herself.

Once Ameerah was far down the road, she glanced back, but the space in front of the gate was completely deserted. She smiled, wondering why the crowd always vanished the moment she decided to leave, though she never found an answer. Finding a spot to sit, she pondered her next move to fulfill her burning ambition. She would not stop until she achieved her goal, kept the promise she made to her elder sister, and exacted revenge upon Saudahhh...

#Who is Ameerah, who is Saudah, and what ambition drives her?

Your comments will prove whether this story resonates. #Follow me on Wattpad @damselfeedo Real@bazamfaria 💙 It's ur Feedorh INTELLIGENT WRITERS ASSOCIATION (On word together)

Chapter 2

...She flagged down a tricycle (napep), gave the driver her destination, and after a fairly long ride, she alighted.

Entering a modest house with a traditional greeting of peace, she headed straight for a room and called out, "Aunty, I'm back!"

The woman she addressed as Aunty hurried out. "Meerah, any success?"

Ameerah sighed heavily. "Almost, Aunty."

"Look, Meerah, if you listened to me, you would let go and leave everything to Allah. He is not a tyrannical king; I know He sees and hears, and soon He will avenge Maryam."

Ameerah let out another sigh, her voice laced with vulnerability. "I know, Aunty. Allah never sleeps, and our faith permits us that when we are wronged and cannot forgive, we may seek retribution, even if it's just a fraction of what was done to us."

Aunty cut her off firmly. "I am certain that if Maryam were alive, she would forgive and wipe the slate clean. Please, Meerah, stop dragging us into battles beyond our strength. That woman possesses unimaginable power and can do anything to protect her dignity. Why won't you just let it go?" She stared intently at her.

With renewed resolve, Ameerah replied, "Aunty, any privilege that does not come from Allah is fleeting. We may have no one, but we have Allah, and He will help me. By Allah, until I avenge my sister, I will no longer count myself among the living. Just watch and wait. I'm hungry; where is my food?"

Aunty shook her head silently. "It's in the kitchen; go warm it up." Without another word, Ameerah walked to her room.

After taking a quick bath and performing her ritual ablution and prayers, she picked up a notebook. She stared longingly at the cover as if about to open it, then hesitated and put it back down. Silence descended as she drifted into thought, suddenly bursting into muffled tears.

"It shouldn't have come to this without me fulfilling my promise to you, Big Sister Maryam," she sobbed. "You were my only shelter, the one who sacrificed her dignity for my sake. You raised me and shielded me from the pain of orphanhood. I will never find peace until Saudah is disgraced and humiliated before the world—until she realizes that money and power aren't everything. May Allah forgive you," she wept louder.

After crying her heart out, she comforted herself, not wanting Aunty to see her distress and feel unappreciated after all her efforts. Exhaustion eventually claimed her, and she fell into a deep sleep.

She did not wake until the call to the Asr prayer, plagued by a pounding headache from crying. She forced herself up, performed her prayers, and headed to the kitchen to cook. She found Aunty there. Looking pleadingly as if about to cry, Aunty scolded, "Why didn't you wake me?"

Ameerah offered a soft smile. "Let me finish the work."

Only then did Aunty speak up. "No, Meerah, I know you're tired. Go rest."

"Oh, come on, Aunty, you need to rest too," Ameerah said, taking over the task of pounding ingredients. Aunty watched her with a heavy heart, pitying the young girl's life. Ameerah possessed poise and grace, but the injustice and selfishness of others threatened to warp her spirit. “Oh Allah, bring ease to Ameerah's life,” Aunty prayed internally.

"Amen!" Ameerah responded. Realizing she had spoken her prayer aloud instead of keeping it in her heart, they both smiled.

Ameerah continued, "Aunty, you love me more than you know. Whenever I remember my family, I weep and despise the whole world, but remembering I have you chases the pain away. May Allah grant you peace with your husband, bless you with righteous offspring, and give me the grace to repay you. Thank you so much, Aunty," she said as tears spilled over her lashes.

Aunty tapped her nose playfully. "Ah, Mr. Tears! I knew you'd start crying again. With you, there's never a happy conversation without tears. Go wipe your eyes before I lose my temper with my baby sister, the Mabaraciya (Beggar)!" They both burst into laughter.

Chapter 3

The next morning, Ameerah woke up early and dressed. Glancing into Aunty’s room, she heard no sounds, assuming they were still asleep. She slipped out, determined to see Saudah today by any means necessary.

Hailing a tricycle, she rode a short distance before getting down. She walked the rest of the way to the gate, but once again, the area was deserted, draining her spirits.

As she stood by the gate, it swung open, and an Elantra 2019 model pulled out as if by magic. She hurried toward it. The car window rolled down to reveal a strange face coming into view, and their eyes locked instantly. Ameerah felt a sudden flutter of panic, losing all her courage. Seeing her stop, the driver assumed she wasn't there for him and drove on. By the time she snapped out of it, only dust remained in the car's wake.

She swallowed a bitter taste as her heart began to race. Who was that man? From her investigations, Saudah did not have an adult son—her only child was a young girl. Could he be her husband? A wave of panic hit her, though she quickly convinced herself he wasn't.

She approached the gate and knocked. The gateman peered out, gave her a long look, and sneered, "There's no charity today, girl! Why are you beggars so ungrateful? No matter what you're given, it's never enough; you act like thieves. Didn't the mistress of the house distribute charity just yesterday? Why are you back?"

"Baba, do you mean the mistress came out yesterday?"

"Yes, of course! She distributed money, and now she's traveled out of town. If you intend to wait, here's a spot," he said, slamming the gate shut.

"Oh, God," Ameerah groaned, clutching her head. "Why was I so impatient? I'm sure if I hadn't left yesterday, I would have met Saudah. Ah, so when I looked back and saw nobody, they had already gone inside!"

She smiled, then remembered the man who had driven out of the house. Who knows, maybe he's her secret lover? She shook her head immediately. No, he didn't look like a scoundrel; he carried an air of dignity. So who is he?

Muttering to herself, she walked on, unaware of how far she had gone until she heard a car horn blaring behind her. Glancing back, she could only follow the tinted car with her eyes, unable to see the occupant. Annoyed by the apparent games, she turned and continued walking.

"Assalamu alaikum," a quiet voice uttered right in front of her.

Reluctant to answer, she remembered that returning a greeting of peace is a religious obligation. Without breaking her stride, she replied, "Wa'alaikumussalam."

"Fair lady, if you don't mind, hop in so I can cut your journey short. It's not right for a lady like you to let the sun scorch her—unless you want the Human Rights Commission after us," he teased.

Frowning deeply and wishing to cut the conversation short, she snapped, "No thank you, I'm not interested."

"Come on, I offered because you deserve the ride, not necessarily because you asked," he smiled.

Without another word, she walked past him. He stood by his car until she was far enough to prove she truly wouldn't accept a ride, then climbed back inside.

Chapter 4

Days passed, and Ameerah stopped visiting the mansion. However, every waking thought was consumed by plots on how to breach Saudah's fortress.

Aunty’s entry pulled her out of her reverie. Smiling, she said, "Look who's here!"

Aunty returned the smile, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "I noticed you were quiet today and wondered if you'd gone out, so I came to check on you."

"Aunty, I'm just sitting here thinking about that wicked woman's travels," Ameerah said, biting her lip in frustration.

Aunty patted her shoulder gently. "Ameerah, I keep telling you this path is a dead end. How can you abandon your education just for revenge? You know Maryam's greatest wish was for you to get a degree. Why throw that away for this? My advice is to return to school. With time, even without your prodding, Saudah’s secrets will come to light. But a young girl like you roaming houses under the guise of a beggar is no solution."

Ameerah remained silent, pivoting the topic entirely. Aunty realized her words were falling on deaf ears; she had never met anyone as stubbornly unforgiving as Ameerah, holding onto a grudge formed before she even fully understood the world.

"I have my reasons for pausing school, Aunty. Education requires money, as you know. My brother-in-law isn't well-off, and you don't have a steady business. If I set my heart on school right now... well, success doesn't only come through formal education. Though education is valuable, I'll pursue it later if it's meant for me. Right now, abandoning it doesn't break my heart—only failing Maryam's dream hurts."

"True, Ameerah, but if you truly want to study, I'm sure Isma'il can shoulder the burden."

"That's true, Aunty. Thank you so much for your efforts, but what you already do for me is enough. May Allah grant me the grace to repay you."

Niger State

A wealthy-looking woman sat regally in a luxurious room, exuding pride and arrogance. She was on a phone call, her lips moving without sound. Several young teenage girls knelt before her, watching her with fearful eyes.

As soon as the call ended, she waved her hand. "You may sit." They stood up and sat down timidly.

Giving them a killer smile laden with conceit, she asked, "So, are you ready for what I need?"

With a trembling voice, one of them replied, "We are ready, Hajiya."

Hajiya waved her hand dismissively. "I heard your answer." She pointed at the other girl. "What about you?"

Gathering her courage, the second girl blurted out, "Indeed, anyone without God in their heart can do anything! If you lack shame, you'll do whatever you please. Look at us, Hajiya—there isn't one of us here you're not old enough to give birth to, yet you expect us to be your instruments of pleasure, and ultimately push us into prostitution for money! Astaghfirullah! But it's not your fault; it's the fault of parents whom God entrusted with our care, yet they failed, allowing themselves to be tricked into handing us over to you under the guise of domestic work, just to ruin our lives!"

Not a single word touched Hajiya's conscience. All she cared about was that her desires would be met and she would profit from them. She called one of her female attendants. "Take them away. Make sure they are thoroughly scrubbed; I don't want to smell any filth. Teach them how to please me by tomorrow."

Who is this woman? Follow closely as I reveal everything.

Chapter 5

The young woman led the girls to a secluded wing reserved for newly arrived recruits. Entering the quarters, what they saw deepened their panic: two other young girls were lying down playing with an older woman of about fifty years old.

"Astaghfirullah!" they gasped in terror. But their guide was evidently used to this; she didn't even acknowledge the scene. Seeing the newcomers frozen in shock, she yanked them forward forcefully, causing them to stumble. To witness such perversion, it would be better to be born blind, they thought.

They ducked into a winding corridor revealing over twenty doors—a massive labyrinth hidden within the unassuming architecture. This further highlighted the absolute lack of fear of God in this place.

The guide unlocked a door with a key. Masha'Allah, it was a beautifully furnished parlor with an adjoining bedroom and kitchen. She ushered them into the bedroom. "Strip," she commanded.

Neither girl moved a muscle, let alone contemplated undressing.

The woman eyed them individually, her lip curling in disdain as her gaze dropped to their chests. "If it weren't for Hajiya's perversion, what would she even want with girls like you when she has older ones?"

When they remained silent, she crossed her legs and sat down. "Let me advise you. Even if I know you aren't listening because you carry the mentality of the wretched, whatever Hajiya plans to do, she will get her way. You have only one option: obey her. If you don't, she has brutal henchmen ready to tear you apart like starving dogs. That's how she treats anyone who defies her. The exact same thing happened to me."

Hearing this, the girls complied in a daze of terror, taking off their clothes.

When they finished, the woman brought out a tray of clothes and dumped them in front of them. The girls stared at the skimpy, highly revealing outfits in horror.

With a quivering voice, one begged, "Aunty, please let us put our clothes back on."

The woman rolled her eyes. "You really are destined to be Hajiya's dogs, aren't you? Let me tell you, if you make her give you to those men, your lives will be reduced to utter misery. I advise you to just comply."

She walked out, returning shortly with a tray of food, which she dropped before them. "Eat your fill, then change into those clothes before I come back to start work." With that, she left the room.

The girls burst into fresh tears, weeping together for over thirty minutes, consumed by self-pity and resentment toward the parents who had abandoned them to this fate.

When the woman returned and found them untouched, neither eating nor changing, she didn't waste words. She grabbed one of them and threw her onto the bed, beginning a brutal, frantic assault. The terrified girl could do nothing but cry. After a long session, the woman pulled away, breathing heavily, and signaled the other girl to approach since she was too exhausted to speak.

The second girl shook her head in terror, but the woman dragged her onto the bed and subjected her to the same ordeal. When she finished, the second girl broke down sobbing bitterly. The woman watched them both with indifference, took her time, and walked out without uttering another word.

Chapter 6

Left alone, the girls stared at her retreating figure in utter shock and confusion. What did all this mean? Slowly, they got up and put their clothes back on.

Overwhelmed by hunger, they eventually pulled the food tray closer and ate. After a while, the woman returned, sitting quietly to watch them.

Breaking the silence, she began her story: "First, my name is Fatima, but people call me Binta. I was born in Sokoto, but my father later moved us to Suleja, where he started a fruit business. Whenever I wasn't at school, I used to tag along to help him.

"One Saturday—a day I will never forget—I was returning from Islamic school. Instead of going home straight, I went directly to my father's stall. My arrival coincided with a visit from Hajiya Saudah. Seeing how warmly she and my father greeted each other told me they were well acquainted. I looked up to greet her, but she had been staring at me the whole time. Feeling slightly uncomfortable under her gaze, I said, 'Good afternoon.' She answered with a bright smile.

"I didn't say anything else, picked up my bag, and told my father I was leaving. She tried to give me a large sum of money, but I refused until my father intervened and made me take it. As I left, my heart felt uneasy; I instinctively disliked that woman. From that day on, my father would always pass along her greetings, and I would merely acknowledge them.

"Then, out of nowhere, my mother fell ill. We ran from one hospital to another until we grew exhausted, and finally, Allah took her soul. My father and I were devastated. He began packing our things, saying we were returning to Sokoto, and he hired a transport vehicle to take us all the way.

"While we were loading our belongings, Hajiya Saudah showed up. She begged my father endlessly to stay, but he refused. Finally, she pleaded with him to let me stay with her, promising to take care of me and bring me to visit him in Sokoto regularly. At first, my father refused, but seeing how persistently she begged, he felt too embarrassed to turn down someone who had shown us such kindness—even though I was his only child.

"So, he handed me over into her trust, while I cried my heart out because I had detested the woman from the very beginning. As my father's vehicle drove away to Sokoto, I watched helplessly. At first, there was no luxury that Hajiya Saudah didn't shower upon me..."

Summary

This dramatic Hausa narrative follows Ameerah, a determined young woman driven by an unyielding desire for vengeance against a wealthy, powerful woman named Saudah. Ameerah holds Saudah responsible for the tragic fate of her late sister, Maryam. Despite living modestly with her supportive Aunty, Ameerah skips her education, spending her days staking out Saudah’s palatial residence under the guise of a beggar to gain access. Along her journey, she encounters mysterious figures, including an enigmatic motorist and a gateman who informs her of Saudah’s travels.

Parallel to Ameerah’s quest, a sinister subplot unfolds in Niger State, where a ruthless, affluent woman named Hajiya Saudah operates a corrupt human trafficking ring. Innocent young girls, including a victim named Binta, are deceived by false promises of domestic work, only to be trapped, exploited, and subjected to horrific abuse. As Binta recounts her tragic descent into this web of modern slavery—sparked by her father's misplaced trust in Hajiya Saudah—the narrative weaves together themes of grief, vengeance, structural injustice, and the perilous vulnerabilities of the underprivileged.

Description

The text is an emotionally charged contemporary Hausa fiction serial titled "Mabaraciya" (The Beggar), written by Fidd3usi Sani (Damsel Feedorh). It blends elements of domestic drama, psychological suspense, social critique, and dark tragedy. Through vivid dialogue and contrasting settings—ranging from modest family homes in urban neighborhoods to elite mansions and hidden dens of exploitation—the story explores the stark socio-economic divides in society. It highlights the consuming nature of trauma and revenge through Ameerah's unrelenting quest, while simultaneously exposing the dark underbelly of human trafficking and parental negligence through Binta's harrowing testimony.

Analytics

• Narrative Structure: Multi-perspective and episodic (Chapters 1 through 6), transitioning between Ameerah's revenge mission and Binta's captive experiences.
• Character Archetypes:
  • Ameerah: The vengeful, single-minded protagonist seeking justice/retribution for her sister Maryam.
  • Aunty: The voice of reason, caution, and maternal care who urges peace and education.
  • Hajiya Saudah: The primary antagonist; an opulent, powerful, and deeply corrupt figure operating illicit exploitation rings.
  • Binta: A secondary tragic protagonist detailing the pipeline of human trafficking disguised as employment.
• Core Motifs: Vengeance versus forgiveness, class disparity, parental responsibility/neglect, psychological trauma, and institutional vulnerability.
• Tone: Melancholic, tense, brooding, and intensely dramatic.

Comments

• Thematic Depth: The story cleverly subverts expectations through the title Mabaraciya (Beggar). Ameerah is not a real beggar; rather, she weaponizes the disguise of poverty to infiltrate elite spaces, highlighting how the marginalized must resort to subversion to seek accountability from the untouchable elite.
• Pacing and Suspense: The alternating plotlines between Ameerah's elusive pursuit of Saudah and Binta's horrifying captivity keep the tension high, establishing Hajiya Saudah as a multifaceted villain operating across different social layers.
• Social Commentary: The narrative serves as a sharp critique of predatory predators who exploit economic desperation, warning parents about the dangers of blindly trusting wealthy benefactors with their children's futures.

Conclusions

"Mabaraciya" is a compelling exploration of how unresolved grief and unhealed trauma manifest as an obsessive pursuit of vengeance. Ameerah’s refusal to let go mirrors the systemic failure of justice for the vulnerable, compelling ordinary people to take radical steps. Simultaneously, Binta's harrowing ordeal exposes the grim reality of human trafficking, establishing that the antagonist’s cruelty extends far beyond personal vendettas into systemic exploitation. Ultimately, the narrative poses profound moral questions about forgiveness, justice, and the heavy price of survival in an unjust world.

Keywords

• Mabaraciya
• Ameerah
• Saudah / Hajiya Saudah
• Maryam
• Binta
• Vengeance
• Human Trafficking
• Hausa Fiction
• Social Injustice
• Fiddausi Sani (Damsel Feedorh)

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