What utter distress! Instead of showing him any sympathy in his miserable condition, Talatu began raining down insults, cruelty, and public humiliation upon him. She claimed that he had bought this misfortune with his own money and resources, so she had absolutely no intention of helping him. She argued that he spent his money entirely on his own selfish desires while continuously failing to fulfill his duties toward her and the children; therefore, this was solely his problem. As things stood, only his children felt any pity for him, and they were the ones nursing him through his illness. Talatu completely ignored him and went about her own business. It was Jamila who eventually decided to go and inform Shahida about the critical state of their father’s health and the sheer panic they were all in. Shahida couldn't hold back anymore, and bitter tears of frustration escaped her. She had no doubt that the sudden illness was triggered by his own mounting fear and overwhelming distress. What was anyone supposed to do with a character like their father's? The entire world knew, and his own children were witnesses, that his lifestyle was forbidden (haram). They had pleaded with him repeatedly to change his ways, but he steadfastly refused, constantly plunging himself deeper into catastrophe. Today he would take a massive loan from one person; tomorrow he would swallow a debt from another—and always in exorbitant amounts! Well, now he had finally hit rock bottom. The house he once boasted about had been signed away, and yet his financial problems remained entirely unsolved. Indeed, the ultimate end of greed is deep shame! The man who purchased the house had already served an eviction notice with only a few days remaining, while another creditor was waiting in the wings for 1.5 million Naira. What kind of nightmare was this? With bloodshot eyes, Shahida stepped out into the courtyard, holding her hijab in her hand. Jamila followed closely behind her, her face equally masked with visible distress. Baba, who was busy sorting out spinach leaves, looked up at them and shook her head. There was no doubt that a storm was brewing, judging by the expressions on their faces. Furthermore, she suspected that something major was happening to their father, especially since she caught them whispering under their breath, clearly trying to prevent anyone else from overhearing their conversation. In her characteristically strained voice, Shahida said, "Baba, I am going to see our father. He is very sick, and Jamila just came to inform me." Deeply moved, Baba replied, "Good Lord! Well, crying won't help him; what he needs from you both are prayers. May God raise his shoulders and grant him strength, for sickness does not automatically mean death. But tell me, what exactly is ailing him?" She finished, looking directly at Jamila, who was fighting back tears. In a muted voice, Jamila replied, "He has an agonizing headache. But when the doctor examined him, he confirmed that his blood pressure has spiked dramatically." "Good Lord! That is the very thing everyone has been worried about. May God grant him swift healing." They all answered in unison, "Ameen." Baba then handed a five-hundred-Naira note to Shahida, saying, "Use this for your transport fare, but make sure you return early. Do not let nightfall catch you out there, do you hear me?" Submissively, Shahida replied, "Insha Allah." As they turned toward the exit, Baba added, "Jamila, extend my regards and wishes for a speedy recovery to the patient, alright?" She answered, "Insha Allah, I will surely tell him." Baba shook her head slowly after they departed. She felt immense pity for them for lacking a responsible, upright father. If Jamilu couldn't learn his lesson now, then when would he ever open his eyes? To make matters worse, God had blessed him with an entirely female lineage—this alone should have given him pause for reflection. When the girls arrived at the house, their father was sleeping soundly, all alone in his room. Talatu, on the other hand, was completely preoccupied with her own affairs. Hadiza was absent, having gone to attend a friend's wedding event. The house felt entirely desolate and drained. Only now was Talatu frantically trying to put together a meal after scrambling to beg for a loan from the neighbors. With an uninviting scowl, she glared at the girls and snapped, "Oh! So you went and dragged her along? What is she supposed to do here anyway? Or can she suddenly pay off the massive debts hanging over his head?" Jamila countered, "Haba, Talatu, that is no way to speak. Aunty Shahida and I are one and the same, and she has every right to be here. I went and informed her so she could come check on him because, regardless of everything, he is still her father." Scoffing loudly, Talatu spun around and marched into the kitchen, leaving them standing there in sheer frustration at her bitterness. It was close to the Maghrib prayer when he finally awoke from his sleep, feeling slightly better and more stable. As he stepped out to perform his ablutions, he found them sitting quietly in the courtyard, completely downcast. His heart sank even further. He felt too deeply ashamed to look them in the eye. Hurriedly, he grabbed his plastic kettle (buta) and made a beeline for the restroom. The girls immediately rushed to offer their sympathies, chorusing words of comfort. He could only manage a brief nod of his head before quickly slipping into the restroom, while Talatu followed him with a harsh, piercing glare. "Baba, how are you feeling now?" Shahida asked gently. Without looking up at her, he replied, "I am feeling better, Alhamdulillah. Who informed you that I was unwell?" Wiping a tear that slipped down her cheek, she said, "Jamila came and told me, so I decided to come see you. Baba Asabe also sends her regards and wishes you well." "I accept her greetings. I really am feeling better, so you should head home before it gets dark," he said, casting a fleeting glance at her. Seeing her weeping filled him with a sudden dread; he had no doubt that she had discovered the full scope of what was happening. He dropped his head, knowing that the pure frustration of the situation was breaking her heart. Sure enough, her trembling voice pierced the silence. "Baba, what kind of life have you thrown yourself into? What kind of existence are you trying to drag us into? Don’t you have even an ounce of pity for us?" He remained utterly silent, offering no reply. Sniffling deeply, she pressed on, "You have completely shattered your dignity and reputation in this town. There isn't a single soul who doesn't know the exact nature of your shady dealings. True wealth comes only from Allah, and by God, the Almighty will never bless you through forbidden means! And even if He grants you temporary abundance through it, it only ends in ultimate regret and deep public shame! What exactly is the profit in what you do? Look at how you have plunged yourself into catastrophe and dragged us right along with you. Where on earth are we going to find 1.5 million Naira right now? To make matters worse, you have signed away the very last house remaining to your name. Now, where are we—and you—supposed to turn for shelter?"
Translation: Pages 43 & 44
"Your Eminence, regarding the man you instructed me to investigate, the story remains exactly the same as last time. His neighbors and the people of his community refuse to offer a single good word about him. Whoever opens their mouth to speak only highlights his vices. Your Eminence, the intelligence I gathered confirms that he is a chronic gambler, and some even suspect he is deeply involved in a highly degenerate lifestyle." Sule concluded his report with deep respect and humility. The master set aside the newspaper he was holding, gave Sule his full attention, and asked, "Sule, are you absolutely certain about the truth of these claims? You know how corrupted the world has become; people no longer hesitate to spread malicious slander. It is because of my utmost trust and confidence in you that I tasked you with this investigation. I do not want any conflicting stories surfacing later on." "Your Eminence, that is absolutely true, and by God, I would never conspire to deceive or mislead you. Every single word I have spoken regarding Hujaj is the absolute truth. However, his neighbors did offer highly positive testimonies regarding his late father. They firmly assured me that he was an exceptionally upright and honorable man who never engaged in any form of immorality until the day he passed away." The master replied, "Very well, I appreciate your efforts, Sule. You may leave." Sule made a move to stand up, but then paused, hesitatingly scratching the back of his neck while keeping his head lowered. "Sule, what is it? It seems you still have something on your mind." Flashed a brief smile, Sule said, "Your Eminence, I have been deeply puzzled by this entire affair ever since you first assigned me to it. It got me thinking... could it be that we are finally about to welcome a mistress into the household?" The remark brought a rare smile to the master’s face. He replied, "Sule, and here I thought you were about to request some time off to go home and check on your family, but it turns out your mind is elsewhere." Still smiling, Sule responded, "I do need to do that as well, Alhaji, but I would highly appreciate it if you could answer this question for me, if it isn't too much trouble." The master fell silent for two whole minutes before finally speaking. "You guessed correctly, Sule. I intend to marry that man's daughter, Insha Allah." Beaming with genuine joy, Sule exclaimed, "Masha Allah! Alhamdulillah, Your Eminence! May Allah bless this union with goodness, grant us the privilege to witness it, and make her a truly blessed companion." The master solemnly replied, "Ameen, summa ameen." A quiet pause filled the room for a couple of minutes before Sule spoke up again. "But Alhaji, don't you think this might invite unnecessary complications for you, considering how terrible the girl's father is? You have bitter enemies who are simply waiting for the slightest leverage to spread malicious gossip about you across the city." The master smiled calmly and said, "Sule, do not worry yourself over that. Insha Allah, only goodness will come out of this entire matter. We do not harbor evil intentions toward anyone, and whoever dares to direct malice toward us will undoubtedly see their own wickedness backfire upon them." Sule nodded, "That is very true. I wish you nothing but the best, Alhaji. Honestly, if this comes to pass, we will be happier than anyone else." "Masha Allah," was all the master said. He picked up the newspaper he had set aside, leaned back slightly against his chair, and added, "I hope you have informed Labaran that we will be heading out right after the Asr prayer." As he stood up to leave, Sule replied, "Yes, Alhaji, I communicated your instructions to him quite a while ago." Ten minutes after Sule's departure, the master’s phone began to ring. When he glanced at the screen and saw who was calling, he simply set the device aside and calmly continued with his work. The phone rang three consecutive times before he finally answered it. He remained completely silent, offering no greeting. "Daddy, good morning," a trembling voice spoke from the other end. He gave a cold, blunt response. Immediately, she burst into tears, weeping as she begged for his forgiveness. "Daddy, for God's sake, please forgive me." Clearing his throat, his tone devoid of any warmth, he lectured, "Shukura, have you completely lost all discipline? Fatima gives you wretched advice and you follow it blindly. How dare you completely bypass a direct command from me, your own father! You went out without my permission, and by the time I left, you still hadn't returned. What exactly are you trying to turn into?" Submissively, she whimpered, "Daddy, by God, it wasn't that I intended to defy your orders. I was just terrified of telling you where I was going because I knew you wouldn't allow it. That's why I just left, but Hajiya was fully aware; I told her everything!" "Shukura, because you know I never override Hajiya's words, you constantly hide behind her to pit us against each other, don't you?" "It’s not like that, Daddy." He snapped, "So I am a liar then?" "No, Daddy, you aren't a liar. It's just that I felt my mother also has a fundamental right over me, so I didn't see any harm in visiting her where she is staying." He stated flatly, "Very well then. Pack up every single one of your belongings and move in with her permanently. I do not want to find you in my house when I return." She continued to weep hysterically, begging for mercy. Scoffing in deep irritation, he added, "By God, you had better watch your step with that mother of yours; she has absolutely no goodness in her! And my final word to you is this: you had better hurry up and present a suitor from among those pursuing you, because I will no longer tolerate this absolute foolishness." The moment he finished speaking, he cut the line and put the phone down, his mood entirely ruined. Shukura sat frozen, phone in hand, completely overwhelmed by the looming consequences. She knew her father’s character all too well—he was a man of absolute conviction who never went back on his word and detested triviality. As for her current situation, she had absolutely no one she could bring forward as a serious suitor, because she had yet to find anyone who truly fit her elite lifestyle. She drifted into deep thought, desperately trying to figure out a way to resolve this crisis. "Baba, he is actually coming tonight to properly introduce himself to you. Afterward, we will take him over to our main house so he can greet our father, because he intends to return to his workplace in Abuja tomorrow morning." Baba looked up and asked, "Who is coming?" For the life of her, she had completely forgotten the conversation they had held earlier that morning. Shahida pouted slightly and said, "Have you forgotten already?" Shaking her head, Baba replied, "Look, Shahida, I only preserve truly critical matters in my mind because the problems currently weighing me down are far too numerous." She finished speaking while attempting to untie the cloth purse securely fastened around her waist. Shahida lowered her gaze, her eyes flushing red with visible frustration. Saliha, meanwhile, simply snickered at her, muttering petty remarks under her breath that she knew Shahida couldn't quite hear. Just then, grid power (NEPA) was restored. Saliha rushed over to switch on the fan, as the city was currently engulfed in oppressive heat. Shahida went into the room to fetch her hijab so she could press it. Baba looked at her and said, "You know that electric iron consumes an immense amount of power, Shahida. Why don't you let me finish watching the news first, and once it's over, you can go ahead with your ironing." She asked, "Baba, what if they suddenly cut the power before then?" "No, they won't cut it, Insha Allah. Saliha, switch the television over to NTA KANO for me." "Alright," Saliha replied. She quickly grabbed the extension socket, plugged in the TV, and began adjusting the antenna to clear up the picture quality. Shahida walked back into her room, lay down on the bed, and became completely lost in thoughts of her beloved. By the time the news broadcast concluded, they had only caught the final segment. The presenter was reading out the closing headlines, announcing that the billionaire merchant, Alhaji Saddiku—widely known across the region as Dan Gaske (The Real Deal)—was organizing a massive rice distribution drive at his primary factory complex located in Sharada. The charity distribution was scheduled to run from 4:00 PM until 10:00 PM at night. Baba Asabe immediately declared, "I am definitely going to participate this time around; perhaps God will grant that I luck out." Saliha scoffed, "You are likely just going to waste your transport fare. Have you already forgotten the brutal, exhausting hardship you endured the last time you tried that?" Baba responded, "Hardship is a temporary thing, my child. In this day and age, securing a massive government-grade sack of rice is worth any struggle. Even if it means spending the entire night out there, I wouldn't mind at all as long as I get one. So, I am going to get dressed right now, and you will stay back and monitor the house." Saliha shook her head, thinking to herself, Whoever refuses to sweep the mosque will end up sweeping the market square! Securing that rice requires an extraordinary stroke of luck. "Baba, where on earth are you heading to again?" Shahida asked, struggling to sit up. Adjusting the hijab around her neck, Baba replied, "I'm heading out to the neighborhood, but I won't be gone for long, Insha Allah." Shahida pleaded, "Please, make sure you hurry back so you aren't absent when he arrives." "Alright," Baba said dismissively as she quickly walked out the door, quietly marvelling at the sheer naivety of the girl. The factory grounds were absolute chaos, packed to the brim with men, women, elders, youth, married women, and even young girls. It was typical for events like this; people threw all reservations aside and dragged their children and grandchildren along to join the massive queues. It was a dog-eat-dog environment where everyone looked out solely for themselves—if you secured a sack, you wouldn't give a damn if your neighbor got one or not. This is the very curse that plagues us: pure selfishness. The area was packed to maximum capacity, a deafening roar of voices rising into the air. Heated arguments and shouting matches broke out constantly over queue-jumping, particularly among the women, some of whom completely lost their self-control. Had it not been for the heavy presence of security personnel, the entire venue would have descended into absolute anarchy. The master monitored the entire chaotic scene via the CCTV cameras in his office. He turned to his subordinates and commanded, "Go out there and distribute numbered tickets so everyone knows their exact position. The moment the clock strikes the hour, commence the distribution immediately." And that is exactly what happened. Ten men were deployed to distribute numbers on the men's side, while five men handled the women's section. Baba Asabe ended up being number 436 😂. She asked the distributor what her position was, and he informed her that 435 people had to be served before it would get to her turn. Still, she refused to lose hope! She adjusted her footing in the crowd, quietly praying that luck would be on her side. As some left with their share, others flooded in, creating a non-stop, suffocating crush. Whoever’s number was called was handed a sack of rice, and they would drag it out toward the main road, where commercial transport was readily available. As dusk approached, the master descended to the ground floor. He was dressed in an exquisite, pure white Yadi fabric tailored into a flowing Tazarce style. The material was incredibly soft and visibly premium, immediately marking him as a man of immense wealth. He wore a traditional Arabian-style white cap (Dara) wrapped meticulously with a pristine white turban (Hirami), complemented by elegant black leather sandals. He refused to step out into the open without shielding his eyes behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Sule moved swiftly to open the car door for him, knowing the moment he appeared that they were heading out. Despite Sule's speed, a few people in the crowd spotted the master. Before you could say a word, they swarmed the vehicle! An aggressive, loud-mouthed praise-singer among them opened his throat and began shouting chants at the top of his lungs: "The bountiful rainy season himself! Alhaji Saddiku, the champion of a thousand victories! You are the warrior who sends other men fleeing in battle! The wall of sugar—whoever leans against you gets a taste of sweetness! God has blessed you with wealth, and we are the proud beneficiaries of it! May God continue to preserve your dignity, DAN GASKE! The son born with the purest of intentions!" With a graceful smile on his face, the master raised his hand to acknowledge them, clearly touched by the sincere prayers they were showering upon him. Sule and Labaran worked frantically to clear the crowd swarming the body of the car. With great difficulty, they managed to push the crowd back slightly, allowing him to step in and sit down. Even from inside the car, he continued to wave at them, deeply appreciative of their prayers. Just as the car was about to pull out of the gates, his gaze caught an elderly woman whose face he could never forget. She was standing patiently near the very end of the line. Seeing him looking toward her section, Baba Asabe quickly waved her hand at him, shouting out, "Alhaji, may God bless you immensely! Truly, you are performing a great act of charity. We pray that Almighty God records this on your scale of good deeds. May He multiply your wealth, Dan Gaske!" He quietly muttered, "Ameen ya Rabbi." He then turned to Labaran and instructed, "Step out and find the coordinators of this drive. Tell them to immediately separate the elderly men and women from the crowd and serve them right away, given their frail condition." "Consider it done, Your Eminence." Labaran quickly jumped out of the vehicle, executed the command, and returned to his seat. Sule hit the gas, and they drove out of the complex. Once they had merged fully into the main traffic, Sule asked, "Your Eminence, are we heading toward Gadon Kaya?" He replied, "No, we are going to Adakawa." A sudden silence fell over the car, and neither of them spoke another word. However, both Labaran and Sule were deeply lost in thought. Without fail, every single time they arrived in Kano city, their master insisted on visiting the Adakawa neighborhood. Yet, he never allowed them to drive him deep into the area; he always dropped off by the roadside, instructing them to head home and stating that he would return on his own. This peculiar routine baffled them to no end.
Translation: Pages 47 & 48
That night, Talatu could barely sleep a wink. She spent hours brooding over the entire situation. She couldn't just sit idly by with her mouth wide open while the very girl she utterly detested surpassed her and her children! Especially since Hujaj had already begun throwing veiled insults and mocking jabs at her and her daughters before things had even progressed. She absolutely had to dig deep and investigate to uncover the true identity of the mysterious man seeking to marry Shahida. Meanwhile, Shahida woke up the next morning enveloped in a cloud of bitterness and irritation. She was practically itching for either Baba or Saliha to utter a single provocative word so she could unleash her fury on them. She was furious with both of them simply because they kept referring to her beloved as a madman. Baba walked into the room and found her buried deep beneath a heavy blanket, though she wasn't actually asleep; she was simply staring blankly at the ceiling. Raising her voice slightly, Baba said, "Shahida, get up and have some breakfast. Why are you just lying there drowning in useless, endless thoughts?" Shahida sat up abruptly, glared at her, and said, "Baba, I am begging a massive favor from you." Baba looked at her, already predicting what was coming—the classic story of the trickster spider never changes. Still, she replied, "Well, let's hear it. I pray it's something within my power." Shahida pleaded, "For the sake and glory of Almighty God, I beg you to accept this marriage with an open heart! By God, I have absolute faith that this is a blessing. I performed the guidance prayer (Istikhara), and I know Baban Baba will never bring me harm. He is an exceptionally good man, and he is not a lunatic like you all think! It was merely life's harsh circumstances that reduced him to that state temporarily. But now that he has found a noble master, he has returned to being a completely normal human being. Wealth and poverty are both trials from Allah. Just pray for me that this journey is filled with blessings." Her emotional words completely disarmed Baba. She had initially steeling her resolve, vowing in her heart that this marriage would only happen over her dead body. But hearing Shahida's passionate defense completely drained her opposition. There was no doubt that Allah had laid His hidden hand over this matter. In affairs of marriage, pushing too hard against a child's heart is dangerous, for if you push them to the brink, they will simply bypass you entirely. Baba sighed and said, "Very well, Shahida. I wash my hands of it and leave you to what your heart desires. May Allah make it a source of blessing for all of us." Overwhelmed with pure joy, Shahida exclaimed, "Thank you so much, Baba! Insha Allah, we are all going to be incredibly happy. But please get yourself ready, because he will be arriving shortly to greet you before he departs for Abuja for his business." As Baba turned to exit the room, she simply muttered, "Alright. May God bring him safely." She sat down heavily on a low stool, feeling completely drained. Saliha looked at her and asked, "Baba, is everything alright?" In a muted, tired tone, Baba replied, "Everything is fine, Saliha. It's just that this entire situation between Shahida and that man genuinely terrifies me." Saliha shrugged and said, "I told you a long time ago to stop stressing over it, but you keep bringing unnecessary anxiety upon yourself! Whichever bird flies too close to the water is bound to get drenched by the waves." Baba sighed, "I can only pray for the best. May God grant them a peaceful home." Saliha remained silent, deliberately withholding her "Ameen." She simply went back to peeling the pumpkin sitting right in front of her. True to her vow to investigate the matter, Talatu woke up at the crack of dawn. She slipped out of the house and journeyed to a remote, tiny village to consult a spiritual cleric (Malami). The cleric examined the spiritual alignment of the marriage and firmly assured her that he saw absolutely nothing but prosperity and goodness in it. He emphasized that there would be no room for regret or sorrow in this union—only pure happiness. Utterly defeated and crestfallen, she returned home, her mind racing as she tried to devise a new plot to violently shatter the upcoming marriage. Shahida stepped out with absolute grace and poise to meet him where he stood waiting in the entrance corridor (Sora) of the house. Her heart swelled with immense joy at the sight of him looking incredibly sharp. He was dressed in a premium dark blue Shadda fabric tailored to perfection, paired with a matching traditional cap and elegant shoes. He had thrown a heavy winter jacket over his shoulders, as a brisk, cold harmattan wind had begun blowing through the city. She knelt all the way to the ground to offer her bashful greetings. He responded in a calm, deeply resonant voice while gazing down at her with an intense, admiring look that made her blush fiercely, leaving her temporarily unable to lift her eyes or stand up. He murmured softly, "You look far more beautiful than you could ever imagine." A radiant smile broke across her face as she replied, "The exact same goes for me. Whenever I see you dressed with such absolute dignity and flawlessness, I find myself marveling in utter disbelief. To think that so many ignorant people in this town used to look down on you as a madman! Truly, your master deserves the highest praise and recognition for the monumental role he has played in transforming your life. He has brought an immeasurable amount of happiness into my world, for his benevolence toward you is a direct gift to me. I will never cease to pray for his long life and endless blessings until the very day I take my final breath." Hearing her words, a profound wave of joy and deep satisfaction began flooding through the master's heart...
Pages 41 & 42
What utter distress! Instead of showing him any sympathy in his miserable condition, Talatu began raining down insults, cruelty, and public humiliation upon him. She claimed that he had bought this misfortune with his own money and resources, so she had absolutely no intention of helping him. She argued that he spent his money entirely on his own selfish desires while continuously failing to fulfill his duties toward her and the children; therefore, this was solely his problem. As things stood, only his children felt any pity for him, and they were the ones nursing him through his illness. Talatu completely ignored him and went about her own business.
It was Jamila who eventually decided to go and inform Shahida about the critical state of their father’s health and the sheer panic they were all in.
Shahida couldn't hold back anymore, and bitter tears of frustration escaped her. She had no doubt that the sudden illness was triggered by his own mounting fear and overwhelming distress. What was anyone supposed to do with a character like their father's? The entire world knew, and his own children were witnesses, that his lifestyle was forbidden (haram). They had pleaded with him repeatedly to change his ways, but he steadfastly refused, constantly plunging himself deeper into catastrophe. Today he would take a massive loan from one person; tomorrow he would swallow a debt from another—and always in exorbitant amounts! Well, now he had finally hit rock bottom. The house he once boasted about had been signed away, and yet his financial problems remained entirely unsolved. Indeed, the ultimate end of greed is deep shame! The man who purchased the house had already served an eviction notice with only a few days remaining, while another creditor was waiting in the wings for 1.5 million Naira. What kind of nightmare was this?
With bloodshot eyes, Shahida stepped out into the courtyard, holding her hijab in her hand. Jamila followed closely behind her, her face equally masked with visible distress.
Baba, who was busy sorting out spinach leaves, looked up at them and shook her head. There was no doubt that a storm was brewing, judging by the expressions on their faces. Furthermore, she suspected that something major was happening to their father, especially since she caught them whispering under their breath, clearly trying to prevent anyone else from overhearing their conversation.
In her characteristically strained voice, Shahida said, "Baba, I am going to see our father. He is very sick, and Jamila just came to inform me."
Deeply moved, Baba replied, "Good Lord! Well, crying won't help him; what he needs from you both are prayers. May God raise his shoulders and grant him strength, for sickness does not automatically mean death. But tell me, what exactly is ailing him?" She finished, looking directly at Jamila, who was fighting back tears.
In a muted voice, Jamila replied, "He has an agonizing headache. But when the doctor examined him, he confirmed that his blood pressure has spiked dramatically."
"Good Lord! That is the very thing everyone has been worried about. May God grant him swift healing."
They all answered in unison, "Ameen."
Baba then handed a five-hundred-Naira note to Shahida, saying, "Use this for your transport fare, but make sure you return early. Do not let nightfall catch you out there, do you hear me?"
Submissively, Shahida replied, "Insha Allah." As they turned toward the exit, Baba added, "Jamila, extend my regards and wishes for a speedy recovery to the patient, alright?"
She answered, "Insha Allah, I will surely tell him."
Baba shook her head slowly after they departed. She felt immense pity for them for lacking a responsible, upright father. If Jamilu couldn't learn his lesson now, then when would he ever open his eyes? To make matters worse, God had blessed him with an entirely female lineage—this alone should have given him pause for reflection.
When the girls arrived at the house, their father was sleeping soundly, all alone in his room. Talatu, on the other hand, was completely preoccupied with her own affairs. Hadiza was absent, having gone to attend a friend's wedding event. The house felt entirely desolate and drained. Only now was Talatu frantically trying to put together a meal after scrambling to beg for a loan from the neighbors.
With an uninviting scowl, she glared at the girls and snapped, "Oh! So you went and dragged her along? What is she supposed to do here anyway? Or can she suddenly pay off the massive debts hanging over his head?"
Jamila countered, "Haba, Talatu, that is no way to speak. Aunty Shahida and I are one and the same, and she has every right to be here. I went and informed her so she could come check on him because, regardless of everything, he is still her father."
Scoffing loudly, Talatu spun around and marched into the kitchen, leaving them standing there in sheer frustration at her bitterness.
It was close to the Maghrib prayer when he finally awoke from his sleep, feeling slightly better and more stable. As he stepped out to perform his ablutions, he found them sitting quietly in the courtyard, completely downcast. His heart sank even further. He felt too deeply ashamed to look them in the eye. Hurriedly, he grabbed his plastic kettle (buta) and made a beeline for the restroom. The girls immediately rushed to offer their sympathies, chorusing words of comfort. He could only manage a brief nod of his head before quickly slipping into the restroom, while Talatu followed him with a harsh, piercing glare.
"Baba, how are you feeling now?" Shahida asked gently. Without looking up at her, he replied, "I am feeling better, Alhamdulillah. Who informed you that I was unwell?"
Wiping a tear that slipped down her cheek, she said, "Jamila came and told me, so I decided to come see you. Baba Asabe also sends her regards and wishes you well."
"I accept her greetings. I really am feeling better, so you should head home before it gets dark," he said, casting a fleeting glance at her. Seeing her weeping filled him with a sudden dread; he had no doubt that she had discovered the full scope of what was happening. He dropped his head, knowing that the pure frustration of the situation was breaking her heart.
Sure enough, her trembling voice pierced the silence. "Baba, what kind of life have you thrown yourself into? What kind of existence are you trying to drag us into? Don’t you have even an ounce of pity for us?"
He remained utterly silent, offering no reply.
Sniffling deeply, she pressed on, "You have completely shattered your dignity and reputation in this town. There isn't a single soul who doesn't know the exact nature of your shady dealings. True wealth comes only from Allah, and by God, the Almighty will never bless you through forbidden means! And even if He grants you temporary abundance through it, it only ends in ultimate regret and deep public shame! What exactly is the profit in what you do? Look at how you have plunged yourself into catastrophe and dragged us right along with you. Where on earth are we going to find 1.5 million Naira right now? To make matters worse, you have signed away the very last house remaining to your name. Now, where are we—and you—supposed to turn for shelter?"
Translation: Pages 43 & 44
"Your Eminence, regarding the man you instructed me to investigate, the story remains exactly the same as last time. His neighbors and the people of his community refuse to offer a single good word about him. Whoever opens their mouth to speak only highlights his vices. Your Eminence, the intelligence I gathered confirms that he is a chronic gambler, and some even suspect he is deeply involved in a highly degenerate lifestyle."
Sule concluded his report with deep respect and humility.
The master set aside the newspaper he was holding, gave Sule his full attention, and asked, "Sule, are you absolutely certain about the truth of these claims? You know how corrupted the world has become; people no longer hesitate to spread malicious slander. It is because of my utmost trust and confidence in you that I tasked you with this investigation. I do not want any conflicting stories surfacing later on."
"Your Eminence, that is absolutely true, and by God, I would never conspire to deceive or mislead you. Every single word I have spoken regarding Hujaj is the absolute truth. However, his neighbors did offer highly positive testimonies regarding his late father. They firmly assured me that he was an exceptionally upright and honorable man who never engaged in any form of immorality until the day he passed away."
The master replied, "Very well, I appreciate your efforts, Sule. You may leave."
Sule made a move to stand up, but then paused, hesitatingly scratching the back of his neck while keeping his head lowered.
"Sule, what is it? It seems you still have something on your mind."
Flashed a brief smile, Sule said, "Your Eminence, I have been deeply puzzled by this entire affair ever since you first assigned me to it. It got me thinking... could it be that we are finally about to welcome a mistress into the household?"
The remark brought a rare smile to the master’s face. He replied, "Sule, and here I thought you were about to request some time off to go home and check on your family, but it turns out your mind is elsewhere."
Still smiling, Sule responded, "I do need to do that as well, Alhaji, but I would highly appreciate it if you could answer this question for me, if it isn't too much trouble."
The master fell silent for two whole minutes before finally speaking. "You guessed correctly, Sule. I intend to marry that man's daughter, Insha Allah."
Beaming with genuine joy, Sule exclaimed, "Masha Allah! Alhamdulillah, Your Eminence! May Allah bless this union with goodness, grant us the privilege to witness it, and make her a truly blessed companion."
The master solemnly replied, "Ameen, summa ameen."
A quiet pause filled the room for a couple of minutes before Sule spoke up again. "But Alhaji, don't you think this might invite unnecessary complications for you, considering how terrible the girl's father is? You have bitter enemies who are simply waiting for the slightest leverage to spread malicious gossip about you across the city."
The master smiled calmly and said, "Sule, do not worry yourself over that. Insha Allah, only goodness will come out of this entire matter. We do not harbor evil intentions toward anyone, and whoever dares to direct malice toward us will undoubtedly see their own wickedness backfire upon them."
Sule nodded, "That is very true. I wish you nothing but the best, Alhaji. Honestly, if this comes to pass, we will be happier than anyone else."
"Masha Allah," was all the master said. He picked up the newspaper he had set aside, leaned back slightly against his chair, and added, "I hope you have informed Labaran that we will be heading out right after the Asr prayer."
As he stood up to leave, Sule replied, "Yes, Alhaji, I communicated your instructions to him quite a while ago."
Ten minutes after Sule's departure, the master’s phone began to ring.
When he glanced at the screen and saw who was calling, he simply set the device aside and calmly continued with his work.
The phone rang three consecutive times before he finally answered it. He remained completely silent, offering no greeting.
"Daddy, good morning," a trembling voice spoke from the other end.
He gave a cold, blunt response.
Immediately, she burst into tears, weeping as she begged for his forgiveness. "Daddy, for God's sake, please forgive me."
Clearing his throat, his tone devoid of any warmth, he lectured, "Shukura, have you completely lost all discipline? Fatima gives you wretched advice and you follow it blindly. How dare you completely bypass a direct command from me, your own father! You went out without my permission, and by the time I left, you still hadn't returned. What exactly are you trying to turn into?"
Submissively, she whimpered, "Daddy, by God, it wasn't that I intended to defy your orders. I was just terrified of telling you where I was going because I knew you wouldn't allow it. That's why I just left, but Hajiya was fully aware; I told her everything!"
"Shukura, because you know I never override Hajiya's words, you constantly hide behind her to pit us against each other, don't you?"
"It’s not like that, Daddy."
He snapped, "So I am a liar then?"
"No, Daddy, you aren't a liar. It's just that I felt my mother also has a fundamental right over me, so I didn't see any harm in visiting her where she is staying."
He stated flatly, "Very well then. Pack up every single one of your belongings and move in with her permanently. I do not want to find you in my house when I return."
She continued to weep hysterically, begging for mercy.
Scoffing in deep irritation, he added, "By God, you had better watch your step with that mother of yours; she has absolutely no goodness in her! And my final word to you is this: you had better hurry up and present a suitor from among those pursuing you, because I will no longer tolerate this absolute foolishness." The moment he finished speaking, he cut the line and put the phone down, his mood entirely ruined.
Shukura sat frozen, phone in hand, completely overwhelmed by the looming consequences. She knew her father’s character all too well—he was a man of absolute conviction who never went back on his word and detested triviality. As for her current situation, she had absolutely no one she could bring forward as a serious suitor, because she had yet to find anyone who truly fit her elite lifestyle. She drifted into deep thought, desperately trying to figure out a way to resolve this crisis.
"Baba, he is actually coming tonight to properly introduce himself to you. Afterward, we will take him over to our main house so he can greet our father, because he intends to return to his workplace in Abuja tomorrow morning."
Baba looked up and asked, "Who is coming?" For the life of her, she had completely forgotten the conversation they had held earlier that morning.
Shahida pouted slightly and said, "Have you forgotten already?"
Shaking her head, Baba replied, "Look, Shahida, I only preserve truly critical matters in my mind because the problems currently weighing me down are far too numerous." She finished speaking while attempting to untie the cloth purse securely fastened around her waist.
Shahida lowered her gaze, her eyes flushing red with visible frustration.
Saliha, meanwhile, simply snickered at her, muttering petty remarks under her breath that she knew Shahida couldn't quite hear.
Just then, grid power (NEPA) was restored. Saliha rushed over to switch on the fan, as the city was currently engulfed in oppressive heat.
Shahida went into the room to fetch her hijab so she could press it.
Baba looked at her and said, "You know that electric iron consumes an immense amount of power, Shahida. Why don't you let me finish watching the news first, and once it's over, you can go ahead with your ironing."
She asked, "Baba, what if they suddenly cut the power before then?"
"No, they won't cut it, Insha Allah. Saliha, switch the television over to NTA KANO for me."
"Alright," Saliha replied. She quickly grabbed the extension socket, plugged in the TV, and began adjusting the antenna to clear up the picture quality.
Shahida walked back into her room, lay down on the bed, and became completely lost in thoughts of her beloved.
By the time the news broadcast concluded, they had only caught the final segment.
The presenter was reading out the closing headlines, announcing that the billionaire merchant, Alhaji Saddiku—widely known across the region as Dan Gaske (The Real Deal)—was organizing a massive rice distribution drive at his primary factory complex located in Sharada. The charity distribution was scheduled to run from 4:00 PM until 10:00 PM at night.
Baba Asabe immediately declared, "I am definitely going to participate this time around; perhaps God will grant that I luck out."
Saliha scoffed, "You are likely just going to waste your transport fare. Have you already forgotten the brutal, exhausting hardship you endured the last time you tried that?"
Baba responded, "Hardship is a temporary thing, my child. In this day and age, securing a massive government-grade sack of rice is worth any struggle. Even if it means spending the entire night out there, I wouldn't mind at all as long as I get one. So, I am going to get dressed right now, and you will stay back and monitor the house."
Saliha shook her head, thinking to herself, Whoever refuses to sweep the mosque will end up sweeping the market square! Securing that rice requires an extraordinary stroke of luck.
"Baba, where on earth are you heading to again?" Shahida asked, struggling to sit up.
Adjusting the hijab around her neck, Baba replied, "I'm heading out to the neighborhood, but I won't be gone for long, Insha Allah."
Shahida pleaded, "Please, make sure you hurry back so you aren't absent when he arrives."
"Alright," Baba said dismissively as she quickly walked out the door, quietly marvelling at the sheer naivety of the girl.
The factory grounds were absolute chaos, packed to the brim with men, women, elders, youth, married women, and even young girls. It was typical for events like this; people threw all reservations aside and dragged their children and grandchildren along to join the massive queues. It was a dog-eat-dog environment where everyone looked out solely for themselves—if you secured a sack, you wouldn't give a damn if your neighbor got one or not. This is the very curse that plagues us: pure selfishness.
The area was packed to maximum capacity, a deafening roar of voices rising into the air. Heated arguments and shouting matches broke out constantly over queue-jumping, particularly among the women, some of whom completely lost their self-control. Had it not been for the heavy presence of security personnel, the entire venue would have descended into absolute anarchy.
The master monitored the entire chaotic scene via the CCTV cameras in his office. He turned to his subordinates and commanded, "Go out there and distribute numbered tickets so everyone knows their exact position. The moment the clock strikes the hour, commence the distribution immediately."
And that is exactly what happened. Ten men were deployed to distribute numbers on the men's side, while five men handled the women's section.
Baba Asabe ended up being number 436 😂. She asked the distributor what her position was, and he informed her that 435 people had to be served before it would get to her turn. Still, she refused to lose hope! She adjusted her footing in the crowd, quietly praying that luck would be on her side.
As some left with their share, others flooded in, creating a non-stop, suffocating crush. Whoever’s number was called was handed a sack of rice, and they would drag it out toward the main road, where commercial transport was readily available.
As dusk approached, the master descended to the ground floor. He was dressed in an exquisite, pure white Yadi fabric tailored into a flowing Tazarce style. The material was incredibly soft and visibly premium, immediately marking him as a man of immense wealth. He wore a traditional Arabian-style white cap (Dara) wrapped meticulously with a pristine white turban (Hirami), complemented by elegant black leather sandals. He refused to step out into the open without shielding his eyes behind a pair of dark sunglasses.
Sule moved swiftly to open the car door for him, knowing the moment he appeared that they were heading out.
Despite Sule's speed, a few people in the crowd spotted the master. Before you could say a word, they swarmed the vehicle! An aggressive, loud-mouthed praise-singer among them opened his throat and began shouting chants at the top of his lungs: "The bountiful rainy season himself! Alhaji Saddiku, the champion of a thousand victories! You are the warrior who sends other men fleeing in battle! The wall of sugar—whoever leans against you gets a taste of sweetness! God has blessed you with wealth, and we are the proud beneficiaries of it! May God continue to preserve your dignity, DAN GASKE! The son born with the purest of intentions!"
With a graceful smile on his face, the master raised his hand to acknowledge them, clearly touched by the sincere prayers they were showering upon him. Sule and Labaran worked frantically to clear the crowd swarming the body of the car. With great difficulty, they managed to push the crowd back slightly, allowing him to step in and sit down. Even from inside the car, he continued to wave at them, deeply appreciative of their prayers.
Just as the car was about to pull out of the gates, his gaze caught an elderly woman whose face he could never forget. She was standing patiently near the very end of the line.
Seeing him looking toward her section, Baba Asabe quickly waved her hand at him, shouting out, "Alhaji, may God bless you immensely! Truly, you are performing a great act of charity. We pray that Almighty God records this on your scale of good deeds. May He multiply your wealth, Dan Gaske!"
He quietly muttered, "Ameen ya Rabbi." He then turned to Labaran and instructed, "Step out and find the coordinators of this drive. Tell them to immediately separate the elderly men and women from the crowd and serve them right away, given their frail condition."
"Consider it done, Your Eminence."
Labaran quickly jumped out of the vehicle, executed the command, and returned to his seat. Sule hit the gas, and they drove out of the complex.
Once they had merged fully into the main traffic, Sule asked, "Your Eminence, are we heading toward Gadon Kaya?"
He replied, "No, we are going to Adakawa."
A sudden silence fell over the car, and neither of them spoke another word. However, both Labaran and Sule were deeply lost in thought. Without fail, every single time they arrived in Kano city, their master insisted on visiting the Adakawa neighborhood. Yet, he never allowed them to drive him deep into the area; he always dropped off by the roadside, instructing them to head home and stating that he would return on his own. This peculiar routine baffled them to no end.
Translation: Pages 47 & 48
That night, Talatu could barely sleep a wink. She spent hours brooding over the entire situation. She couldn't just sit idly by with her mouth wide open while the very girl she utterly detested surpassed her and her children! Especially since Hujaj had already begun throwing veiled insults and mocking jabs at her and her daughters before things had even progressed. She absolutely had to dig deep and investigate to uncover the true identity of the mysterious man seeking to marry Shahida.
Meanwhile, Shahida woke up the next morning enveloped in a cloud of bitterness and irritation. She was practically itching for either Baba or Saliha to utter a single provocative word so she could unleash her fury on them. She was furious with both of them simply because they kept referring to her beloved as a madman.
Baba walked into the room and found her buried deep beneath a heavy blanket, though she wasn't actually asleep; she was simply staring blankly at the ceiling.
Raising her voice slightly, Baba said, "Shahida, get up and have some breakfast. Why are you just lying there drowning in useless, endless thoughts?"
Shahida sat up abruptly, glared at her, and said, "Baba, I am begging a massive favor from you."
Baba looked at her, already predicting what was coming—the classic story of the trickster spider never changes. Still, she replied, "Well, let's hear it. I pray it's something within my power."
Shahida pleaded, "For the sake and glory of Almighty God, I beg you to accept this marriage with an open heart! By God, I have absolute faith that this is a blessing. I performed the guidance prayer (Istikhara), and I know Baban Baba will never bring me harm. He is an exceptionally good man, and he is not a lunatic like you all think! It was merely life's harsh circumstances that reduced him to that state temporarily. But now that he has found a noble master, he has returned to being a completely normal human being. Wealth and poverty are both trials from Allah. Just pray for me that this journey is filled with blessings."
Her emotional words completely disarmed Baba. She had initially steeling her resolve, vowing in her heart that this marriage would only happen over her dead body. But hearing Shahida's passionate defense completely drained her opposition. There was no doubt that Allah had laid His hidden hand over this matter. In affairs of marriage, pushing too hard against a child's heart is dangerous, for if you push them to the brink, they will simply bypass you entirely.
Baba sighed and said, "Very well, Shahida. I wash my hands of it and leave you to what your heart desires. May Allah make it a source of blessing for all of us."
Overwhelmed with pure joy, Shahida exclaimed, "Thank you so much, Baba! Insha Allah, we are all going to be incredibly happy. But please get yourself ready, because he will be arriving shortly to greet you before he departs for Abuja for his business."
As Baba turned to exit the room, she simply muttered, "Alright. May God bring him safely."
She sat down heavily on a low stool, feeling completely drained.
Saliha looked at her and asked, "Baba, is everything alright?"
In a muted, tired tone, Baba replied, "Everything is fine, Saliha. It's just that this entire situation between Shahida and that man genuinely terrifies me."
Saliha shrugged and said, "I told you a long time ago to stop stressing over it, but you keep bringing unnecessary anxiety upon yourself! Whichever bird flies too close to the water is bound to get drenched by the waves."
Baba sighed, "I can only pray for the best. May God grant them a peaceful home."
Saliha remained silent, deliberately withholding her "Ameen." She simply went back to peeling the pumpkin sitting right in front of her.
True to her vow to investigate the matter, Talatu woke up at the crack of dawn. She slipped out of the house and journeyed to a remote, tiny village to consult a spiritual cleric (Malami). The cleric examined the spiritual alignment of the marriage and firmly assured her that he saw absolutely nothing but prosperity and goodness in it. He emphasized that there would be no room for regret or sorrow in this union—only pure happiness.
Utterly defeated and crestfallen, she returned home, her mind racing as she tried to devise a new plot to violently shatter the upcoming marriage.
Shahida stepped out with absolute grace and poise to meet him where he stood waiting in the entrance corridor (Sora) of the house. Her heart swelled with immense joy at the sight of him looking incredibly sharp. He was dressed in a premium dark blue Shadda fabric tailored to perfection, paired with a matching traditional cap and elegant shoes. He had thrown a heavy winter jacket over his shoulders, as a brisk, cold harmattan wind had begun blowing through the city.
She knelt all the way to the ground to offer her bashful greetings. He responded in a calm, deeply resonant voice while gazing down at her with an intense, admiring look that made her blush fiercely, leaving her temporarily unable to lift her eyes or stand up.
He murmured softly, "You look far more beautiful than you could ever imagine."
A radiant smile broke across her face as she replied, "The exact same goes for me. Whenever I see you dressed with such absolute dignity and flawlessness, I find myself marveling in utter disbelief. To think that so many ignorant people in this town used to look down on you as a madman! Truly, your master deserves the highest praise and recognition for the monumental role he has played in transforming your life. He has brought an immeasurable amount of happiness into my world, for his benevolence toward you is a direct gift to me. I will never cease to pray for his long life and endless blessings until the very day I take my final breath."
Hearing her words, a profound wave of joy and deep satisfaction began flooding through the master's heart...