Aliyu! For God's sake, have mercy, if not for anything else, then for the sake of the unborn child in my womb! Aliyu, if you chase me away now, where am I supposed to go in the middle of this night? "I swear by Allah, you must leave this house! I cannot live with you anymore!" "Innalillahi, I am ruined! Aliyu, is it with your own mouth that you are telling me to pack and leave your house? What wrong did I do to you? Aliyu, is it me, Balaraba, that you are chasing away?" He shot her a vicious, deeply disgusted glare, as if looking at filth, before shouting at the top of his lungs: "I said get out of my house right now, since it wasn't your father who built it!" Her entire body began to tremble with intense fear and dread. He bellowed at her again in a rage: "I said get out of my house! Listen to me very carefully, Balaraba: from today, there is nothing between you and me. The blindness has lifted from my eyes; lightning has flashed, and I see you clearly for who you are. I am looking at you naked right now—I hereby divorce you with a triple divorce!" "Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un, la hawla wala quwwata illa billahil aliyyil azheem, hasbunallahu wa ni'mal wakil, allahumma ajirni fi musibati wa akhlif li khairan minha" — these were the prayers she kept repeating aloud and in her heart. Shock, dizziness, and heart palpitations struck her all at once. In a state of extreme anguish: "So, Murja, you have won against Aliyu. You came between us and separated me from the one who was supposed to be my life, my love, my peace, and my care. Today, the love and affection he showed me have turned into a fierce, ugly hatred. Is it really me that Aliyu is bombarding with these harsh, venomous words?" She wept bitterly, sobbing so hard her voice barely came out: "Haba Aliyu, why are you trying to hurt me? What did I do to deserve this kind of payback?" Her voice grew weak as she continued to cry: "Tell me, Aliyu, what offense did I commit against you? Aliyu, if you feel no pity for the condition I am in, who else is left to show me mercy besides Allah? Aliyu, remember we had a marriage built on love, not hatred! Aliyu, is it because you have finally accumulated wealth that you are running away from me?" "Let me tell you the truth: I never loved you in my heart! I married you only for your beauty and to enjoy your body. You are of no use to me anymore. As for the pregnancy, figure out what to do with it because I am not ready to be a father right now. If you see fit, keep it or abort it—that is entirely up to you!" He finished speaking with a twisted sneer. She burst into another heart-wrenching cry. Aliyu looked at her with a cunning smile and said, "I am done with you forever. You will never get any care or affection from me again." She sank to the floor, weeping and shaking, saying: "Aliyu, you have cheated me and betrayed my trust. You are a wicked oppressor!" Slap! Slap! Slap! She felt the stinging impact of brutal slaps. Suddenly, he felt a fiery slap land hard across his face. In a muffled voice, she said: "I haven't fallen so low that a man like you can slap me and get away with it," pointing her finger right at him. Aliyu’s entire body went cold. In his wildest dreams, he never expected that if he struck Balaraba, she would actually fight back. Aside from his mother, no human being had ever dared to slap him. He angrily surged forward to hit her again, but she quickly grabbed his wrist, saying: "Don't you dare try it!" She shoved his hand away with such force that it made a loud snap sound. "Balaraba, you actually slapped me?!" "Aliyu, I will do worse than a slap if you ever try to harm my physical well-being again. Aliyu, you are the first person in my life to make me shed tears, and the first person to break my heart out of all the people I trusted. I won't curse you with evil, but know this: anyone who becomes the cause of someone else's tears will eventually shed their own tears too." Furious, she walked into the bedroom, packed her clothes into a suitcase, and strode out without looking back at Aliyu standing in the living room. She stepped out onto the veranda, taking in the grand, luxurious duplex with its two massive wings. She took a deep, hot breath and exhaled. As she walked toward the gate, the security guard rushed toward her with deep concern: "Your Highness, where are you going at this time of the night?" "I am going to my family home." "Your Highness, it is very late, almost 12:30 AM now," he said, checking his wristwatch. "Even if you go out now, you won't find any transportation, and bad elements are everywhere. They could harm you. If you don't mind, please go back inside." Looking at him with tears streaming down her face, Balaraba replied: "Baba Musa, I swear by Allah, I wouldn't even want my dead body brought back into Aliyu's house. The man who deceived me and ruined my life—why would I ever go back there? Wallahi, I swear as a Muslim, I am never stepping foot in Aliyu's house again. The hatred I feel for him right now is so deep that I could actually kill him if we were left alone in the same room." Baba Musa let out a heavy sigh. "Baba Musa, for the love of Allah, please open the gate for me. I don't want to spend even one more minute in this house; my heart feels like it's going to stop." "Your Highness, if you don't mind, let me take you to my house to sleep until daybreak, and then you can continue your journey home. That will bring much more peace of mind than traveling alone as a woman at this hour." She felt a wave of gratitude for Baba Musa's kindness. He went back to his room, grabbed a lantern and a walking stick, took her suitcase, and they left the property. After a ten-minute walk, they arrived at his modest compound consisting of two rooms. As soon as they reached the door, he called out to his wife, Ubaida, to open up from the inside. Two minutes later, Ubaida opened the door. Her eyes landed on Balaraba standing outside, and absolute shock covered her face. Looking between Baba Musa and Balaraba, she stammered, "Baban Nana, what a..." Baba Musa quickly cut her off: "Just take her inside, she needs to rest." Ubaida grabbed the suitcase, and Balaraba followed her straight into Ubaida's room. Ubaida moved her four-year-old daughter, Nana, who was sleeping on a mat on the floor, to make space. Balaraba quickly stopped her: "No, leave her on the bed. The floor is fine for me." "No way, how can you sleep on the floor, Anty Balaraba? Please, sleep on the bed, if not for anything else, then for the sake of the pregnancy you are carrying. Let me go lock the front door." Without waiting for a reply, Ubaida walked out. "Baban Nana, I am so scared," Ubaida whispered to her husband outside. "Do you really think Anty Balaraba can sleep in this house? In a room with no AC, let alone a fan?" "Well, what can she do? Life throws all kinds of trials at human beings. May Allah grant us the strength to pass the tests of this world." "Ameen, Baban Nana." "Take this money so we can buy her some koko (millet porridge) and kosai (bean cakes) for breakfast tomorrow morning." Ubaida accepted the money respectfully and thanked him. After he finished locking up the house, she returned to the room. She found Nana, who had been on the floor, fast asleep back on the bed. "Anty Balaraba, please get up from the floor and take the bed." "No, Ubaida, let me sleep on the floor. How can I sleep on Baba Musa's bed? Leave me here, I prefer sleeping on the floor." Balaraba couldn't sleep all night. Every time she tossed and turned, she saw Aliyu's face, remembering their past love, followed by his betrayal and deceit. He was now the person she hated most in the world. At the break of dawn, Balaraba got up, performed ablution (wudu), and prayed voluntary prayers before performing the Subhi (Fajr) prayer. She had maintained this habit since childhood—never missing morning and evening adhkar—and despite her youth, she never abandoned the teachings of her parents. Balaraba never played with her prayers; no matter how important something was, once prayer time arrived, she dropped everything until she was done. As the sun began to rise, Ubaida woke Nana up to pray. Once done, Ubaida handed her a jug and the money Baba Musa had given her: "Go to Inna Mai Koko and tell her to give you 300 Naira worth of koko and 300 Naira worth of kosai, plus an extra 100 Naira from what Baba Musa provided." Ubaida lit the stove and put a pot of water on the fire. She sat there until the water boiled, poured it into a bucket, and mixed it to a comfortable temperature for a bath. She refilled the pot, put it back on the fire, and headed to the backyard, where she found Balaraba leaning against the wall, having drifted back to sleep. Just as Ubaida turned to leave, she heard Balaraba's voice: "Maman Nana, good morning." "Morning, Alhamdulillah. I've taken your bathwater to the bathroom." Balaraba stood up with difficulty, her body stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. She changed into a wrapper and a hijab and headed to the bathroom. While she was out, Ubaida neatly swept and tidied the room. Nana walked in shortly after. "Nana, you took so long today!" Ubaida smiled at her daughter. "Mama, people were making calls on the phone until the network dropped!" Nana lisped in her cute toddler speech. Ubaida smiled, "It's not 'people making calls,' it's the network service that isn't working properly, you hear?" Balaraba walked back into the room wearing a forced smile. Ubaida stepped outside with Nana to freshen up herself. Five minutes later, Ubaida returned and found Balaraba folding the clothes she had changed out of. Balaraba had put on a long shadda gown that accentuated her growing baby bump. The outfit looked gorgeous on her. "Anty Balaraba, here is our breakfast," Ubaida said, pointing to the jug of koko and kosai. It was as if the food knew she needed it; a wild wave of hunger hit her, making her dizzy, while the baby inside kicked fiercely as if trying to burst out. "Let's sit and eat together." "No, Alhamdulillah." "Nana, come eat your breakfast, you hear?" "No, I'm full!" Ubaida left the room, leaving Balaraba with Nana, who kept chattering away. Because of the strong bond between Nana, Ubaida, and Balaraba—often visiting and helping out whenever Balaraba brought food over to Baba Musa—they were very close. Out of all the women Aliyu had married, none had the kind heart of Balaraba, who always ensured Baba Musa was well-fed despite Aliyu's flaws. Balaraba thoroughly enjoyed the koko and kosai, especially the slight, pleasant sourness of the porridge. By 9:30 AM, Baba Musa arrived at the house. After greetings, he informed Balaraba that a tricycle taxi (keke) was waiting outside the gate. "Thank you so much." "What is there to thank me for, Your Highness?" Ubaida brought out Balaraba's luggage and handed it to Baba Musa, who took it outside. Balaraba pulled out 5,000 Naira from her handbag and handed it to Nana: "Here, buy some sweets with this." "No, Anty Balaraba, please don't. This is too much money!" "Wallahi, take it," she insisted firmly. She expressed deep gratitude for their immense hospitality and care. They stood by the gate until the tricycle disappeared down the road. The driver dropped her straight at the doorstep of her family home—a modest, working-class house. As she unloaded her bags, a handsome young man of about twenty-five, dressed in a white jalabiya and bearing a striking resemblance to Balaraba, rushed toward her. "Balaraba, is everything okay this early in the morning? Where is Aliyu?" As if waiting for that exact trigger, she burst into a heart-wrenching cry: "Hamma, Aliyu has divorced me!" "What did you do to him?" "Ban masa komi ba (I didn't do anything to him)." Her brother carried her bags inside. "Hamza, who is at the door?" a voice called out. "It's Iya, Balaraba is here." "This early in the morning? Lafiya, what brought her here?" She crept into the house sheepishly, looking like someone who had just broken an egg in secret. Her mother, Iya, looked her up and down with a scowl. Balaraba knelt down with great difficulty due to her condition: "Iya, good morning." "Morning. What brought you back to this house this early?" "Who is making noise out there?" Malam Ahmadu walked in carrying five books in his hand. Balaraba rushed over and threw her arms around him, calling him by the intimate name only she used: "Maryam!" (Note: Her full name is Maryam, but she is widely known as Balaraba). Malam Ahmadu was a fair-skinned, slender man with little body mass—clearly of Fulani descent. His only wife was Saudatu, and they had two children: Hamza and Maryam (Balaraba). Balaraba was a radiant, fair-skinned beauty who heavily resembled her father. She had grown up surrounded by her parents' love and affection, especially Malam Ahmadu, who adored her. Balaraba was nineteen years old. "Take it easy, look at your condition," her father said, pulling her into an even tighter embrace. She let out a soft, weary sigh. "Baba, good morning." "Morning. Where is your husband?" "Baba, Aliyu divorced me," she said, crying. "Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un! What did you do to him?" As she wept and explained everything: "So the rumors about this relationship were true after all," Iya intervened. "This is exactly what we feared! I did everything I could to stop Balaraba from marrying that boy, but she turned a deaf ear to my warnings. Everyone knows the kind of man Aliyu is—a serial divorcée! Yet she insisted she agreed to him. Where do we stand today? You followed your own desires and ruined your life at such a young age. Now he has divorced you while you're pregnant! The day was bound to come when you'd realize he had no use for you. If only you had listened to advice, this wouldn't have happened. But man cannot escape his destiny." Balaraba slid down to the floor, weeping: "Iya, for the sake of Allah, please forgive me. I deeply regret not listening to you." Iya wiped away Balaraba's tears just as Balaraba had wiped away her own. "Iya, please forgive me so I can find the mercy of my Lord." Hamza wiped the tears falling from his own eyes. "Maryam, stop crying, you hear? No human being can escape destiny," he said, showing deep empathy. "Get up, go to the room, and rest. May Allah choose what is best for you and bring you safely through childbirth." She spent the rest of the day wrapped in grief and sorrow. Both she and Iya went to sleep heavy-hearted. Lost deep in her thoughts the next morning, she didn't even notice Hamza walking in. "Balaraba!" Hearing her name spoken so deeply reached her core, though she didn't look up as she replied, "Na'am, Hamma." He sat down facing her and spoke in a soft, gentle tone: "Balaraba, you are no longer a little girl, despite your young age. You need to cast this anxiety out of your mind. Dwelling on this won't bring Aliyu back. Truly, Balaraba, you made a grave mistake in your life by rebelling against Baba and Iya. Baba only supported your marriage for your happiness, not because he wanted it. Everyone in this town knows Aliyu's character and how his father backed him up in ruining the lives of other people's children, especially the poor and helpless like us. Aliyu's fake love blinded you into rejecting good men and choosing a tyrant who knows no respect for women. You know how much Baba loves you, yet you failed to see why he opposed this marriage. Ever since your wedding, Baba has lived in constant anxiety, wondering what condition you were in. Every single day, his prayer was for Allah to protect you from Aliyu's evil so he wouldn't turn you into a young divorcee. Every night he went to sleep thinking of you, and every morning he woke up with you on his mind. Whenever I called you, it was always Baba prompting me to check if you were okay. "Three days ago, before this incident happened, Baba had a nightmare that Aliyu divorced you and chased you out in disgrace. Wallahi, none of us slept that night because his blood pressure spiked dangerously. Early in the morning, we rushed him to the hospital. Baba didn't find peace until you spoke with him on the phone and assured him you were in good health. As for Iya, the reason she seemed harsh to you was simply because you rebelled against her. If you had followed our parents' advice, none of this would have happened..." "Hamma, is my life completely ruined now?" She buried her face in her hands. "Hamma, is it really true that no one is going to make Aliyu pay for what he did to me? Are men like Aliyu just going to roam this earth doing whatever they please without anyone stopping them?" "No, your life is not ruined. Being a divorcee is not the end of your happiness, nor are you the first it has happened to. So cast all sorrow from your mind, especially for the sake of the baby in your womb. Consider this a test; everything will pass as if it never happened." "Hamma, who even cares if I abort this baby or carry it to term? He said he isn't ready to be a father!" "Haba! Balaraba, how could you even think of aborting a full-term pregnancy? Are you trying to commit murder?" She quickly shook her head. "What is the baby's crime that you want to kill it before it even breathes the air of this world? Don't you dare think about aborting this pregnancy! Do you even know what you are carrying? How do you know this isn't the only child Allah has destined for you in this world? Do not let the father's sins fall on the innocent child. Leave Aliyu to his character; life will teach him a hard lesson. Calm down, clear your mind, take care of yourself and your unborn baby. If you exercise patience, everything will pass." "Hamma, who talked about aborting it? I was just saying he doesn't care." "Forget about him! As long as we are alive, Aliyu will realize his mistake. You and your child will make him look like a camel's tail dragging in the dust, In sha Allah. Allah will elevate your dignity far beyond his imagination. Just keep exercising patience; with life and health, your happiness and joy will return as if it were tomorrow." She felt a deep sense of calm wash over her heart. Seeing her relax slightly, Hamza began to engage her in lighthearted conversation...
ALIJU
The very next morning, Aliyu headed early to his family house. Alhaji Usman Marafa was Aliyu's father—originally a Buzu man from Niger who came to Nigeria seeking greener pastures, starting out selling water in cups (bairo) before opening a provision store. Gradually, his business flourished, and he became a wealthy, independent businessman. Later, he pursued education, studied business administration, and entered civil service. Before then, he had married Laila, the daughter of his former landlord. Three years into their marriage, Allah blessed them with Aliyu. Alhaji Marafa showered Aliyu with unconditional love, spoiling him rotten from childhood. Aliyu did whatever he pleased without fearing anyone. This behavior deeply infuriated Laila, who tried her absolute best to discipline Aliyu, but to no avail. Eventually, she declared that if Alhaji Marafa's style of parenting was all he could offer, she was done having children. Ten years after Aliyu's birth, she gave birth to a daughter, Sumayya. By the grace of God, Sumayya did not inherit Aliyu's bad traits. When Sumayya was four years old, Alhaji Marafa married Shukura. Around the same time, Laila gave birth to twins, Hanafi and Hanifa, while Hajjiya Shukura gave birth to three children: Haroon, Abbas, and Hannatu. They lived in relative peace. Aliyu was tall and very fair like his father, with large eyes, a prominent nose, and pitch-black hair that fell down to his neck. He was a top-tier handsome man. Despite growing up thoroughly spoiled, he managed to acquire both Islamic and Western education. Aliyu was an exceptionally brilliant boy in every aspect, which led his peers to nickname him "Aliyu Genius" (The Gifted One). He was twenty-seven years old. As he turned the corner leading to his family house, he pressed his car horn—his signature style because he hated waiting and expected people to rush out for him. Even before he reached the gate, the security guard swung it wide open. Aliyu sped into the compound, parked, and stepped out. The estate was a luxurious complex featuring three modern wings, beautifully decorated with fragrant flowers. He walked slowly toward the wing on his right. "Mama, please hurry up before Yah Aliyu comes in," Hanifa whispered anxiously. Hearing him arrive, she knew he would soon storm in and boss everyone around like a king. "Are you gossiping in this house? Let this be the first and last time I hear my name in your mouth!" Mama scolded. Hanifa zipped her lips tightly, acting as if she wasn't even there. She knew Aliyu's personality all too well—he hated anyone talking back to him, even when he was in the wrong. Aliyu walked in, sat on the couch, and crossed one leg over the other. Mama looked at him and averted her gaze, acting as if she didn't even notice his presence. "Good morning, Mama." "Morning," she replied curtly. "Hey! Get up and fix my breakfast." "Hey! Come back and sit down," Mama said, glaring at Hanifa, who had frozen in place with wide, panicked eyes. Hanifa turned to look at Aliyu, whose face was as dark as a thundercloud. "Ma... ma, please let me go get it for him," she stammered, her voice shaking. "What stopped you from eating breakfast at home?" Mama asked Aliyu directly. "I divorced Balaraba," he answered flatly, without a hint of hesitation. Mama let out a violent gasp of absolute shock and threw both hands up to her head in horror.
Summary
This dramatic Hausa narrative follows Balaraba (Maryam), a young, nineteen-year-old woman from a poor, humble background who defied her parents' wisdom to marry Aliyu, a wealthy, arrogant, and spoiled young man from a privileged background. Despite her unwavering loyalty and love, Aliyu reveals his true colors after she becomes pregnant. Driven by cruelty and arrogance, he callously divorces her in the middle of the night, insulting her and abandoning her without shelter or care. Sheltered briefly by a compassionate security guard named Baba Musa and his kind wife Ubaida, Balaraba ultimately returns to her devastated yet loving family (Malam Ahmadu, Iya, and her brother Hamza). While her family grieves the ordeal, they rally around her to heal her broken heart and protect her unborn child from Aliyu's callous disregard. Meanwhile, Aliyu returns to his affluent family home completely unbothered, casually announcing his reckless divorce to his formidable mother, setting the stage for imminent familial reckoning and justice.
Description
The text is a deeply emotional domestic drama written in contemporary Hausa fiction style. It vividly explores themes of:
Class Disparities and Arrogance: Contrast between the humble, morally grounded life of Balaraba's family and the wealth-fueled entitlement of Aliyu and his father.
Parental Wisdom vs. Youthful Infatuation: The tragic consequences of ignoring parental guidance for the sake of romantic infatuation (soyayya).
Resilience and Sisterhood/Family Support: The protective shelter provided by ordinary, kind-hearted people (Baba Musa, Ubaida, Hamza, and Iya) contrasted against betrayal by a spouse.
Cultural Nuances: Utilization of traditional Northern Nigerian/Hausa social dynamics, domestic chores, respect norms, prayers (adhkar), and interpersonal etiquette.
Analytics
Primary Protagonist: Balaraba (Maryam) – 19 years old, resilient, deeply devoted, currently pregnant and betrayed.
Antagonist: Aliyu – 27 years old ("Aliyu Genius"), wealthy, arrogant, spoiled, emotionally abusive, and manipulative.
Secondary Supportive Characters:
Baba Musa & Ubaida: Compassionate security guard and his wife who offer immediate refuge.
Hamza: Balaraba's supportive brother who counsels and grounds her.
Mama & Hanifa: Members of Aliyu's affluent household witnessing his tyranny.
Setting: Northern Nigeria (shifting from Aliyu's luxurious duplex to Baba Musa's modest home, and finally to Balaraba's working-class family compound).
Key Conflict: Marital betrayal, psychological/emotional abuse, class exploitation, and the struggle of a discarded pregnant young woman reclaiming her dignity.
MANUBIYYA BOOK COMPELET
Aliyu! For God's sake, have mercy, if not for anything else, then for the sake of the unborn child in my womb! Aliyu, if you chase me away now, where am I supposed to go in the middle of this night?
"I swear by Allah, you must leave this house! I cannot live with you anymore!"
"Innalillahi, I am ruined! Aliyu, is it with your own mouth that you are telling me to pack and leave your house? What wrong did I do to you? Aliyu, is it me, Balaraba, that you are chasing away?"
He shot her a vicious, deeply disgusted glare, as if looking at filth, before shouting at the top of his lungs:
"I said get out of my house right now, since it wasn't your father who built it!"
Her entire body began to tremble with intense fear and dread. He bellowed at her again in a rage:
"I said get out of my house! Listen to me very carefully, Balaraba: from today, there is nothing between you and me. The blindness has lifted from my eyes; lightning has flashed, and I see you clearly for who you are. I am looking at you naked right now—I hereby divorce you with a triple divorce!"
"Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un, la hawla wala quwwata illa billahil aliyyil azheem, hasbunallahu wa ni'mal wakil, allahumma ajirni fi musibati wa akhlif li khairan minha" — these were the prayers she kept repeating aloud and in her heart.
Shock, dizziness, and heart palpitations struck her all at once. In a state of extreme anguish:
"So, Murja, you have won against Aliyu. You came between us and separated me from the one who was supposed to be my life, my love, my peace, and my care. Today, the love and affection he showed me have turned into a fierce, ugly hatred. Is it really me that Aliyu is bombarding with these harsh, venomous words?"
She wept bitterly, sobbing so hard her voice barely came out:
"Haba Aliyu, why are you trying to hurt me? What did I do to deserve this kind of payback?"
Her voice grew weak as she continued to cry:
"Tell me, Aliyu, what offense did I commit against you? Aliyu, if you feel no pity for the condition I am in, who else is left to show me mercy besides Allah? Aliyu, remember we had a marriage built on love, not hatred! Aliyu, is it because you have finally accumulated wealth that you are running away from me?"
"Let me tell you the truth: I never loved you in my heart! I married you only for your beauty and to enjoy your body. You are of no use to me anymore. As for the pregnancy, figure out what to do with it because I am not ready to be a father right now. If you see fit, keep it or abort it—that is entirely up to you!"
He finished speaking with a twisted sneer.
She burst into another heart-wrenching cry. Aliyu looked at her with a cunning smile and said, "I am done with you forever. You will never get any care or affection from me again."
She sank to the floor, weeping and shaking, saying: "Aliyu, you have cheated me and betrayed my trust. You are a wicked oppressor!"
Slap! Slap! Slap! She felt the stinging impact of brutal slaps. Suddenly, he felt a fiery slap land hard across his face. In a muffled voice, she said: "I haven't fallen so low that a man like you can slap me and get away with it," pointing her finger right at him.
Aliyu’s entire body went cold. In his wildest dreams, he never expected that if he struck Balaraba, she would actually fight back. Aside from his mother, no human being had ever dared to slap him. He angrily surged forward to hit her again, but she quickly grabbed his wrist, saying: "Don't you dare try it!" She shoved his hand away with such force that it made a loud snap sound.
"Balaraba, you actually slapped me?!"
"Aliyu, I will do worse than a slap if you ever try to harm my physical well-being again. Aliyu, you are the first person in my life to make me shed tears, and the first person to break my heart out of all the people I trusted. I won't curse you with evil, but know this: anyone who becomes the cause of someone else's tears will eventually shed their own tears too."
Furious, she walked into the bedroom, packed her clothes into a suitcase, and strode out without looking back at Aliyu standing in the living room. She stepped out onto the veranda, taking in the grand, luxurious duplex with its two massive wings. She took a deep, hot breath and exhaled.
As she walked toward the gate, the security guard rushed toward her with deep concern: "Your Highness, where are you going at this time of the night?"
"I am going to my family home."
"Your Highness, it is very late, almost 12:30 AM now," he said, checking his wristwatch. "Even if you go out now, you won't find any transportation, and bad elements are everywhere. They could harm you. If you don't mind, please go back inside."
Looking at him with tears streaming down her face, Balaraba replied: "Baba Musa, I swear by Allah, I wouldn't even want my dead body brought back into Aliyu's house. The man who deceived me and ruined my life—why would I ever go back there? Wallahi, I swear as a Muslim, I am never stepping foot in Aliyu's house again. The hatred I feel for him right now is so deep that I could actually kill him if we were left alone in the same room."
Baba Musa let out a heavy sigh. "Baba Musa, for the love of Allah, please open the gate for me. I don't want to spend even one more minute in this house; my heart feels like it's going to stop."
"Your Highness, if you don't mind, let me take you to my house to sleep until daybreak, and then you can continue your journey home. That will bring much more peace of mind than traveling alone as a woman at this hour."
She felt a wave of gratitude for Baba Musa's kindness. He went back to his room, grabbed a lantern and a walking stick, took her suitcase, and they left the property. After a ten-minute walk, they arrived at his modest compound consisting of two rooms. As soon as they reached the door, he called out to his wife, Ubaida, to open up from the inside.
Two minutes later, Ubaida opened the door. Her eyes landed on Balaraba standing outside, and absolute shock covered her face. Looking between Baba Musa and Balaraba, she stammered, "Baban Nana, what a..."
Baba Musa quickly cut her off: "Just take her inside, she needs to rest."
Ubaida grabbed the suitcase, and Balaraba followed her straight into Ubaida's room. Ubaida moved her four-year-old daughter, Nana, who was sleeping on a mat on the floor, to make space. Balaraba quickly stopped her: "No, leave her on the bed. The floor is fine for me."
"No way, how can you sleep on the floor, Anty Balaraba? Please, sleep on the bed, if not for anything else, then for the sake of the pregnancy you are carrying. Let me go lock the front door." Without waiting for a reply, Ubaida walked out.
"Baban Nana, I am so scared," Ubaida whispered to her husband outside. "Do you really think Anty Balaraba can sleep in this house? In a room with no AC, let alone a fan?"
"Well, what can she do? Life throws all kinds of trials at human beings. May Allah grant us the strength to pass the tests of this world."
"Ameen, Baban Nana."
"Take this money so we can buy her some koko (millet porridge) and kosai (bean cakes) for breakfast tomorrow morning."
Ubaida accepted the money respectfully and thanked him. After he finished locking up the house, she returned to the room. She found Nana, who had been on the floor, fast asleep back on the bed.
"Anty Balaraba, please get up from the floor and take the bed."
"No, Ubaida, let me sleep on the floor. How can I sleep on Baba Musa's bed? Leave me here, I prefer sleeping on the floor."
Balaraba couldn't sleep all night. Every time she tossed and turned, she saw Aliyu's face, remembering their past love, followed by his betrayal and deceit. He was now the person she hated most in the world.
At the break of dawn, Balaraba got up, performed ablution (wudu), and prayed voluntary prayers before performing the Subhi (Fajr) prayer. She had maintained this habit since childhood—never missing morning and evening adhkar—and despite her youth, she never abandoned the teachings of her parents. Balaraba never played with her prayers; no matter how important something was, once prayer time arrived, she dropped everything until she was done.
As the sun began to rise, Ubaida woke Nana up to pray. Once done, Ubaida handed her a jug and the money Baba Musa had given her: "Go to Inna Mai Koko and tell her to give you 300 Naira worth of koko and 300 Naira worth of kosai, plus an extra 100 Naira from what Baba Musa provided."
Ubaida lit the stove and put a pot of water on the fire. She sat there until the water boiled, poured it into a bucket, and mixed it to a comfortable temperature for a bath. She refilled the pot, put it back on the fire, and headed to the backyard, where she found Balaraba leaning against the wall, having drifted back to sleep. Just as Ubaida turned to leave, she heard Balaraba's voice: "Maman Nana, good morning."
"Morning, Alhamdulillah. I've taken your bathwater to the bathroom."
Balaraba stood up with difficulty, her body stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. She changed into a wrapper and a hijab and headed to the bathroom. While she was out, Ubaida neatly swept and tidied the room. Nana walked in shortly after.
"Nana, you took so long today!" Ubaida smiled at her daughter.
"Mama, people were making calls on the phone until the network dropped!" Nana lisped in her cute toddler speech.
Ubaida smiled, "It's not 'people making calls,' it's the network service that isn't working properly, you hear?"
Balaraba walked back into the room wearing a forced smile. Ubaida stepped outside with Nana to freshen up herself. Five minutes later, Ubaida returned and found Balaraba folding the clothes she had changed out of. Balaraba had put on a long shadda gown that accentuated her growing baby bump. The outfit looked gorgeous on her.
"Anty Balaraba, here is our breakfast," Ubaida said, pointing to the jug of koko and kosai.
It was as if the food knew she needed it; a wild wave of hunger hit her, making her dizzy, while the baby inside kicked fiercely as if trying to burst out. "Let's sit and eat together."
"No, Alhamdulillah."
"Nana, come eat your breakfast, you hear?"
"No, I'm full!"
Ubaida left the room, leaving Balaraba with Nana, who kept chattering away. Because of the strong bond between Nana, Ubaida, and Balaraba—often visiting and helping out whenever Balaraba brought food over to Baba Musa—they were very close. Out of all the women Aliyu had married, none had the kind heart of Balaraba, who always ensured Baba Musa was well-fed despite Aliyu's flaws.
Balaraba thoroughly enjoyed the koko and kosai, especially the slight, pleasant sourness of the porridge.
By 9:30 AM, Baba Musa arrived at the house. After greetings, he informed Balaraba that a tricycle taxi (keke) was waiting outside the gate.
"Thank you so much."
"What is there to thank me for, Your Highness?"
Ubaida brought out Balaraba's luggage and handed it to Baba Musa, who took it outside. Balaraba pulled out 5,000 Naira from her handbag and handed it to Nana: "Here, buy some sweets with this."
"No, Anty Balaraba, please don't. This is too much money!"
"Wallahi, take it," she insisted firmly.
She expressed deep gratitude for their immense hospitality and care. They stood by the gate until the tricycle disappeared down the road.
The driver dropped her straight at the doorstep of her family home—a modest, working-class house. As she unloaded her bags, a handsome young man of about twenty-five, dressed in a white jalabiya and bearing a striking resemblance to Balaraba, rushed toward her.
"Balaraba, is everything okay this early in the morning? Where is Aliyu?"
As if waiting for that exact trigger, she burst into a heart-wrenching cry: "Hamma, Aliyu has divorced me!"
"What did you do to him?"
"Ban masa komi ba (I didn't do anything to him)."
Her brother carried her bags inside. "Hamza, who is at the door?" a voice called out.
"It's Iya, Balaraba is here."
"This early in the morning? Lafiya, what brought her here?"
She crept into the house sheepishly, looking like someone who had just broken an egg in secret.
Her mother, Iya, looked her up and down with a scowl. Balaraba knelt down with great difficulty due to her condition: "Iya, good morning."
"Morning. What brought you back to this house this early?"
"Who is making noise out there?"
Malam Ahmadu walked in carrying five books in his hand. Balaraba rushed over and threw her arms around him, calling him by the intimate name only she used: "Maryam!" (Note: Her full name is Maryam, but she is widely known as Balaraba).
Malam Ahmadu was a fair-skinned, slender man with little body mass—clearly of Fulani descent. His only wife was Saudatu, and they had two children: Hamza and Maryam (Balaraba). Balaraba was a radiant, fair-skinned beauty who heavily resembled her father. She had grown up surrounded by her parents' love and affection, especially Malam Ahmadu, who adored her. Balaraba was nineteen years old.
"Take it easy, look at your condition," her father said, pulling her into an even tighter embrace. She let out a soft, weary sigh.
"Baba, good morning."
"Morning. Where is your husband?"
"Baba, Aliyu divorced me," she said, crying.
"Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un! What did you do to him?"
As she wept and explained everything:
"So the rumors about this relationship were true after all," Iya intervened. "This is exactly what we feared! I did everything I could to stop Balaraba from marrying that boy, but she turned a deaf ear to my warnings. Everyone knows the kind of man Aliyu is—a serial divorcée! Yet she insisted she agreed to him. Where do we stand today? You followed your own desires and ruined your life at such a young age. Now he has divorced you while you're pregnant! The day was bound to come when you'd realize he had no use for you. If only you had listened to advice, this wouldn't have happened. But man cannot escape his destiny."
Balaraba slid down to the floor, weeping: "Iya, for the sake of Allah, please forgive me. I deeply regret not listening to you." Iya wiped away Balaraba's tears just as Balaraba had wiped away her own. "Iya, please forgive me so I can find the mercy of my Lord."
Hamza wiped the tears falling from his own eyes. "Maryam, stop crying, you hear? No human being can escape destiny," he said, showing deep empathy. "Get up, go to the room, and rest. May Allah choose what is best for you and bring you safely through childbirth."
She spent the rest of the day wrapped in grief and sorrow. Both she and Iya went to sleep heavy-hearted.
Lost deep in her thoughts the next morning, she didn't even notice Hamza walking in.
"Balaraba!" Hearing her name spoken so deeply reached her core, though she didn't look up as she replied, "Na'am, Hamma."
He sat down facing her and spoke in a soft, gentle tone: "Balaraba, you are no longer a little girl, despite your young age. You need to cast this anxiety out of your mind. Dwelling on this won't bring Aliyu back. Truly, Balaraba, you made a grave mistake in your life by rebelling against Baba and Iya. Baba only supported your marriage for your happiness, not because he wanted it. Everyone in this town knows Aliyu's character and how his father backed him up in ruining the lives of other people's children, especially the poor and helpless like us. Aliyu's fake love blinded you into rejecting good men and choosing a tyrant who knows no respect for women. You know how much Baba loves you, yet you failed to see why he opposed this marriage. Ever since your wedding, Baba has lived in constant anxiety, wondering what condition you were in. Every single day, his prayer was for Allah to protect you from Aliyu's evil so he wouldn't turn you into a young divorcee. Every night he went to sleep thinking of you, and every morning he woke up with you on his mind. Whenever I called you, it was always Baba prompting me to check if you were okay.
"Three days ago, before this incident happened, Baba had a nightmare that Aliyu divorced you and chased you out in disgrace. Wallahi, none of us slept that night because his blood pressure spiked dangerously. Early in the morning, we rushed him to the hospital. Baba didn't find peace until you spoke with him on the phone and assured him you were in good health. As for Iya, the reason she seemed harsh to you was simply because you rebelled against her. If you had followed our parents' advice, none of this would have happened..."
"Hamma, is my life completely ruined now?" She buried her face in her hands. "Hamma, is it really true that no one is going to make Aliyu pay for what he did to me? Are men like Aliyu just going to roam this earth doing whatever they please without anyone stopping them?"
"No, your life is not ruined. Being a divorcee is not the end of your happiness, nor are you the first it has happened to. So cast all sorrow from your mind, especially for the sake of the baby in your womb. Consider this a test; everything will pass as if it never happened."
"Hamma, who even cares if I abort this baby or carry it to term? He said he isn't ready to be a father!"
"Haba! Balaraba, how could you even think of aborting a full-term pregnancy? Are you trying to commit murder?" She quickly shook her head. "What is the baby's crime that you want to kill it before it even breathes the air of this world? Don't you dare think about aborting this pregnancy! Do you even know what you are carrying? How do you know this isn't the only child Allah has destined for you in this world? Do not let the father's sins fall on the innocent child. Leave Aliyu to his character; life will teach him a hard lesson. Calm down, clear your mind, take care of yourself and your unborn baby. If you exercise patience, everything will pass."
"Hamma, who talked about aborting it? I was just saying he doesn't care."
"Forget about him! As long as we are alive, Aliyu will realize his mistake. You and your child will make him look like a camel's tail dragging in the dust, In sha Allah. Allah will elevate your dignity far beyond his imagination. Just keep exercising patience; with life and health, your happiness and joy will return as if it were tomorrow."
She felt a deep sense of calm wash over her heart. Seeing her relax slightly, Hamza began to engage her in lighthearted conversation...
ALIJU
The very next morning, Aliyu headed early to his family house. Alhaji Usman Marafa was Aliyu's father—originally a Buzu man from Niger who came to Nigeria seeking greener pastures, starting out selling water in cups (bairo) before opening a provision store. Gradually, his business flourished, and he became a wealthy, independent businessman. Later, he pursued education, studied business administration, and entered civil service.
Before then, he had married Laila, the daughter of his former landlord. Three years into their marriage, Allah blessed them with Aliyu. Alhaji Marafa showered Aliyu with unconditional love, spoiling him rotten from childhood. Aliyu did whatever he pleased without fearing anyone. This behavior deeply infuriated Laila, who tried her absolute best to discipline Aliyu, but to no avail. Eventually, she declared that if Alhaji Marafa's style of parenting was all he could offer, she was done having children. Ten years after Aliyu's birth, she gave birth to a daughter, Sumayya. By the grace of God, Sumayya did not inherit Aliyu's bad traits.
When Sumayya was four years old, Alhaji Marafa married Shukura. Around the same time, Laila gave birth to twins, Hanafi and Hanifa, while Hajjiya Shukura gave birth to three children: Haroon, Abbas, and Hannatu. They lived in relative peace.
Aliyu was tall and very fair like his father, with large eyes, a prominent nose, and pitch-black hair that fell down to his neck. He was a top-tier handsome man. Despite growing up thoroughly spoiled, he managed to acquire both Islamic and Western education. Aliyu was an exceptionally brilliant boy in every aspect, which led his peers to nickname him "Aliyu Genius" (The Gifted One). He was twenty-seven years old.
As he turned the corner leading to his family house, he pressed his car horn—his signature style because he hated waiting and expected people to rush out for him. Even before he reached the gate, the security guard swung it wide open. Aliyu sped into the compound, parked, and stepped out.
The estate was a luxurious complex featuring three modern wings, beautifully decorated with fragrant flowers. He walked slowly toward the wing on his right.
"Mama, please hurry up before Yah Aliyu comes in," Hanifa whispered anxiously. Hearing him arrive, she knew he would soon storm in and boss everyone around like a king.
"Are you gossiping in this house? Let this be the first and last time I hear my name in your mouth!" Mama scolded.
Hanifa zipped her lips tightly, acting as if she wasn't even there. She knew Aliyu's personality all too well—he hated anyone talking back to him, even when he was in the wrong.
Aliyu walked in, sat on the couch, and crossed one leg over the other. Mama looked at him and averted her gaze, acting as if she didn't even notice his presence.
"Good morning, Mama."
"Morning," she replied curtly.
"Hey! Get up and fix my breakfast."
"Hey! Come back and sit down," Mama said, glaring at Hanifa, who had frozen in place with wide, panicked eyes.
Hanifa turned to look at Aliyu, whose face was as dark as a thundercloud.
"Ma... ma, please let me go get it for him," she stammered, her voice shaking.
"What stopped you from eating breakfast at home?" Mama asked Aliyu directly.
"I divorced Balaraba," he answered flatly, without a hint of hesitation.
Mama let out a violent gasp of absolute shock and threw both hands up to her head in horror.
Summary
This dramatic Hausa narrative follows Balaraba (Maryam), a young, nineteen-year-old woman from a poor, humble background who defied her parents' wisdom to marry Aliyu, a wealthy, arrogant, and spoiled young man from a privileged background. Despite her unwavering loyalty and love, Aliyu reveals his true colors after she becomes pregnant. Driven by cruelty and arrogance, he callously divorces her in the middle of the night, insulting her and abandoning her without shelter or care.
Sheltered briefly by a compassionate security guard named Baba Musa and his kind wife Ubaida, Balaraba ultimately returns to her devastated yet loving family (Malam Ahmadu, Iya, and her brother Hamza). While her family grieves the ordeal, they rally around her to heal her broken heart and protect her unborn child from Aliyu's callous disregard. Meanwhile, Aliyu returns to his affluent family home completely unbothered, casually announcing his reckless divorce to his formidable mother, setting the stage for imminent familial reckoning and justice.
Description
The text is a deeply emotional domestic drama written in contemporary Hausa fiction style. It vividly explores themes of:
Cultural Nuances: Utilization of traditional Northern Nigerian/Hausa social dynamics, domestic chores, respect norms, prayers (adhkar), and interpersonal etiquette.
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