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CHAPTER ONE
KADUNA
Area: Anguwan Rimi GRA
Around 9:30 PM on a Saturday night, he stepped out of his office. His driver, Garzali, was driving him in his black Bugatti.
As the horn sounded at the gate of his massive mansion—which looked like an earthly paradise—his gatemen, Habu, ran forward to slide the gate open, recognizing that the Master had arrived precisely at that moment.
The car glided into the parking space, and before it had even settled, two beautiful children—a boy and a girl, both under ten years old, identical in height and looks, except that the girl was slightly fuller-figured with a narrow face, while the boy was slender with a broader face, snow-white and glowing—came running out. At first glance, you could tell they were high-class kids from the designer clothes they wore and their well-nourished skin.
They sprinted to the car, flung the back door open, and chorused, "Welcome, Daddy..." As I looked at them simultaneously, their dimples flashed on the sides of their cheeks. They looked so much alike, they were likely twins. Before I could recover from my surprise, a cute and handsome man stepped out of the car, dressed in a gray American suit with a tie tightly wound around his neck, his face radiating pure joy at the sight of his wonderful children whom he was so proud of.
He hugged them tightly, patting their heads and saying, "Thank you, my children..." As he spoke, dimples appeared on his own cheeks as well. Clearly, the children inherited their stunning beauty and physique from him. He was a tall, robust man with a broad chest, appearing to be around 43 years old, though you could never guess his age because of how well he maintained his body and handsome face. He wasn't completely fair-skinned, but you wouldn't call him dark either; his skin resembled that of a Moroccan—radiant and pampered. He had a long face, a straight nose, and a rounded mouth framed by a stylish, captivating black mustache. He possessed large, mysterious eyes and long eyelashes as if he wore falsies, complemented by thick, eyebrows like a woman's.
That was ALHAJI TAHIR MANSUR DAN BATTA, the general manager in charge of IBRAHIM KWATANO AND SONS LIMITED, the eldest son of the Hakimi of Dambatta (Alhaji Mansur Danbatta), the husband of FARIDA IBRAHIM KWATANO, and the father of BASSAM, BASMA, and NAILA. He was a complete gentleman—patient, dignified, and awe-inspiring, a reserved man who didn't value worldly things. People—his parents, and even his hometown of Dambatta—were immensely proud to have a son like Tahir from their lineage.
Basma pouted her lips and asked, "Daddy, where is Mami...?" Bassam glared at her before replying, "Eh, where is Mami? Did you forget that when we called her earlier on ANTY MUFEEDA's phone, she said she wouldn't be coming back today...?" Basma pushed out her lower lip as if about to cry. Tahir, standing nearby and watching them, felt a wave of frustration wash over him upon hearing that Farida wouldn't be returning today either. He took Basma's hand and said, "Bassam, collect my briefcase from Garzali, let's go inside." Quickly, Bassam took the bag from Garzali and followed Daddy, who was holding a crying Basma's hand to console her. By nature, she craved a mother's care, though given how Farida neglected her husband and children, Basma should have been used to her absence by now.
As they entered the luxurious living room, Naila's crying welcomed them. She was strapped to the back of Mufeeda, who was walking around the living room trying to rock her to sleep, but Naila refused to calm down. With pity and frustration, Tahir watched Mufeeda, who was drenched in sweat despite the air conditioning, because Naila was one of those chubby babies built like an agricultural chicken, while Mufeeda was tall and slender enough to look like she might snap from lack of flesh. The baby seemed to weigh her down; Mufeeda was very young, not more than 16 years old, with a long face and a medium-sized nose. You wouldn't place Mufeeda among exceptionally beautiful women, but rather somewhere in the middle.
Seeing them enter, she quickly crouched down and said in her soft, childish voice, "Welcome back, Daddy." He replied as he walked toward her, releasing Basma's hand and saying, "Mufee, what's wrong with Naila that she's crying like this?" He reached out his hands as a sign for her to pass Naila to him.
Without hesitation, she unstrapped the baby whose face was smeared with mucus and tears. He took her and looked at Mufeeda, who said, "Wallahi, I don't know, Daddy. She started crying a while ago. I thought she was hungry, so I made formula for her, but she refused to drink it. Then Iya took her, but she still wouldn't stop crying, calling for her Mami..." Mufeeda spoke as if she were about to cry herself.
Tahir smiled, embracing Naila, who took a deep breath and rested her head softly against his shoulder. Bassam looked at them and asked, "Have you eaten?" They nodded in the affirmative. Without saying another word, Tahir walked past them and began climbing the stairs carrying Naila, before pausing and looking back to say, "Oya, go and wash up and go to bed. Good night," wearing a stern face. Submissively, Bassam and Basma each headed to their rooms with pouting faces, while Mufeeda stood watching him. He cast a stern, unsmiling look at her and asked, "Why are you standing there?" Shivering slightly, Mufeeda replied, "No... nothing, actually..." she said, scratching her head. He widened his eyes and asked, "What is it? Is there a problem?"
With her head bowed, she whispered, "Actually, I wanted to tell you, Daddy, that you haven't eaten, and Iya has set your food on the dining table..." He smiled and said, "Don't worry, I'm not hungry. Go back to your room and sleep." She looked at him as if about to speak, but stopped when she saw him staring at her. Submissively, she turned away, saying, "Good night, Daddy." He accepted her greetings and said, "May we wake up in peace," watching her walk away slowly, almost swaying, as she disappeared into her room.
He let out a sigh, turned around carrying Naila, and continued up the stairs. He opened the first door, which revealed a luxurious Royal bed draped in gorgeous, majestic bedding. The room was free of clutter, covered entirely by a soft, glittering carpet that sparkled magically, alongside a massive wardrobe that consumed half the room, and a dressing mirror near the toilet door.
He walked straight to the bed, climbed onto the middle of it, and laid Nihal down. She had already fallen asleep, taking a deep breath as he set her down. He gently stroked her forehead to soothe her, and immediately she fell back into a deeper sleep. He stepped down from the bed, let out a sigh, removed his coat, and hung it on a tall coat rack. He grabbed a towel, opened the toilet door, and stepped inside with a silent prayer on his lips.
He spent nearly thirty minutes in the toilet before stepping out with his waist wrapped in a large towel and holding a small one to dry the water dripping from his head. He walked straight to the wardrobe in the room, opened it to reveal neatly hung clothes grouped by category. On one side were black and gray American suits from various designers like DKNY, Tommy Hilfiger, Armani, Louis Vuitton, Dolce & Gabbana, and Versace. Next came traditional wear: rich, expensive shadda, gezner, and yadika fabrics. Shirts and jeans were in their own section, while casual wear like shorts and short-sleeved shirts occupied another space. At the very bottom were various soft, stylish nightwear options.
He pulled out a gray pajama set (shirt and trousers). Water still dripped from his body as he slipped into the clothes, though half his mind remained on Naila, who was fast asleep. Leaving the wardrobe area, he stood before the mirror, sprayed a dash of perfume, and walked over to where a large prayer mat was spread out. He stood quietly, centered his focus, and commenced his prayers.
After a few minutes, he completed his Shafa'i and Wutiri prayers. He spent a long time making supplications before standing up, feeling a familiar gnawing hunger in his stomach. If he recalled correctly, his last proper, heavy meal was the previous night before coming home, when Isaac insisted they stop by his house to eat. Since then, apart from a cup of coffee, he hadn't consumed anything substantial. He rubbed his stomach, remembering Mufeeda's words. The young girl constantly amazed him; despite her youth, she understood his temperament and read his moods better than Farida did. A voice in his mind whispered, Well, Farida is too busy with parties, naming ceremonies, and visiting friends to stay home with you, let alone understand who Tahir really is.
He stroked his head, breathed out a sigh, and walked to the small bedside fridge. He opened it, pulled out a bottle of Hollandia milk along with a small, beautiful silver cup, poured the milk, and drank it all. He refilled the cup, drank it too, and let out a sigh of relief. He returned the items to the fridge, climbed onto the bed, pulled his legs up, and leaned his back against the headboard. Realizing the room might be too cold for Naila, he grabbed the AC remote to lower the temperature while carefully adjusting Naila's sleeping position, wondering what kind of mother Farida was.
Angered by the thought, he reached out and grabbed his phone, which he had left on the side drawer before taking a shower. In a moment, he pulled up her contact, which he had saved as WIFEY. He stared at the screen in silence, bit his lip, and pressed call while checking the wall clock—it was past 10 PM. The phone rang and rang until it disconnected without her picking up. Undeterred, he called again; it rang until it ended with no answer. He hissed, tossed the phone aside, and picked up the small Qur'an from the bedside drawer, opening to Suratul Maryam, where he had left off the previous night. Reading before bed had become second nature to him; it was why he never went to sleep angry.
Just as he began reading softly in his resonant, melodious voice, his phone started ringing again. He finished the verse, lifted his head, picked up the phone, and upon seeing the caller ID, smiled a smile that hurt worse than crying. He answered the call, saying, "Farida, is the kind of life you've chosen for yourself really going to end well...?"
From the other end, Farida was at a lavish dinner party where the venue was buzzing with noise and DJ music. She wore a stunning, custom-tailored long gown made of expensive heavy lace in a blue shade, paired with a pink head tie. Her face was heavily made up like a bride's. She was a tall, fair woman with a gorgeous, curvaceous figure (Masha Allah). She opened her mouth to speak, pouting her face to reveal her white teeth and a charming gap-toothed smile that enhanced her beauty.
Impatiently, she snapped, "Ah, the King of Complaints! As soon as I saw your call, I knew what you were going to say. Haba Tahir, when will you stop embarrassing me in front of my friends?" she asked, glaring at the side of her phone as if looking right at him. He remained silent, trying to swallow his mounting anger, before asking, "Oh, so you prefer not to be embarrassed in front of your friends, but you forget about your Hereafter and whether what you're doing will lead you to Hell, Farida?"
She pushed out her lips and retorted, "Goodness me! Tahir, what on earth am I doing? Every single time, your talk is always about me going to Hell." He sighed and asked, "Now, for God's sake, how many days have you been away, abandoning your children, your husband, and your home, all in the name of attending your friend Farida's sister's wedding? Do you honestly think you're going to end your life well?"
She frowned and snapped, "For goodness sake, what caused all this talk? Aren't Bassam and the others grown enough to look after themselves?" He interrupted her, "What about Naila? Did you leave milk for her?" She twisted her face and replied, "Where is Mufeeda? What is her use if not to look after her? I even told Goggo to send someone to help us, and regarding food, I know Iya can cook whatever you need. So what else, Tahir?"
Filled with bitter anger, he said, "I am talking about me! I am your husband, Farida! To whom did you entrust my marital rights? To you or to Mufeeda?" he asked, trying to keep his temper, though he was naturally a patient man.
She let out a small laugh and said, "I knew it! All this ranting of yours is just because I haven't come back to surrender my body for you to use however you want, right? Let me ask you, Tahir..." Without giving him a chance to speak, she continued, "Don't you ever get tired of sex? I don't know what kind of husband God saddled me with—like a corn-grinding pestle! Look here, Baba, I am not a sex machine for you to mount me whenever you please. What's wrong with once a week? Look at my friends Binta, Zeenat, and Smarty—none of their husbands call or pressure them like this! But God cursed me with an overzealous Ustaz, and now I'm supposed to stick to your waist year after year, getting pregnant and giving birth like a goat? Well, wallahi, you can't! That will never happen! Please don't call me again. I'll come back—it's not like I'm living there permanently. We are at a dinner party, so tomorrow we'll drop the bride off in Kano, and from there I'll branch off to sleep at Abba's place. Maybe the day after tomorrow I'll be back."
With that, she hung up, glared at her phone, hissed, and muttered, "Aggressive man..." She shoved the phone into her bag and returned to her friends, who were watching her from afar and laughing.
Tahir felt a surge of intense anger and frustration rising from deep within, but he forced himself to calm down. He stared at his phone, lowered it, and let out a sigh as he tried to calm himself. However, he resolved that tomorrow he must make an early trip to the village to see Goggo and declare that he had reached his limit with Farida. Therefore, if she wouldn't consent to him divorcing her, she would at least have to let him take a second wife. He wasn't made of stone; he was a healthy man who needed the care of a woman, wanted children more than anything, and needed someone who would look after his and his children's needs—someone who respected marriage, unlike useless Farida. If he calculated correctly, it had been over five months since they last shared a bed; even after Naila's birth, they had only been intimate three times.
He set the Qur'an down, adjusted his sleeping position, turned off the main room lights, and switched on the dim light. He pulled the blanket up from his feet to his waist, covering half of Naila's body as well, and rested his head on the pillow. He pondered over Goggo's flimsy excuses that had previously prevented him from taking another wife—arguing that because he worked under Farida's father, who employed him, he owed him compliance. But that didn't bother him anymore; out of excessive love, Farida's parents had failed to discipline her. This time around, he wouldn't back down, even if it meant Alhaji Ibrahim (Farida's father) cut ties with him. Wealth comes from God, but if he allowed his life to be ruined, no one would blame Farida—only he would plunge into a lifetime of regret.
With these thoughts, he said his sleep prayers, stroked Naila gently, placed his hands across his chest, closed his eyes, and prayed for sleep to take him while pushing thoughts of Farida away...
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CHAPTER TWO
Ever since he returned from the mosque with Bassam around 6:45 AM, he went straight to his room and found Naila awake and crying. He picked her up, soothed her, and took her into the toilet where he stripped her and gave her a thorough bath so she would feel refreshed. Yet, Naila—at eleven months old—didn't stop crying. It was obvious she was hungry. As soon as he finished bathing her, he wrapped her in a towel and came downstairs to Mufeeda's room, calling out for her.
Iya emerged from the kitchen upon hearing him call Mufeeda. When people heard the name "Iya," they usually pictured an old woman, but she was actually a middle-aged woman in her early fifties whom Basma and others called Iya ever since Mami sent her to Farida from Kano, and the name stuck with everyone.
Seeing Tahir himself, she beamed and said, "Alhaji, is it you? I hope this little troublemaker didn't wake up crying again today. Good morning?" Smiling, he bowed slightly and said, "Good morning, Iya?" She responded warmly, appreciating how Tahir respected and honored her, and asked, "Is stubborn Naila crying because she doesn't see her mother?" Scratching his head, he replied, "Yes, wallahi, Iya. I think she's hungry. I gave her a bath, but she hasn't stopped crying, so I brought her for Mufee to give her milk or make her quiet." Iya stretched out her hands and took her, saying, "Ah, it must be hunger. Let me go and mix her formula. Mufeeda must be fast asleep because I haven't heard a peep from her or seen her come out yet." He handed the baby over and said, "Alright, Iya." With that, she turned and headed to Mufeeda's room where Naila's formula and supplies were kept, while he headed back upstairs.
He took a bath that lasted over thirty minutes, because Tahir loved taking his time in the shower. When he came out, he didn't bother applying anything to his skin, as Tahir thoroughly disliked putting lotions or oils on his body. He opened his wardrobe and pulled out one of his white gezner tazarce outfits, which fit him impeccably. The embroidery on the shadda was black. His cap was a black Zanna Bukar design, his closed shoes were black, and on his wrist was a gorgeous black leather Rado watch. When Tahir caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, even he smiled, knowing for a fact that he looked handsome—surely standing out among men. He knew Baba Hakimi would be delighted to see him dressed in such grand traditional attire today.
Adjusting his cap with his phone in hand, he walked down the stairs. The scent of his signature men's perfume wafted through the air even before he reached the bottom. Basma, Bassam, and Mufeeda—who had Naila strapped securely to her back after feeding her and dressing her in a lovely blouse—were sitting around a large, magnificent dining table. In Tahir's household, there was no discrimination between family and outsiders; everyone ate together, except for the gateman and driver. Farida didn't care about these things, as she was rarely home anyway, so Tahir's preferences didn't bother her. Iya and Mufeeda had long since adapted, having spent over two years in the house.
From a distance, the children stared at him admiringly, including Mufeeda, who whenever she looked at Tahir felt she could easily look down on all other men in the world. He embodied every standard of majesty, handsomeness, pedigree, lineage, and good character. She even daydreamed about God blessing her with a husband just like Daddy, who knew how to dress and look so stylish. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard Bassam greeting him. He responded, patting Basma on the head and saying, "My baby, did you wake up well?"
Swallowing a chip she had shoved into her mouth, she replied, "Fine, Daddy. Wallahi Daddy, today you look so fine, like a young bachelor, right Bassam?" she asked, laughing. He nodded, smiling, "Yes, man, Daddy." He laughed, showing his white teeth, looking at his children with joy. Just as he looked up, his eyes locked straight onto Mufeeda, who had been lost in contemplation staring at him. He softened his smile and asked, "Mufee, mother of Naila, is she asleep yet?"
Coming back to her senses quickly, she cast her eyes down and said, "Yes, Daddy. Good morning?" Checking his watch, he acknowledged her greeting. Iya chimed in, "As soon as Mufeeda straps her to her back, you won't hear a peep from her until she wakes up. In fact, Alhaji, when Mufeeda eventually gets married, you'll really struggle because Naila has practically made Mufeeda her permanent roommate!" she said, laughing. Tahir smiled too, and Basma burst into laughter, teasing, "Mufeedan, the sugarcane seller!" making a face at Mufeeda, who shot her an angry glare. Tahir noticed everything, but chose not to comment. Instead, refocusing on his watch, he said, "Time is running out. Take care of yourselves; I'm heading to Dambatta."
He spoke straightforwardly as he reached to lift a flask of hot water to pour ginger tea into a cup. Basma jumped up, exclaiming, "Ah Daddy, how could you leave without telling us to get ready?" Bassam chimed in, "Yes, Daddy, please let us come with you. It's been a while since we went to the village to greet Goggo and Inno," he said, pouting. As for Mufeeda, the moment Dambatta was mentioned, her eyes welled up...
Summary
In Chapter One, the story introduces Alhaji Tahir Mansur Danbatta, a successful, handsome, and dignified general manager living in Kaduna (Anguwan Rimi GRA) with his children (Bassam, Basma, and baby Naila). His wife, Farida, is absent, continually neglecting her family to attend parties and social gatherings with friends. Tahir returns home to find his children waiting, cared for by a young girl named Mufeeda and an older helper named Iya. Later that night, Tahir calls Farida at a dinner party to reprimand her for abandoning her responsibilities. Farida responds with hostility, insults him, mocks his physical affection, and dismisses his concerns. Frustrated, Tahir resolves to visit his village the next day to inform his family that he has reached his limit and intends to take a second wife if Farida refuses a divorce.
In Chapter Two, the morning routine unfolds. Tahir bathes baby Naila, who is fussy due to hunger, and hands her over to Mufeeda, who successfully soothes her. Tahir dresses impeccably in grand white traditional attire (gezner) to visit his hometown, Dambatta. As he prepares to leave, his children express a strong desire to accompany him to see their grandmother (Goggo) and Inno. When Dambatta is mentioned, Mufeeda's eyes well up with emotion.
Description
The narrative paints a vivid picture of upper-class Nigerian life in Kaduna, contrasting material wealth and social status with domestic dysfunction and emotional neglect.
- Tahir represents the ideal traditional yet modern gentleman: wealthy, handsome, deeply patient, religious (maintaining nightly Qur'an recitations), and devoted to his children. However, he is deeply unhappy in his marriage.
- Farida embodies the opposite extreme: a self-absorbed, modern socialite who prioritizes parties, peer validation, and personal freedom over her marital vows and maternal duties.
Mufeeda and Iya act as the domestic pillars holding the household together, with Mufeeda playing a surrogate maternal role for baby Naila, which subtly builds a complex emotional dynamic between her and Tahir.
Analytics
- Themes:
- Marital discord and emotional neglect
- The conflict between modern social lifestyles and traditional family values
- Polygyny as a resolution to marital incompatibility
- The burden of single-handed parenting within a marriage
- Character Dynamics:
- Tahir vs. Farida: Complete mismatch of values (patience and devotion vs. selfishness and disregard).
- Tahir and Mufeeda: A silent, growing bond built on mutual respect, care, and shared responsibility over the children.
- Setting: Urban upscale living in Kaduna (Anguwan Rimi GRA) contrasted with ancestral roots in Dambatta, Kano State.
