SHAAWARSHI NAKE BOOK COMPLETE BY ZAHRA SURBAJO.txt

Description

She was walking, crying bitterly as if she had just been told that her parents had died. She covered her face with one hand, while with the other she held a broken piece of a clay pot. When I moved closer and looked at her carefully, I realized she was just a little girl—fair in complexion, no more than eleven years old. Despite her young age, her beauty was obvious. She had a pointed nose and soft pink lips—Masha Allah. But her clothes were so dirty and worn out, you wouldn’t want to look at them. They were torn and faded. She wore a blouse and wrapper with a small headscarf, all mismatched, tied in the typical village style, with the end of the scarf pulled through the front of her blouse.

Seeing how she was dressed, I assumed she was poor. But I was shocked when I saw the house she was about to enter. In the entire village of Manga, it was the only house plastered with cement and surrounded by a fence, unlike the others which were mostly mud houses.

She stood at the gate for a long time, unable to go in. She would step forward as if to enter, then step back. She did this more than three times. Finally, she recited the Shahada and went inside. I followed her quietly.

Inside, I saw a dark-skinned woman sitting on a chair, gossiping and shaking her leg arrogantly. She wore her scarf carelessly, showing her harsh nature.

A little distance away, the girl knelt down, trembling, unable to speak. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

The woman looked at her and said, “What is it now? Why are you standing in front of me like I’m a stranger? And where is the water you went to fetch?” she shouted.

The girl flinched and stepped back, stammering, “Please forgive me, Inna Murza. Ma’u and I fetched the water, but Murtala and his friends came chasing us. When we refused to stop, they ran after us. While running, I tripped and fell. The pot broke, and I hurt my knee.” She lifted her wrapper to show her injured knee.

Instead of pitying her, the woman rained insults on her. “What do I care about your injury? You and your prostitution around the village! You think a mere apology will fix my broken pot? You will pay for it—even if it means selling your body! I won’t take a loss!”

The girl kept crying and begging, but Murza picked up a stick and beat her mercilessly. She beat her until her screams faded and she fainted. Then she dragged her into the sun and went inside, still muttering insults.

She didn’t wake up until about 2 p.m., when Murza poured water on her. Startled, she opened her eyes in confusion.

“Get up, you witch!” Murza shouted. “Go and herd the cattle. And don’t go roaming around like the prostitute you are!”

The girl silently picked up a container to perform ablution, intending to pray. There was a well inside the house, but Murza was so cruel that she insisted she fetch water from the village well instead, claiming the house well shouldn’t be used.

When the girl said she wanted to pray, Murza mocked her. “Oh, are you the mosque mat now? Always pretending to be the most religious one! Get out!”

The girl asked for food, saying she was hungry. Murza refused. So she left to herd the cattle. Thankfully, some of the cows were lactating, so she would secretly drink some milk to survive. That was how she coped whenever she was denied food.

This was her daily life.

Her name was Maysam.

Later, when her father, Malam Musa, returned from his trading trips, she experienced brief moments of happiness. In his presence, Murza pretended to care for her, lying about her condition and saying she had been sick. Malam Musa, unaware of the full truth, showed her affection and brought her gifts. But once he left again, Murza’s cruelty resumed.

Maysam was intelligent and excelled in school, but Murza wanted her education to stop at primary level, insisting that girls in their village should marry as soon as they reached puberty.

Eventually, a marriage proposal came from Murtala—the same troublesome boy who used to harass her. Though she agreed out of obedience to her father, inside she was heartbroken and afraid.

One day, Malam Musa secretly told her he knew about Murza’s cruelty through Ma’u. He gave her money and comforted her, promising better days ahead.

But trouble was never far away.

One evening, as Maysam and Ma’u were returning home, they ran into Murtala and his reckless friends. They blocked their path and tried to harass them. Murtala stepped close to Maysam and said, “My wife, how are you? Let me help you carry that water.”

She quickly stepped back. Ma’u protested, but Murtala shouted at her, threatening her.

And that was how another ordeal began for Maysam…