Wata Kishiya Book by Saadatu bintu Abdullahi

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She exerted every ounce of her strength while Sauda assisted her. Their Mami was completely distraught, and they had absolutely no idea what had triggered it. Clutching her chest, fresh tears streamed down, washing over her face.
"Mami, me? Are you talking about me? By Allah, by Allah, whoever said that is a liar! Out of fear of falling into ruin and the dread of disappointing you, Mami, I haven't even spoken to Yumna in two months."
With great difficulty, Mami managed to compose herself slightly. Faining ignorance, she asked, "I am talking about you, so what brings up the issue of Yumna? What did she do?"
"Her uncle's daughter came to spend her holidays at their house, and she was teaching her how to chase sugar daddies. I repeatedly gave her advice, but she completely refused to listen. That was why I cut her off, especially after she threatened to hook me up with one of them."
"She wanted to hook you up with someone out of pure malice? Why on earth didn't you inform me about this?"
Farha wiped her tears. "I told her that I would report the matter to you so you could inform her mother. She just mocked me, asking, 'Even if you tell her, so what?' That made me so angry that I just ignored her."
Deep in her heart, Mami Khadija silently thought to herself, 'Of course she would say "so what," considering how your own father has completely dragged our family dignity through the mud.'
Aloud, she said, "I have heard you, and I believe you. But I swear to you, the day you ever fall into this type of trap, you will have only yourself to blame."
Sauda, who was peeking from behind Suhaib, raised her hand in absolute terror.
"By Allah, Mami, I am not doing anything wrong. Even the guys who approach me, I tell them to leave me alone, but they refuse to listen."
"Stop making excuses for them, because your time has come, as decreed by Allah. I am giving you three days to consult your heart and your siblings to choose the suitor who appeals to you the most. The moment you finish your secondary school education, I am marrying you off."
Seeing no room for protest, Sauda didn't even dare to cough; she simply nodded her head in submissive agreement.
"As for you, Lilu, if I ever hear that you are chasing after women again, I will deal with you severely. You are a young boy who hasn't even begun to boil, yet you are already trying to burn yourself out. Do not think that modern-day diseases are the only evils hidden within a lifestyle of promiscuity. Your entire hereafter will be completely ruined. Even in this world, no matter how much wealth you acquire, you will never experience the peace of mind and true fulfillment that a morally upright person enjoys. Sever ties with those bad friends of yours; let everyone go their separate ways. You will find it much more rewarding to live a reformed life."
She delivered all these words while panting, speaking from a place of deep emotional agony. Suhaib felt the weight of the world closing in on him. He stepped closer to her, placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, and dismissed his younger siblings.
"Please calm your mind, Mami. By the grace of Allah, everything will be fine."
"Where exactly will everything be fine? Are you ready to stop the drug abuse you've been indulging in? If you think you are doing it just to spite your father, then you better think again. He doesn't even know you're doing it. And even if he did, no one will bear the burden of your sins on his behalf, since he didn't hold your hand and drag you to the drug dealers."
His eyes remained fixed on her, becoming increasingly certain that their Abba had committed a massive, unspeakable offense. He said, "If Allah wills, you will never have to speak to me about this matter again."
Farha, Lilu, and Sauda felt completely bewildered. Mami's final words to Suhaib had illuminated a hidden door they never knew existed—a door containing a deep secret shared strictly between their mother and their eldest brother. It was a door they desperately craved to unlock just to uncover what was being hidden inside.
"Please, have patience. I will speak to her myself," Auntie Hasiya uttered quickly, desperately trying to shield Ayaah from the Honorable's boiling rage. If she hadn't intervened, he was on the absolute verge of physically striking her. Despite the intervention, Ayaah still delivered a deeply disrespectful, condescending side-eye to her stepmother.
"Patience? What kind of patience?!" he barked. "You heard her yourself. Yesterday, when I asked her where she left the bag, she claimed she forgot it in a commercial tricycle (adaidaita sahu). Later, she changed her story, claiming she forgot it in the car of a stranger who offered her a ride."
"I will speak to her, please calm your heart," Hasiya pleaded, soothing him. She, more than anyone else, knew the overwhelming burden of the responsibilities hanging over his head, compounded by their severe lack of financial resources—not to mention the ongoing crisis with Abbas.
Slipping into his shoes, he walked toward the door to leave. "Make sure you speak to her, Hasiya. I can tolerate every other toxic behavior she displays in this house, but by Allah, I will never tolerate wild, unsupervised roaming. If she decides to make roaming her lifestyle, no one alive will be able to rescue her from my hands."
The moment he stepped out, Ayaah stood up, twisting her mouth in a pout, preparing to storm out of the room.
"Come back here and sit down."
Ayaah rolled her eyes dramatically, curling her lips as she snapped, "Make me sit down, then, if you think you have the power to do so."
The utter disrespect struck Auntie Hasiya deeply. Her face hardened with absolute fury, and she unleashed a thunderous command that forced the girl to sit down instantly. A heavy lump of stubborn rebellion settled in Ayaah's chest; she desperately wanted to defy her stepmother, but terrified by the outburst, she simply burst into tears.
"Don't you dare start those manipulative tears of yours with me."
Auntie Hasiya paused briefly, waiting for Ayaah to wipe her tears with the back of her hand before launching into a stern lecture. There was absolutely no trace of coddling or soft pleading in the way her words cut through the room.
"I am not your mother’s rival for you to sit there harboring bitter jealousy against me, Hajara. If Yaya A'i were still alive today, even if the heavens and the earth were to collide, I would never have married your father, because we share the exact same bloodline. Therefore, lay down whatever weapons of jealousy people have handed to you. Whether you like it or not, as long as your father's marriage remains binding on me, and even if it weren't, I, Hasiya, am a mother to you. Furthermore, even if there were no biological connection between me and Yaya A'i, I have absolutely no reason to mistreat you children, because your father has never wronged me.
I know you possess a functioning mind, even if you choose not to use it, preferring to blindly follow whatever scripts people hand you. Use that mind to sit down and tell me one single thing I have ever done in this house that was unfair or unkind to you. If you are waiting for me to exhaust myself slaving away for this household, only for you to walk all over me, I swear by Allah, you will never see that day. If you cannot respect me for anything else, respect me as a parental figure, and respect the memory of the very sister whose marriage to your father you view as a betrayal.
Finally, I want you to know that this toxic behavior of yours is not an expression of love for Yaya A'i. You are actively disgracing the upbringing she gave you—an upbringing for which Allah will hold you strictly accountable on the Day of Judgment. Deep down, you know exactly whether your actions are right or wrong. Now, stand up and get out of my sight."

Mothers must realize that our children, no matter how young they are, closely observe everything we do. We must strive to do our absolute best to instill excellent moral values in them so we can clear our names before Allah. It is an incredibly difficult task that is far beyond our human perfection, but we must try our best. Ayaah was too young when she lost her mother, but she never forgot the bitter history and toxic relationship that existed between Innayo and her children. Today, A'i is gone, but her poor modeling lives on in her youngest child. Furthermore, on the sidelines, Laraba and A'i's other sisters constantly push and manipulate her. Ummi and the older children, who are more mature, have already come to realize the true, loving nature of Hasiya. Ayaah, however, was raised on a diet of deep-seated hatred. May Allah make our children the source of our divine mercy, rather than a replica of our worst rivalries. Amen.

Her spirit thoroughly broken, Ayaah silently stood up and left the room. The moment she stepped into their shared bedroom, Murja and Ummi instantly hissed in disgust and walked out, leaving her completely alone. Feeling the crushing weight of absolute isolation, she broke down into a violent, unstoppable sob. Deep down, she knew she was in the wrong. Since yesterday, everyone had been arguing over Auntie Hasiya's lost bag which she had forgotten in a commercial tricycle, yet the owner of the bag hadn't muttered a single word of anger toward her. Furthermore, thoughts of the mysterious car owner who had driven her to Nasarawa Hospital completely consumed her mind. Everything about him had deeply charmed her, yet they had parted ways without him even asking for her name.
If nothing else, her heart was now filled with a healthy dread of Auntie Hasiya. Her stepmother had never delivered a lecture as fierce as today's. Ayaah resolved to play along, pretending to be fully reformed until she could secure a marriage of her own, leave the house, and finally find peace. Given how much everyone seemingly hated her (in her own mind), leaving the house felt like the ultimate escape.
As for Auntie Hasiya, despite how desperately she wanted to go visit her ailing mother, Innayo, it was impossible to do so until late evening or night, once she finished her henna client bookings. This was especially because Uwani had been bombarding her phone with calls since morning.
"The moment I close from work, I am stopping by to see Innayo. I am only calling to remind you not to forget my package," Uwani had demanded.
By afternoon, Uwani called again, which inadvertently triggered the fierce scolding Honorable Habu had unleashed on Ayaah.
"I will be stepping out by 3:00 PM, Hasiya. If you aren't going to Innayo's house early, I will drive over to your place to pick it up myself."
Hasiya felt a deep sting from the entitlement in those words, but she forced herself to stay silent, holding back a response because her own money was completely gone. Her entire personal savings had been lost in the bag that Ayaah carelessly lost. To think that Uwani was relentlessly calling her over money that wasn't even hers to claim, especially after months of completely neglecting to call and check on her well-being. A heavy sadness settled over Hasiya's heart as she pondered the stubborn path of disrespect Uwani had chosen toward their parents. She returned to her henna station, focusing all her energy on tracing patterns for her clients. By the time the Isha prayers were being called, she finally arrived at her family home, carrying a freshly cooked meal she had prepared for Innayo.
"Please forgive me. I swear by Allah, my entire handbag was lost, and I don't have a single dime on me right now."
Innayo managed a frail, exhausted smile. Her eyes were deeply sunken from the immense physical suffering she had endured over the past few days.
"I already told you over the phone not to worry about it. Uwani stopped by, and it wasn't until around Maghrib that Salima finally left this house. Salima's face was deeply swollen; it broke my heart to see her in such a state."
"If Allah wills, I will personally visit her this week. That husband of hers has absolutely no fear of Allah. Even if it's just for the sake of his own children, he should show her basic human decency instead of this relentless abuse."
"Hmmm," was all Innayo could weakly mutter.
Auntie Hasiya fell silent, knowing that stretching the conversation would only worsen Innayo's high blood pressure. Salima had never explicitly confessed that her husband beat her, but the family had known the brutal truth for a very long time. She was enduring absolute torture, yet Alhaji Rabi'u had made it clear that he would never harbor her or her children if she dared to dissolve the marriage.
"I prepared some local corn grit pudding (faten tsaki) for you. Should I serve it now or later?"
"Serve it now. Afterwards, step over to Asabe's quarters to greet her before you leave, as the night is fast approaching."
"Ummi's father is driving over to check on you. I will wait for him."
"He really shouldn't have burdened himself. Your own stress is more than enough."
Auntie Hasiya stood up, not because she had any genuine desire to visit Asabe's room, but because staying would only prompt Innayo to voice her disapproval of her marriage—an issue Innayo brought up at every given opportunity. For Hasiya, she had already accepted her destiny with both hands. Her relationship with her husband was built on absolute peace, respect, and mutual understanding, which she valued far above superficial romance. Though he was significantly older than her, their shared life had transformed them into the closest of confidants.
Qibdiyya was dressed in a beautiful atampa fabric skirt and blouse set as they prepared to step out after Maghrib. She had stubbornly insisted on wearing grown-up, trendy outfits. Iya Kande had initially tied a traditional headwrap for her, but Qibdiyya quickly untied it, retying it herself while mocking Iya's style as outdated. In truth, her own attempt was so comical that one could barely suppress a laugh. Abbati, however, kept showering her with dramatic praises until they finally walked out.
They exited the compound, each driving his own vehicle; Qibdiyya rode along with Munzali, while Abbati drove alone. Abbati planned to head straight from Asabe's place to Shazali's house to formally break the news of their decision to completely abandon their lifestyle of moral corruption. Munzali, on the other hand, would drive Qibdiyya back home afterwards.
"Salamu alaikum," Auntie Hasiya called out, knocking for the fifth consecutive time at the entrance of Asabe's parlor.
From inside, Asabe barked in a loud, deeply irritated tone, "Who on earth is that relentlessly calling out greetings as if they came to collect a bad debt?!"
Had it not been for Innayo's explicit instructions, absolutely nothing on earth would have brought Hasiya to this doorstep. Suppressing her anger, she replied calmly:
"It is Hasiya."
"Which Hasiya?!" Asabe demanded in a thoroughly dismissive, insulting manner.
Hasiya's heart pounded with intense frustration. Just as she turned on her heel to walk away, she felt a firm hand gently push her shoulders forward, guiding her directly into the room.
Asabe, who was lounging comfortably while watching television with a large tray of grilled meat (tsire) resting in front of her, instantly stood up, adjusting her wrapper.
"What is the meaning of this? How dare you barge into..." She abruptly froze, noticing the person Hasiya was staring at in complete shock. Asabe’s hostile expression instantly melted into a wide, sycophantic grin as she burst into laughter. "Alhaji Munzali! Welcome, welcome! A very warm welcome to you! Oh, I had absolutely no idea you came together. As for her, she should have simply specified that she is Hasiya, the wife of Honorable Habu, the late A'i's husband. That would have helped me recognize her much faster!"
Munzali cast a knowing, pointed look at Abbati, as if to say, 'See? Exactly what I told you.' They had overheard every single word of Asabe's hostility from outside, which was precisely why Munzali had pushed Hasiya into the room to cut the abuse short. Abbati, who was holding the young Qibdiyya in his arms, offered a quiet, disciplined smile.
Auntie Hasiya politely offered her greetings to clear the air and leave, but instead of acknowledging her, Asabe completely ignored her, turning her full attention to Abbati.
"Alhaji Abbati, good evening. How is the public? How is the market treating you? I hope your entire family is doing perfectly well?"
Munzali's heart burned with intense disgust at Asabe's shameless begging, paired with her blatant humiliation of Hasiya.
"Didn't you hear Hasiya greeting you?!" he snapped.
"Oh... my entire attention was completely captured by Mariya," Asabe lied smoothly, pulling Qibdiyya close to her body. Without even raising her head to look at Hasiya, she muttered dismissively, "How is your husband and the children? I saw Salima and Uwani earlier today; I hope all is well."
A fresh wave of shock washed over Hasiya. Just yesterday, their father had been explicitly informed that two of Innayo's teeth had been surgically extracted. He knew fully well about her medical crisis but refused to offer a single dime. Hasiya couldn't tell if he had simply hidden the news from Asabe, or if Asabe was putting on her usual act of absolute indifference.
"Innayo is the one who is currently unwell," Hasiya replied coldly.
"May Allah grant her healing. Mariya, let’s go inside so I can give you some candy," Asabe said, grabbing Qibdiyya's hand and disappearing into the inner rooms.
Her spirit thoroughly deflated by the blatant disrespect displayed right in front of absolute strangers, Auntie Hasiya turned and walked out. Munzali quickly followed, catching up with her before she could reach Innayo's quarters.
"Hasiya, please wait."
She stopped but didn't turn around. He was her own half-brother, separated by only a few months in age, yet it had been so long since they last crossed paths that she couldn't even remember.
He stepped in front of her, a soft, apologetic expression on his face. "What's the rush? We haven't even properly greeted each other."
The smile she offered him was laced with deep, unspoken pain. A wave of profound guilt washed over Munzali. She hadn't said a word, yet her face clearly mapped out the decades of heartbreak they had put her through.
"Please, I beg you to forgive me. Let all of you forgive me for every single act of unkindness from myself, Asabe, and everyone from our side of the house. The fault is entirely ours. I know fully well that Innayo never desired this toxic division between us."
Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She whispered, "It's nothing. Honestly, just the fact that you followed me out here has brought joy to my heart."
He reached out and took her phone from her hand, saying, "Give it here, let me save my number for you." As he began typing, he noticed his name already programmed into the device. "Wow! So you actually had my number all this time, yet you never once called me?"
"Call you to say what?"
He let out a soft laugh. "Just call to say hello." He dialed his own number from her phone to save her contact, but a automated operator voice rang out: "Your account is too low for this call."
Since he had the phone pressed to his ear, he quickly covered up the awkward moment to save her from embarrassment, pretending that the network reception was poor. She manually recited her digits to him, and he accompanied her directly into Innayo's bedroom.
"Munzali? Is that you in this room? Hasiya, I only asked you to go and greet Asabe, and you've already gone and brought trouble back to my room?" Innayo asked, a trace of panic in her voice.
A deep sense of shame washed over Munzali, feeling like a bucket of ice water had been poured over him. To think that his mere presence brought nothing but absolute terror to his father's wife. He lowered his head respectfully, sitting down directly before her.
"It's not like that at all, Innayo. Please forgive me, I beg of you. I have spent a very long time doing the wrong things, but by the grace of Allah, I am going to reform. I am going to mend the ties of kinship with my siblings." He turned to Auntie Hasiya. "Please, help me compile the phone numbers of Yaya Uwani and the rest; I will personally call them myself. If possible, let us all gather right here next Saturday. Let every single sister come along with her children. I will call you later so we can plan the logistics."
The very tears Hasiya had been suppressing since the start of his speech finally broke free. She deeply loved her family and craved the beautiful bond of siblings that other families enjoyed. They were numerous, yet a toxic wall of division kept them apart, mirroring the ancient feuds of Malamijo (referencing the parallel novel KU DUBE MU). She laid the ultimate blame for this broken home squarely on their father's shoulders. He cared absolutely nothing about his family, so long as he could return home to a hot meal. She completely failed to comprehend the type of life he lived. The moral compass of the house was completely shattered. He should have united his wives decades ago to ensure the children grew up as one, yet he allowed bitter warfare to thrive under his own roof.
Munzali leaned forward, gently wrapping his arm around her shoulder to pull her into a brotherly embrace. "In sha Allah, Hasiya, everything will be perfectly sorted between us. I was incredibly negligent in the past, and I deeply regret it."
Unaccustomed to such physical affection from him, she offered a genuine smile while playfully trying to push him away. He held onto her shoulders firmly, refusing to let go as he laughed.
"Look at this village girl! What is the meaning of this resistance? Are you the type who only embraces your husband once a month?!"
Innayo couldn't help but burst into a genuine laugh. However, the laughter was abruptly cut short as the bedroom door was violently kicked open. Asabe marched in, her chest heaving with explosive fury.
"By Allah, the One who is the Most Merciful, your local witch doctor has failed completely, Innayo! Me? You think you can use your dark charms to create a rift between me and the very son I exhausted my life building into a successful man?!"
Munzali glared at his mother with an icy, dangerous expression, his heart burning with intense rage. He had never seen a mother who possessed absolutely no self-respect or maternal dignity quite like her... except, perhaps, the mother of that young girl from Diamond Plaza, a dark corner of his mind bitterly reminded him.

It is a catastrophic mistake for parents, especially mothers, to tell blatant, weaponized lies directly in front of their children. It strips them of all authority and completely destroys their respect in the eyes of their offspring. We must guard against this.

Dear readers, do not feel as though the narrative is rushing forward while time stands still. This deliberate pacing is necessary due to the large ensemble of main characters, each playing a vital, structural role rather than being mere extras. The events unfolding in this brief window of time are profoundly tethered to where our story will lead in the future. We shall meet in the next chapter, by the special grace of Allah.
#SonSo I just published "13" of my story "UWA UWACE...". https://my.w.tt/H7FJkqEvQab

UWA UWACE... Chapter 13

By Batul Mamman
"Hasiya, let’s step outside to talk, please. I want us to finalize the date for the family gathering this very night."
Asabe glared at Innayo, her throat tightening with suppressed rage. What on earth did Munzali have to discuss with Hasiya that required them to isolate themselves?
"Go on with him. May Allah multiply the bonds of kinship between you all," Innayo said with a warm smile. Allah knew that deep in her heart, even if Munzali were the poorest man alive, she would wholeheartedly welcome him and his siblings into a beautiful relationship with her own children. She knew that if she and Asabe were to pass away today, not even their greedy father would care enough to unite them, leaving each child to survive entirely on their own.
Sitting out in the courtyard, he repeatedly apologized to her. Hasiya was so utterly stunned by his profound transformation that she could do nothing but offer warm, continuous smiles. Since childhood, they had never shared a peaceful, casual conversation with anyone from Asabe's room.
"This upcoming weekend, I am embarking on a journey with the man you saw me with in Asabe's room. He is my absolute best friend, Hasiya. My ultimate confidant."
To think that Munzali was actually sharing his intimate personal plans with her. Truly, if you live long enough, the world will show you wonders. She resolved in her heart that she would also open up and share the details of her own life with him.
"How beautiful. What is his name?"
"Abbati."
From the profound reverence in his voice alone, she instantly understood that their bond was not a superficial one. Pausing to think, she suddenly raised her head, her eyes widening in realization.
"Wait... isn't he the exact same boy that Asabe used to beat you mercilessly for hanging around with?!"
Munzali burst into a loud, ecstatic laughter. "Wow, you actually remember! Oh, you girls were so wicked back then... I held a serious grudge against you all for that. You would just sit there watching her almost beat me to the grave, and not a single one of you ever stepped in to rescue me!"
She couldn't help but join in the laughter. It was right there that Abbati found them, offering his warm greetings once more, genuinely overjoyed to see the beautiful transformation unfolding in Munzali's life.
"Where is Qibdiyya?" Munzali asked him.
"Asabe insisted that you go inside and pick her up when we're ready to leave. Let me head over to Shazali's place first; I'll meet you guys at the house."
Offering his farewells, Abbati departed. Munzali knew fully well that Asabe was simply throwing a temper tantrum, and he was determined never to let her manipulate or divide them again. His thoughts drifted to Ummakati; it had been months since they had even spoken over the phone. It was only the younger siblings who constantly bothered his phone lines, driven purely by the culture of begging that Asabe had instilled in them.
"For God's sake, is that precious little girl the baby we came to celebrate during her naming ceremony? Is her name Mariya?!" Auntie Hasiya exclaimed, placing her hand over her mouth in sheer amazement.
"God curse a broken home like ours. Honestly, it wouldn't even surprise me if you passed her on the street without recognizing her. I swear, Baba has completely failed us as a father..."
"Let us not begin this beautiful journey of reconciliation by speaking ill of our parents. As for Baba, we can only offer prayers on his behalf."
"And Asabe too..."
"And Uwani..."
"And Mahe (his younger brother whom Asabe claimed was Alhaji Rabi'u's primary heir)..."
"And Zara."
"And the entire lineage of Laraba (A'i's mother)..."
They both burst into a unified, cathartic laughter. Their family home truly resembled a battlefield rather than a civilized household. Right in front of her, he transferred five thousand Naira worth of airtime to her phone, instructing her to call all their siblings to coordinate the gathering. If Saturday or Sunday worked best, she should ensure everyone convened at the family house along with their children.
"May Allah increase your abundance and beautifully bless our family ties," Auntie Hasiya prayed.
"Amen."
"Go bring Mariya out so I can hold her. By the way, what name did you say you call her?"
"Qibdiyya," he replied with a smile.
Ignoring Asabe's continuous, aggressive ranting, Munzali carried his daughter out and brought her to Auntie Hasiya in Innayo's room. The little girl instantly warmed up to her, as Hasiya possessed a natural, deeply maternal love for children. Before he could exit the compound, Honorable Habu arrived, and they exchanged warm, respectful greetings. Innayo hid her physical pain, her heart overflowing with pure joy at the first signs of unity among her children. Her ultimate prayer was that Uwani and Zara would cooperate as well.
When Abbati reached Shazali's house and laid out their intention to completely withdraw from their corrupt operations, Shazali outwardly showed no resistance, even offering to accompany them to Abbati's upcoming royal coronation ceremony. Beneath the surface, however, Shazali's mind was rapidly calculating the catastrophic financial losses they were about to incur, along with the dangerous challenges ahead. The powerful politicians and ultra-wealthy elite they serviced would never simply allow them to walk away. They would view their sudden exit as a massive liability, assuming they were either compromised or plotting to expose their darkest secrets. This separation was absolutely not going to be as peaceful as the two young men fondly imagined.
Deep reflection and a river of silent tears kept Mami Khadija awake all through the night. She remained entirely oblivious to the dark traps Alhaji Tahir had engineered behind the scenes until the following morning around 8:00 AM. Farha had been sent to summon her, but upon seeing how peacefully her mother was sleeping, she simply couldn't bring herself to wake her. Mami had fallen asleep right where she prayed her Fajr prayers, overcome by pure exhaustion. Farha returned to inform their Abba that she was still asleep, only to find a terrifying circle consisting of her grandparents and Alhaji Tahir's closest associates gathered in the parlor. Her heart instantly dropped; one look at the room revealed that a massive crisis was underway. Greeting them nervously, she hurried back to the bedroom and woke her mother.
Farha was so utterly panicked that tears were streaming down her face. Her own anxiety far eclipsed that of her mother, yet she desperately tried to offer words of comfort.
"Mami, please keep your mind calm and enter the parlor with absolute composure. You know that everything in this life is predestined by Allah. I saw Mama, Baba Kawo, and Yakumbo all seated out there. Lilu and the rest are perfectly safe in their rooms, so everyone is physically fine." By now, her entire body was violently trembling. "Mami, even Yakumbo is here! What on earth could bring them to this house this early in the morning?!"
Mami Khadija offered a serene, knowing smile as she fully understood exactly where the situation was heading. "Calm your heart, and under no circumstances must you or any of your siblings dare step foot into your father's parlor."
Her eyes widening with absolute terror, Farha gasped, "Mami... did Abba divorce you?!"
"Go immediately and pass my instructions to your elder brother!" Mami commanded forcefully to snap her out of her panic.
Stepping out together, Farha bolted straight toward Suhaib's bedroom to break the news...

Part 2: Narrative & Literary Analytics

1. The Archetype of the "Silent Patriarch" vs. Maternal Burden

This text masterfully dissects the structural dysfunction of the Hausa polygamous household when failed by the patriarch (Alhaji Rabi'u and Alhaji Tahir).

• Alhaji Rabi'u represents absolute abdication; he is physically present but financially and emotionally parasitic. This leaves Innayo and Hasiya to shoulder the emotional wreckage of the family.

• Mami Khadija's silent suffering mirrors Innayo's historical pain. The text highlights a recurring theme: the moral degradation of the father directly imperils the social and spiritual survival of the children (Suhaib's drug abuse, Farha's close brush with exploitation).

  2. The Mechanics of Parental Alienation & Reclamation

  The breakthrough between Munzali and Hasiya provides a powerful counter-narrative to the toxic cycles established in the earlier chapters.

• The Paradigm Shift: Munzali actively chooses to unlearn the programming of hostility instilled by his mother, Asabe.
• The Shared Trauma: By laughing over the shared absurdity and pain of their upbringing ("God curse a broken home like ours"), Munzali and Hasiya weaponize humor to dissolve decades of deep-seated parental alienation. This acts as a narrative pivot toward healing, contrasting sharply with Shazali's impending dark betrayal.