Yancin Mata Book Compelet By Amina Maaji

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YANCIN MATA BOOK Part 1:

 The Betrayal and the Violation

"Fauziyya, get out of my sight! Since even your father isn't safe from your malice, it's clear you belong to a family of lowlifes and show-offs," Anty Halima barked.
"I will never commit the vile act you want me to commit, no matter what," Fauziyya resisted.
"What is all this commotion I am hearing? What is happening?" Abba entered, demanding an explanation.
Anty Halima pointed aggressively. "It's Fauziyya. Look at her! She boldly declared that she will not go where you ordered her to go."
"And why is that?" Abba questioned. "Turn to her and ask her yourself."
"Abba, please forgive me," Fauziyya pleaded. "You both want me to commit fornication. Please do not squander the years of virtue I have preserved. Help me protect my sanity and my dignity."
"Who told you we are sending you to commit fornication?" Abba countered angrily. "Ever since that man crossed our path, he has been taking absolute care of us. He even secured a job for your father!"
"Fauziyya, I swear by Allah, get up and go to Alhaji Gali’s house right now. He has been waiting for you for a very long time."
"Honestly, I am not going," Fauziyya maintained firmly.
"Then know this: you no longer have a home in this house, and your feeding stops immediately. Mark my words!"
Watching helplessly, my own father personally escorted me to Alhaji Gali's house.
"Malam Zakar, is that you?" Alhaji Gali welcomed us.
"Yes, it is me. Thank you so much. You know I can't handle heavy labor anymore; my condition forces me to take things slowly," Abba replied.
I stood there bewildered. What does he mean by taking things slowly? Is he crippled or missing a hand that he can't clean a house that is already spotless?
As I stood frozen, Abba personally handed me a broom. "Go on, start sweeping," he ordered.
I was completely exhausted. I hadn't eaten a single thing since morning, and my stomach was cramping painfully. My spirit shattered. This is my father’s house, yet I am denied the right to a free life. While I stood lost in thought, barely moving the broom, I watched Alhaji Gali hand Abba a bundle of cash. I didn't know the exact amount, but Abba quickly shoved it into his shirt pocket. All the while, my body trembled as I desperately wished to reclaim my freedom.
"Fauziyya, when you are done sweeping that other room, grab the mopping rag," Alhaji Gali called out. "I want to rest. Ever since I arrived in this town, I haven't found a single moment of peace. This is a massive house with three large rooms, but it lacks value because there is no woman managing it."
Alhaji Gali then went to take a shower. Once I finished cleaning the first room, I proceeded to the next, entirely unaware that he had finished bathing. Suddenly, he stepped into the room, pushed the door shut, and turned the key in the lock.
"For God's sake, let me out! I am done cleaning this room," I cried out in panic.
Alhaji Gali was a powerful, imposing man. He violently shoved me backward. I fell onto the bed. Before I could regain my footing, he pinned me down under the weight of his chest.
"Please, for the love of God, do not strip me of my dignity! I am only eighteen years old, and I have spent every single day protecting my virtue!" I wept.
"I have desired you for a very long time," he whispered hoarsely, blinded by lust. "Your body has captivated me in a way that only death can separate us. Help me taste this sweetness."
It became painfully clear: he had given my father money to purchase my dignity. Is this what sweeping truly meant? Why didn't he hire a real house cleaner instead of trapping me? Why didn't he show his true colors from the start? He is not a good father at all!
"Do not argue with me, Fauziyya," Alhaji Gali muttered. "You do not look like a poor man's wife. I alone recognize your true value, and I have long desired to possess you."
"Where is your wife?" I cried out.
"My wife is away. But she is like a piece of dry meat—cooked but entirely hollow. What joy do I get from her? Do not encroach on a field that isn't yours; stick to what is yours until Allah grants you a righteous choice."
Despite my desperate pleas and tears, nothing moved his hardened heart. He brutally violated me, stripping me of the one thing I valued most—my dignity. I could hear distant noises, but I couldn't lift my legs from where I lay broken.
He went back into the bathroom to wash up, then returned and splashed warm water over me. "Fauziyya, my princess, get up and take a bath. This incident will not stop us from getting married. You should know that I did not commit fornication; our marriage was legally tied a long time ago. I ordered that you shouldn't be told until you turned twenty. But I could no longer endure watching you from afar while being denied my rights."
I know that no matter how much my father dislikes me, he would never marry me off to a man whose true character he doesn't know, I thought bitterly.
"The father you thought you knew is a man of the past," Alhaji Gali sneered. "He understands the value of marriage, which is why he brought you to me."
"He made a fatal mistake by not waiting for me to voice my own choice," I wept. In Hausa culture, I had never heard of such a twisted arrangement. He kept talking, but my heart was entirely consumed by my reality. Today, I, Fauziyya, have been forced into what feels like a sin. Woe unto me! How will I carry the weight of this trauma? May Allah judge between me and you.
I stormed out of his house and sprinted back home. I found Abba sitting outside. It was around 4:30 PM, right after the afternoon prayers. Summoning every ounce of strength, I walked past him into the house. I saw Meimei chopping vegetables in the kitchen. I rushed past her into the bedroom, locked myself in the bathroom, and thoroughly washed myself while begging Almighty Allah.
"O Allah, forgive me. Do not let my father's sins pull me into the fire of Hell. O Allah, I repent, accept my penance and have mercy on my soul. May Allah judge my father; I will never forgive you, you cruel, oppressive tyrant! Your end will never be peaceful!"
I cleaned myself up. Meimei peeked into the room to ask me a question, and I answered half-heartedly. My hijab was soaked with my tears. As I sat there weeping bitterly, my friend Saudat walked in.
"Hey, Fauziyya, what's wrong? I've been calling out greetings from the entrance for a while and you didn't answer."
"It's nothing, Saudat."
"Tell me the truth, what is bothering you?"
"Don't worry about it. I have to go out on an errand anyway. I just thought I'd check on you because when I came earlier, they told me Abba sent you out on an errand."
"Yes, that's true," I lied. Saudat looked puzzled. Despite how incredibly close we were, I couldn't bring myself to reveal my shame to her.
Just then, Abba walked into the house calling my name. I stood up, feeling like I would rather drop dead. I was weak, starving, and entirely hollow.
Suddenly, Meimei stood over me. "Fauziyya, what on earth is wrong with you? You found me working and you didn't even acknowledge me."
"I'm sorry, Anty Halima. Wallahi, I am not feeling well at all, that's why."
"Go on, your father is calling you."
At that moment, I felt a deep, venomous hatred for my father. He was the one who threw my life into this absolute chaos, personally dragging me into a raging fire that would consume me. I stood up and walked out to meet him. My father was naturally fair-skinned, but in my eyes, his actions had turned him darker and uglier than charcoal.

Part 2: The Police Report and the Escalation

Dedication: Let everyone bear witness that I dedicate this entire book to my dear friend, Aisha Hussaini (Jiyallen Mamma). May Allah's blessings reach you wherever you are. I highly cherish you, even if the whole world turns against you. I am always by your side, and your character profoundly inspires me.
By the Author of: Namiji K'arin Kunama, Nida Haidar, Akula Damu, Sakayya, D'an Adam Butulu, Halacci Ne, Aminatu, Ina Mafita, Gidan Marayu, Y'ancin Mata.
This story will traverse boundaries and touch every heart. You will experience shifting dynamics, so follow my pen closely. It is packed with enlightenment and entertainment.
Paid Book: 200 Naira / Free Pages: 1–8.
On the day I complete this book, the price will be 100 Naira for the first two days. If it exceeds two days, it reverts to 200 Naira.

• Account Name: Amina Maaji
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I offer my profound respect to my trusted friend and sister, Badi'at Ibrahim (Mrs. Bukhari), author of "Gishirin Zaman Duniya". May our bond remain anchored in absolute trust. You are truly exceptional and unique.

Jankwano Ward, Potiskum: This is our neighborhood in the town of Potiskum. Anyone familiar with Potiskum knows it is a highly populated commercial hub hosting diverse ethnicities, governed by two distinct traditional rulers—the Emir of Bolewa and the Emir of Ngizim.
I walked into the compound and offered a cold greeting. Abba answered, "Fauziyya, you're back? And you have absolutely nothing to say to me?"
"What do you want me to say to you, Abba? Do you want me to praise you for taking me to the place where my dignity was stripped away? Or do you want me to thank you for wasting the years I spent protecting my honor?"
"I have never seen a father as heartless and remorseless as you. What did he give you? What possessed you? What happened to the love you claimed to have for me? What happened to the memory of your mother whom you claimed to love above all else? You have ruined my life and oppressed me. Even if the entire world turns against me, I will never forgive you!"
Abba let out a thunderous roar of anger. Terrified, I collapsed into a nearby seat. "Have you lost your mind? Have you lost all capacity to think? How dare you look at me—your own father—and hurl such vile accusations? Where is the education and discipline we gave you?"
"Abba, I should be asking you that question! How much did Alhaji Gali buy you for? The job he secured for you was clearly a bribe to exploit us! If that's the case, may Allah curse that job! He treated you like a child and played you for a fool. Know this: if anything happens to me, you will all face the consequences because I will ensure you are thrown into prison!"
Enraged, Abba stepped forward and slapped me violently across the face. Caught between the physical trauma of the assault and the agonizing pain of the slap, I felt completely shattered. What kind of dark era are we living in where parents are entirely blinded by worldly materials?
I bolted out of the house. As I ran toward the exit, I heard him yell, "Fauziyya! You dare hurl insults at me? Do you even realize who you are speaking to? This is the gravest, most foolish mistake of your life! Since you have chosen this path of rebellion, let's wait and see how it ends!"
"I have nothing left to see from you, since you have disqualified yourself as a father and become my worst enemy!" I shouted back, running out without waiting for a response, accidentally bumping into Anty Halima on my way out.
I couldn't sleep a single wink that night. The next morning, I completed my chores in a daze, walked out of the house without telling anyone, and headed straight toward the police station. The station was located close to the palace of the Emir of Bolewa—just a short distance to the right side of the palace gate, along the tarred road leading to the Madina section of the General Hospital.
Fortunately, some officers were stepping out. One of them barked at me, "Hey! Where do you think you are going?"
"I came to file an official report."
"What happened? Who are you reporting?" they asked simultaneously.
"I am reporting my own father."
The officer pulled me to a quiet corner. "Young lady, how old are you?"
"I am eighteen years and a few months old."
"Did you finish school?"
"Yes, I graduated this year. I came to report my father."
"What exactly did he do to you?"
"He dragged me to a place where I was brutally violated."
Sergeant Saifullah stepped forward. "Come inside with us and tell us exactly what happened, and give us your home address." I followed him into the station, where I saw numerous police officers. They pulled up a chair for me. Once they wrapped up their immediate tasks, they turned their full attention to me.
"We are listening," they said.
"My father personally took me to the house of a wealthy merchant, who then violently assaulted and violated me."
"How did this happen?"
I narrated the entire harrowing ordeal to them. Immediately, they told me to lead them to the house. I refused to stay behind; showing no fear, I jumped into the police patrol vehicle. When we arrived at our family home, I pointed at the gate. The officers stepped out and banged heavily on the door. Anty Halima opened it.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, startled.
"We are here to see the master of the house," they replied sharply. "Step aside, we didn't come for you."
As a crowd of curious neighbors began to gather around the scene, Sergeant Saifullah ordered me to remain hidden in the front seat of the vehicle. Anty Halima rushed back inside to alert my father.
"What on earth did I do that the police are looking for me?" Abba muttered in confusion.
"You'll only find out once you step outside," she replied anxiously.
Furious and confused, Abba walked out of the house. Without granting him any room for explanation, the officers marched him straight into the back of the vehicle. He immediately lowered his head, deeply ashamed, trying to hide his face from the staring neighbors.
The neighborhood was in an absolute uproar. Iliya, the local sugarcane vendor, stood frozen down the street, deeply unsettled by the dramatic arrest.
Saudat, gripped by panic, ran over to Iliya. "What happened? I just saw the police carting Fauziyya's father away!"
"Saudat, I should be asking you that!" Iliya replied. "I have absolutely no idea. I just witnessed the arrest myself. This is unbelievable, but I cannot just sit here. Please look after my stall, or call your younger brother Fahad to watch it; I am going to follow them to the station."
"But you don't even know which police station they took him to!" Saudat cried out.
"Don't worry, Saudat. For Fauziyya's sake, I am willing to do absolutely anything. I need to help her family. Just look at how much those two love each other. By the way, where is Fauziyya right now?"
"They told me she went out."
"Went out?! At a time like this?!"
"Yes, since morning. Anty Halima has no idea where she went."
Without another word, Iliya jumped onto his bicycle and sped off blindly, determined to track down the police vehicle.

Part 3: The Investigation and the Confrontation

When we arrived at the station, I was kept back while Abba was escorted inside under guard. He kept protesting loudly, "What did I do? Why did you bring me here? Are you locking me up without an investigation? Is this how the police do their job?"
"Calm down and step inside, you will find out everything soon," Sergeant Saifullah commanded.
They brought me into the interrogation office where Abba was seated. The moment his eyes landed on me, his face contorted with rage. "So, you are the one behind this? Truly, Fauziyya, you have proven to me that you have absolutely no respect for my authority!"
An officer slammed his hand on the desk, barking at him to shut up. "Your own daughter has filed a criminal complaint against you for taking her to a place where she was raped!"
"Raped?! Me?!" Abba gasped. "That is a blatant lie! I merely took her to my employer's house to assist him with household chores, because the man lives entirely alone here in town."
"Well, yesterday he raped her, and you are the direct accomplice to this crime. What exactly is your relationship with this man?"
"Allah brought us together," Abba explained defensively. "He rescued me and gave me a job. Back when I was working as a common laborer at the market, I accidentally misplaced a merchant's heavy bag of rice. The merchant demanded full compensation. While I was facing public humiliation, this man stepped forward, paid for the missing rice, and hired me on the spot. It turns out we actually live in the same neighborhood..."
"I didn't even know who he was at first. One day, as I was heading to the mosque, he recognized me and stopped to greet me. We prayed together, and as we walked out, he asked, 'Do you live in this neighborhood?' I told him yes, our house is not far from the mosque, right near his mansion. I expressed my profound gratitude to him again for his past kindness. He told me it was nothing and even handed me 2,000 Naira. At that time, we had absolutely nothing, and his charity sustained us."
The interrogating officer interrupted him sharply. "We didn't ask you to give us a lengthy life history! Is what your daughter alleged true?"
"I have absolutely no knowledge of any assault," Abba stammered. "Alhaji Gali is a frequent traveler; he is rarely around. He told me he needed Fauziyya to sweep and clean his house. I conveyed the message to her, but she aggressively refused to go, which is why I personally escorted her there. I had absolutely no idea he would violate her."
"He raped her, and we are ordering an immediate medical examination to ensure the evidence is fully documented for the case," the officer declared. Turning to Abba, he added, "Where on earth was your sense of responsibility? How could you push your own daughter into the house of a man who isn't her non-mahram, forcing her to clean up after him?"
A female police officer was assigned to escort me to the hospital. The medical evaluation confirmed the physical trauma of the rape. Because of the horrific nature of the case, they went ahead and ran a full panel of tests, including HIV screening. I was in a state of absolute psychological shock.
By the time we returned to the station, Abba had already been processed and placed behind bars. As I walked out of the station, I ran straight into Iliya.
"Fauziyya! So it's true? Did you also hear the news about the police coming to arrest Abba?"
I didn't want Iliya following me around, because I knew how deeply he cared for me and that he would abandon his own life just to make me happy. But I couldn't keep quiet. "What are you doing here, Iliya?"
"Haba Fauziyya, how can you ask me such a question?"
Sergeant Saifullah stepped outside and ordered Iliya to clear the area. "Move along, young man." We stepped back into the station.
The police dispatched a team to apprehend Alhaji Gali at his residence, but they returned empty-handed; he had already fled the town and escaped to Jos. If Abba remained protective of him, he would never reveal his true hometown; it was a classic case of misplaced human loyalty.
Abba's face held nothing but pure venom and hatred for me. Looking at his expression, you could tell he was capable of killing me right there if given the chance. He had a million furious words boiling in his throat, but the sheer humiliation of being dragged to a police station by his own daughter completely choked his voice. Tears streamed down my face.
The commanding officer turned to Abba. "This is our final position: we are granting a three-month window. Wherever that man is hiding, we require him brought in. Furthermore, he claims he paid you her bride price and that the marriage was already legally sealed, but he was merely waiting for her to turn twenty years old. Is this true?"
I desperately wanted to hear my father speak, but he remained completely choked of words. The officers dismissed us after giving him a stern legal warning.
Iliya was still waiting anxiously right outside the station gate. The moment Abba stepped out, Iliya rushed over to him. "Abba, what happened? Why did they subject you to this horrific humiliation?"
Abba didn't even grant us a glance. He turned his eyes on me, his voice dripping with venom. "Know this, and mark my words: don't you dare step a single foot into my neighborhood ever again. The day your feet touch that ground, I will personally end your life with my own two hands!"
He hailed a commercial motorcycle, jumped on, and sped away, leaving me standing on the pavement with Iliya, who was completely paralyzed with shock, unable to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before his eyes.

Part 4: Domestic Abuse and Hidden Paths

Ever since the police dragged Abba away, a large crowd of neighbors had gathered at the house to offer their sympathies to Anty Halima. However, her only true burning desire was to see Fauziyya suffer. While they were discussing the scandal, Abba stormed into the house, bypassing everyone, and locked himself in his private room.
"Is everything alright?" Anty Halima asked through the door.
"Yes, it's fine," he growled. "But listen to me carefully: don't you dare allow Fauziyya back into this house if you value your safety and peace!"
"What on earth happened?"
"She dragged me to the police station! She filed a criminal report claiming I sent her to be raped!"
"Raped?! The police?!" Anty Halima gasped. "Unbelievable! But why on earth couldn't she keep her mouth shut so we could handle this quietly within the family and bury the scandal? Look at how your blind obsession with the world has brought shame upon us, Fauziyya! This is just a tiny taste of the curse you've brought upon this house."
I paid absolutely no attention to my father's lethal warnings. I walked right past them into the house and headed straight for the kitchen. I dished out a plate of food and began to eat starvation-style. While I was eating, the door burst open. Anty Halima descended upon me with pure brutality, raining violent blows upon my body from every direction. She beat me mercilessly.
"Get out of my house, you worthless, wretched girl! How dare you thicken your neck to the point of bringing absolute shame and ruin upon our household secrets!" she screamed. "Know this: you are entirely dead to us! If not for sheer spiritual failure, what good are you? A wealthy man sets you up for life, and you choose to ruin it. You are a complete failure, Fauziyya! Reporting your own flesh and blood!"
"You only speak this way because it wasn't your own biological daughter who was brutally violated!" I screamed back through my tears. "Do not forget that you have daughters of your own out there in the world! The same agonizing misery and psychological torment you are forcing upon me will surely find your own children!"
Hearing this, Abba clutched his chest in sudden agony. I instinctively reached out my hand to assist him, but he lunged forward and slapped me so violently across the face that I literally saw stars.
"I will let you sleep under this roof tonight," he wheezed, "but hear this clearly: from this moment on, you will not taste a single grain of food from my kitchen unless you perform backbreaking hard labor to earn it! As far as I am concerned, you are completely cut off!"
If I claimed that the severe beating didn't fracture my spirit, I would be lying. It was the kind of ruthless, animalistic domestic violence where every single inch of your body is subjected to raw pain.
"Halima, pack up every single piece of clothing belonging to Fauziyya and cast her out of my house!" Abba ordered.
"Please, you must have patience," Anty Halima pleaded, suddenly shifting her stance.
"Why are you begging me to have patience? Do you possess no pride or conscience?" Abba snapped.
"Please don't do this," she urged. "The public will completely tear our family reputation to shreds. Most neighbors have absolutely no idea what truly transpired behind closed doors. Let's not make a monumental mistake out of blind rage."
At that moment, my mind flashed back to a previous suitor I once had. Abba had favored him immensely. Whenever the young man came to visit me, he would constantly attempt to touch my body inappropriately. He had successfully manipulated Abba by pretending to be an official employee of NEPA (the electric company). He promised Abba a massive sum of money to start a business and buy medications. I had even followed him down to his alleged workplace once. He swore an oath to Abba that he would deliver 10,000 Naira to him. While we were caught in that arrangement, he lured me into a secluded room belonging to his friend, telling me to rest. The moment we were alone, he began touching my body, trying to force me into an act of immorality. I swung my hand and slapped him squarely across the face. When I returned home to report the attempted assault to Abba, he acted completely indifferent—as if he wasn't the man who brought me into this world, treating me like an abandoned child picked up from the streets.
How could my own father subject me to such systematic cruelty? I wondered. But it doesn't matter anymore.
"You're just standing there staring at me? You refuse to clear out of my house? I will personally deal with you!" Abba threatened. Turning to his wife, he added, "Halima, know this: if you ever secretly feed Fauziyya even a single scrap of leftover food, I will never forgive you!"
Anty Halima showed absolutely no feminine empathy or motherly compassion. Her heart held no protective instinct over a horrific case of sexual assault; their shared material greed had completely blinded their souls. But it didn't matter. Since the day I was born, I never knew who my real mother was. Wherever she was out there in the world, I desperately hoped she remembered me. They told me she was barely a teenager when she had me and had run away to pursue a life on the streets. I wondered if I would ever experience true protection and privilege in this harsh world. Saudat’s family was infinitely wealthier than ours, but we were completely estranged from that kind of lifestyle. I wondered if I should confide in her so we could figure out a way out of this nightmare.
I wept bitterly until the darkness of night completely blanketed the town. My stomach was twisting from acute hunger, feeling as though it would eat itself. Unable to stay inside, I walked out into the street. Iliya was at his usual spot operating his sugarcane stall. Nearby, a local vendor was selling hot traditional gruel (kunu).
"Fauziyya, what's wrong?" Iliya asked gently, noticing my disheveled state.
"I really need to eat some sugarcane."
"Let me slice some up for you immediately," he said caringly. "You should also drink some hot kunu. Since it's the rainy season, the cold and hunger heavily affect people." He generously purchased a large portion of kunu for me, added sugar, and even bought me groundnuts.
I sat quietly in the dark entrance hall (zaure) and drank the warm gruel until my strength returned. When I stepped back outside, Anty Halima was waiting.
"Aha, Fauziyya! I see that the moment you discovered men, you became completely uncontrollable, and now we are trapped in your madness! Where on earth are you returning from at 8:00 PM?"
"I merely went to Saudat’s house," I lied quietly.
"Oh, you went to hang out with those gossipers! They are the ones feeding your mind with rebellion and advising you to turn against your family! Your own biological mother abandoned you and ran off to a life of prostitution, and now you are mimicking her exact wretched character! We try to position you for a wealthy, beautiful life, and your only desire is to suck on cheap sugarcane! When on earth will your brain fully wake up?"
I completely tuned out her toxic shouting. In our entire neighborhood, Iliya was the only person who treated me with genuine human dignity, right alongside Saudat.
I walked straight to my room, leaving her yelling at the walls. The next morning, the moment I wrapped up my morning chores, I headed straight to Saudat’s house.
The moment I walked through her door, Saudat lunged forward. "Fauziyya! Where on earth did you go yesterday? The entire street was in an uproar when the police came and dragged your father away!"
"Let's completely drop that topic, please," I whispered weakly. "Do you have any leftover breakfast? I am dying of hunger..."

Part 5: The Cycle of Exploitation (Parallel Story)

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Book Chapter: 11–12

"Rabiatu, are you asleep?" Mama's voice called out through the dark room.
"I was sleeping, Mama. Are you back?" I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.
"Yes, I am back. Dish out some food for me to eat. Did you collect the money and purchase the pepper and Maggi cubes?"
"Yes, I bought them," I replied sleepily. Summoning every ounce of energy, I forced my heavy limbs out of bed, dished out her dinner, and served it to her.
Mama sat down and began eating immediately, completely bypassing her nighttime prayers. In reality, spiritual devotion held absolutely no value in my mother's life; her entire existence was consumed by daily high-society gossip walks and contribution clubs (adashe). I knew for a fact that she hadn't checked on my father in days. Sometimes, days would pass without my parents casting eyes on each other, because my father was the only one who ever made the effort to come over and check on her, without ever asserting dominance over her. If a mother is supposed to model righteousness and obedience for her daughter, following my mother's path will surely land me straight into the fires of Hell, I thought heavily.
I tossed and turned in bed, completely unable to sleep until the first cracks of dawn, when exhaustion finally claimed me. Consequently, I overslept and missed the morning prayer time, though my body felt deeply relieved from the medical injections I had received the previous day.
By 7:00 AM, Mama stepped into the room. She had gone out to source some breakfast for me, handing me a warm bowl of gruel (kunu). As I drank it, my mind constantly drifted to my father, wondering if he had found anything to eat this morning.
"Rabiatu, get dressed and prepare yourself," Mama ordered coldly. "Today, you will be heading out for street hawking (talle) twice. I need to secure enough quick cash to start my next round of contribution club deposits."
"Mama, please let me go out just once in the evening," I pleaded. "It will be much more productive."
"There is absolutely nothing to discuss!" she snapped. "I have a massive pile of laundry to wash for your father."
"Why on earth are you doing his laundry?" I interjected. "Is he a leper that he cannot wash his own clothes? Haba, Mama!"
Despite my desperate attempts to escape the grueling street hawking, Mama remained completely rigid and unyielding.
I turned to my father, who was sitting quietly in the corner. "Abba, please let me handle your laundry the moment I return from hawking, since Mama has explicitly refused to do it, regardless of her reasons."
"Do not worry yourself, Rabiatu," Abba said gently, his eyes filled with love. "Go ahead with your street hawking, and when you are out there, guard your character and moral upbringing with everything you have. Do not ever allow the predators on the street to play you for a fool. Do you understand me? Go on, and thank you, my daughter."
"Thank you, Abba," I smiled.
"But! But!! But!!" Mama kept chiming in aggressively from the background.
"Do not say another word, woman," Abba commanded firmly. "Let the girl go in peace. I am also heading out to the commercial offloading docks; a shipment of goods is arriving, and we are going to clear the trucks. Go on, Rabiatu, may Allah guide your footsteps."
"Amen, Ya Rabbi," I answered, stepping out into the street.

2. ORIGINAL STORY SUMMARY

The narrative unfolds through two interconnected stories highlighting the systemic abuse, exploitation, and lack of agency experienced by young women within their households:

Fauziyya's Story

Fauziyya, an eighteen-year-old girl living in the Jankwano ward of Potiskum, faces intense domestic pressure from her father (Abba/Malam Zakar) and stepmother (Anty Halima). Under the guise of securing her a household cleaning job, Fauziyya's father takes a financial bribe from a wealthy merchant named Alhaji Gali and personally forces her into Gali's house. Once isolated, Alhaji Gali locks the door and brutally rapes Fauziyya, claiming later that he had secretly finalized a marriage contract with her father behind her back.
Fauziyya returns home traumatized, only to face severe physical beatings and starvation from her parents for resisting. Showing immense bravery, she goes to the police station near the palace of the Emir of Bolewa and files a formal criminal complaint against her father. The police arrest her father as an accomplice and launch a manhunt for Alhaji Gali (who flees to Jos). Despite facing lethal threats of honor killing from her unrepentant father upon his release, Fauziyya finds temporary solace and survival through the kindness of a local sugarcane vendor named Iliya and her loyal friend Saudat.

Rabiatu's Story

In a parallel narrative, a young girl named Rabiatu deals with a deeply dysfunctional household. Her materialistic mother entirely neglects her spiritual duties and her loving, hard-working husband to focus on social gossiping and financial contribution clubs (adashe). To fund her lifestyle, the mother forces a physically exhausted Rabiatu to perform backbreaking street hawking (talle) twice a day, completely ignoring the girl's health and the father's interventions. The story contrasts the mother's cold exploitation with the father's protective, loving nature.

3. DESCRIPTION OF ANALYTICS

From a literary and social perspective, the text serves as a raw, critical commentary on contemporary societal issues in Northern Nigeria. The core analytical themes include: