Yar Zaman Wanka 3 Completed Book

Description

Translation in Original English

Note: This chapter is written in Hausa (specifically Northern Nigerian Hausa, characterized by distinct cultural idioms and everyday domestic dialogue).

ZAMAN WANKA (The Confinement Period for New Mothers) By Maman Afrah

TASALLAH Ever since Inna Azumi walked out of Malam’s quarters, her heart was boiling with intense anger and agitation. She felt like tripping Inna Azumi just to see if she could still make her way to the big city on broken legs—though she knew that even with her stubborn desire to travel, she wouldn’t have left with broken limbs. She had wanted to beg Inna Azumi to take her along so she could at least see what the city looked like. However, pride—that crown of foolishness—would not let her do it. Even if she had managed it, she knew she wouldn't escape the townspeople's gossip about how she had run off to her co-wife’s family out of desperation and nosiness. Besides, she knew that whenever they returned, she would never hear the end of the mocking remarks from Inna Azumi, which would go on indefinitely.

She tried hard to swallow her deep resentment toward her co-wife, especially regarding the suggestion that she should start a local kuli-kuli (peanut cake) business. That comment had really gotten under her skin. Just because they didn't have relatives in the city—and in fact, she didn't even know the road leading there—Malam had granted Azumi permission to go for a fifty-day zaman wanka simply because he was afraid of her.

"Tasalla, keep telling me the story. You're the one telling me, why have you gone quiet as if water swallowed you?" Malam asked, noticing that ever since Azumi left, Tasalla had kept her head down, acting neither like someone in mourning nor someone performing spiritual devotions, just sitting there like she had been planted in the ground.

With great difficulty, she swallowed a heavy sigh that threatened to overwhelm her, forced a grimace of a smile, and said, "The story ends right here." She kept her gaze lowered because she knew that if she looked up, tears would flood her eyes.

"SubhanAllah! Didn't you say the madman chased them while they were running frantically on the road, creating total chaos? That's not how you end a story without reaching the climax!" Malam asked, total surprise written on his face.

"I said the story ends right here," she repeated, tears welling up and threatening to spill, but she held them back through sheer cunning so Malam wouldn't think she was crying just because Inna Azumi was going to the city. Ever since she wiped away her initial tears in secret, she hadn't let any others follow them.

"Well, alright then. Let me go outside and watch Azumi leave so she doesn't accuse me of not seeing her off." He threw his large flowing gown over his indoor clothes and went outside just as Inna Azumi’s luggage was being picked up.

As soon as Tasalla saw Malam leave, she burst into tears, wishing she had relatives in the city so Malam could see her off and walk her through the center of town with a beaming smile. But alas, all her relatives were in the village.

She heard Malam calling Inna Azumi’s bag something like a luggage meant for relocation, which prompted her to peek out the window of Malam’s room. Sure enough, she laid eyes on Inna Azumi’s bulging bag being carried by an almajiri (Islamic pupil).

"Woe is me! If only I hadn't shared a husband with someone who has family in the city, I would have been spared the heartache of Azumi's departure," she muttered to herself, wiping away tears.

After Malam left and didn't return, she grew tired of sitting in his room, came out, and retreated to her own. When she stepped out, catching sight of Inna Azumi’s door locked with a padlock made her feel like screaming and crying at the top of her lungs for people to come to her rescue, given the miserable state she found herself in.

Once inside her room, she sat flat on the floor and began to wail like a little child whose father had died. After crying to her heart's content, she lay down, turning things over in her mind, plotting and scheming. She prayed silently that Inna Azumi and her motorcycle would crash so Azumi would suffer injuries that would prevent her from going to the city for her zaman wanka.

When a long time passed and Azumi neither returned nor sent any news, she realized Azumi had successfully escaped. She dragged herself up, heavy-hearted, and set a pot of midday danbu (a local steamed snack made of flour and meat) on the stove, feeling bitterly that from now on, she would be the only one cooking and serving since Azumi had taken off for the city.

She finished making the danbu, portioned it out, and gave everyone their share. Meanwhile, Malam sent word that he had traveled to a nearby village for a wedding. She took her share of the danbu, went into her room, and sat with the bowl in front of her. But out of sheer jealousy and heartbreak, she couldn't swallow a single morsel.

"Here I am, choking on danbu and washing it down with plain water, while she will be over there eating rice with fresh vegetable stew, washing it down with bottled juice until she's plump and glowing!" she complained, feeling a fresh wave of annoyance. In a fit of rage, she kicked the bowl of danbu across the floor without eating a single bite.

By evening, close to Maghrib time—while Malam was outside with the almajiris for evening Quranic recitation—she retreated to her room, still miserable about Azumi's trip. She had practically fasted all day out of sheer grief. While in her room, she heard the footsteps of Tsahare, Inna Azumi's close friend. Tasalla immediately assumed that Inna Azumi and her motorcycle must have crashed, and Tsahare had come with the news to condole them.

"Maybe she's at the clinic on the outskirts of town!" she thought, jumping up and nearly breaking into a dance of joy, assuming Inna Azumi had failed to make the trip. After finishing her little victory dance, she raised her voice to respond to Tsahare’s greeting, stepping out with a wide, radiant smile fit for an Eid celebration.

Tsahare was taken aback. She knew that whenever she visited the house, even if Tasalla was in the courtyard and Inna Azumi was inside, Tasalla would never answer her greetings—Inna Azumi would. Yet today, Tasalla was the one beaming at her.

They exchanged polite greetings while Tasalla waited eagerly to hear about the "patient," but instead, Tsahare said: "God is great! So it's actually true?" "Which accident?" Tasalla asked. "SubhanAllah! Who had an accident?" "No, there was no accident. I just said that," Tsahare replied, realizing Tasalla was fishing.

"What did you ask if it was true, then?" Tasalla snapped, letting her face drop into a scowl as her hopes were dashed. "A motorcycle rider came to my house and told me that Azumi sent him to inform me she has traveled to the city for zaman wanka with no fixed return date. She said the trip came up so suddenly she couldn't come to say goodbye, and she invited me to come for the naming ceremony. So I came here to confirm it, and seeing the padlock on her door proves it's true!" Tsahare said, grinning broadly.

A wave of intense irritation washed over Tasalla, and she blurted out: "Did they even make it safely to Garkin Lafiya?" "Safely indeed! The motorcycle rider who took her said he waited until their Kano-bound transport departed before turning back," Tsahare replied. "Well, alright then. Are you going for the naming ceremony?" Tasalla asked, staring hard at Tsahare. "Of course! Even when her granddaughter Sadiya gave birth recently, we went for the three-day celebration. How much more for a new baby? A trip to the city is a must for us!" Tsahare laughed, intentionally trying to provoke Tasalla, knowing they never got along well enough for Tasalla to have been invited to any past events.

Tasalla hissed, turned on her heel, and stormed back into her room. Tsahare left the compound, thrilled that Inna Azumi had indeed made it to the city for another round of pampering and baby-care.

Once inside her room, Tasalla paced back and forth, completely restless. She vowed that when Tsahare and the others went for the naming ceremony, she would throw a massive fit and figure out what to tell Malam so he would let her go to the city too.

MAMA Right from the tricycle (napep), they were discussing how difficult Inna's stay at Sadiya’s house was going to be, given Imran’s harsh temperament and extreme pride. On top of that, Imran hated people crowding him, while Inna was a loud, unfiltered busybody who never did what was appropriate. She would blurt out whatever came to her mind, completely disregarding Sadiyar’s husband or his mother. Without a doubt, there was bound to be friction because Imran wouldn't let things slide, and Inna wasn't afraid of dying—she just lived life on her own chaotic terms.

"But Mama, don't you think old age is what makes Inna act like this?" Ashrof asked, looking at Mama. "Haba Ashrof, even with old age, with Inna's personality, sometimes you just have to turn a blind eye. Just imagine, right after Sadiya went into labor, she packed a massive bundle and showed up for zaman wanka without notifying anyone!" Mama replied.

"That's true, but honestly, Mama, she needs to change her behavior, if only for the sake of our dignity before Hajiya and Imran. Behavior like this invites disrespect." "Well, as the saying goes, 'Make peace with the leper.' You just don't repeat the mistake, and by now, they already know what kind of person Inna is." "May God protect us." "Amen."

When they arrived home, Mama unlocked the door and they went inside. After resting a bit and making up for missed prayers, Ashrof went out to buy awara (tofu), which they ate before lying down to chat.

"Mama, didn't you notice how wide Inna's eyes popped out when I handed Hassan to her? Her lips wouldn't stop moving like someone doing morning and evening dhikr," Ashrof said, giggling. "Well, she's terrified of him! Hearing that his back skin is like a snake's... Aside from that, why would Inna be scared? She's the one doing the zaman wanka—washing them, dressing them, carrying them on her back, and raising them is all her job!" Mama laughed, picturing how things would play out between Inna, baby Hassan, and his father, Imran.

"God, Mama, I actually feel sorry for her. How is she going to lift that huge pot of water onto the fireplace? She won't even be able to do it. And if she tries, I swear one day she'll tumble right into the water and slip inside!" Ashrof laughed, holding her stomach at the mental image. "You have no chill, Ashrof! Just because Inna isn't here you're saying all this, but if she were here, she'd give you a piece of her mind." "Mama, I can just picture Inna thrashing in the water, swimming like a frog, crying for help while Yaya Imran refuses to pull her out. She'd be shouting, 'Imirana, fear God and pull me out! If I die, the guilt is on you!' And he would reply, 'If you die, your time was just up anyway!'" Ashrof finished, laughing so hard she clutched her ribs envisioning the drama. "Watch it, Ashrof! She might be your grandmother, but she's like a mother to me," Mama said, laughing as well because she knew full well that if such a thing happened, Imran wouldn't lift a finger to pull Inna out—especially if Sadiya wasn't around. Even if he did, she would make him pay for it later. With that, they went to sleep.

HAJIYA Ever since she alighted from the tricycle and entered her house, her spirit had been subdued. She was thoroughly unhappy with this pairing of Inna and Imran, especially since it intruded upon Imran's privacy with his beloved wife. She knew that even if Inna drank intoxicants, she wouldn't allow them to sleep in the same room, let alone the same bed. Still, she knew Imran was a match for Inna and would handle her however she came at him, even though she had warned him beforehand about hosting Inna.

INNA "Imirana! Don't delay in answering my call, please. I am in a dire situation!" Inna pleaded. Her hands and entire body were trembling as if connected to an electrical transformer.

Imran heard her, but completely ignored her because he knew her fuss was about nothing serious—he knew she had simply laid eyes on Hassan’s back. Hearing her voice fill his ears and echo through the house, he calmly placed Husaini on the couch, stood up, and peeked through the curtain without her noticing.

He spotted her sitting paralyzed, holding a massive basin of water with Hassan in her hands, shaking her arms frantically. "Well, look at trouble personified," he muttered, walking back to sit on the couch with a quiet laugh so she wouldn't hear him.

"Imirana, I swear I am in deep trouble! Come quickly before this baby turns into a full snake! I am finished! If people see me holding a live snake, the shock alone will kill me faster than a prayer bead count, and I'll meet my doom right here!" Inna cried out.

Hearing no movement from Imran, and knowing that even if she called Sadiya, she wouldn't hear her because she was locked in the bathroom—and besides, she just wanted someone to rescue her and take the baby off her hands because she couldn't even support his weight anymore—she raised her voice higher.

"Imirana, I swear the wiggling he's doing in my hands feels just like a snake! What kind of joy is it to hold your own executioner? A snake means death, this is sudden death!" she yelled for Imran to come to her rescue.

"If I only knew the address of that Malam Abubakar Bilhaqqi who sells herbal medicines on TV, I'd tell him to come recruit her for his commercials! She wouldn't even need to struggle—she'd single-handedly take over television stations with this endless, head-less, tail-less chatter of hers," Imran muttered as he stood up from the couch and headed toward the room.

"Ah, good boy! Thank goodness you decided to show mercy and come." "What is it that you're harassing me with calls like a blind person?" he asked, glaring at her. "Haba Imirana, not calling makes a deaf dog's ears rot!" "Well, here I am." "Take him! Take him, Imirana!" she said, lifting Hassan toward him. "Take him how, Inna? Am I the one supposed to bathe him?" "Haba Imirana! Is this really what this child's body looks like, or did I make a terrible mistake by stripping him naked?" "What's wrong with it?" "Put him down and see for yourself! You know every shepherd knows the livestock entrusted to him—like a goat owner who accidentally buys a hyena!" "Just bathe him." "Hold him while I go check on Halima in the bathroom."

"If Inna is a fool who speaks, the listener is no fool," he thought to himself, but out loud he said: "Let me go check on her instead of you stressing yourself out and crying over this, Inna." "Just take him from me first! You know people don't like losing people—like the thief who ran away..."

"Inna, you're contradicting yourself. You were the one saying we all know the baby's body looks like this, and you were the one who undressed him. Now you're changing your story!" "Let me speak plain truth to you, Imirana. Take this baby because I can't stand up to put him in his cot. My body is shaking from the clash we had last night, and everything aches. Take him before I drop him in the water, because I honestly don't believe this is a human child!" "He's my child, not a non-human! I swear if you drop him in there, we are going to court!" "If he's not the child of a jinn..." She stopped herself, remembering the clash she'd had with a jinn the previous night that landed her sleeping on the floor. She quickly changed the subject. "If you dare, take him to the riverside. If he slides in and swims away, then he's a water-spirit. If not, how else can someone be half-human, half-snake?"

Before she finished speaking, Imran swiftly snatched his son away, deeply irritated by Inna and plotting what punishment to dish out to her for accusing his son of being a water-spirit.

"Praise be to God! Good thing you took him. Like I said, every shepherd knows his flock—like buying a hyena thinking it's a goat! Imagine treating me like a small fence easy to jump over, putting a bit in my mouth! Who can stop me from talking? Useless effort, like winking in the dark!" she ranted as she heaved a sigh of relief, sat on the edge of the bed, and kept grumbling.

Imran shot her a look that made him feel like choking her. "Useless effort, winking in the dark! I don't know about winking until my eyes pop out," she muttered, twitching her nose.

As Imran tried to leave the room, he suddenly noticed Hassan's head twisting and transforming to look like a snake's head with its hood flared. The skin on the baby's body was also starting to shift into scaly snake-skin. Inna hadn't noticed yet, so Imran quickly set Hassan down gently onto the shawl Inna had laid out, rushed out of the room, slammed the door, and locked it from the outside.

Inna, absorbed in her grumbling, didn't realize he had set Hassan down until she heard the door slam shut. She lurched forward to stand up, but heard Imran say: "Inna, look at Hassan. See, I've left him right there for you."

Inna's eyes bulged as she saw the baby's skin morphing into serpent scales right in the path leading to the door—and she realized Imran had locked her in...

MALAM After Isha'i prayer, Malam came into the compound. His dinner had already been brought to the front of the house where he ate with his friends. He walked into the courtyard after the almajiris brought in his woven mat and water pitcher. At this point in his life, they had no young children left at home except the pupils; all his wives' daughters had been married off to their respective homes, and there were no toddlers left.

He called out into the courtyard, and Tasalla answered from her room. She forced herself to eat a tiny portion of dinner just to ward off hunger, but every time she raised a morsel to her mouth, a lump of bitter jealousy formed in her chest at the thought of Inna Azumi in the city, feasting on chicken and using chewing sticks.

Malam headed to his quarters after calling out three sweet names to Tasalla. She stood up and headed to his room, plotting how to manipulate him into letting her visit the city, even if Inna Azumi flayed her alive upon arrival. She entered with a greeting, which he answered, saying: "Tasalla, what is wrong with you? How could you leave my room without hot coals? You know I like having the room warmed before I come inside." Tasalla remained silent, having completely forgotten about the coals today. "I honestly forgot, Malam. Man is prone to forgetfulness." "Well, go and fetch some now. If the fire isn't out, use the embers; if it's out, blow it back to life or go borrow from neighbors," he said, taking off his outer robe. "No, the fire isn't out completely; I just removed the logs, the embers are still there. Let me fetch it for you," she said, grabbing Malam's large brazier.

She filled it with glowing embers and brought it back into the room, closing the door behind her. True to Malam's routine, once Isha'i passed, he locked the house and didn't open it until morning. As he prepared for bed, Tasalla stood by the brazier, warming her hands and soaking up the heat.

"You know, Tasalla, you've been acting strange today. Are you unhappy that Azumi traveled?" "Kai, kai, kai! Malam, stop saying that, please! Azumi is my sister and co-wife; what would make me unhappy about her trip?" "Suddenly Azumi is your sister, Tasalla? Did you hit your head or something?" "I swear I'm fine. They say 'live and let live,' but truly I love Azumi." Malam sat up quickly, staring at Tasalla in disbelief, having never heard such words from her—not even in a dream. "Goodness gracious! Is there really a day God would show me you praising your co-wife? You two have fought constantly from your youth to old age, yet today everything is history?" "Well, you know, whatever weapon a person takes up, when the other lays theirs down, you lay yours down too. By the way, didn't you see Tsahare come into the house earlier?" "I saw her enter and we exchanged greetings." "Oh no, I hope my plan hasn't been ruined if she already told him why she came," she thought to herself, before saying out loud: "So she told you the message, then?" "What message? We just exchanged greetings, and since people were around, she just stepped inside." She let out a hidden sigh of relief, knowing Tsahare hadn't spilled the beans yet, giving her the freedom to spin her own lies. "What message was that?" "Oh, Malam," she said, casting her eyes down coyly. "Please tell me, my dear Tasalla." "Well, as they say, even a widower has family. Regarding Azumi... if you think I forgot about adding another wife... well, a mother might forget her child, but I wouldn't!" "I don't like digging up the past. Just tell me—even if I added Azumi, you are still the senior wife, and your position is unique to me."

A broad, joyful grin spread across Tasalla's face as her beloved praised her and reaffirmed her special status. "Well, Azumi sent a message through the motorcycle rider to Tsahare..."

Summary

This chapter transitions between two main narrative fronts: the domestic turmoil in the village involving Tasalla's bitter jealousy over her co-wife Azumi's departure to the city, and the chaotic supernatural comedy unfolding in the city at Sadiya's house where the difficult older woman, Inna, is left alone to care for a baby whose body mysteriously shapeshifts into serpentine scales.

In the village, Tasalla struggles to contain her jealousy as neighbors confirm Azumi has safely traveled to Kano for a prolonged postpartum care (zaman wanka) period. Plotting her own escape to the city, Tasalla manipulates Malam through flattery and cunning. Meanwhile, in the city, Mama and Ashrof humorously anticipate Inna's clashes with Imran and the baby. True to their predictions, Inna panics when baby Hassan's skin begins morphing into snake scales in her arms. Terrified that the child is demonic or serpentine, she screams for Imran, who calmly walks in, sets the morphing infant down on a shawl, locks Inna inside the room with the terrifying baby, and leaves her stranded in pure terror.

Description

The text blends domestic drama, cultural realism, and supernatural suspense with rich Northern Nigerian Hausa domestic flavor. It vividly illustrates themes of co-wife rivalry (kishiya), societal gossip, domestic routines (cooking danbu, preparing firewood/braziers), and generational friction. The narrative shifts fluidly from the rural bitterness of Tasalla—who feels left behind and marginalized—to the urban, slightly surreal chaos of Inna dealing with a magical or monstrous grandchild under the cold watch of an indifferent son-in-law, Imran.

Analytics

• Character Dynamics & Contrast: A sharp juxtaposition is established between Tasalla's petty, small-town jealousy and Inna's larger-than-life, chaotic stubbornness in the city. While Tasalla's conflict is rooted in social status and co-wife competition, Inna's conflict escalates into surreal horror comedy.
• Pacing & Tension Building: The author uses slow-burn domestic scenes (Tasalla cooking, waiting for news) to contrast sharply with sudden, high-impact comedic suspense (Inna trapped with a shape-shifting baby).
• Cultural Satire: The text pokes fun at traditional postpartum practices (zaman wanka), neighborhood gossip networks (represented by characters like Tsahare), and the often antagonistic dynamics between mothers-in-law and sons-in-law in Hausa households.

Comments

• Narrative Tone: The author maintains an engaging, witty, and deeply observant narrative voice. The transition from relatable marital pettiness to surreal magical realism (baby Hassan turning into a snake) is handled with a comedic flair that keeps readers hooked.
• Character Realism: Tasalla's internal monologues perfectly capture the ugly, petty side of jealousy—wanting your rival to crash on the way, yet having to put on a fake smile when neighbors come around.

Conclusions

Chapter 9 and 10 of Zaman Wanka successfully escalate the central conflicts on both fronts. In the village, Tasalla is galvanized by pure spite to scheme her way toward a city trip. In the city, Inna's stubborn intrusion into Imran's household backfires spectacularly as she faces a supernatural ordeal locked alone in a room with a shape-shifting infant. The stage is set for absolute chaos as both older women push their respective plots to boiling points.

Keywords

Zaman Wanka, Maman Afrah, Hausa literature, co-wife rivalry (kishiya), domestic fiction, shape-shifting baby, cultural realism, Northern Nigeria, Tasalla, Inna Azumi, Imran.

ZAMAN WANKA (The Confinement Period for New Mothers) By Maman Afrah

TASALLAH Ever since Inna Azumi walked out of Malam’s quarters, her heart was boiling with intense anger and agitation. She felt like tripping Inna Azumi just to see if she could still make her way to the big city on broken legs—though she knew that even with her stubborn desire to travel, she wouldn’t have left with broken limbs. She had wanted to beg Inna Azumi to take her along so she could at least see what the city looked like. However, pride—that crown of foolishness—would not let her do it. Even if she had managed it, she knew she wouldn't escape the townspeople's gossip about how she had run off to her co-wife’s family out of desperation and nosiness. Besides, she knew that whenever they returned, she would never hear the end of the mocking remarks from Inna Azumi, which would go on indefinitely.

She tried hard to swallow her deep resentment toward her co-wife, especially regarding the suggestion that she should start a local kuli-kuli (peanut cake) business. That comment had really gotten under her skin. Just because they didn't have relatives in the city—and in fact, she didn't even know the road leading there—Malam had granted Azumi permission to go for a fifty-day zaman wanka simply because he was afraid of her.

"Tasalla, keep telling me the story. You're the one telling me, why have you gone quiet as if water swallowed you?" Malam asked, noticing that ever since Azumi left, Tasalla had kept her head down, acting neither like someone in mourning nor someone performing spiritual devotions, just sitting there like she had been planted in the ground.

With great difficulty, she swallowed a heavy sigh that threatened to overwhelm her, forced a grimace of a smile, and said, "The story ends right here." She kept her gaze lowered because she knew that if she looked up, tears would flood her eyes.

"SubhanAllah! Didn't you say the madman chased them while they were running frantically on the road, creating total chaos? That's not how you end a story without reaching the climax!" Malam asked, total surprise written on his face.

"I said the story ends right here," she repeated, tears welling up and threatening to spill, but she held them back through sheer cunning so Malam wouldn't think she was crying just because Inna Azumi was going to the city. Ever since she wiped away her initial tears in secret, she hadn't let any others follow them.

"Well, alright then. Let me go outside and watch Azumi leave so she doesn't accuse me of not seeing her off." He threw his large flowing gown over his indoor clothes and went outside just as Inna Azumi’s luggage was being picked up.

As soon as Tasalla saw Malam leave, she burst into tears, wishing she had relatives in the city so Malam could see her off and walk her through the center of town with a beaming smile. But alas, all her relatives were in the village.

She heard Malam calling Inna Azumi’s bag something like a luggage meant for relocation, which prompted her to peek out the window of Malam’s room. Sure enough, she laid eyes on Inna Azumi’s bulging bag being carried by an almajiri (Islamic pupil).

"Woe is me! If only I hadn't shared a husband with someone who has family in the city, I would have been spared the heartache of Azumi's departure," she muttered to herself, wiping away tears.

After Malam left and didn't return, she grew tired of sitting in his room, came out, and retreated to her own. When she stepped out, catching sight of Inna Azumi’s door locked with a padlock made her feel like screaming and crying at the top of her lungs for people to come to her rescue, given the miserable state she found herself in.

Once inside her room, she sat flat on the floor and began to wail like a little child whose father had died. After crying to her heart's content, she lay down, turning things over in her mind, plotting and scheming. She prayed silently that Inna Azumi and her motorcycle would crash so Azumi would suffer injuries that would prevent her from going to the city for her zaman wanka.

When a long time passed and Azumi neither returned nor sent any news, she realized Azumi had successfully escaped. She dragged herself up, heavy-hearted, and set a pot of midday danbu (a local steamed snack made of flour and meat) on the stove, feeling bitterly that from now on, she would be the only one cooking and serving since Azumi had taken off for the city.

She finished making the danbu, portioned it out, and gave everyone their share. Meanwhile, Malam sent word that he had traveled to a nearby village for a wedding. She took her share of the danbu, went into her room, and sat with the bowl in front of her. But out of sheer jealousy and heartbreak, she couldn't swallow a single morsel.

"Here I am, choking on danbu and washing it down with plain water, while she will be over there eating rice with fresh vegetable stew, washing it down with bottled juice until she's plump and glowing!" she complained, feeling a fresh wave of annoyance. In a fit of rage, she kicked the bowl of danbu across the floor without eating a single bite.

By evening, close to Maghrib time—while Malam was outside with the almajiris for evening Quranic recitation—she retreated to her room, still miserable about Azumi's trip. She had practically fasted all day out of sheer grief. While in her room, she heard the footsteps of Tsahare, Inna Azumi's close friend. Tasalla immediately assumed that Inna Azumi and her motorcycle must have crashed, and Tsahare had come with the news to condole them.

"Maybe she's at the clinic on the outskirts of town!" she thought, jumping up and nearly breaking into a dance of joy, assuming Inna Azumi had failed to make the trip. After finishing her little victory dance, she raised her voice to respond to Tsahare’s greeting, stepping out with a wide, radiant smile fit for an Eid celebration.

Tsahare was taken aback. She knew that whenever she visited the house, even if Tasalla was in the courtyard and Inna Azumi was inside, Tasalla would never answer her greetings—Inna Azumi would. Yet today, Tasalla was the one beaming at her.

They exchanged polite greetings while Tasalla waited eagerly to hear about the "patient," but instead, Tsahare said: "God is great! So it's actually true?" "Which accident?" Tasalla asked. "SubhanAllah! Who had an accident?" "No, there was no accident. I just said that," Tsahare replied, realizing Tasalla was fishing.

"What did you ask if it was true, then?" Tasalla snapped, letting her face drop into a scowl as her hopes were dashed. "A motorcycle rider came to my house and told me that Azumi sent him to inform me she has traveled to the city for zaman wanka with no fixed return date. She said the trip came up so suddenly she couldn't come to say goodbye, and she invited me to come for the naming ceremony. So I came here to confirm it, and seeing the padlock on her door proves it's true!" Tsahare said, grinning broadly.

A wave of intense irritation washed over Tasalla, and she blurted out: "Did they even make it safely to Garkin Lafiya?" "Safely indeed! The motorcycle rider who took her said he waited until their Kano-bound transport departed before turning back," Tsahare replied. "Well, alright then. Are you going for the naming ceremony?" Tasalla asked, staring hard at Tsahare. "Of course! Even when her granddaughter Sadiya gave birth recently, we went for the three-day celebration. How much more for a new baby? A trip to the city is a must for us!" Tsahare laughed, intentionally trying to provoke Tasalla, knowing they never got along well enough for Tasalla to have been invited to any past events.

Tasalla hissed, turned on her heel, and stormed back into her room. Tsahare left the compound, thrilled that Inna Azumi had indeed made it to the city for another round of pampering and baby-care.

Once inside her room, Tasalla paced back and forth, completely restless. She vowed that when Tsahare and the others went for the naming ceremony, she would throw a massive fit and figure out what to tell Malam so he would let her go to the city too.

MAMA Right from the tricycle (napep), they were discussing how difficult Inna's stay at Sadiya’s house was going to be, given Imran’s harsh temperament and extreme pride. On top of that, Imran hated people crowding him, while Inna was a loud, unfiltered busybody who never did what was appropriate. She would blurt out whatever came to her mind, completely disregarding Sadiyar’s husband or his mother. Without a doubt, there was bound to be friction because Imran wouldn't let things slide, and Inna wasn't afraid of dying—she just lived life on her own chaotic terms.

"But Mama, don't you think old age is what makes Inna act like this?" Ashrof asked, looking at Mama. "Haba Ashrof, even with old age, with Inna's personality, sometimes you just have to turn a blind eye. Just imagine, right after Sadiya went into labor, she packed a massive bundle and showed up for zaman wanka without notifying anyone!" Mama replied.

"That's true, but honestly, Mama, she needs to change her behavior, if only for the sake of our dignity before Hajiya and Imran. Behavior like this invites disrespect." "Well, as the saying goes, 'Make peace with the leper.' You just don't repeat the mistake, and by now, they already know what kind of person Inna is." "May God protect us." "Amen."

When they arrived home, Mama unlocked the door and they went inside. After resting a bit and making up for missed prayers, Ashrof went out to buy awara (tofu), which they ate before lying down to chat.

"Mama, didn't you notice how wide Inna's eyes popped out when I handed Hassan to her? Her lips wouldn't stop moving like someone doing morning and evening dhikr," Ashrof said, giggling. "Well, she's terrified of him! Hearing that his back skin is like a snake's... Aside from that, why would Inna be scared? She's the one doing the zaman wanka—washing them, dressing them, carrying them on her back, and raising them is all her job!" Mama laughed, picturing how things would play out between Inna, baby Hassan, and his father, Imran.

"God, Mama, I actually feel sorry for her. How is she going to lift that huge pot of water onto the fireplace? She won't even be able to do it. And if she tries, I swear one day she'll tumble right into the water and slip inside!" Ashrof laughed, holding her stomach at the mental image. "You have no chill, Ashrof! Just because Inna isn't here you're saying all this, but if she were here, she'd give you a piece of her mind." "Mama, I can just picture Inna thrashing in the water, swimming like a frog, crying for help while Yaya Imran refuses to pull her out. She'd be shouting, 'Imirana, fear God and pull me out! If I die, the guilt is on you!' And he would reply, 'If you die, your time was just up anyway!'" Ashrof finished, laughing so hard she clutched her ribs envisioning the drama. "Watch it, Ashrof! She might be your grandmother, but she's like a mother to me," Mama said, laughing as well because she knew full well that if such a thing happened, Imran wouldn't lift a finger to pull Inna out—especially if Sadiya wasn't around. Even if he did, she would make him pay for it later. With that, they went to sleep.

HAJIYA Ever since she alighted from the tricycle and entered her house, her spirit had been subdued. She was thoroughly unhappy with this pairing of Inna and Imran, especially since it intruded upon Imran's privacy with his beloved wife. She knew that even if Inna drank intoxicants, she wouldn't allow them to sleep in the same room, let alone the same bed. Still, she knew Imran was a match for Inna and would handle her however she came at him, even though she had warned him beforehand about hosting Inna.

INNA "Imirana! Don't delay in answering my call, please. I am in a dire situation!" Inna pleaded. Her hands and entire body were trembling as if connected to an electrical transformer.

Imran heard her, but completely ignored her because he knew her fuss was about nothing serious—he knew she had simply laid eyes on Hassan’s back. Hearing her voice fill his ears and echo through the house, he calmly placed Husaini on the couch, stood up, and peeked through the curtain without her noticing.

He spotted her sitting paralyzed, holding a massive basin of water with Hassan in her hands, shaking her arms frantically. "Well, look at trouble personified," he muttered, walking back to sit on the couch with a quiet laugh so she wouldn't hear him.

"Imirana, I swear I am in deep trouble! Come quickly before this baby turns into a full snake! I am finished! If people see me holding a live snake, the shock alone will kill me faster than a prayer bead count, and I'll meet my doom right here!" Inna cried out.

Hearing no movement from Imran, and knowing that even if she called Sadiya, she wouldn't hear her because she was locked in the bathroom—and besides, she just wanted someone to rescue her and take the baby off her hands because she couldn't even support his weight anymore—she raised her voice higher.

"Imirana, I swear the wiggling he's doing in my hands feels just like a snake! What kind of joy is it to hold your own executioner? A snake means death, this is sudden death!" she yelled for Imran to come to her rescue.

"If I only knew the address of that Malam Abubakar Bilhaqqi who sells herbal medicines on TV, I'd tell him to come recruit her for his commercials! She wouldn't even need to struggle—she'd single-handedly take over television stations with this endless, head-less, tail-less chatter of hers," Imran muttered as he stood up from the couch and headed toward the room.

"Ah, good boy! Thank goodness you decided to show mercy and come." "What is it that you're harassing me with calls like a blind person?" he asked, glaring at her. "Haba Imirana, not calling makes a deaf dog's ears rot!" "Well, here I am." "Take him! Take him, Imirana!" she said, lifting Hassan toward him. "Take him how, Inna? Am I the one supposed to bathe him?" "Haba Imirana! Is this really what this child's body looks like, or did I make a terrible mistake by stripping him naked?" "What's wrong with it?" "Put him down and see for yourself! You know every shepherd knows the livestock entrusted to him—like a goat owner who accidentally buys a hyena!" "Just bathe him." "Hold him while I go check on Halima in the bathroom."

"If Inna is a fool who speaks, the listener is no fool," he thought to himself, but out loud he said: "Let me go check on her instead of you stressing yourself out and crying over this, Inna." "Just take him from me first! You know people don't like losing people—like the thief who ran away..."

"Inna, you're contradicting yourself. You were the one saying we all know the baby's body looks like this, and you were the one who undressed him. Now you're changing your story!" "Let me speak plain truth to you, Imirana. Take this baby because I can't stand up to put him in his cot. My body is shaking from the clash we had last night, and everything aches. Take him before I drop him in the water, because I honestly don't believe this is a human child!" "He's my child, not a non-human! I swear if you drop him in there, we are going to court!" "If he's not the child of a jinn..." She stopped herself, remembering the clash she'd had with a jinn the previous night that landed her sleeping on the floor. She quickly changed the subject. "If you dare, take him to the riverside. If he slides in and swims away, then he's a water-spirit. If not, how else can someone be half-human, half-snake?"

Before she finished speaking, Imran swiftly snatched his son away, deeply irritated by Inna and plotting what punishment to dish out to her for accusing his son of being a water-spirit.

"Praise be to God! Good thing you took him. Like I said, every shepherd knows his flock—like buying a hyena thinking it's a goat! Imagine treating me like a small fence easy to jump over, putting a bit in my mouth! Who can stop me from talking? Useless effort, like winking in the dark!" she ranted as she heaved a sigh of relief, sat on the edge of the bed, and kept grumbling.

Imran shot her a look that made him feel like choking her. "Useless effort, winking in the dark! I don't know about winking until my eyes pop out," she muttered, twitching her nose.

As Imran tried to leave the room, he suddenly noticed Hassan's head twisting and transforming to look like a snake's head with its hood flared. The skin on the baby's body was also starting to shift into scaly snake-skin. Inna hadn't noticed yet, so Imran quickly set Hassan down gently onto the shawl Inna had laid out, rushed out of the room, slammed the door, and locked it from the outside.

Inna, absorbed in her grumbling, didn't realize he had set Hassan down until she heard the door slam shut. She lurched forward to stand up, but heard Imran say: "Inna, look at Hassan. See, I've left him right there for you."

Inna's eyes bulged as she saw the baby's skin morphing into serpent scales right in the path leading to the door—and she realized Imran had locked her in...

MALAM After Isha'i prayer, Malam came into the compound. His dinner had already been brought to the front of the house where he ate with his friends. He walked into the courtyard after the almajiris brought in his woven mat and water pitcher. At this point in his life, they had no young children left at home except the pupils; all his wives' daughters had been married off to their respective homes, and there were no toddlers left.

He called out into the courtyard, and Tasalla answered from her room. She forced herself to eat a tiny portion of dinner just to ward off hunger, but every time she raised a morsel to her mouth, a lump of bitter jealousy formed in her chest at the thought of Inna Azumi in the city, feasting on chicken and using chewing sticks.

Malam headed to his quarters after calling out three sweet names to Tasalla. She stood up and headed to his room, plotting how to manipulate him into letting her visit the city, even if Inna Azumi flayed her alive upon arrival. She entered with a greeting, which he answered, saying: "Tasalla, what is wrong with you? How could you leave my room without hot coals? You know I like having the room warmed before I come inside." Tasalla remained silent, having completely forgotten about the coals today. "I honestly forgot, Malam. Man is prone to forgetfulness." "Well, go and fetch some now. If the fire isn't out, use the embers; if it's out, blow it back to life or go borrow from neighbors," he said, taking off his outer robe. "No, the fire isn't out completely; I just removed the logs, the embers are still there. Let me fetch it for you," she said, grabbing Malam's large brazier.

She filled it with glowing embers and brought it back into the room, closing the door behind her. True to Malam's routine, once Isha'i passed, he locked the house and didn't open it until morning. As he prepared for bed, Tasalla stood by the brazier, warming her hands and soaking up the heat.

"You know, Tasalla, you've been acting strange today. Are you unhappy that Azumi traveled?" "Kai, kai, kai! Malam, stop saying that, please! Azumi is my sister and co-wife; what would make me unhappy about her trip?" "Suddenly Azumi is your sister, Tasalla? Did you hit your head or something?" "I swear I'm fine. They say 'live and let live,' but truly I love Azumi." Malam sat up quickly, staring at Tasalla in disbelief, having never heard such words from her—not even in a dream. "Goodness gracious! Is there really a day God would show me you praising your co-wife? You two have fought constantly from your youth to old age, yet today everything is history?" "Well, you know, whatever weapon a person takes up, when the other lays theirs down, you lay yours down too. By the way, didn't you see Tsahare come into the house earlier?" "I saw her enter and we exchanged greetings." "Oh no, I hope my plan hasn't been ruined if she already told him why she came," she thought to herself, before saying out loud: "So she told you the message, then?" "What message? We just exchanged greetings, and since people were around, she just stepped inside." She let out a hidden sigh of relief, knowing Tsahare hadn't spilled the beans yet, giving her the freedom to spin her own lies. "What message was that?" "Oh, Malam," she said, casting her eyes down coyly. "Please tell me, my dear Tasalla." "Well, as they say, even a widower has family. Regarding Azumi... if you think I forgot about adding another wife... well, a mother might forget her child, but I wouldn't!" "I don't like digging up the past. Just tell me—even if I added Azumi, you are still the senior wife, and your position is unique to me."

A broad, joyful grin spread across Tasalla's face as her beloved praised her and reaffirmed her special status. "Well, Azumi sent a message through the motorcycle rider to Tsahare..."

Summary

This chapter transitions between two main narrative fronts: the domestic turmoil in the village involving Tasalla's bitter jealousy over her co-wife Azumi's departure to the city, and the chaotic supernatural comedy unfolding in the city at Sadiya's house where the difficult older woman, Inna, is left alone to care for a baby whose body mysteriously shapeshifts into serpentine scales.

In the village, Tasalla struggles to contain her jealousy as neighbors confirm Azumi has safely traveled to Kano for a prolonged postpartum care (zaman wanka) period. Plotting her own escape to the city, Tasalla manipulates Malam through flattery and cunning. Meanwhile, in the city, Mama and Ashrof humorously anticipate Inna's clashes with Imran and the baby. True to their predictions, Inna panics when baby Hassan's skin begins morphing into snake scales in her arms. Terrified that the child is demonic or serpentine, she screams for Imran, who calmly walks in, sets the morphing infant down on a shawl, locks Inna inside the room with the terrifying baby, and leaves her stranded in pure terror.

Description

The text blends domestic drama, cultural realism, and supernatural suspense with rich Northern Nigerian Hausa domestic flavor. It vividly illustrates themes of co-wife rivalry (kishiya), societal gossip, domestic routines (cooking danbu, preparing firewood/braziers), and generational friction. The narrative shifts fluidly from the rural bitterness of Tasalla—who feels left behind and marginalized—to the urban, slightly surreal chaos of Inna dealing with a magical or monstrous grandchild under the cold watch of an indifferent son-in-law, Imran.

Analytics

• Character Dynamics & Contrast: A sharp juxtaposition is established between Tasalla's petty, small-town jealousy and Inna's larger-than-life, chaotic stubbornness in the city. While Tasalla's conflict is rooted in social status and co-wife competition, Inna's conflict escalates into surreal horror comedy.
• Pacing & Tension Building: The author uses slow-burn domestic scenes (Tasalla cooking, waiting for news) to contrast sharply with sudden, high-impact comedic suspense (Inna trapped with a shape-shifting baby).
• Cultural Satire: The text pokes fun at traditional postpartum practices (zaman wanka), neighborhood gossip networks (represented by characters like Tsahare), and the often antagonistic dynamics between mothers-in-law and sons-in-law in Hausa households.

Comments

• Narrative Tone: The author maintains an engaging, witty, and deeply observant narrative voice. The transition from relatable marital pettiness to surreal magical realism (baby Hassan turning into a snake) is handled with a comedic flair that keeps readers hooked.
• Character Realism: Tasalla's internal monologues perfectly capture the ugly, petty side of jealousy—wanting your rival to crash on the way, yet having to put on a fake smile when neighbors come around.

Conclusions

Chapter 9 and 10 of Zaman Wanka successfully escalate the central conflicts on both fronts. In the village, Tasalla is galvanized by pure spite to scheme her way toward a city trip. In the city, Inna's stubborn intrusion into Imran's household backfires spectacularly as she faces a supernatural ordeal locked alone in a room with a shape-shifting infant. The stage is set for absolute chaos as both older women push their respective plots to boiling points.

Keywords

Zaman Wanka, Maman Afrah, Hausa literature, co-wife rivalry (kishiya), domestic fiction, shape-shifting baby, cultural realism, Northern Nigeria, Tasalla, Inna Azumi, Imran.