Before Inna could even step foot into the room, he had already begun whipping them ruthlessly and without mercy. Dazed and paralyzed by terror, the girls clung to each other tightly, screaming in agonizing pain from the searing heat of the lashes. It was a devastating double blow—an absolute madness of misfortune—as they were forced to endure the agonizing soreness of their battered bodies alongside the stinging pain of the fresh whip wounds he was raining down on them. He, on the other hand, did not care in the slightest about their frantic shrieking and screaming. His ultimate goal was to brutally injure them even further, on top of the swelling they already carried. Foaming at the mouth with unbridled rage, he roared, "You think you are shameless, insolent brats, don't you? Today, I will put a permanent end to your pathetic display of loose behavior and rebellion! You rebellious street urchins! Who knows, maybe you’ve even started indulging in these modern, sinful intoxicants?!" He raised the whip high, poised to strike them yet again, when Inna desperately threw herself between them to shield the girls. By a horrific stroke of bad luck, the whip crashed across the side of her face, and the tail-end of the lash pierced her eye. Instantly, tears and fluid began streaming down her face. "Ohhh! It's over, Malam, you have blinded me! The eye was already weak to begin with, so what about now?!" Inna wailed, clutching her face in excruciating pain. The sheer horror in Inna's scream instantly snapped him back to reality. He dropped the wooden whip to the floor, panting as he demanded, "What on earth is the meaning of this, Luba? Why are you screaming at me like a toddlers' child?" "Malam, can't you see how violently you slashed that whip across my face?! It went right into my eye!" she cried, her voice trembling from the intense throbbing of the injury. "Well, this is entirely your own fault! For God's sake, what possessed you to interfere in this beating?!" he barked, still breathing heavily. "Then again, you have always had a terrible habit of meddling in matters that do not concern you. You are the one who always enables and protects them, which is exactly why they have completely lost all respect for me! These children have grown completely insolent—they never used to be this way!" Instead of pausing to examine her bleeding eye or checking on the battered condition of the girls, he simply muttered a cold, dismissive, "May Allah grant you healing, Luba." With that, he hitched up his traditional trousers and stormed out of the house, deeply irritated that Luba had sabotaged his goal of beating the girls into submission—a beating meant to teach them once and for all that while tea and water may look similar, they are completely different elements.
Part 2: Flashback — The Lineage of Malam Mudi
THEIR ORIGINS Malam Mudi was the son of Alhaji Usman Mijinyawa, a man born and raised in the Garwa neighborhood. During his prime, his father was a highly successful, self-made man who built a comfortable life through long-distance trade. As a professional merchant, his livelihood revolved around traveling from city to city to sell his merchandise, purchasing local goods from distant lands, and returning home to sell them at a profit. During one of his extensive trading expeditions, he arrived at a remote, far-off village in a state called Sambusa. While there, he fell in love with and married a young maiden named Mari. When the time came for him to conclude his business and leave the town, he formally notified her parents that he would be departing with his new bride to his ancestral hometown of MAMBIYA. It took an immense amount of delicate negotiation and persuasion before her parents finally consented to let him take her away. Through their union, Allah blessed them with eight children: five sons and three daughters. Shehu was the firstborn, followed by Iliya, then Mariya (whom they affectionately called Yaya Kande), then Muddasiru (whom they called Mudi), Ali (known as Baba Qarami), Dije, Umar (known as Dan Lami), and finally the lastborn, A'i. Alhaji Mijinyawa’s household was a bustling, joyful community. He had expanded and fortified his compound, filling it with deep love, mutual respect, and affection. His children grew up bound by a sense of unity that far exceeded anyone's expectations. In that house, the distinction between a guest and a family member did not exist; everyone was treated as one of their own. Although his extensive trading journeys prevented him from spending prolonged periods with his family, his absences never left his children exposed to hardships like hunger or deprivation. His compound was massive, featuring a sprawling, empty plot of land located directly behind the residential wing where his family lived. Whenever the time came for one of his sons to marry, Alhaji would simply demarcate a portion of that land and gift it to him, allowing the son to build a house fitted to his means. Through this generous system, all of his sons eventually married and settled down, with the exception of Iliya and Umar, both of whom tragically passed away before reaching marriageable age. Mudi, however, remained unmarried for an unusually long time. Even his younger brother, Baba Qarami, managed to marry and establish a household while Mudi simply remained single, showing no interest in settling down. Years passed, and eventually, Alhaji Mijinyawa’s physical strength began to fail him. Afflicted by chronic illness and the heavy toll of old age, he was forced to permanently retire from his long-distance trading expeditions. Since Allah had blessed him with wealth, the illness did not leave him destitute; instead, he spent his remaining days confined to his home, cared for by his family. It was during this period of decline that the family's fortunes began to dwindle, and the vibrant atmosphere of joy and comfort began to permanently fade from the compound. The crushing weight of world anxieties began to overwhelm Inna Mari. She was trapped between nursing her ailing, elderly husband and managing the challenges of her own advancing age. To make matters worse, Mudi’s behavior took a dark, baffling turn that deeply clouded their lives. He began adopting sinister habits and erratic traits that completely contradicted the clean, respectable values of their lineage. He started engaging in petty, stealthy thefts. At first, he managed to keep his thievery hidden, but it quickly escalated until everyone in the neighborhood came to recognize him as a notorious, thieving rat. As the family struggled through this shame, anxiety took permanent root in his parents' hearts. Shortly after, devastating news reached them: Mudi had graduated to a dangerous new vice—fraud and financial scams. This revelation was undoubtedly the most devastating blow the family had ever faced. It violently shook the foundation of their household and ultimately claimed the life of their elderly patriarch, who had always been the main pillar of their lives. Alhaji Mijinyawa simply could not survive the profound grief and heartbreak caused by the endless stream of trouble and legal disputes Mudi brought to their doorstep. Even as he lay bedridden and severely ill, the elderly man would receive at least ten different groups of aggrieved people a day, all coming to lodge bitter complaints about his son's fraudulent activities. One morning, at around 10:00 AM, just thirty minutes after resolving yet another exhausting complaint brought against Mudi, Alhaji Mijinyawa breathed his last, departing this world with a broken heart. When Inna Mari realized that Mudi’s unhinged behavior was on the verge of bringing absolute ruin upon their household, she quietly resolved in her heart: “Young man, you may think you are clever, but you have finally met your match.” In accordance with the traditions of that era, when a child fell into deep moral corruption, the parents did not simply discard him. Instead, they quietly and subtly treated the root of the problem by seeking spiritual intervention from Islamic scholars. If a child was a compulsive thief, they would secure a spiritual remedy to bind his hands, ensuring that even if millions of naira were left exposed before him for days, he would lose all physical desire to touch it. Inna Mari deployed this exact method to neutralize Mudi's criminality. She personally enlisted her trusted friend, Kande, to accompany her to the house of a renowned Islamic scholar residing in the Gangare area, where they secured a potent spiritual remedy. She began discreetly lacing Mudi's food with the medicine, and he consumed it entirely without suspecting a thing. Slowly but surely, the remedy saturated his system. One morning, Mudi woke up to find himself completely incapable of executing any of his fraudulent scams. All his sharp cunning, deceptive wit, and criminal inspiration in the trade had completely vanished, as if his very soul had been hollowed out of his body. Shortly after this transformation, he shocked Inna Mari by approaching her with a request to marry. By that time, he was already nearly thirty years old and had never once mentioned the prospect of marriage. Inna Mari wept tears of profound gratitude, praising Allah for finally transforming and guiding her son. She instantly granted him permission to seek out any girl who caught his eye across the city, promising that as long as the financial demands were within her power, she would personally fund and ensure his marriage. AN UNEXPECTED TWIST A week later, Mudi returned to Inna with joyful news, announcing that he had finally found a woman who had accepted his marriage proposal. Overjoyed, Inna eagerly asked, "Who is the girl, my son?" "Her name is Luba, Inna," he replied. "She is from the rural village of Shabaka, right here on the outskirts of town." "Very well. Do not worry about a thing," Inna replied with a warm, beaming smile. "I will immediately arrange for a discreet background check to be conducted on her." Inna personally approached some of her late husband’s most trusted and respected friends in the neighborhood, requesting them to travel all the way to Shabaka village to investigate the girl’s background and reputation. After a short period of thorough investigation, the men returned to deliver their findings. Following a long, formal exchange of pleasantries and expressions of gratitude for their safe return, Inna leaned in closely, anxious to hear the results of the background check. Alhaji Bashiru, a lifelong confidant of the late Alhaji Mijinyawa, led the investigative delegation. He adjusted his posture on the mat, visibly weighed down by the gravity of the information, clearly debating how to break the devastating news to the widow. "Why have you all gone quiet? Is everything alright, Alhaji?" Inna inquired, a thread of anxiety creeping into her voice. Alhaji Bashiru cleared his throat and began carefully, "Uhmm! Everything is under control, Hajja Mari. Before I say anything else, I want to remind you that we must accept destiny with patience, no matter how bitter it presents itself. We must embrace it with both hands, because we lack the power to alter the course of what is decreed. Marriage, by its very nature, is a gamble of destiny. If you subject anyone to a rigorous background check, you are bound to uncover flaws and mistakes, no matter how minor. But if a marriage is meant to happen, it will happen." Hearing these heavy words, Inna’s heart sank. A terrible dread washed over her, signaling that the girl was highly disreputable. Nevertheless, she knew she needed to hear the unvarnished truth so she could prepare herself for the reality of welcoming this woman into their lives, should destiny bind them in marriage. She looked at them firmly and said, "Background checks are an essential and time-honored tradition in marriage; there is nothing strange about it. Please, I beg of you, tell me the absolute truth. Since I trusted you completely with the future of my son, it is improper for you to hide anything from me." Faced with her direct demand, the men laid the entire matter bare, exposing the girl's reputation down to the smallest detail. They confirmed to her that Luba was a deeply unprincipled and degenerate girl. In fact, there wasn't a single soul in her entire village who didn't recognize her as a notorious, loose streetwalker. She frequented every single house of ill-repute and brothel in the area; those scandalous places had effectively become her permanent sanctuary. Her own parents had grown utterly exhausted from reprimanding her, eventually giving up entirely and leaving her fate in the hands of God. This horrific report deeply devastated Inna Mari. Consequently, the moment the men departed, she summoned Mudi, sat him down, and pleaded with him to choose a different path. She begged him to find any other woman in the city except Luba, explaining that the investigation had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she lacked even an ounce of moral integrity. Instantly, Mudi’s expression hardened. He defiantly locked eyes with his mother, metaphorically throwing dirt in her face as he stubbornly declared that if he could not marry Luba, he would permanently renounce marriage for the rest of his life, as she was the only woman he would ever love. Inna tried every single form of maternal persuasion to make him reconsider and find a virtuous mother for his unborn children, but Mudi effectively blocked his ears to her counsel. Seeing his absolute obstinacy, she eventually washed her hands of the matter and reluctantly consented to the union. Thus, the marriage between Mudi and Luba was officially formalized. However, unlike his brothers who peacefully cohabited within their father's massive compound, Mudi—completely brainwashed by the manipulative counsel of his new bride, Luba—refused to live there. He incited a massive, bitter family feud over their inheritance, aggressively escalating the conflict until the late patriarch's estate was prematurely carved up. He was subsequently awarded ownership of one of the three modest houses his father had owned outside the main compound. The new bride immediately moved into her independent home, while Inna Mari remained in the ancestral compound left to her by her deceased husband. Around that exact time, tragedy struck again when Inna's eldest daughter, Mariya, passed away in the distant town where she was married. Luba proved to be an absolute terror. She possessed absolutely no respect for anyone, nor did she harbor a single drop of modesty or restraint. No matter how elderly or venerable a person was, if they crossed her, she would violently retaliate without a shred of fear. She didn't even spare Inna Mari from her toxic outbursts, let alone the rest of the extended family. Time marched on in this hostile environment, and Luba eventually gave birth to their firstborn son, Suleman (popularly known as Mankas). Four years later, she gave birth to Usman (known as Abba). Following another four-year interval, she delivered a dark-skinned daughter named Hanifa. Two years after that, she gave birth to Safiya, followed by Maryam, then Hanif, then Hafiz, then Abubakar Sadik, and finally their lastborn child, Basma. The children grew up entirely under the toxic influence of an unprincipled, neglectful mother. They naturally absorbed and mirrored her vile habits, foul language, and complete lack of discipline. She never bothered to monitor their behavior, let alone reprimand them for wrongdoing. In fact, she frequently enabled and encouraged their delinquent behavior. This absolute lack of maternal guidance was the direct reason the children grew up trapped in such a depraved, dysfunctional lifestyle. As the years rolled by, Inna Mari attempted to step in—not out of fondness for Luba, but out of a deep concern for the vast lineage being built and a desperate desire to see her grandchildren guided onto a righteous path. But it was an exercise in absolute futility. The moral foundation had been ruined from day one. As the traditional proverb goes: “A tree branch can only be bent while it is still young and green; once it dries and hardens, any attempt to bend it will only snap it in two.” On the other hand, Baba Mudi adopted an incredibly harsh, unyielding approach with the children. He refused to show them even a glimmer of warmth or affection, relying entirely on extreme physical violence. At the slightest provocation, he would fly into a violent rage and beat the children mercilessly—not an ordinary correction, but a brutal, savage thrashing that frequently left them severely injured and physically scarred. In later years, as his physical strength began to fail him due to old age, he began delegating the violence. He would order his younger brother, Baba Dan Lami, to brutally thrash the children whenever they committed an infraction. This extreme, unhinged violence only drove the children further into rebellion, causing them to become thoroughly hardened criminals and outcasts—even though they still harbored a deep, terrifying fear of their father's wrath.
Part 3: Biba's Elegant Transformation and the Village Gossip
A CERTAIN NEIGHBORHOOD FREE PAGE — PAGE 12 CHAPTER TWELVE "Zubairu, what on earth are you trying to do?!" she gasped, her voice trembling with intense panic. He scrambled to push the young girl off his lap, springing to his feet as he stammered out a series of clumsy, defensive excuses. "What exactly do you think you saw? I just found her crying, so I was simply comforting her," he muttered, unable to hold her gaze. "You had better fear the wrath of Allah! Remember that whatever sins you commit in the dark, Allah is watching you, for the Almighty never sleeps nor slumbers," she fired back, her eyes boring into him with deep suspicion and judgment. He casually shrugged his shoulders with an air of complete indifference, brushing past her toward the exit as he sneered, "I actually came over here to share some wonderful news with you, but you ruined the entire moment with your wild accusations. Since you want to judge me, I'm leaving." She opened her mouth, fully intending to command him to stop, but before her tongue could form a single word, he vanished out of the front gate. Watching him leave, she pushed the unsettling interaction aside and walked deeper into the room. There, she found young Salma still sobbing softly, taking deep, shuddering breaths as tear stains streaked across her dusty face. She glared down at Salma and snapped, "And what is your problem now?! I swear to God, Salma, if you don't put an end to these manipulative, hypocritical crying fits you’ve picked up lately, you and I are going to have a serious problem! If you were a stepdaughter, people would instantly accuse me of abusing or torturing you!" The young girl fell completely silent, not daring to utter a single word, though her chest continued to heave with silent, shaky breaths. She aggressively snatched the girl by her arm and yanked her upright. "For heaven's sake, get up let me wash you! I know I just bathed you the day before yesterday, but if I don't give you another bath right now, your hot-tempered, dramatic father will launch into a massive frenzy the moment he gets home." She led the girl out into the central courtyard and thoroughly bathed her. As she was dressing the child, she suddenly remembered an upcoming wedding for her close friend's younger sister, to which she had been formally invited. She realized with a jolt that she had completely forgotten to inform her husband, Habibu, about it. Nonetheless, she stubbornly resolved in her mind that she was going to attend no matter what; if worst came to worst, she would simply inform him of her departure after he returned home. Moving with frantic speed, she threw herself into her chores. On this particular day, she swept and scrubbed every single corner of the house until it was absolutely spotless. She then cooked a delicious, premium meal, transferred it into insulated food warmers, and set it neatly on the living room table—hoping this domestic peace offering would soften the blow when he returned to find her gone. She dished out a portion of the food for herself to eat, served Salma her share, and then rushed into the restroom to take a thorough, refreshing bath. In truth, she hadn't taken a proper, luxurious bath since Basira's wedding, which was the last social event she had attended; every other day spent at home was a complete waste of soap and water, as she usually just did a quick, lazy rinse to wash off the surface dirt. When she stepped out, she unlocked her wardrobe and dug deep into the very bottom of her clothing chest. She pulled out a stunning, deep purple lace material—a single glance at the fabric made it obvious that it was incredibly high-end and expensive. She sat before the mirror and meticulously applied her makeup, replicating the glamorous, sharp style she used to wear during her youth. She slipped into the exquisite purple lace dress and tied her headscarf into a flawless, dramatic corporate style. Against her fair complexion, the outfit popped brilliantly, making her look absolutely radiant—like a stunning jewel. Anyone who didn't know her true domestic habits would swear on their life that this breathtaking woman could not possibly be the notorious, slovenly Biba they knew. She elegantly draped her matching veil over her shoulders, lightly spritzed herself with a subtle perfume, stepped out of her quarters, and securely locked her front door behind her. Holding Salma by the hand, she marched out of the compound. Salma looked up at her in absolute awe and remarked, "Mama, where are we going? I've never seen you look this beautiful before!" Biba beamed at the little girl and smiled proudly, "I'm heading to a wedding celebration, Salma." The little girl’s face lit up with pure joy. "You look so beautiful, Mama! You are completely washed clean and sparkling!" A wave of intense satisfaction washed over Biba, and she couldn't stop herself from flashing a massive, confident smile. However, as they turned into the alleyway leading to Yaya Hanne's house, Salma's expression shifted to confusion. "Mama, I thought you said we were going to a wedding?" "I am indeed going to a wedding, Salma," she replied smoothly, her voice shifting into a soothing, comforting tone. "But I am dropping you off at Yaya Hanne's house so you can wait for me there. I promise I'll bring you back plenty of delicious wedding food and treats, okay?" The little girl threw a brief tantrum, wanting to go along, but she quickly realized that throwing a fit would not work; instead of taking pity on her, her mother was highly likely to deliver a sharp smack to her face. Realizing the danger, she fell completely silent as they arrived at her aunt's house. "Oh my goodness! Look at my little sister, all dressed up to the nines! Where on earth are you heading looking like a queen?" Yaya Hanne exclaimed, her face twisting in absolute amazement. Biba let out a delighted, self-satisfied laugh and replied, "Oh, stop it, sister! Quit teasing me. I am heading to the wedding of my dear friend Hadiza's younger sister, all the way over in the Dagarma neighborhood." Her older sister warmly wished her a safe journey and a wonderful time, and with that, Biba elegantly swept out of the compound. Before she could even reach the main road, the neighborhood's notorious gossips were already tracking her every move with narrowed eyes, pointing fingers and mocking her under their breath until she finally reached the tarred street. As she stood by the roadside waiting to hail a commercial tricycle (Napep), Mamuda (a notorious local tailor and gossip) came strolling down the street. While the other neighbors had merely stared and gossiped silently, Mamuda was incapable of minding his own business and could never let a spectacle pass without making a comment. He marched right up to her, baring his teeth in a wide, mocking grin. "Well, well, well! Who on earth am I looking at right now? Is this actually our very own Bibalo?" Biba offered a tight, polite smile and replied coldly, "Yes, it is me. Good afternoon." "Good afternoon indeed! So, you're heading out for a big occasion, I see? Well, let's just pray that the goalkeeper is fully aware before the striker shoots the ball into the net." Although Biba was usually dismissed by the neighborhood as a simpleton, today her mind was exceptionally sharp, and she instantly caught the toxic undercurrent of his words. She narrowed her eyes, flashed a sharp, cutting smile, and shot back, "Oh, that is absolutely nothing for you to worry about, mister! You should focus entirely on managing the young female goats grazing in your own courtyard; I've noticed they're already growing ripe and restless..." She left the insult hanging heavily in the air, instantly flagged down a passing Napep, hopped inside, and rolled away, leaving Mamuda standing frozen on the pavement, his mind racing as he processed her words. “Wait, what exactly did she mean by that?” he thought. Then, the realization hit him like a physical blow—he had several teenage daughters at home, and she had just subtly branded them as loose, restless animals. He felt a surge of deep offense and humiliation wash over him, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it now. Inside the moving tricycle, Biba was muttering furiously to herself, "You pathetic, worthless hypocrite! He’s basically implying that I sneaked out without my husband's permission! Well, I shouldn't even let him ruin my mood, since I successfully gave him a taste of his own medicine." The Napep driver listened to her chaotic muttering but wisely chose to keep his mouth shut. He simply shook his head in silent bewilderment, reflecting on the unhinged behavior of modern women. “I swear, these modern times are truly terrifying,” he muttered to himself. WHO IS BIBA? HER ORIGINS Habiba was the biological daughter of Alhaji Sule Ya'u, a well-established resident of the Saminaka neighborhood in the state of MAMBIYA. He was a man of comfortable, moderate means who maintained a polygamous household with two wives: Jimmala and Zaliha. Through them, he fathered ten children. Jimmala was the senior wife (Uwar Gida) and had five children: Hannatu was her firstborn daughter, followed by Habiba, then Zainab, then Haidar, and finally their lastborn daughter, Sa'adiya. Zaliha, the junior wife, also had five children: three sons and two daughters. From the outside, life in their compound appeared highly admirable, as the two wives maintained a strong sense of community and cooperative harmony. However, there was a single, glaring problem: Zaliha was an absolute, unmitigated slob. Her private room was completely unenterable, permanently filled with a chaotic mountain of trash, dirty laundry, and unsorted junk. Consequently, it fell squarely upon Jimmala’s shoulders to exert every ounce of her physical strength, alongside her children, to constantly clean and maintain the integrity of the shared household. When the eldest daughter, Hanne, married and moved out, the heavy burden of cleaning fell entirely on Inna Jimmala and her second daughter, Zainab. This happened because Biba absolutely loathed physical labor and refused to lift a finger around the house. Her mother used to scold her relentlessly, screaming until her voice went hoarse, but she eventually grew completely exhausted and gave up trying to change her lazy daughter. A year into Hanne's marriage, she gave birth and returned to her paternal home to spend her postpartum recovery period (Zaman Jego). When the time came for her to return to her husband's house, her mother officially handed over the thirteen-year-old Biba to accompany her, so she could help nurse and babysit the newborn. From that pivotal moment onward, Biba’s upbringing was completely transferred into the hands of Hanne and her husband, Aminu, who took full responsibility for her life. Their father desperately wanted her to return home as she grew older, but he could never bring himself to disrespect his son-in-law, a man he held in exceptionally high regard. He simply could not reject the arrangement his son-in-law had graciously sustained, so he reluctantly allowed Biba to permanently reside with them in the Garwa neighborhood until she reached marriageable age. Her eventually marriage to Habibu was a union built on pure romance and deep affection. During the peak of her youth, Biba was a thoroughly fashionable, sophisticated young lady who possessed an exceptional talent for grooming and style. Because her brother-in-law, Aminu, pampered and cared for her as if she were his own flesh and blood, she always had the means to look her best. The story began when Habibu first laid eyes on Biba in their neighborhood, right inside his own brother's compound. From that exact microsecond, a profound love for her was planted in his heart, and he frequently visited Yaya Aminu's house under the guise of family visits just to catch a glimpse of her. He kept his burning affection hidden for a long time until he could no longer contain it. He finally approached Yaya Hanne to confess his feelings, and she was absolutely thrilled by the news. She deeply respected Habibu's character and knew his respectable lineage, so she immediately shared the news with her husband, Aminu, who was equally delighted. Aminu felt an immense sense of peace knowing that the young girl placed in his custody would eventually be anchored in the safe hands of his own beloved brother. However, since they still viewed Biba as a bit too young at the time, they advised Habibu to give her a few more years to mature, while he also used the time to financially prepare for a household. He took their wise counsel and waited patiently for several years. When the relationship matured and became serious, they formally presented the matter to her parents in Saminaka. Since the young couple was deeply in love, the parents happily gave their blessings. The wedding between Habibu and Habiba was officially solemnized on a joyful Saturday—a day that perfectly coincided with her nineteenth birthday. Following the wedding, the beautiful young bride moved into her independent home, located directly behind the alleyway of Yaya Hanne's compound. They built a beautiful, peaceful romance, and their home was always immaculately clean, organized, and a true marvel to behold. Ten months into the marriage, Biba gave birth to a breathtakingly beautiful baby girl, who promised to inherit—and perhaps even surpass—her mother's striking looks. On the day of her naming ceremony, the beautiful baby girl was officially named Salma. Biba spent her postpartum recovery period at Yaya Hanne's house, and after a few months, she returned to her own matrimonial home. It was from that exact moment onward that minor cracks, domestic arguments, and bitter disputes began to plague the household. This unfortunate shift occurred because Biba suddenly began exhibiting a series of bizarre new habits that she had never possessed during her youth—habits of absolute, gross domestic filthiness.
Part 1: The Escalation of Baba Mudi's Wrath
Before Inna could even step foot into the room, he had already begun whipping them ruthlessly and without mercy.
Dazed and paralyzed by terror, the girls clung to each other tightly, screaming in agonizing pain from the searing heat of the lashes.
It was a devastating double blow—an absolute madness of misfortune—as they were forced to endure the agonizing soreness of their battered bodies alongside the stinging pain of the fresh whip wounds he was raining down on them.
He, on the other hand, did not care in the slightest about their frantic shrieking and screaming. His ultimate goal was to brutally injure them even further, on top of the swelling they already carried. Foaming at the mouth with unbridled rage, he roared, "You think you are shameless, insolent brats, don't you? Today, I will put a permanent end to your pathetic display of loose behavior and rebellion! You rebellious street urchins! Who knows, maybe you’ve even started indulging in these modern, sinful intoxicants?!"
He raised the whip high, poised to strike them yet again, when Inna desperately threw herself between them to shield the girls. By a horrific stroke of bad luck, the whip crashed across the side of her face, and the tail-end of the lash pierced her eye. Instantly, tears and fluid began streaming down her face.
"Ohhh! It's over, Malam, you have blinded me! The eye was already weak to begin with, so what about now?!" Inna wailed, clutching her face in excruciating pain.
The sheer horror in Inna's scream instantly snapped him back to reality. He dropped the wooden whip to the floor, panting as he demanded, "What on earth is the meaning of this, Luba? Why are you screaming at me like a toddlers' child?"
"Malam, can't you see how violently you slashed that whip across my face?! It went right into my eye!" she cried, her voice trembling from the intense throbbing of the injury.
"Well, this is entirely your own fault! For God's sake, what possessed you to interfere in this beating?!" he barked, still breathing heavily. "Then again, you have always had a terrible habit of meddling in matters that do not concern you. You are the one who always enables and protects them, which is exactly why they have completely lost all respect for me! These children have grown completely insolent—they never used to be this way!"
Instead of pausing to examine her bleeding eye or checking on the battered condition of the girls, he simply muttered a cold, dismissive, "May Allah grant you healing, Luba." With that, he hitched up his traditional trousers and stormed out of the house, deeply irritated that Luba had sabotaged his goal of beating the girls into submission—a beating meant to teach them once and for all that while tea and water may look similar, they are completely different elements.
Part 2: Flashback — The Lineage of Malam Mudi
THEIR ORIGINS
Malam Mudi was the son of Alhaji Usman Mijinyawa, a man born and raised in the Garwa neighborhood. During his prime, his father was a highly successful, self-made man who built a comfortable life through long-distance trade. As a professional merchant, his livelihood revolved around traveling from city to city to sell his merchandise, purchasing local goods from distant lands, and returning home to sell them at a profit.
During one of his extensive trading expeditions, he arrived at a remote, far-off village in a state called Sambusa. While there, he fell in love with and married a young maiden named Mari. When the time came for him to conclude his business and leave the town, he formally notified her parents that he would be departing with his new bride to his ancestral hometown of MAMBIYA.
It took an immense amount of delicate negotiation and persuasion before her parents finally consented to let him take her away. Through their union, Allah blessed them with eight children: five sons and three daughters.
Shehu was the firstborn, followed by Iliya, then Mariya (whom they affectionately called Yaya Kande), then Muddasiru (whom they called Mudi), Ali (known as Baba Qarami), Dije, Umar (known as Dan Lami), and finally the lastborn, A'i.
Alhaji Mijinyawa’s household was a bustling, joyful community. He had expanded and fortified his compound, filling it with deep love, mutual respect, and affection. His children grew up bound by a sense of unity that far exceeded anyone's expectations.
In that house, the distinction between a guest and a family member did not exist; everyone was treated as one of their own. Although his extensive trading journeys prevented him from spending prolonged periods with his family, his absences never left his children exposed to hardships like hunger or deprivation.
His compound was massive, featuring a sprawling, empty plot of land located directly behind the residential wing where his family lived. Whenever the time came for one of his sons to marry, Alhaji would simply demarcate a portion of that land and gift it to him, allowing the son to build a house fitted to his means.
Through this generous system, all of his sons eventually married and settled down, with the exception of Iliya and Umar, both of whom tragically passed away before reaching marriageable age. Mudi, however, remained unmarried for an unusually long time. Even his younger brother, Baba Qarami, managed to marry and establish a household while Mudi simply remained single, showing no interest in settling down.
Years passed, and eventually, Alhaji Mijinyawa’s physical strength began to fail him. Afflicted by chronic illness and the heavy toll of old age, he was forced to permanently retire from his long-distance trading expeditions. Since Allah had blessed him with wealth, the illness did not leave him destitute; instead, he spent his remaining days confined to his home, cared for by his family.
It was during this period of decline that the family's fortunes began to dwindle, and the vibrant atmosphere of joy and comfort began to permanently fade from the compound.
The crushing weight of world anxieties began to overwhelm Inna Mari. She was trapped between nursing her ailing, elderly husband and managing the challenges of her own advancing age. To make matters worse, Mudi’s behavior took a dark, baffling turn that deeply clouded their lives. He began adopting sinister habits and erratic traits that completely contradicted the clean, respectable values of their lineage.
He started engaging in petty, stealthy thefts. At first, he managed to keep his thievery hidden, but it quickly escalated until everyone in the neighborhood came to recognize him as a notorious, thieving rat. As the family struggled through this shame, anxiety took permanent root in his parents' hearts. Shortly after, devastating news reached them: Mudi had graduated to a dangerous new vice—fraud and financial scams.
This revelation was undoubtedly the most devastating blow the family had ever faced. It violently shook the foundation of their household and ultimately claimed the life of their elderly patriarch, who had always been the main pillar of their lives. Alhaji Mijinyawa simply could not survive the profound grief and heartbreak caused by the endless stream of trouble and legal disputes Mudi brought to their doorstep.
Even as he lay bedridden and severely ill, the elderly man would receive at least ten different groups of aggrieved people a day, all coming to lodge bitter complaints about his son's fraudulent activities. One morning, at around 10:00 AM, just thirty minutes after resolving yet another exhausting complaint brought against Mudi, Alhaji Mijinyawa breathed his last, departing this world with a broken heart.
When Inna Mari realized that Mudi’s unhinged behavior was on the verge of bringing absolute ruin upon their household, she quietly resolved in her heart: “Young man, you may think you are clever, but you have finally met your match.”
In accordance with the traditions of that era, when a child fell into deep moral corruption, the parents did not simply discard him. Instead, they quietly and subtly treated the root of the problem by seeking spiritual intervention from Islamic scholars. If a child was a compulsive thief, they would secure a spiritual remedy to bind his hands, ensuring that even if millions of naira were left exposed before him for days, he would lose all physical desire to touch it.
Inna Mari deployed this exact method to neutralize Mudi's criminality. She personally enlisted her trusted friend, Kande, to accompany her to the house of a renowned Islamic scholar residing in the Gangare area, where they secured a potent spiritual remedy. She began discreetly lacing Mudi's food with the medicine, and he consumed it entirely without suspecting a thing.
Slowly but surely, the remedy saturated his system. One morning, Mudi woke up to find himself completely incapable of executing any of his fraudulent scams. All his sharp cunning, deceptive wit, and criminal inspiration in the trade had completely vanished, as if his very soul had been hollowed out of his body.
Shortly after this transformation, he shocked Inna Mari by approaching her with a request to marry. By that time, he was already nearly thirty years old and had never once mentioned the prospect of marriage.
Inna Mari wept tears of profound gratitude, praising Allah for finally transforming and guiding her son. She instantly granted him permission to seek out any girl who caught his eye across the city, promising that as long as the financial demands were within her power, she would personally fund and ensure his marriage.
AN UNEXPECTED TWIST
A week later, Mudi returned to Inna with joyful news, announcing that he had finally found a woman who had accepted his marriage proposal.
Overjoyed, Inna eagerly asked, "Who is the girl, my son?"
"Her name is Luba, Inna," he replied. "She is from the rural village of Shabaka, right here on the outskirts of town."
"Very well. Do not worry about a thing," Inna replied with a warm, beaming smile. "I will immediately arrange for a discreet background check to be conducted on her."
Inna personally approached some of her late husband’s most trusted and respected friends in the neighborhood, requesting them to travel all the way to Shabaka village to investigate the girl’s background and reputation.
After a short period of thorough investigation, the men returned to deliver their findings. Following a long, formal exchange of pleasantries and expressions of gratitude for their safe return, Inna leaned in closely, anxious to hear the results of the background check.
Alhaji Bashiru, a lifelong confidant of the late Alhaji Mijinyawa, led the investigative delegation. He adjusted his posture on the mat, visibly weighed down by the gravity of the information, clearly debating how to break the devastating news to the widow.
"Why have you all gone quiet? Is everything alright, Alhaji?" Inna inquired, a thread of anxiety creeping into her voice.
Alhaji Bashiru cleared his throat and began carefully, "Uhmm! Everything is under control, Hajja Mari. Before I say anything else, I want to remind you that we must accept destiny with patience, no matter how bitter it presents itself. We must embrace it with both hands, because we lack the power to alter the course of what is decreed. Marriage, by its very nature, is a gamble of destiny. If you subject anyone to a rigorous background check, you are bound to uncover flaws and mistakes, no matter how minor. But if a marriage is meant to happen, it will happen."
Hearing these heavy words, Inna’s heart sank. A terrible dread washed over her, signaling that the girl was highly disreputable. Nevertheless, she knew she needed to hear the unvarnished truth so she could prepare herself for the reality of welcoming this woman into their lives, should destiny bind them in marriage.
She looked at them firmly and said, "Background checks are an essential and time-honored tradition in marriage; there is nothing strange about it. Please, I beg of you, tell me the absolute truth. Since I trusted you completely with the future of my son, it is improper for you to hide anything from me."
Faced with her direct demand, the men laid the entire matter bare, exposing the girl's reputation down to the smallest detail.
They confirmed to her that Luba was a deeply unprincipled and degenerate girl. In fact, there wasn't a single soul in her entire village who didn't recognize her as a notorious, loose streetwalker. She frequented every single house of ill-repute and brothel in the area; those scandalous places had effectively become her permanent sanctuary. Her own parents had grown utterly exhausted from reprimanding her, eventually giving up entirely and leaving her fate in the hands of God.
This horrific report deeply devastated Inna Mari. Consequently, the moment the men departed, she summoned Mudi, sat him down, and pleaded with him to choose a different path. She begged him to find any other woman in the city except Luba, explaining that the investigation had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she lacked even an ounce of moral integrity.
Instantly, Mudi’s expression hardened. He defiantly locked eyes with his mother, metaphorically throwing dirt in her face as he stubbornly declared that if he could not marry Luba, he would permanently renounce marriage for the rest of his life, as she was the only woman he would ever love.
Inna tried every single form of maternal persuasion to make him reconsider and find a virtuous mother for his unborn children, but Mudi effectively blocked his ears to her counsel.
Seeing his absolute obstinacy, she eventually washed her hands of the matter and reluctantly consented to the union. Thus, the marriage between Mudi and Luba was officially formalized.
However, unlike his brothers who peacefully cohabited within their father's massive compound, Mudi—completely brainwashed by the manipulative counsel of his new bride, Luba—refused to live there. He incited a massive, bitter family feud over their inheritance, aggressively escalating the conflict until the late patriarch's estate was prematurely carved up. He was subsequently awarded ownership of one of the three modest houses his father had owned outside the main compound.
The new bride immediately moved into her independent home, while Inna Mari remained in the ancestral compound left to her by her deceased husband. Around that exact time, tragedy struck again when Inna's eldest daughter, Mariya, passed away in the distant town where she was married.
Luba proved to be an absolute terror. She possessed absolutely no respect for anyone, nor did she harbor a single drop of modesty or restraint. No matter how elderly or venerable a person was, if they crossed her, she would violently retaliate without a shred of fear. She didn't even spare Inna Mari from her toxic outbursts, let alone the rest of the extended family.
Time marched on in this hostile environment, and Luba eventually gave birth to their firstborn son, Suleman (popularly known as Mankas). Four years later, she gave birth to Usman (known as Abba). Following another four-year interval, she delivered a dark-skinned daughter named Hanifa. Two years after that, she gave birth to Safiya, followed by Maryam, then Hanif, then Hafiz, then Abubakar Sadik, and finally their lastborn child, Basma.
The children grew up entirely under the toxic influence of an unprincipled, neglectful mother. They naturally absorbed and mirrored her vile habits, foul language, and complete lack of discipline.
She never bothered to monitor their behavior, let alone reprimand them for wrongdoing. In fact, she frequently enabled and encouraged their delinquent behavior. This absolute lack of maternal guidance was the direct reason the children grew up trapped in such a depraved, dysfunctional lifestyle.
As the years rolled by, Inna Mari attempted to step in—not out of fondness for Luba, but out of a deep concern for the vast lineage being built and a desperate desire to see her grandchildren guided onto a righteous path. But it was an exercise in absolute futility. The moral foundation had been ruined from day one. As the traditional proverb goes: “A tree branch can only be bent while it is still young and green; once it dries and hardens, any attempt to bend it will only snap it in two.”
On the other hand, Baba Mudi adopted an incredibly harsh, unyielding approach with the children. He refused to show them even a glimmer of warmth or affection, relying entirely on extreme physical violence. At the slightest provocation, he would fly into a violent rage and beat the children mercilessly—not an ordinary correction, but a brutal, savage thrashing that frequently left them severely injured and physically scarred.
In later years, as his physical strength began to fail him due to old age, he began delegating the violence. He would order his younger brother, Baba Dan Lami, to brutally thrash the children whenever they committed an infraction.
This extreme, unhinged violence only drove the children further into rebellion, causing them to become thoroughly hardened criminals and outcasts—even though they still harbored a deep, terrifying fear of their father's wrath.
Part 3: Biba's Elegant Transformation and the Village Gossip
A CERTAIN NEIGHBORHOOD
FREE PAGE — PAGE 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Zubairu, what on earth are you trying to do?!" she gasped, her voice trembling with intense panic.
He scrambled to push the young girl off his lap, springing to his feet as he stammered out a series of clumsy, defensive excuses.
"What exactly do you think you saw? I just found her crying, so I was simply comforting her," he muttered, unable to hold her gaze.
"You had better fear the wrath of Allah! Remember that whatever sins you commit in the dark, Allah is watching you, for the Almighty never sleeps nor slumbers," she fired back, her eyes boring into him with deep suspicion and judgment.
He casually shrugged his shoulders with an air of complete indifference, brushing past her toward the exit as he sneered, "I actually came over here to share some wonderful news with you, but you ruined the entire moment with your wild accusations. Since you want to judge me, I'm leaving."
She opened her mouth, fully intending to command him to stop, but before her tongue could form a single word, he vanished out of the front gate.
Watching him leave, she pushed the unsettling interaction aside and walked deeper into the room. There, she found young Salma still sobbing softly, taking deep, shuddering breaths as tear stains streaked across her dusty face.
She glared down at Salma and snapped, "And what is your problem now?! I swear to God, Salma, if you don't put an end to these manipulative, hypocritical crying fits you’ve picked up lately, you and I are going to have a serious problem! If you were a stepdaughter, people would instantly accuse me of abusing or torturing you!"
The young girl fell completely silent, not daring to utter a single word, though her chest continued to heave with silent, shaky breaths.
She aggressively snatched the girl by her arm and yanked her upright. "For heaven's sake, get up let me wash you! I know I just bathed you the day before yesterday, but if I don't give you another bath right now, your hot-tempered, dramatic father will launch into a massive frenzy the moment he gets home."
She led the girl out into the central courtyard and thoroughly bathed her. As she was dressing the child, she suddenly remembered an upcoming wedding for her close friend's younger sister, to which she had been formally invited. She realized with a jolt that she had completely forgotten to inform her husband, Habibu, about it. Nonetheless, she stubbornly resolved in her mind that she was going to attend no matter what; if worst came to worst, she would simply inform him of her departure after he returned home.
Moving with frantic speed, she threw herself into her chores. On this particular day, she swept and scrubbed every single corner of the house until it was absolutely spotless. She then cooked a delicious, premium meal, transferred it into insulated food warmers, and set it neatly on the living room table—hoping this domestic peace offering would soften the blow when he returned to find her gone.
She dished out a portion of the food for herself to eat, served Salma her share, and then rushed into the restroom to take a thorough, refreshing bath. In truth, she hadn't taken a proper, luxurious bath since Basira's wedding, which was the last social event she had attended; every other day spent at home was a complete waste of soap and water, as she usually just did a quick, lazy rinse to wash off the surface dirt.
When she stepped out, she unlocked her wardrobe and dug deep into the very bottom of her clothing chest. She pulled out a stunning, deep purple lace material—a single glance at the fabric made it obvious that it was incredibly high-end and expensive.
She sat before the mirror and meticulously applied her makeup, replicating the glamorous, sharp style she used to wear during her youth. She slipped into the exquisite purple lace dress and tied her headscarf into a flawless, dramatic corporate style. Against her fair complexion, the outfit popped brilliantly, making her look absolutely radiant—like a stunning jewel. Anyone who didn't know her true domestic habits would swear on their life that this breathtaking woman could not possibly be the notorious, slovenly Biba they knew.
She elegantly draped her matching veil over her shoulders, lightly spritzed herself with a subtle perfume, stepped out of her quarters, and securely locked her front door behind her.
Holding Salma by the hand, she marched out of the compound. Salma looked up at her in absolute awe and remarked, "Mama, where are we going? I've never seen you look this beautiful before!"
Biba beamed at the little girl and smiled proudly, "I'm heading to a wedding celebration, Salma."
The little girl’s face lit up with pure joy. "You look so beautiful, Mama! You are completely washed clean and sparkling!"
A wave of intense satisfaction washed over Biba, and she couldn't stop herself from flashing a massive, confident smile.
However, as they turned into the alleyway leading to Yaya Hanne's house, Salma's expression shifted to confusion. "Mama, I thought you said we were going to a wedding?"
"I am indeed going to a wedding, Salma," she replied smoothly, her voice shifting into a soothing, comforting tone. "But I am dropping you off at Yaya Hanne's house so you can wait for me there. I promise I'll bring you back plenty of delicious wedding food and treats, okay?"
The little girl threw a brief tantrum, wanting to go along, but she quickly realized that throwing a fit would not work; instead of taking pity on her, her mother was highly likely to deliver a sharp smack to her face. Realizing the danger, she fell completely silent as they arrived at her aunt's house.
"Oh my goodness! Look at my little sister, all dressed up to the nines! Where on earth are you heading looking like a queen?" Yaya Hanne exclaimed, her face twisting in absolute amazement.
Biba let out a delighted, self-satisfied laugh and replied, "Oh, stop it, sister! Quit teasing me. I am heading to the wedding of my dear friend Hadiza's younger sister, all the way over in the Dagarma neighborhood."
Her older sister warmly wished her a safe journey and a wonderful time, and with that, Biba elegantly swept out of the compound.
Before she could even reach the main road, the neighborhood's notorious gossips were already tracking her every move with narrowed eyes, pointing fingers and mocking her under their breath until she finally reached the tarred street.
As she stood by the roadside waiting to hail a commercial tricycle (Napep), Mamuda (a notorious local tailor and gossip) came strolling down the street. While the other neighbors had merely stared and gossiped silently, Mamuda was incapable of minding his own business and could never let a spectacle pass without making a comment.
He marched right up to her, baring his teeth in a wide, mocking grin. "Well, well, well! Who on earth am I looking at right now? Is this actually our very own Bibalo?"
Biba offered a tight, polite smile and replied coldly, "Yes, it is me. Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon indeed! So, you're heading out for a big occasion, I see? Well, let's just pray that the goalkeeper is fully aware before the striker shoots the ball into the net."
Although Biba was usually dismissed by the neighborhood as a simpleton, today her mind was exceptionally sharp, and she instantly caught the toxic undercurrent of his words. She narrowed her eyes, flashed a sharp, cutting smile, and shot back, "Oh, that is absolutely nothing for you to worry about, mister! You should focus entirely on managing the young female goats grazing in your own courtyard; I've noticed they're already growing ripe and restless..."
She left the insult hanging heavily in the air, instantly flagged down a passing Napep, hopped inside, and rolled away, leaving Mamuda standing frozen on the pavement, his mind racing as he processed her words. “Wait, what exactly did she mean by that?” he thought. Then, the realization hit him like a physical blow—he had several teenage daughters at home, and she had just subtly branded them as loose, restless animals. He felt a surge of deep offense and humiliation wash over him, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it now.
Inside the moving tricycle, Biba was muttering furiously to herself, "You pathetic, worthless hypocrite! He’s basically implying that I sneaked out without my husband's permission! Well, I shouldn't even let him ruin my mood, since I successfully gave him a taste of his own medicine."
The Napep driver listened to her chaotic muttering but wisely chose to keep his mouth shut. He simply shook his head in silent bewilderment, reflecting on the unhinged behavior of modern women. “I swear, these modern times are truly terrifying,” he muttered to himself.
WHO IS BIBA?
HER ORIGINS
Habiba was the biological daughter of Alhaji Sule Ya'u, a well-established resident of the Saminaka neighborhood in the state of MAMBIYA. He was a man of comfortable, moderate means who maintained a polygamous household with two wives: Jimmala and Zaliha. Through them, he fathered ten children.
Jimmala was the senior wife (Uwar Gida) and had five children: Hannatu was her firstborn daughter, followed by Habiba, then Zainab, then Haidar, and finally their lastborn daughter, Sa'adiya. Zaliha, the junior wife, also had five children: three sons and two daughters.
From the outside, life in their compound appeared highly admirable, as the two wives maintained a strong sense of community and cooperative harmony. However, there was a single, glaring problem: Zaliha was an absolute, unmitigated slob. Her private room was completely unenterable, permanently filled with a chaotic mountain of trash, dirty laundry, and unsorted junk. Consequently, it fell squarely upon Jimmala’s shoulders to exert every ounce of her physical strength, alongside her children, to constantly clean and maintain the integrity of the shared household.
When the eldest daughter, Hanne, married and moved out, the heavy burden of cleaning fell entirely on Inna Jimmala and her second daughter, Zainab. This happened because Biba absolutely loathed physical labor and refused to lift a finger around the house. Her mother used to scold her relentlessly, screaming until her voice went hoarse, but she eventually grew completely exhausted and gave up trying to change her lazy daughter.
A year into Hanne's marriage, she gave birth and returned to her paternal home to spend her postpartum recovery period (Zaman Jego). When the time came for her to return to her husband's house, her mother officially handed over the thirteen-year-old Biba to accompany her, so she could help nurse and babysit the newborn. From that pivotal moment onward, Biba’s upbringing was completely transferred into the hands of Hanne and her husband, Aminu, who took full responsibility for her life.
Their father desperately wanted her to return home as she grew older, but he could never bring himself to disrespect his son-in-law, a man he held in exceptionally high regard. He simply could not reject the arrangement his son-in-law had graciously sustained, so he reluctantly allowed Biba to permanently reside with them in the Garwa neighborhood until she reached marriageable age.
Her eventually marriage to Habibu was a union built on pure romance and deep affection. During the peak of her youth, Biba was a thoroughly fashionable, sophisticated young lady who possessed an exceptional talent for grooming and style. Because her brother-in-law, Aminu, pampered and cared for her as if she were his own flesh and blood, she always had the means to look her best.
The story began when Habibu first laid eyes on Biba in their neighborhood, right inside his own brother's compound. From that exact microsecond, a profound love for her was planted in his heart, and he frequently visited Yaya Aminu's house under the guise of family visits just to catch a glimpse of her.
He kept his burning affection hidden for a long time until he could no longer contain it. He finally approached Yaya Hanne to confess his feelings, and she was absolutely thrilled by the news. She deeply respected Habibu's character and knew his respectable lineage, so she immediately shared the news with her husband, Aminu, who was equally delighted. Aminu felt an immense sense of peace knowing that the young girl placed in his custody would eventually be anchored in the safe hands of his own beloved brother.
However, since they still viewed Biba as a bit too young at the time, they advised Habibu to give her a few more years to mature, while he also used the time to financially prepare for a household.
He took their wise counsel and waited patiently for several years. When the relationship matured and became serious, they formally presented the matter to her parents in Saminaka. Since the young couple was deeply in love, the parents happily gave their blessings. The wedding between Habibu and Habiba was officially solemnized on a joyful Saturday—a day that perfectly coincided with her nineteenth birthday.
Following the wedding, the beautiful young bride moved into her independent home, located directly behind the alleyway of Yaya Hanne's compound.
They built a beautiful, peaceful romance, and their home was always immaculately clean, organized, and a true marvel to behold.
Ten months into the marriage, Biba gave birth to a breathtakingly beautiful baby girl, who promised to inherit—and perhaps even surpass—her mother's striking looks. On the day of her naming ceremony, the beautiful baby girl was officially named Salma.
Biba spent her postpartum recovery period at Yaya Hanne's house, and after a few months, she returned to her own matrimonial home. It was from that exact moment onward that minor cracks, domestic arguments, and bitter disputes began to plague the household. This unfortunate shift occurred because Biba suddenly began exhibiting a series of bizarre new habits that she had never possessed during her youth—habits of absolute, gross domestic filthiness.