I was walking through a bustling fruit market when I approached a particular stall overflowing with a vibrant assortment of fresh fruits. Inside, I caught sight of a beautiful young girl. She was dressed in a faded atamfa blouse and skirt. She couldn't have been more than sixteen years old. She was jumping up and down with infectious energy, calling out, "Come and buy! Ours are the sweetest!" As she spoke, a bright smile lit up her face, revealing deep, charming dimples. A small crowd had gathered around, watching her with sheer admiration. She was incredibly beautiful. She would pick up an orange, then a local delicacy, and various other fruits, eloquently explaining their health benefits just to convince people to buy. I, Afrah, decided to follow this beautiful fruit-selling girl to gather this captivating story for my beloved readers. A young man inside the stall called her over. Turning with a smile that only heightened her beauty, she asked, "Ya Habu, are we really closing up already? Look, the market is still full of people. Let’s wait just a little longer, please." Ya Habu looked at her and said, "NI'IMATU, don’t you ever get tired? You’ve been jumping up and down like this since morning." Niimatu burst into a giggle and playfully punched Ya Habu on the arm. "Wallahi, I am not tired at all! Let’s just stay a bit longer, please." Ya Habu laughed. "Honestly, if you were born a boy, you would have made a legendary warrior." Niimatu feigned a frown. "Oh, so you mean I’m not a warrior right now?" She pouted her small lips at him. Ya Habu affectionately tapped her head. "You're only a warrior when it comes to jumping around," he teased, walking outside. Niimatu hissed playfully, then smiled and followed him out. "Umma! Umma! Where are you? We are back!" Niimatu called out as they arrived home. Umma emerged, her face beaming with joy. Niimatu quickly set down the plastic bag she was carrying, rushed over, and wrapped her arms around her mother. Umma smiled warmly. "Niimatu, will you ever grow up?" Niimatu maintained her bright smile, looking up at her mother. "Umma, as long as I am standing before you, I will always be your little girl—even if I give birth to a hundred children of my own." Umma laughed heartily. Ya Habu walked into the courtyard. "Umma, welcome back to the house," he greeted. Umma replied, "Welcome back to you too, Habu." After taking their baths and eating dinner, they sat together in their small courtyard. The ground was bare earth, completely devoid of cement. The walls of the house were heavily dilapidated; though built with blocks, the structure was so ancient that the walls were crumbling and eroded. Ya Habu reached into his pocket, pulled out some money, and handed it to Umma. "Take this. I know Malam Sahabi came by today." Umma sighed. "He did indeed come this afternoon. He made it clear that if we don't have the rent money by tomorrow, we shouldn't let him catch us still living here." Ya Habu shook his head solemnly. "Allah is fully aware of our plight, and we give Him thanks for sparing our lives and granting us good health." Umma added, "To this day, I constantly pray for that servant of Allah who gave you that market stall and provided the capital for your business. He helped us in a tremendous way." "I pray for him every single day too, Umma," Ya Habu replied. Niimatu, who was resting her head on Umma’s lap, had drifted off to sleep. She was snoring softly and tossing and turning. Ya Habu gave her a light swat on her back. "Hey, Mrs. Snorer! Wake up and go to the bedroom." Niimatu sat up, staring at him with a sleepy smile. Ya Habu hissed playfully. "Seriously, don’t you ever get tired of smiling? Don't your cheeks ache?" Umma intervened gently, "Leave her alone, Habu, let her rest. She is trying her absolute best." Niimatu defended herself, saying, "Yaya, I wasn’t even asleep! And when did I ever snore?" Ya Habu stood up and said, "Umma, goodnight. As for you," he pointed a warning finger at Niimatu, "make sure you don't oversleep. Wake up and get ready early." Niimatu flashed a wide grin and pointed to herself. "I am a warrior, Yaya!" Ya Habu hissed softly and walked out to his room. He knew that if he stayed to argue with Niimatu, he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep.
Episode 3
The following morning, Niimatu woke up early. She took her bath and dressed in a red shadda flowing gown. The fabric was red, but one could easily swear it was a completely different color because it was so drastically faded. She peeked into their kitchen, which was constructed out of old makeshift metal containers. The walls were riddled with holes, and thick, billowing smoke filled the air. "Umma, good morning," she greeted. Umma, whose eyes were bloodshot from the stinging smoke, replied, "Niimatu, you're up already? You should have rested a bit longer since your brother isn't awake yet." Niimatu smiled confidently. "Inna, Ya Habu is just lazy! Even at the market, he’s always dozing off. I am practically the backbone of this business of ours, and what's more—" Ya Habu had just walked into the main compound. His room was located just outside the main inner courtyard. Hearing Niimatu gossiping about him, he sneaked up silently behind her and playfully flicked her head. "Ouuuchhh! Ya Habu!" Niimatu cried out. Umma, carrying a small bucket of millet porridge (koko), called out, "Move away from the doorway so I can pass." Niimatu stepped aside, and Ya Habu found a spot to sit. Niimatu approached him, holding her head. "Ya Habu, what did I do to deserve that flick?" Ya Habu smirked. "I caught you red-handed gossiping about me." Niimatu pouted. She then edged closer to Ya Habu, reached out, and playfully yanked a lock of his hair. Habu let out a sharp yelp. "Hey! What is wrong with you?!" Niimatu burst into a fit of laughter. "That’s my revenge!" Umma, who was busy stirring the porridge, said, "Come on, drink your porridge so you can head to the market before the sun gets too hot." They sat down and drank their sorghum porridge, which was their standard breakfast every single morning. It was only on rare occasions, when Allah blessed their sales and they made a good profit, that they could afford to change their menu. Upon arriving at the market, Niimatu immediately went back to advertising their fruits. Some customers came to buy simply to catch a glimpse of her radiant, dimpled smile. By evening, Ya Habu called out to her from across the stall. She answered from deep inside the structure, "I'm here, Yaya." Her hijab had slipped completely to one side. Ya Habu laughed. "I can tell hunger is setting in because you’ve gone completely quiet. There’s no more energy for your usual jumping around, and your hijab is facing east." Niimatu smiled. It was true; she was incredibly hungry. They hadn't eaten a single thing since the morning porridge, and it was now 5:00 PM. Hunger was inevitable. Ya Habu said, "Eat a couple of bananas." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a fifty-Naira note, and handed it to her. "Take this and go to Laure’s stall. Buy us some rice and beans so we can feed our stomachs." She quickly grabbed a banana and began eating it ravenously, as if they weren't the ones selling them. Ya Habu smiled, "Eat slowly, Niina." Niimatu’s mouth was stuffed with banana, but she still managed a wide smile, stretching her hand out for the money. Ya Habu handed it over with a chuckle, "Easy, Niina." She grabbed it quickly and bolted off. As she walked through the market, a bright smile remained fixed on her face. Wherever she passed, people couldn't help but stare at her; she was remarkably beautiful and naturally cheerful. As she was passing by a garden-supply vendor, she wasn't paying attention and accidentally bumped into a woman. The woman's luxury handbag dropped to the ground. Furious, the woman spun around with an expression of intense rage and supreme arrogance. She looked Niimatu up and down disdainfully. "What is wrong with you? Are you blind?!" she hissed, her face contorted in disgust. Niimatu looked up at the woman and gasped, utterly spellbound by her sheer beauty. The woman was lavishly dressed in incredibly expensive, high-end luxury attire, her body glittering with exquisite jewelry. Suddenly, the woman slapped Niimatu across the face. "Hey! Are you deaf?!" Niimatu quickly stammered, "I am so sorry, wallahi, I didn't see you." The woman glared at her with pure hatred. The garden-supply vendor intervened, "Hajiya, please forgive her. The girl is never disrespectful. I am certain she truly didn't see you." The woman hissed loudly. "Get out of my sight, please!" Niimatu hurriedly walked away, looking back at the woman while maintaining her resilient smile. The wealthy woman hissed once more, muttering, "Look at this wretched DAUGHTER OF POVERTY (Yar Talakawa), staring at a person as if she wants to swallow them whole..."
Episode 4
Niimatu went ahead and bought their small portion of rice and beans—a quantity so meager that a single person could eat it all without feeling full. They closed their market stall a bit early that day because foot traffic was light. They arrived home just as the Maghrib call to prayer echoed through the neighborhood. Niimatu was sitting in the middle of Umma’s room, carefully arranging her old school textbooks. This was her daily ritual; she organized them every single night before going to sleep. Umma entered the room carrying a traditional oil lamp. "Niimatu, you know there is no one else here to gather your clothes from the drying line, right?" Niimatu turned around, smiling warmly. "I’ll go get them right now, Umma. I'm just rearranging my school bag. You see, the moment we save up enough for my school fees, I’ll head straight back to class." Umma stared at her silently. She was deeply moved; she hadn't realized that Niimatu still harbored hopes of continuing her education. It had been nearly two years since she was sent away from school. Niimatu gently tapped her mother. "Umma, what are you thinking about? Are you upset with me because I haven't gathered the clothes yet?" Umma forced a gentle smile and patted Niimatu’s head. "I could never be angry with my youngest child. And even if I were, that smile of yours would instantly melt my anger away." Niimatu grinned widely. "Really, Umma?" Umma sat down on their small, thin mattress. "Yes, my dear. Your smile always reminds me so much of your late father." Niimatu quickly rushed over and sat close to her mother. "Was our Baba really like that too? Did he love to smile just like me?" Umma nodded slowly, pulling her close into an embrace. Niimatu whispered, "Umma, you’ve never told us anything about our father. People always whisper that we don’t have a father." Umma quickly brushed away a tear that threatened to spill from her eye. "Niimatu, you have a father, do you hear me?" Niimatu smiled. "I know we do, Umma. After all, there’s no way you could have given birth to us all by yourself." Umma chuckled. "Look at my youngest, talking like a grown-up now." Niimatu pouted playfully, throwing a small tantrum. "I am not grown up yet, Umma!" Umma laughed and stood up. "Alright, get up and gather those clothes before I forget." Aysha was Umma’s real name. Absolutely no one in the area could tell you where she originally came from or what town she belonged to. She had arrived in the town of Suleja when Abubakar (Habu) was just ten years old, and Niimatu was a mere infant. She lived in the house of an elderly woman who had taken her in when she had no roof over her head. They had originally met at a motor park. The elderly woman took care of them for seven years until she passed away. Following her death, her children arrived to divide the inheritance. A man named Sahabi inherited the house where Umma and her children resided. He allowed them to stay, but on one condition: Umma had to agree to marry him. Umma flatly rejected his marriage proposal. Sahabi retaliated by demanding they vacate his property. Umma pleaded with him to let them rent the house instead, promising to pay him a fixed monthly rent. Umma faced unspeakable hardships to feed her children. Despite the poverty, Habu managed to gain admission into a college, while Niimatu was enrolled in primary school. However, Niimatu was constantly sent home from school because she lacked basic materials like textbooks, notebooks, and writing materials. When Habu reached his final year of college, the school demanded a substantial amount of money for their final year examinations. Umma exerted every ounce of her strength to raise the funds, but she failed; help was nowhere to be found. Consequently, Habu dropped out, abandoning all hope of higher education, and began going to the market to earn a meager income just to afford basic food items like seasoning cubes. Similarly, when Niimatu was in Junior Secondary School (JSS2), she was permanently expelled because her tuition fees had never been paid since the day she enrolled. From that fateful day, she never stepped foot in a classroom again. Eventually, Habu crossed paths with a kind-hearted servant of Allah who assisted them. With his help, Habu began selling fruits in the Suleja market. Niimatu persistently begged Umma to let her join Habu at the market. Umma initially refused, but seeing the girl's sheer determination, she finally relented and informed Habu. That was how the two siblings began working together at the fruit stall.
Episode 5
The scene shifts to a massive, ultra-luxurious mansion surrounded by lush green lawns and beautiful flowers. The estate featured a massive swimming pool, an expansive garden, and heavy military security guarding every corner. The estate was divided into two identical structures, both magnificent two-story buildings. In the driveway sat a fleet of high-end luxury vehicles, ranging from Mercedes-Benz to Toyota Prado SUVs. The convoy drove into the estate with sirens blaring. Two elegantly dressed women rushed out of the main mansion. They wore extremely expensive luxury attire, meticulously dolled up as if they were attending a grand, elite occasion. Their faces were bright with joyful smiles; they were clearly ecstatic. As the vehicles parked, military personnel quickly emerged from one of the escort trucks. They marched toward the center luxury vehicle, opened the door, and stood at stiff attention, delivering a formal military salute. It was obvious that whoever was inside held a prominent rank. A remarkably handsome, striking young man stepped out of the vehicle. He was dressed in military camouflage trousers and a fitted white top. He was exceptionally tall, radiating the powerful aura of a confident, elite alpha male. His face was entirely void of smiles—rigid, cold, and intensely disciplined. His medium-sized, beautiful eyes were shrouded behind dark sunglasses. He had a small, well-shaped mouth and a perfectly sculpted, high-bridged nose. His face was completely clean-shaven, though the faint shadow of thick facial hair was visible along his jawline. (O.M.G., even I, Afrah, couldn't help but admire this gorgeous guy!) The two young women rushed toward him. One was fair-skinned like him, while the other possessed a beautiful darker complexion. In unison, they chimed excitedly, "You are welcome, YA PRINCE!!" He removed his sunglasses, spared them a brief, ice-cold glance, and without a single word, marched past them straight into the mansion, his face completely stern. The darker-skinned girl turned to the other. "Zarah, look at the utter humiliation you just brought upon us! He completely dismissed us right in front of his soldiers!" The fair-skinned girl, Zarah, smiled softly and tapped her friend’s shoulder. "Zuby, you talk too much. You already know Ya Prince’s cold nature. Come on, let’s go inside; I just want to catch another glimpse of that cute face of his." She pulled Zuby’s hand, and they hurried inside after him. WHO IS PRINCE? Dear readers, I know you are dying to know his identity. Follow Afrah Luv closely, because the true story of YAR TALAKAWA has only just begun...
Episode 6
As soon as Zuby and Zarah stepped into the living room, they found Ya Prince seated on the couch with Mum and Mami. The girls quietly took their seats, watching him greet his mothers, though his face remained entirely expressionless. Mum looked at Prince with maternal concern. "My son, do you even eat anything at all over there in Lagos?" Mami smiled and added, "Honestly, Prince, you don't look like you eat well at all." Prince stood up, looking at them coldly. "Mum, Mami, please let me freshen up first. I am incredibly hungry right now and cannot engage in a long conversation." Zuby and Zarah exchanged wide-eyed looks, stunned that he maintained his aloof, detached attitude even with his own parents. He had barely taken a step toward the stairs when a beautiful six-year-old boy came sprinting out of a nearby room. "Papa! Papa!" the boy squealed with pure joy. A housemaid dressed in a black-and-white uniform hurried out behind him. The little boy threw his arms around Prince, laughing happily. Mum smiled, "Well, now that Ameer has seen his daddy, he might actually eat a proper meal today." Ameer looked at her and cheered, "Grany, today I will eat whatever you give me!" Mami laughed. "I’ll make you pancakes, and you must finish them all." Ameer grinned widely, showing off his missing teeth. "I will eat them all, Grany Mami!" Zuby and Zarah watched closely, curious to see if Prince would break his rigid exterior and smile at his son. To their surprise, he simply stroked the boy's head gently, took his hand, and walked upstairs with him. Zuby whispered, "Zarah, Ya Prince hasn't changed one bit. Look at that! Even little Ameer, who has been dying to see his Papa, couldn't get a single smile out of that man." Zarah, resting her chin in her hand as she stared dreamily after him, replied, "Ya Prince's cold nature is uniquely his, but honestly, I find him incredibly captivating just the way he is." Zuby stood up. "Come on, let’s go to the bedroom before he catches us lingering here. You know how he can be." Upstairs, Prince was lying on his massive, plush bed, resting before his father and uncles returned so he could go pay his respects. Ameer suddenly burst into the room, ran over, and jumped onto Prince's back, giggling with boundless energy. "Papa, Papa! Are you going to take me out for ice cream today? You can eat pizza!" Prince simply nodded response. Ameer rolled over and lay down beside him, staring at his father’s face. "Papa, guess what?" Prince shook his head slightly. Ameer whispered, "Yesterday, Grany Mami scolded Anty Zarah right here in the living room." Prince opened his eyes wider, looking at his son. "Do you know why she scolded her?" Ameer shook his head, then leaned directly into Prince’s ear. "She went to her friend’s party late at night!" Prince sat up on the bed. He looked at Ameer and asked, "Did she go with Anty Zuby?" Ameer shook his head. He edged even closer to Prince. "Papa, guess what Anty Zuby did this morning?" Prince shook his head. Ameer whispered, "Grany caught her being completely disrespectful to Uncle Fahad!" Prince patted his head. "Good boy. And what about you? What did you do while I was away?" Ameer quickly scrambled off the bed, dashed to the doorway, and yelled, "Papa, I got a five out of ten in math!" He bolted out of the room at lightning speed, knowing exactly how disciplined his Papa could be. Prince muttered with a shadow of a smirk, "Just wait until I get my hands on you." Ya Prince didn't emerge from his bedroom until late evening. He had changed into a set of casual clothes, looking remarkably handsome and commanding. With a stern face, he walked down to the parlor, intending to head over to his father's grand wing. Zarah was lying on the sofa, completely absorbed in watching The Vampire Diaries. She was so distracted that she didn't notice Ya Prince's quiet entrance. Suddenly, a thunderous shout boomed over her: "YOU!!" Zarah jumped up in absolute terror, her heart hammering. "Y-yes, Ya Prince!" Prince glared at her with pure intimidation. Barely opening his lips, he commanded in a cold, grating voice, "Go call Zuby. Both of you meet me in the garden right now!"
2. Chronological Plot Summary
[MARKET STALL] ───► [HOME LIFE] ───► [MARKET CLASH] ───► [SCHOOL CRISIS] ───► [THE MANSION]
Niimatu's vibrant Ancient walls, A wealthy elite Flashbacks reveal An elite military
dimpled marketing poverty, and a slaps Niimatu the siblings' lack prince returns with
wins customers. rent ultimatum. for an accident. of tuition fees. chilling dominance.
The Vibrant Hawker: In a bustling fruit market, 16-year-old Niimatu uses her immense beauty, dimples, and infectious energy to attract large crowds to her brother Ya Habu’s fruit stall.
The Rent Ultimatum: Returning to their dilapidated, crumbling mud-brick home, Ya Habu hands over their meager market earnings to their mother, Umma (Aysha). They discuss a eviction warning from their ruthless landlord, Sahabi, who demands rent or Umma's hand in marriage.
The Market Confrontation: The next day, while running to buy dinner, an ecstatic Niimatu accidentally bumps into an incredibly wealthy, arrogant elite woman. The elite woman slaps Niimatu across the face and insults her as a "wretched daughter of poverty" (Yar Talakawa).
The Shadowy Past: The narrator reveals Umma's mysterious past. She arrived in Suleja years ago as a destitute stranger with a baby. Flashbacks detail how poverty forced both Habu and Niimatu to drop out of higher college and secondary school due to a lack of basic exam and tuition fees.
Enter the Alpha Military Prince: The narrative shifts to an ultra-wealthy, heavily guarded military estate. "Ya Prince," a breathtakingly handsome but intensely cold, rigid military officer, returns home via an armored escort. He maintains his chilling, unsmiling demeanor even toward his wealthy family, setting up a sharp contrast between elite wealth and extreme poverty.
3. Character Insights & Dynamics
Niimatu )
The Dimpled Ray of Sunshine: Despite wearing heavily faded clothes and living in a house with collapsing walls, her signature trait is her unyielding, resilient smile.
The Dreamer: She refuses to let poverty crush her spirit; she meticulously organizes her old school textbooks every night, fiercely believing she will return to school.
Ya Prince
The Clean-Shaven Tyrant: An elite military officer who communicates through glares, single words, and sharp commands. He possesses a massive aura of intimidation.
The Absolute Contrast: While Niimatu uses smiles to navigate her poverty, Prince uses cold silence to navigate his immense wealth, setting up an inevitable clash of worlds.
4. Literary & Cultural Themes
I. Themes
The Wealth-Poverty Dichotomy: The author masterfully contrasts two extreme worlds within Nigeria: the crumbling, smoke-choked makeshift kitchen of Umma with the grand, swimming-pool-adorned military estate of Ya Prince.
Dignity in Destitution: Niimatu’s family refuses to compromise. Umma chooses near-starvation and potential homelessness over a forced marriage to the predatory landlord Sahabi, highlighting the moral purity often attributed to the poor in northern Nigerian literature (littattafan soyayya).
II. Linguistic & Cultural Markers
Atamfa & Shadda: The use of heavily faded atamfa and shadda garments visually signals the family's socioeconomic decline without needing long descriptions.
Koko (Millet Porridge): Serving as their permanent breakfast, this simple meal choice symbolizes the daily struggle for survival, where changing the menu relies entirely on a good day at the market.
ZAMAN PEIROND BOOK COMPELET BY OUM HAIRAN
I was walking through a bustling fruit market when I approached a particular stall overflowing with a vibrant assortment of fresh fruits. Inside, I caught sight of a beautiful young girl. She was dressed in a faded atamfa blouse and skirt. She couldn't have been more than sixteen years old. She was jumping up and down with infectious energy, calling out, "Come and buy! Ours are the sweetest!"
As she spoke, a bright smile lit up her face, revealing deep, charming dimples. A small crowd had gathered around, watching her with sheer admiration. She was incredibly beautiful. She would pick up an orange, then a local delicacy, and various other fruits, eloquently explaining their health benefits just to convince people to buy.
I, Afrah, decided to follow this beautiful fruit-selling girl to gather this captivating story for my beloved readers.
A young man inside the stall called her over. Turning with a smile that only heightened her beauty, she asked, "Ya Habu, are we really closing up already? Look, the market is still full of people. Let’s wait just a little longer, please."
Ya Habu looked at her and said, "NI'IMATU, don’t you ever get tired? You’ve been jumping up and down like this since morning." Niimatu burst into a giggle and playfully punched Ya Habu on the arm. "Wallahi, I am not tired at all! Let’s just stay a bit longer, please." Ya Habu laughed. "Honestly, if you were born a boy, you would have made a legendary warrior."
Niimatu feigned a frown. "Oh, so you mean I’m not a warrior right now?" She pouted her small lips at him. Ya Habu affectionately tapped her head. "You're only a warrior when it comes to jumping around," he teased, walking outside. Niimatu hissed playfully, then smiled and followed him out.
"Umma! Umma! Where are you? We are back!" Niimatu called out as they arrived home.
Umma emerged, her face beaming with joy. Niimatu quickly set down the plastic bag she was carrying, rushed over, and wrapped her arms around her mother. Umma smiled warmly. "Niimatu, will you ever grow up?"
Niimatu maintained her bright smile, looking up at her mother. "Umma, as long as I am standing before you, I will always be your little girl—even if I give birth to a hundred children of my own." Umma laughed heartily.
Ya Habu walked into the courtyard. "Umma, welcome back to the house," he greeted. Umma replied, "Welcome back to you too, Habu."
After taking their baths and eating dinner, they sat together in their small courtyard. The ground was bare earth, completely devoid of cement. The walls of the house were heavily dilapidated; though built with blocks, the structure was so ancient that the walls were crumbling and eroded.
Ya Habu reached into his pocket, pulled out some money, and handed it to Umma. "Take this. I know Malam Sahabi came by today."
Umma sighed. "He did indeed come this afternoon. He made it clear that if we don't have the rent money by tomorrow, we shouldn't let him catch us still living here."
Ya Habu shook his head solemnly. "Allah is fully aware of our plight, and we give Him thanks for sparing our lives and granting us good health."
Umma added, "To this day, I constantly pray for that servant of Allah who gave you that market stall and provided the capital for your business. He helped us in a tremendous way."
"I pray for him every single day too, Umma," Ya Habu replied.
Niimatu, who was resting her head on Umma’s lap, had drifted off to sleep. She was snoring softly and tossing and turning. Ya Habu gave her a light swat on her back. "Hey, Mrs. Snorer! Wake up and go to the bedroom."
Niimatu sat up, staring at him with a sleepy smile. Ya Habu hissed playfully. "Seriously, don’t you ever get tired of smiling? Don't your cheeks ache?"
Umma intervened gently, "Leave her alone, Habu, let her rest. She is trying her absolute best."
Niimatu defended herself, saying, "Yaya, I wasn’t even asleep! And when did I ever snore?"
Ya Habu stood up and said, "Umma, goodnight. As for you," he pointed a warning finger at Niimatu, "make sure you don't oversleep. Wake up and get ready early." Niimatu flashed a wide grin and pointed to herself. "I am a warrior, Yaya!" Ya Habu hissed softly and walked out to his room. He knew that if he stayed to argue with Niimatu, he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep.
Episode 3
The following morning, Niimatu woke up early. She took her bath and dressed in a red shadda flowing gown. The fabric was red, but one could easily swear it was a completely different color because it was so drastically faded. She peeked into their kitchen, which was constructed out of old makeshift metal containers. The walls were riddled with holes, and thick, billowing smoke filled the air.
"Umma, good morning," she greeted.
Umma, whose eyes were bloodshot from the stinging smoke, replied, "Niimatu, you're up already? You should have rested a bit longer since your brother isn't awake yet."
Niimatu smiled confidently. "Inna, Ya Habu is just lazy! Even at the market, he’s always dozing off. I am practically the backbone of this business of ours, and what's more—"
Ya Habu had just walked into the main compound. His room was located just outside the main inner courtyard. Hearing Niimatu gossiping about him, he sneaked up silently behind her and playfully flicked her head.
"Ouuuchhh! Ya Habu!" Niimatu cried out.
Umma, carrying a small bucket of millet porridge (koko), called out, "Move away from the doorway so I can pass." Niimatu stepped aside, and Ya Habu found a spot to sit.
Niimatu approached him, holding her head. "Ya Habu, what did I do to deserve that flick?"
Ya Habu smirked. "I caught you red-handed gossiping about me." Niimatu pouted. She then edged closer to Ya Habu, reached out, and playfully yanked a lock of his hair. Habu let out a sharp yelp. "Hey! What is wrong with you?!" Niimatu burst into a fit of laughter. "That’s my revenge!"
Umma, who was busy stirring the porridge, said, "Come on, drink your porridge so you can head to the market before the sun gets too hot." They sat down and drank their sorghum porridge, which was their standard breakfast every single morning. It was only on rare occasions, when Allah blessed their sales and they made a good profit, that they could afford to change their menu.
Upon arriving at the market, Niimatu immediately went back to advertising their fruits. Some customers came to buy simply to catch a glimpse of her radiant, dimpled smile.
By evening, Ya Habu called out to her from across the stall. She answered from deep inside the structure, "I'm here, Yaya." Her hijab had slipped completely to one side.
Ya Habu laughed. "I can tell hunger is setting in because you’ve gone completely quiet. There’s no more energy for your usual jumping around, and your hijab is facing east."
Niimatu smiled. It was true; she was incredibly hungry. They hadn't eaten a single thing since the morning porridge, and it was now 5:00 PM. Hunger was inevitable.
Ya Habu said, "Eat a couple of bananas." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a fifty-Naira note, and handed it to her. "Take this and go to Laure’s stall. Buy us some rice and beans so we can feed our stomachs."
She quickly grabbed a banana and began eating it ravenously, as if they weren't the ones selling them. Ya Habu smiled, "Eat slowly, Niina." Niimatu’s mouth was stuffed with banana, but she still managed a wide smile, stretching her hand out for the money. Ya Habu handed it over with a chuckle, "Easy, Niina." She grabbed it quickly and bolted off.
As she walked through the market, a bright smile remained fixed on her face. Wherever she passed, people couldn't help but stare at her; she was remarkably beautiful and naturally cheerful.
As she was passing by a garden-supply vendor, she wasn't paying attention and accidentally bumped into a woman. The woman's luxury handbag dropped to the ground.
Furious, the woman spun around with an expression of intense rage and supreme arrogance. She looked Niimatu up and down disdainfully. "What is wrong with you? Are you blind?!" she hissed, her face contorted in disgust.
Niimatu looked up at the woman and gasped, utterly spellbound by her sheer beauty. The woman was lavishly dressed in incredibly expensive, high-end luxury attire, her body glittering with exquisite jewelry.
Suddenly, the woman slapped Niimatu across the face. "Hey! Are you deaf?!"
Niimatu quickly stammered, "I am so sorry, wallahi, I didn't see you."
The woman glared at her with pure hatred. The garden-supply vendor intervened, "Hajiya, please forgive her. The girl is never disrespectful. I am certain she truly didn't see you."
The woman hissed loudly. "Get out of my sight, please!" Niimatu hurriedly walked away, looking back at the woman while maintaining her resilient smile.
The wealthy woman hissed once more, muttering, "Look at this wretched DAUGHTER OF POVERTY (Yar Talakawa), staring at a person as if she wants to swallow them whole..."
Episode 4
Niimatu went ahead and bought their small portion of rice and beans—a quantity so meager that a single person could eat it all without feeling full. They closed their market stall a bit early that day because foot traffic was light. They arrived home just as the Maghrib call to prayer echoed through the neighborhood.
Niimatu was sitting in the middle of Umma’s room, carefully arranging her old school textbooks. This was her daily ritual; she organized them every single night before going to sleep.
Umma entered the room carrying a traditional oil lamp. "Niimatu, you know there is no one else here to gather your clothes from the drying line, right?"
Niimatu turned around, smiling warmly. "I’ll go get them right now, Umma. I'm just rearranging my school bag. You see, the moment we save up enough for my school fees, I’ll head straight back to class."
Umma stared at her silently. She was deeply moved; she hadn't realized that Niimatu still harbored hopes of continuing her education. It had been nearly two years since she was sent away from school.
Niimatu gently tapped her mother. "Umma, what are you thinking about? Are you upset with me because I haven't gathered the clothes yet?"
Umma forced a gentle smile and patted Niimatu’s head. "I could never be angry with my youngest child. And even if I were, that smile of yours would instantly melt my anger away."
Niimatu grinned widely. "Really, Umma?"
Umma sat down on their small, thin mattress. "Yes, my dear. Your smile always reminds me so much of your late father."
Niimatu quickly rushed over and sat close to her mother. "Was our Baba really like that too? Did he love to smile just like me?" Umma nodded slowly, pulling her close into an embrace.
Niimatu whispered, "Umma, you’ve never told us anything about our father. People always whisper that we don’t have a father."
Umma quickly brushed away a tear that threatened to spill from her eye. "Niimatu, you have a father, do you hear me?"
Niimatu smiled. "I know we do, Umma. After all, there’s no way you could have given birth to us all by yourself."
Umma chuckled. "Look at my youngest, talking like a grown-up now." Niimatu pouted playfully, throwing a small tantrum. "I am not grown up yet, Umma!" Umma laughed and stood up. "Alright, get up and gather those clothes before I forget."
Aysha was Umma’s real name. Absolutely no one in the area could tell you where she originally came from or what town she belonged to. She had arrived in the town of Suleja when Abubakar (Habu) was just ten years old, and Niimatu was a mere infant. She lived in the house of an elderly woman who had taken her in when she had no roof over her head. They had originally met at a motor park. The elderly woman took care of them for seven years until she passed away.
Following her death, her children arrived to divide the inheritance. A man named Sahabi inherited the house where Umma and her children resided. He allowed them to stay, but on one condition: Umma had to agree to marry him. Umma flatly rejected his marriage proposal. Sahabi retaliated by demanding they vacate his property. Umma pleaded with him to let them rent the house instead, promising to pay him a fixed monthly rent.
Umma faced unspeakable hardships to feed her children. Despite the poverty, Habu managed to gain admission into a college, while Niimatu was enrolled in primary school. However, Niimatu was constantly sent home from school because she lacked basic materials like textbooks, notebooks, and writing materials.
When Habu reached his final year of college, the school demanded a substantial amount of money for their final year examinations. Umma exerted every ounce of her strength to raise the funds, but she failed; help was nowhere to be found. Consequently, Habu dropped out, abandoning all hope of higher education, and began going to the market to earn a meager income just to afford basic food items like seasoning cubes.
Similarly, when Niimatu was in Junior Secondary School (JSS2), she was permanently expelled because her tuition fees had never been paid since the day she enrolled. From that fateful day, she never stepped foot in a classroom again.
Eventually, Habu crossed paths with a kind-hearted servant of Allah who assisted them. With his help, Habu began selling fruits in the Suleja market. Niimatu persistently begged Umma to let her join Habu at the market. Umma initially refused, but seeing the girl's sheer determination, she finally relented and informed Habu. That was how the two siblings began working together at the fruit stall.
Episode 5
The scene shifts to a massive, ultra-luxurious mansion surrounded by lush green lawns and beautiful flowers. The estate featured a massive swimming pool, an expansive garden, and heavy military security guarding every corner. The estate was divided into two identical structures, both magnificent two-story buildings. In the driveway sat a fleet of high-end luxury vehicles, ranging from Mercedes-Benz to Toyota Prado SUVs. The convoy drove into the estate with sirens blaring.
Two elegantly dressed women rushed out of the main mansion. They wore extremely expensive luxury attire, meticulously dolled up as if they were attending a grand, elite occasion. Their faces were bright with joyful smiles; they were clearly ecstatic.
As the vehicles parked, military personnel quickly emerged from one of the escort trucks. They marched toward the center luxury vehicle, opened the door, and stood at stiff attention, delivering a formal military salute. It was obvious that whoever was inside held a prominent rank.
A remarkably handsome, striking young man stepped out of the vehicle. He was dressed in military camouflage trousers and a fitted white top. He was exceptionally tall, radiating the powerful aura of a confident, elite alpha male. His face was entirely void of smiles—rigid, cold, and intensely disciplined. His medium-sized, beautiful eyes were shrouded behind dark sunglasses. He had a small, well-shaped mouth and a perfectly sculpted, high-bridged nose. His face was completely clean-shaven, though the faint shadow of thick facial hair was visible along his jawline.
(O.M.G., even I, Afrah, couldn't help but admire this gorgeous guy!)
The two young women rushed toward him. One was fair-skinned like him, while the other possessed a beautiful darker complexion. In unison, they chimed excitedly, "You are welcome, YA PRINCE!!"
He removed his sunglasses, spared them a brief, ice-cold glance, and without a single word, marched past them straight into the mansion, his face completely stern.
The darker-skinned girl turned to the other. "Zarah, look at the utter humiliation you just brought upon us! He completely dismissed us right in front of his soldiers!"
The fair-skinned girl, Zarah, smiled softly and tapped her friend’s shoulder. "Zuby, you talk too much. You already know Ya Prince’s cold nature. Come on, let’s go inside; I just want to catch another glimpse of that cute face of his." She pulled Zuby’s hand, and they hurried inside after him.
WHO IS PRINCE?
Dear readers, I know you are dying to know his identity. Follow Afrah Luv closely, because the true story of YAR TALAKAWA has only just begun...
Episode 6
As soon as Zuby and Zarah stepped into the living room, they found Ya Prince seated on the couch with Mum and Mami. The girls quietly took their seats, watching him greet his mothers, though his face remained entirely expressionless.
Mum looked at Prince with maternal concern. "My son, do you even eat anything at all over there in Lagos?"
Mami smiled and added, "Honestly, Prince, you don't look like you eat well at all."
Prince stood up, looking at them coldly. "Mum, Mami, please let me freshen up first. I am incredibly hungry right now and cannot engage in a long conversation."
Zuby and Zarah exchanged wide-eyed looks, stunned that he maintained his aloof, detached attitude even with his own parents.
He had barely taken a step toward the stairs when a beautiful six-year-old boy came sprinting out of a nearby room. "Papa! Papa!" the boy squealed with pure joy. A housemaid dressed in a black-and-white uniform hurried out behind him.
The little boy threw his arms around Prince, laughing happily. Mum smiled, "Well, now that Ameer has seen his daddy, he might actually eat a proper meal today."
Ameer looked at her and cheered, "Grany, today I will eat whatever you give me!"
Mami laughed. "I’ll make you pancakes, and you must finish them all." Ameer grinned widely, showing off his missing teeth. "I will eat them all, Grany Mami!"
Zuby and Zarah watched closely, curious to see if Prince would break his rigid exterior and smile at his son. To their surprise, he simply stroked the boy's head gently, took his hand, and walked upstairs with him.
Zuby whispered, "Zarah, Ya Prince hasn't changed one bit. Look at that! Even little Ameer, who has been dying to see his Papa, couldn't get a single smile out of that man."
Zarah, resting her chin in her hand as she stared dreamily after him, replied, "Ya Prince's cold nature is uniquely his, but honestly, I find him incredibly captivating just the way he is."
Zuby stood up. "Come on, let’s go to the bedroom before he catches us lingering here. You know how he can be."
Upstairs, Prince was lying on his massive, plush bed, resting before his father and uncles returned so he could go pay his respects.
Ameer suddenly burst into the room, ran over, and jumped onto Prince's back, giggling with boundless energy. "Papa, Papa! Are you going to take me out for ice cream today? You can eat pizza!"
Prince simply nodded response. Ameer rolled over and lay down beside him, staring at his father’s face. "Papa, guess what?"
Prince shook his head slightly. Ameer whispered, "Yesterday, Grany Mami scolded Anty Zarah right here in the living room."
Prince opened his eyes wider, looking at his son. "Do you know why she scolded her?" Ameer shook his head, then leaned directly into Prince’s ear. "She went to her friend’s party late at night!"
Prince sat up on the bed. He looked at Ameer and asked, "Did she go with Anty Zuby?"
Ameer shook his head. He edged even closer to Prince. "Papa, guess what Anty Zuby did this morning?" Prince shook his head. Ameer whispered, "Grany caught her being completely disrespectful to Uncle Fahad!"
Prince patted his head. "Good boy. And what about you? What did you do while I was away?"
Ameer quickly scrambled off the bed, dashed to the doorway, and yelled, "Papa, I got a five out of ten in math!" He bolted out of the room at lightning speed, knowing exactly how disciplined his Papa could be.
Prince muttered with a shadow of a smirk, "Just wait until I get my hands on you."
Ya Prince didn't emerge from his bedroom until late evening. He had changed into a set of casual clothes, looking remarkably handsome and commanding. With a stern face, he walked down to the parlor, intending to head over to his father's grand wing.
Zarah was lying on the sofa, completely absorbed in watching The Vampire Diaries. She was so distracted that she didn't notice Ya Prince's quiet entrance.
Suddenly, a thunderous shout boomed over her: "YOU!!"
Zarah jumped up in absolute terror, her heart hammering. "Y-yes, Ya Prince!"
Prince glared at her with pure intimidation. Barely opening his lips, he commanded in a cold, grating voice, "Go call Zuby. Both of you meet me in the garden right now!"
2. Chronological Plot Summary
Enter the Alpha Military Prince: The narrative shifts to an ultra-wealthy, heavily guarded military estate. "Ya Prince," a breathtakingly handsome but intensely cold, rigid military officer, returns home via an armored escort. He maintains his chilling, unsmiling demeanor even toward his wealthy family, setting up a sharp contrast between elite wealth and extreme poverty.
3. Character Insights & Dynamics
Niimatu )
The Dreamer: She refuses to let poverty crush her spirit; she meticulously organizes her old school textbooks every night, fiercely believing she will return to school.
Ya Prince
The Absolute Contrast: While Niimatu uses smiles to navigate her poverty, Prince uses cold silence to navigate his immense wealth, setting up an inevitable clash of worlds.
4. Literary & Cultural Themes
I. Themes
Dignity in Destitution: Niimatu’s family refuses to compromise. Umma chooses near-starvation and potential homelessness over a forced marriage to the predatory landlord Sahabi, highlighting the moral purity often attributed to the poor in northern Nigerian literature (littattafan soyayya).
II. Linguistic & Cultural Markers