The way my body was trembling and shivering violently, as if someone was beating a drum for me in a ’yan bori shrine, was enough to show you the extreme terror and fear I was in—fear beyond description. Cold sweat poured all over me, from the crown of my head down to the soles of my feet, as if I had swallowed a scorpion. I didn’t even realize I had urinated until a heavy slap landed on me so hard that I literally saw stars. In a terrifying voice, he said:
“By your father, you even pissed yourself and it ran down to my leg?”
Another violent jolt went through my body, as if I had been electrocuted. I shook my head rapidly, crying uncontrollably, saying:
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
With the beating they gave our father, I never thought he would be able to move even a finger again. But with the courage of a firm and responsible father, he struggled to lift himself and said:
“Please, whatever you want to do to me, do it—but I beg you, don’t touch my wife and my children. Take me away the way you want, but please don’t harm my family…”
Bang!
We heard a terrible sound that shook the soul of anyone alive, crashing into our ears like a thunderbolt. It was a gunshot—fired straight into Baba’s chest. They killed him instantly.
I let out a wild scream and collapsed lifelessly onto Baba’s corpse.
Mama uttered words as she fell to her knees, saying:
“La ilaha illallah, Muhammadur Rasulullah (peace be upon him). O Allah, reward me in my calamity and replace it with something better. That’s it, Malam Jafar—you have borne witness and departed, leaving me in this world with Bahiyya and Nuhaira…”
Nuhaira, who had curled herself against Mama, shut her eyes tightly and didn’t move at all, except for her crying that clearly showed pure fear and panic. Seeing Baba lying dead on the ground, the fear suddenly overwhelmed her; she threw herself onto Baba, crying pitifully.
After that, they gathered all the money they had taken from Baba and Mama and left the house immediately.
“Baba… please wake up, Baba… woe is me, Baba…”
Nuhaira shook violently, crying:
“Aunty Bahiyya! Aunty Bahiyya, please wake up—you’re dreaming!”
I jolted awake and pulled her tightly into my arms, holding her firmly as I said:
“Nuhaira… Baba… Baba is gone. They’ve taken his body away. He won’t come back…”
Mama pulled aside the curtain of our room and checked the time on her small phone screen—it was almost one o’clock in the morning. She entered the room angrily and shouted at me:
“Bahiyya, won’t you hand your matter over to Allah? It is God who tests His servants as He wills. Whether He gives or withholds, it is all by His power. Jafar was His servant; He brought him into this world and He took him back. Your crying and screaming—whatever you do—will not bring him back to this world. It’s better you change your ways early.”
Through pitiful sobs, still clinging to Nuhaira, I shook my head and said:
“By Allah, Mama, it’s not my fault. There’s no night I sleep without dreaming of that dark day when Baba was killed—a day I will never forget until I return to my Creator…”
Mama’s body went cold. Slowly, she came and sat beside us, lowering her voice as she said:
“Bahiyya, be patient. I know it’s very painful, but whatever you do, the dead will not return. I’ve told you many times to make adhkar your companion. Perform ablution before sleeping, pray, wake up at night to pray, and ask Allah to forgive him. That is what you can do for him—ensure he left behind children who pray for him. In the morning, be patient and lighten your heart like your sister does. Life cannot continue this way. You must learn to live, however life comes. We have truly lost our pillar, our support—but what can we do? This is our destiny, and we must accept it with gratitude, and then plan how to continue living in peace. So please, Bahiyya, reduce this worry in your heart. It has been over a year now—you should try to accept it, because you know better than anyone that the dead do not return.”
I stood up, went outside weakly, performed ablution, returned, spread my prayer mat, and began voluntary prayers. Mama remained seated, deep in thought, burdened by what was in her heart.
When she saw I was fully engaged in prayer, she stood up and went to her room. Nuhaira also prepared herself and lay down, closing her eyes while reflecting on our past life, until sleep quietly stole her away.
---
The Next Day
The next morning, Nuhaira and I completed our usual morning routine. After we finished, I noticed it was almost ten o’clock and Mama still hadn’t come out, so I went into her room and said:
“Mama, are you okay? You haven’t come out yet, and your kunu is already getting cold.”
She lifted her head from where she was lying and said:
“Bahiyya, the chest pain I told you about—I’ve had it for two days now, and today it’s getting worse.”
Worried, I said:
“Subhanallah! Sorry, Mama. I’ll go to the chemist and get medicine for you. Nuhaira will go to the market since all the soup ingredients are finished and people keep coming. We can’t wait until market day without ingredients.”
She asked:
“Then who will grind with the machine? I can hear children gathered outside.”
“I’ll do the grinding today, Mama. Nuhaira will buy the ingredients. They’ll have to be patient and take their grinding elsewhere until evening.”
She slowly sat up and said:
“No. Go and get the medicine for me. If the pain eases, I’ll grind for them. You should also go and braid Malama’s hair—she sent for you since yesterday.”
I stood up and said:
“Ah! I totally forgot about Malama’s braiding. I’ll hurry and come back.”
After I left, Nuhaira entered the room holding money and said:
“Sorry, Mama. How are you feeling?”
Mama replied:
“I’m fine, Alhamdulillah. How much money have you gathered?”
As she counted it, Nuhaira said:
“Eleven thousand naira, plus seven hundred for fresh vegetables, and seven thousand for seasoning and groceries.”
Mama said:
“Hurry, please, Nuhaira. Don’t stop anywhere. Do it quickly and come back so people won’t be waiting.”
Nuhaira put on her hijab and left, saying:
“In sha Allah, like lightning, Mama—you’ll see I’m back quickly. Pray for me.”
“May Allah protect you and bring you back safely.”
Within twenty minutes, I returned home. I gave Mama her kunu, her tablets and liquid medicine, then prepared to go to Malama Rabi’s house.
By Allah’s will, the pain gradually subsided, allowing Mama to get up and grind for the children. Mama has always been a hustler—even when Baba was alive and had his shop, she never stopped working. Now that he’s gone, she has to work even harder to care for us.
---
Life Camp, Abuja – Hanifah
She lay stretched out on a large cushion in the living room, watching a Korean film with complete relaxation and happiness. The room was spotless, shining as if newly created. Cool air from the AC mixed with the soothing scent of expensive perfumes, creating calmness for anyone inside. Her laptop and phones lay beside her. The way she watched so comfortably made it clear she had no worries in the world.
Hearing her husband come out, she quickly stood up with a charming smile and said:
“You’re out already?”
He glanced at his expensive wristwatch and smiled back.
“It’s almost 9:00am, Hanifah. I’m already late. I told you since yesterday the meeting is at 10:00am, but you still managed to delay me. Mahi is waiting for me, so skip the breakfast. Just arrange lunch before I return.”
She laughed.
“Sure. Even if you come back and don’t meet me, the food will be ready. I’m going to meet Rasi’ah about our Cyprus trip.”
He gave her a side hug, kissed her forehead, and hurried off saying:
“Let’s catch up on the phone, Hanifah. Mahi keeps calling me.”
“Okay, bye.”
She watched him until he disappeared, smiled, and returned to her cushion to continue watching TV.
---
Farooq
Around 1:30pm, after returning from Zuhr prayer and eating lunch Mahid had ordered, Mahid said:
“I never thought the meeting would go this smoothly. At first, those people seemed difficult.”
Farooq laughed.
“That’s life’s challenge. We must always plan how to deal with business partners, and also prepare for disappointment when things don’t go as expected. At first glance, they seemed unfriendly, but see how it ended.”
Mahid nodded.
“True. Like the saying, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover.’ By the way, where’s Madinah? It’s been two days.”
Farooq sighed softly, smiling.
“She’s fine. I miss the old woman, honestly. Work hasn’t allowed me to visit her, and she deliberately refuses to come to Abuja—says she won’t stay with me.”
Mahid looked at him confidently and said:
“Why would she stay with you? There can’t be peace between her and Hanifah. If you had children, maybe for their sake she would.”
Farooq scoffed.
“Children? It’s not about that—she just doesn’t want to come.”
Mahid replied firmly:
“Even if she hasn’t said it, I know she desires children. Seven years of marriage! At least think logically. You alone raised her hopes. The happiest thing for her would be to see you with children.”
Farooq raised his hand.
“Please, Mahi. Drop this topic. Hanifah is enough for me—she and Madinah. I had nothing in life until Hanifah. She gives me everything. We lack nothing.”
Mahid stood up angrily, pushing his spoon aside.
“Stop this nonsense, Farooq. What’s the benefit of marriage without children? The Prophet (peace be upon him) encouraged marriage and procreation. And he told us that after death, only three things benefit a person: continuous charity, righteous children who pray for him, and beneficial knowledge. If you don’t have children, who will pray for you when you die? Leave this misguided ideology before it’s too late. Children are the joy of their parents if raised rightly.”
He gathered his things and left the office.
Farooq, filled with anger, said…
---
(Payment and author notes follow)
---
Later – Bahiyya
Around 5pm, I returned home exhausted and sat under the tree where they had spread a mat.
“Oh Allah! I’m so tired. My body feels beaten. Henna and braiding are hard work…”
Nuhaira laughed.
“But at least there’s money. Even though people don’t like paying much—they just beg you because of familiarity.”
Mama shook her head.
“You’re still young. Even ten naira is better than idleness. With patience, ten naira becomes a hundred.”
Excitedly, I said:
“Mama, I forgot to tell you—Malama said she’ll start taking me into town to braid and apply henna for her clients since Maryam got married. She says people keep calling her.”
Nuhaira clapped.
“Great! May Allah open the way for you to earn good money. People value hard work. That’s why they envy Maryam—now she works in big houses in Abuja.”
Mama interrupted:
“Nuhaira, go and check the stew.”
Later, Mama spoke of returning us to school. Mentioning Baba made my heart ache and tears flowed.
“Baba’s death still feels fresh every day…”
Mama replied:
“He didn’t fail. He raised you well. What he needs now is prayers.”
---
Farooq (Later)
Farooq returned home at 7pm, drained. Seeing Hanifah erased his worries. After praying, she entered the room dressed seductively. Her presence overwhelmed him.
“Welcome back, Mr. Charming.”
He was silent. She asked:
“Any problem?”
He whispered:
“I need you, Hanifah…”
She kissed him passionately. That night, he satisfied all his desire with her. Afterward, holding her gently, he finally spoke…
The way my body was trembling and shivering violently, as if someone was beating a drum for me in a ’yan bori shrine, was enough to show you the extreme terror and fear I was in—fear beyond description. Cold sweat poured all over me, from the crown of my head down to the soles of my feet, as if I had swallowed a scorpion. I didn’t even realize I had urinated until a heavy slap landed on me so hard that I literally saw stars. In a terrifying voice, he said:
“By your father, you even pissed yourself and it ran down to my leg?”
Another violent jolt went through my body, as if I had been electrocuted. I shook my head rapidly, crying uncontrollably, saying:
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
With the beating they gave our father, I never thought he would be able to move even a finger again. But with the courage of a firm and responsible father, he struggled to lift himself and said:
“Please, whatever you want to do to me, do it—but I beg you, don’t touch my wife and my children. Take me away the way you want, but please don’t harm my family…”
Bang!
We heard a terrible sound that shook the soul of anyone alive, crashing into our ears like a thunderbolt. It was a gunshot—fired straight into Baba’s chest. They killed him instantly.
I let out a wild scream and collapsed lifelessly onto Baba’s corpse.
Mama uttered words as she fell to her knees, saying:
“La ilaha illallah, Muhammadur Rasulullah (peace be upon him). O Allah, reward me in my calamity and replace it with something better. That’s it, Malam Jafar—you have borne witness and departed, leaving me in this world with Bahiyya and Nuhaira…”
Nuhaira, who had curled herself against Mama, shut her eyes tightly and didn’t move at all, except for her crying that clearly showed pure fear and panic. Seeing Baba lying dead on the ground, the fear suddenly overwhelmed her; she threw herself onto Baba, crying pitifully.
After that, they gathered all the money they had taken from Baba and Mama and left the house immediately.
“Baba… please wake up, Baba… woe is me, Baba…”
Nuhaira shook violently, crying:
“Aunty Bahiyya! Aunty Bahiyya, please wake up—you’re dreaming!”
I jolted awake and pulled her tightly into my arms, holding her firmly as I said:
“Nuhaira… Baba… Baba is gone. They’ve taken his body away. He won’t come back…”
Mama pulled aside the curtain of our room and checked the time on her small phone screen—it was almost one o’clock in the morning. She entered the room angrily and shouted at me:
“Bahiyya, won’t you hand your matter over to Allah? It is God who tests His servants as He wills. Whether He gives or withholds, it is all by His power. Jafar was His servant; He brought him into this world and He took him back. Your crying and screaming—whatever you do—will not bring him back to this world. It’s better you change your ways early.”
Through pitiful sobs, still clinging to Nuhaira, I shook my head and said:
“By Allah, Mama, it’s not my fault. There’s no night I sleep without dreaming of that dark day when Baba was killed—a day I will never forget until I return to my Creator…”
Mama’s body went cold. Slowly, she came and sat beside us, lowering her voice as she said:
“Bahiyya, be patient. I know it’s very painful, but whatever you do, the dead will not return. I’ve told you many times to make adhkar your companion. Perform ablution before sleeping, pray, wake up at night to pray, and ask Allah to forgive him. That is what you can do for him—ensure he left behind children who pray for him. In the morning, be patient and lighten your heart like your sister does. Life cannot continue this way. You must learn to live, however life comes. We have truly lost our pillar, our support—but what can we do? This is our destiny, and we must accept it with gratitude, and then plan how to continue living in peace. So please, Bahiyya, reduce this worry in your heart. It has been over a year now—you should try to accept it, because you know better than anyone that the dead do not return.”
I stood up, went outside weakly, performed ablution, returned, spread my prayer mat, and began voluntary prayers. Mama remained seated, deep in thought, burdened by what was in her heart.
When she saw I was fully engaged in prayer, she stood up and went to her room. Nuhaira also prepared herself and lay down, closing her eyes while reflecting on our past life, until sleep quietly stole her away.
---
The Next Day
The next morning, Nuhaira and I completed our usual morning routine. After we finished, I noticed it was almost ten o’clock and Mama still hadn’t come out, so I went into her room and said:
“Mama, are you okay? You haven’t come out yet, and your kunu is already getting cold.”
She lifted her head from where she was lying and said:
“Bahiyya, the chest pain I told you about—I’ve had it for two days now, and today it’s getting worse.”
Worried, I said:
“Subhanallah! Sorry, Mama. I’ll go to the chemist and get medicine for you. Nuhaira will go to the market since all the soup ingredients are finished and people keep coming. We can’t wait until market day without ingredients.”
She asked:
“Then who will grind with the machine? I can hear children gathered outside.”
“I’ll do the grinding today, Mama. Nuhaira will buy the ingredients. They’ll have to be patient and take their grinding elsewhere until evening.”
She slowly sat up and said:
“No. Go and get the medicine for me. If the pain eases, I’ll grind for them. You should also go and braid Malama’s hair—she sent for you since yesterday.”
I stood up and said:
“Ah! I totally forgot about Malama’s braiding. I’ll hurry and come back.”
After I left, Nuhaira entered the room holding money and said:
“Sorry, Mama. How are you feeling?”
Mama replied:
“I’m fine, Alhamdulillah. How much money have you gathered?”
As she counted it, Nuhaira said:
“Eleven thousand naira, plus seven hundred for fresh vegetables, and seven thousand for seasoning and groceries.”
Mama said:
“Hurry, please, Nuhaira. Don’t stop anywhere. Do it quickly and come back so people won’t be waiting.”
Nuhaira put on her hijab and left, saying:
“In sha Allah, like lightning, Mama—you’ll see I’m back quickly. Pray for me.”
“May Allah protect you and bring you back safely.”
Within twenty minutes, I returned home. I gave Mama her kunu, her tablets and liquid medicine, then prepared to go to Malama Rabi’s house.
By Allah’s will, the pain gradually subsided, allowing Mama to get up and grind for the children. Mama has always been a hustler—even when Baba was alive and had his shop, she never stopped working. Now that he’s gone, she has to work even harder to care for us.
---
Life Camp, Abuja – Hanifah
She lay stretched out on a large cushion in the living room, watching a Korean film with complete relaxation and happiness. The room was spotless, shining as if newly created. Cool air from the AC mixed with the soothing scent of expensive perfumes, creating calmness for anyone inside. Her laptop and phones lay beside her. The way she watched so comfortably made it clear she had no worries in the world.
Hearing her husband come out, she quickly stood up with a charming smile and said:
“You’re out already?”
He glanced at his expensive wristwatch and smiled back.
“It’s almost 9:00am, Hanifah. I’m already late. I told you since yesterday the meeting is at 10:00am, but you still managed to delay me. Mahi is waiting for me, so skip the breakfast. Just arrange lunch before I return.”
She laughed.
“Sure. Even if you come back and don’t meet me, the food will be ready. I’m going to meet Rasi’ah about our Cyprus trip.”
He gave her a side hug, kissed her forehead, and hurried off saying:
“Let’s catch up on the phone, Hanifah. Mahi keeps calling me.”
“Okay, bye.”
She watched him until he disappeared, smiled, and returned to her cushion to continue watching TV.
---
Farooq
Around 1:30pm, after returning from Zuhr prayer and eating lunch Mahid had ordered, Mahid said:
“I never thought the meeting would go this smoothly. At first, those people seemed difficult.”
Farooq laughed.
“That’s life’s challenge. We must always plan how to deal with business partners, and also prepare for disappointment when things don’t go as expected. At first glance, they seemed unfriendly, but see how it ended.”
Mahid nodded.
“True. Like the saying, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover.’ By the way, where’s Madinah? It’s been two days.”
Farooq sighed softly, smiling.
“She’s fine. I miss the old woman, honestly. Work hasn’t allowed me to visit her, and she deliberately refuses to come to Abuja—says she won’t stay with me.”
Mahid looked at him confidently and said:
“Why would she stay with you? There can’t be peace between her and Hanifah. If you had children, maybe for their sake she would.”
Farooq scoffed.
“Children? It’s not about that—she just doesn’t want to come.”
Mahid replied firmly:
“Even if she hasn’t said it, I know she desires children. Seven years of marriage! At least think logically. You alone raised her hopes. The happiest thing for her would be to see you with children.”
Farooq raised his hand.
“Please, Mahi. Drop this topic. Hanifah is enough for me—she and Madinah. I had nothing in life until Hanifah. She gives me everything. We lack nothing.”
Mahid stood up angrily, pushing his spoon aside.
“Stop this nonsense, Farooq. What’s the benefit of marriage without children? The Prophet (peace be upon him) encouraged marriage and procreation. And he told us that after death, only three things benefit a person: continuous charity, righteous children who pray for him, and beneficial knowledge. If you don’t have children, who will pray for you when you die? Leave this misguided ideology before it’s too late. Children are the joy of their parents if raised rightly.”
He gathered his things and left the office.
Farooq, filled with anger, said…
---
(Payment and author notes follow)
---
Later – Bahiyya
Around 5pm, I returned home exhausted and sat under the tree where they had spread a mat.
“Oh Allah! I’m so tired. My body feels beaten. Henna and braiding are hard work…”
Nuhaira laughed.
“But at least there’s money. Even though people don’t like paying much—they just beg you because of familiarity.”
Mama shook her head.
“You’re still young. Even ten naira is better than idleness. With patience, ten naira becomes a hundred.”
Excitedly, I said:
“Mama, I forgot to tell you—Malama said she’ll start taking me into town to braid and apply henna for her clients since Maryam got married. She says people keep calling her.”
Nuhaira clapped.
“Great! May Allah open the way for you to earn good money. People value hard work. That’s why they envy Maryam—now she works in big houses in Abuja.”
Mama interrupted:
“Nuhaira, go and check the stew.”
Later, Mama spoke of returning us to school. Mentioning Baba made my heart ache and tears flowed.
“Baba’s death still feels fresh every day…”
Mama replied:
“He didn’t fail. He raised you well. What he needs now is prayers.”
---
Farooq (Later)
Farooq returned home at 7pm, drained. Seeing Hanifah erased his worries. After praying, she entered the room dressed seductively. Her presence overwhelmed him.
“Welcome back, Mr. Charming.”
He was silent. She asked:
“Any problem?”
He whispered:
“I need you, Hanifah…”
She kissed him passionately. That night, he satisfied all his desire with her. Afterward, holding her gently, he finally spoke…