The man ran out of a small hut toward a group of men as if his legs might snap. Upon reaching them, he skidded to a stop, bending over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.
One of them looked up quickly, while the rest acted as if they hadn’t even noticed him—they already knew why he had come. Looking distressed, one man asked, “Is everything alright, Dan Baba?”
Still panting, Dan Baba looked up. As his eyes met his brother's, he burst into a painful cry. “She can’t give birth this time either... please help me take her to the hospital, for God’s sake!”
A heavy silence fell over the seven men, who were his paternal half-brothers. Finally, the eldest—the only one who had acknowledged him since he arrived—said, “Dan Baba, if I had a way to help, I would. I’m sorry.”
The young man, barely twenty-seven years old, collapsed to his knees. He grabbed his brother's feet, sobbing. “Don’t let me lose this birth too—this is the eighth time! Don't let this child go like the others!”
One of the other brothers barked at him, “Should we go and steal for you? What do you want us to do? Get out of here before I kick you, I swear!”
Realizing he was wasting time and no one would help, he decided to return to his wife to pray over her, hoping God would have mercy. Even the villagers shunned him. Ever since it was rumored that he killed their father, he had become an outcast. Only his eldest brother and a midwife—whom his mother had trained—offered him any kindness. Even the village head protected him only because he refused to believe Dan Baba killed his father.
As he approached his hut, he saw the midwife emerge. Her hands were covered in blood, and her face was grim. Their eyes met, and he knew. He collapsed, wailing.
The woman sighed heavily and said, “I am sorry to inform you that your son died. He likely passed five days ago when I stopped feeling movement. The signs of **sepsis** are visible on her; the fetus has already begun to decompose inside her. She is bleeding heavily and has no strength left to push.”
She continued, “Hunger and poor health killed this child. If she had been taken to the hospital last week when she was fainting, they could have saved them through surgery or induced labor. But now, she is too weak to even breathe, let alone push.”
The midwife concluded, “I have done everything I can. I know you have no money to pay me. My advice? Stop trying to have children. Your wife has no physical strength left. If she conceives again, she likely won't survive the first three months. You must find money immediately to take her to a hospital to remove the fetus and check her womb before it rots completely.”
As she walked away, she muttered to herself, “The blood of your father will never let you rest.”
## Part 2: The Mysterious Voices
Dan Baba sat on the ground and cried like a small child. He and his wife were both orphans who grew up in hardship. They shared a desperate, almost obsessive love for children, despite their crushing poverty. At that moment, he owned only three sets of clothes; his wife had only two, which were tattered and torn. Sometimes they went three days without food, eating scraps from refuse heaps.
He entered the hut to find his wife lying in blood, weeping. He held her, both of them trembling. Suddenly, they both began to hear voices in their heads—a phenomenon that had started four days prior.
> “Trust us. We will bring your child back. We will give you wealth and endless children. All we ask is for one of your blood to serve us. If you agree, the world will be proud of you.”
>
They snapped out of it at the same time, terrified. Neither wanted to admit what they heard, fearing it was *shirka* (polytheism/idolatry). But then, the wife let out a scream and began to labor again.
To their shock, the baby's head appeared. Unlike the midwife's description of a decomposing corpse, the child looked healthy. The voices returned, screaming:
> “Cooperate and your child lives! Refuse, and you lose him like the rest! He is already ours!”
>
Rain began to pour. Dan Baba tried to run for the midwife, but he became disoriented, as if hitting invisible walls. He covered his ears to block the voices, but they only grew louder. He looked at his wife—the baby’s head was out, but the rest was stuck. They were caught between a supernatural bargain and a physical tragedy.
## Part 3: Present Day (Kano)
The scene shifts to **Legislative Quarters, Farawa, Kano**.
A man stands in a beautiful garden, looking lost in thought. Though he appears strong, he is internally crumbling. A woman approaches and says, “Assalamu Alaikum.”
This is **Amal**. The man is overwhelmed by his love for her but also by the memory of "horrible things" she supposedly did. He treats her coldly, pretending not to recognize her to protect her from a "curse" or "predatory illness" (*maita*) he believes he carries.
He tells her, “Give me the message, Amal. I need to get back to my wife.”
Amal breaks down in tears. She returns home to **Mariri**, where she finds a crowd. Her sister, **Aliya**, had given birth. Initially, both mother and child were declared dead, but Aliya "woke up" during her funeral bath. However, the baby stayed dead, and Aliya is refusing to let the body go.
Amal’s mother (**Anne**) had fainted from the shock. The story ends with Anne waking up and rushing out of her room in a frenzy as the family struggles with the grief and the bizarre circumstances of the "resurrected" mother and the dead child.
The Tragedy of Dan Baba
The man ran out of a small hut toward a group of men as if his legs might snap. Upon reaching them, he skidded to a stop, bending over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.
One of them looked up quickly, while the rest acted as if they hadn’t even noticed him—they already knew why he had come. Looking distressed, one man asked, “Is everything alright, Dan Baba?”
Still panting, Dan Baba looked up. As his eyes met his brother's, he burst into a painful cry. “She can’t give birth this time either... please help me take her to the hospital, for God’s sake!”
A heavy silence fell over the seven men, who were his paternal half-brothers. Finally, the eldest—the only one who had acknowledged him since he arrived—said, “Dan Baba, if I had a way to help, I would. I’m sorry.”
The young man, barely twenty-seven years old, collapsed to his knees. He grabbed his brother's feet, sobbing. “Don’t let me lose this birth too—this is the eighth time! Don't let this child go like the others!”
One of the other brothers barked at him, “Should we go and steal for you? What do you want us to do? Get out of here before I kick you, I swear!”
Realizing he was wasting time and no one would help, he decided to return to his wife to pray over her, hoping God would have mercy. Even the villagers shunned him. Ever since it was rumored that he killed their father, he had become an outcast. Only his eldest brother and a midwife—whom his mother had trained—offered him any kindness. Even the village head protected him only because he refused to believe Dan Baba killed his father.
As he approached his hut, he saw the midwife emerge. Her hands were covered in blood, and her face was grim. Their eyes met, and he knew. He collapsed, wailing.
The woman sighed heavily and said, “I am sorry to inform you that your son died. He likely passed five days ago when I stopped feeling movement. The signs of **sepsis** are visible on her; the fetus has already begun to decompose inside her. She is bleeding heavily and has no strength left to push.”
She continued, “Hunger and poor health killed this child. If she had been taken to the hospital last week when she was fainting, they could have saved them through surgery or induced labor. But now, she is too weak to even breathe, let alone push.”
The midwife concluded, “I have done everything I can. I know you have no money to pay me. My advice? Stop trying to have children. Your wife has no physical strength left. If she conceives again, she likely won't survive the first three months. You must find money immediately to take her to a hospital to remove the fetus and check her womb before it rots completely.”
As she walked away, she muttered to herself, “The blood of your father will never let you rest.”
## Part 2: The Mysterious Voices
Dan Baba sat on the ground and cried like a small child. He and his wife were both orphans who grew up in hardship. They shared a desperate, almost obsessive love for children, despite their crushing poverty. At that moment, he owned only three sets of clothes; his wife had only two, which were tattered and torn. Sometimes they went three days without food, eating scraps from refuse heaps.
He entered the hut to find his wife lying in blood, weeping. He held her, both of them trembling. Suddenly, they both began to hear voices in their heads—a phenomenon that had started four days prior.
> “Trust us. We will bring your child back. We will give you wealth and endless children. All we ask is for one of your blood to serve us. If you agree, the world will be proud of you.”
>
They snapped out of it at the same time, terrified. Neither wanted to admit what they heard, fearing it was *shirka* (polytheism/idolatry). But then, the wife let out a scream and began to labor again.
To their shock, the baby's head appeared. Unlike the midwife's description of a decomposing corpse, the child looked healthy. The voices returned, screaming:
> “Cooperate and your child lives! Refuse, and you lose him like the rest! He is already ours!”
>
Rain began to pour. Dan Baba tried to run for the midwife, but he became disoriented, as if hitting invisible walls. He covered his ears to block the voices, but they only grew louder. He looked at his wife—the baby’s head was out, but the rest was stuck. They were caught between a supernatural bargain and a physical tragedy.
## Part 3: Present Day (Kano)
The scene shifts to **Legislative Quarters, Farawa, Kano**.
A man stands in a beautiful garden, looking lost in thought. Though he appears strong, he is internally crumbling. A woman approaches and says, “Assalamu Alaikum.”
This is **Amal**. The man is overwhelmed by his love for her but also by the memory of "horrible things" she supposedly did. He treats her coldly, pretending not to recognize her to protect her from a "curse" or "predatory illness" (*maita*) he believes he carries.
He tells her, “Give me the message, Amal. I need to get back to my wife.”
Amal breaks down in tears. She returns home to **Mariri**, where she finds a crowd. Her sister, **Aliya**, had given birth. Initially, both mother and child were declared dead, but Aliya "woke up" during her funeral bath. However, the baby stayed dead, and Aliya is refusing to let the body go.
Amal’s mother (**Anne**) had fainted from the shock. The story ends with Anne waking up and rushing out of her room in a frenzy as the family struggles with the grief and the bizarre circumstances of the "resurrected" mother and the dead child.