I cried for a long time until I was exhausted. Finally, I got up and wiped my tears. I wanted to perform ablution and pray, but I didn’t know where to start, and I needed to use the bathroom to clean myself first. Realizing that time was slipping away, I stepped outside. The courtyard was crowded with men and women, everyone minding their own business. Neither the men nor the women were dressed modestly or decently. Most of the women wore only chest-wraps, while the men wore shorts that reached their knees; the more "modest" among them wore undershirts. I stood at the doorway for over five minutes, unable to move forward or backward, just watching everyone.
"Madam, is everything alright? You're just standing there staring at us. Is there a problem?" A young woman spoke harshly, as if she were about to hit me. I turned quickly to see who it was. She was a young girl, standing with her hands on her hips, scrutinizing me just as I had been watching her. Before I could say a word, she slapped me hard. I clutched my cheek; the slap was so stinging that tears welled up in my eyes.
“Who do you think you are? I’m speaking to you and you’re just staring at me instead of answering? Tell me who protects you in this house that gives you the nerve to be this disrespectful!”
"What did I do to deserve a slap?" I asked, still holding my cheek. The question seemed to infuriate her further.
"By God! You clearly don't know who you're talking to. You stand there while I'm talking and have the nerve to reply? Today, I’ll show you the end of your arrogance." She grabbed the neck of my hijab so tightly I began to cough. Among the crowd in the courtyard, no one came to my aid. Everyone stayed focused on what they were doing.
"What am I seeing here, Baraka? Are you trying to kill her? Release her!" Hajiya Babba shouted as she emerged from her room, yanking Baraka’s hand away from me. “Baraka, I’ve told you I don’t want trouble in this house. You are the only one I tolerate, but don't give me a headache. Go pack your things and get out of my house right now. We didn't build this house together.”
Baraka began to tremble and fell to the ground, pleading. “For God’s sake, Hajiya, cover my shame! Don't let me be humiliated in front of my enemies. People are just waiting for something like this to start gossiping.”
Angrily, Hajiya replied, "You know I don't forgive and I don't take back my word. Pack and leave. I already have someone else who wants the room." She turned to me. “And you, what do you want?”
I lowered my head. “I need to use the bathroom and perform ablution.”
She pointed a finger at me. “I’m only cutting you some slack because you're a guest and Aminu brought you. I’ll give you water, a kettle, and a blanket. But mark my words: in this house, everything is for sale. You provide everything for yourself, even the water to wash your face. Do you hear me?”
Trembling, I said, "Yes, I hear you. Thank you." Without a word, she went into her room and returned with a mat, a new kettle, and three sachets of "pure water." I knelt to thank her. She ignored me and warned Baraka one last time to be gone before she came back out.
### Part 2: Loneliness and Hunger
I went inside, emptied two sachets of water into the kettle, and drank the third. I went back out but couldn't find the bathroom. I approached some women and greeted them. Instead of responding, they stared at me like I was an alien.
"Please, I’m a stranger here. I’m looking for the bathroom." The three of them burst into laughter, clapping their hands and treating me like a spectacle. Every time they looked at me, they fell into fits of laughter. Exhausted, I left and stood aside.
"Are you looking for something?" someone asked near me. I looked up; she was wearing a white hijab (the "half-sunna" style). I took a deep breath and said, “I’m a stranger, I’m looking for the bathroom.”
She smiled kindly. "Come, let me show you." I followed her to the bathroom door. Seeing a crowd of people standing around, I hesitated. Sensing my fear, she said, “Don't worry, go in. I’ll stand guard; no one will barge in on you.”
My eyes widened. “Barge in on me?”
"That’s just a small part of what people here are capable of. Go on, I’m right here." I nodded, not entirely convinced, and went in. I performed my business and ablution in a state of panic. I thanked her profusely and went to the room I had been given.
I prayed Maghrib and Isha on the mat. Afterward, I sat with my chin in my hand, thinking about the turn my life had taken. As night deepened, a biting hunger took hold of me. I reached for the bag of food Aminu had brought earlier, but it was gone. Everything—including the last sachet of water—had been stolen.
I fell to my knees, sobbing with all my might. The hunger was so intense it felt like my intestines were snapping. I rolled on the floor, clutching my stomach in pain. I couldn't sleep; a fever took over my body, and I struggled to breathe.
### Part 3: The Search (Back at the Other House)
The next morning, Anty Sawwama woke up with energy and started preparing breakfast. Her sons, Umar, Yaya Alhassan, and Amir, came out and greeted her respectfully.
“Umma, why are you cooking yourself? Why didn't you wait for Asma'u to help?”
"I can't wait for her. I want to cook something special for Amatullah; she hasn't eaten properly since this started." She sighed. “My only wish is to see her happy again and to see the person who did this to her punished.”
Amir said, “If I ever see that man, I’ll beat him so badly his own mother wouldn't recognize him!”
"The law will deal with him," Sawwama said. “And not just him—the woman whose house this happened in will also pay.”
They finished cooking together and set the table. "Let me go wake her," Sawwama said. She went to the room, but it was empty. Panic seized her. She checked everywhere—under the mattress, in the kitchen, the store.
“She's not there! Amatullah is gone!”
Alhassan and Amir searched the entire neighborhood and the city, but they returned at Asr time empty-handed. “Umma, we looked everywhere. Where could she go without telling us?”
They wondered if she had gone to her mother's house, but phone calls confirmed she wasn't there. Sawwama was devastated. “Innalillahi wa inna ilaihir raji'un! Where is she?”
Alhassan admitted he was the last to speak to her. “I told her about the marriage proposal, but I didn't force her. I told her to think about it.”
"Maybe she ran away to avoid the marriage," Sawwama suggested.
"Why would she run from me? Do I have a flaw?" Alhassan asked, pained. They searched again until Isha but found nothing. The fear of what Amatullah's mother would do when she found out weighed heavily on them.
### Part 4: The Reality of the "Club" House
The next morning, I could barely open my eyes. I was so weak I couldn't lift a finger. I missed the morning prayer because I couldn't move. My breathing was ragged and scary.
"My God! Are you okay?" It was the girl from the night before—the one in the white hijab. She lifted me up. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?" She rubbed my hands.
"Please... help me with water... so hunger and thirst don't kill me," I whispered through clenched teeth.
She brought me bread and tea. I drank half the tea and started eating the bread ravenously. Suddenly, my stomach cramped painfully, and I rushed outside to vomit everything up. I was completely spent. She helped me clean up, and I performed my missed prayers.
"What is your name?" I asked her.
"My name is La'aniyatu (The Accursed One)," she said.
I was shocked. “La'aniyatu? Do you know what that means?”
“I don't know the meaning. It's just the name my mother gave me. She liked it.”
“Is your mother here?”
“Yes. Hajiya Babba is my mother.”
I broke into a cold sweat. "And my name is Amatullah," I said.
“Where are you from? Your Hausa sounds different. Why did you leave your parents?”
"I'll tell you eventually," I said. “But first, tell me how this house works so I don't get into trouble.”
She looked at me for a long time. “First, everyone here is on their own. Most were kicked out by their parents or did something shameful. Many have their mothers' curses on them, which is why they have no shame. Second, everything is for sale. If you want to survive here, you have to be tough, shameless, and ready to fight anyone who crosses you.”
I clutched my chest. “What kind of life is this? How do these women afford to live here?”
She smiled sadly. “Their bodies are their capital. They sell themselves to satisfy their needs. They deal with powerful, wealthy men. My mother has connections with the big people in this state, which is why she does whatever she wants and no one touches her.”
“You mean... zina (adultery/fornication)?”
“Exactly. And I’m telling you, if you stay here long enough, you'll end up doing the same. It's the only way for a woman to survive in this house.”
I was breathing hard. “Is there no other way? I’ll work as a maid, anything to feed myself!”
“I’m just telling you the reality. If you can't handle it, go back to your parents. A woman’s dignity is best kept at home, no matter how poor they are. I hate seeing young girls like you end up here.”
Just then, the curtain was pulled back and Aminu barged in. “La'aniyatu, are you trying to poison her mind again? When a mouse leaves its hole and jumps into a fire, it’s because it found a heat worse than the fire.”
La'aniyatu rolled her eyes and left. Aminu turned to me. “I didn't come for that. I came to hear your decision.”
I lowered my head. “I will stay.”
"You've made the right choice," he said. “You won't regret it. From the moment I saw you, I knew the street life would fit you like a glove.”
"I didn't come here for the street life!" I interrupted him…
The Arrival and the Confrontation
I cried for a long time until I was exhausted. Finally, I got up and wiped my tears. I wanted to perform ablution and pray, but I didn’t know where to start, and I needed to use the bathroom to clean myself first. Realizing that time was slipping away, I stepped outside. The courtyard was crowded with men and women, everyone minding their own business. Neither the men nor the women were dressed modestly or decently. Most of the women wore only chest-wraps, while the men wore shorts that reached their knees; the more "modest" among them wore undershirts. I stood at the doorway for over five minutes, unable to move forward or backward, just watching everyone.
"Madam, is everything alright? You're just standing there staring at us. Is there a problem?" A young woman spoke harshly, as if she were about to hit me. I turned quickly to see who it was. She was a young girl, standing with her hands on her hips, scrutinizing me just as I had been watching her. Before I could say a word, she slapped me hard. I clutched my cheek; the slap was so stinging that tears welled up in my eyes.
“Who do you think you are? I’m speaking to you and you’re just staring at me instead of answering? Tell me who protects you in this house that gives you the nerve to be this disrespectful!”
"What did I do to deserve a slap?" I asked, still holding my cheek. The question seemed to infuriate her further.
"By God! You clearly don't know who you're talking to. You stand there while I'm talking and have the nerve to reply? Today, I’ll show you the end of your arrogance." She grabbed the neck of my hijab so tightly I began to cough. Among the crowd in the courtyard, no one came to my aid. Everyone stayed focused on what they were doing.
"What am I seeing here, Baraka? Are you trying to kill her? Release her!" Hajiya Babba shouted as she emerged from her room, yanking Baraka’s hand away from me. “Baraka, I’ve told you I don’t want trouble in this house. You are the only one I tolerate, but don't give me a headache. Go pack your things and get out of my house right now. We didn't build this house together.”
Baraka began to tremble and fell to the ground, pleading. “For God’s sake, Hajiya, cover my shame! Don't let me be humiliated in front of my enemies. People are just waiting for something like this to start gossiping.”
Angrily, Hajiya replied, "You know I don't forgive and I don't take back my word. Pack and leave. I already have someone else who wants the room." She turned to me. “And you, what do you want?”
I lowered my head. “I need to use the bathroom and perform ablution.”
She pointed a finger at me. “I’m only cutting you some slack because you're a guest and Aminu brought you. I’ll give you water, a kettle, and a blanket. But mark my words: in this house, everything is for sale. You provide everything for yourself, even the water to wash your face. Do you hear me?”
Trembling, I said, "Yes, I hear you. Thank you." Without a word, she went into her room and returned with a mat, a new kettle, and three sachets of "pure water." I knelt to thank her. She ignored me and warned Baraka one last time to be gone before she came back out.
### Part 2: Loneliness and Hunger
I went inside, emptied two sachets of water into the kettle, and drank the third. I went back out but couldn't find the bathroom. I approached some women and greeted them. Instead of responding, they stared at me like I was an alien.
"Please, I’m a stranger here. I’m looking for the bathroom." The three of them burst into laughter, clapping their hands and treating me like a spectacle. Every time they looked at me, they fell into fits of laughter. Exhausted, I left and stood aside.
"Are you looking for something?" someone asked near me. I looked up; she was wearing a white hijab (the "half-sunna" style). I took a deep breath and said, “I’m a stranger, I’m looking for the bathroom.”
She smiled kindly. "Come, let me show you." I followed her to the bathroom door. Seeing a crowd of people standing around, I hesitated. Sensing my fear, she said, “Don't worry, go in. I’ll stand guard; no one will barge in on you.”
My eyes widened. “Barge in on me?”
"That’s just a small part of what people here are capable of. Go on, I’m right here." I nodded, not entirely convinced, and went in. I performed my business and ablution in a state of panic. I thanked her profusely and went to the room I had been given.
I prayed Maghrib and Isha on the mat. Afterward, I sat with my chin in my hand, thinking about the turn my life had taken. As night deepened, a biting hunger took hold of me. I reached for the bag of food Aminu had brought earlier, but it was gone. Everything—including the last sachet of water—had been stolen.
I fell to my knees, sobbing with all my might. The hunger was so intense it felt like my intestines were snapping. I rolled on the floor, clutching my stomach in pain. I couldn't sleep; a fever took over my body, and I struggled to breathe.
### Part 3: The Search (Back at the Other House)
The next morning, Anty Sawwama woke up with energy and started preparing breakfast. Her sons, Umar, Yaya Alhassan, and Amir, came out and greeted her respectfully.
“Umma, why are you cooking yourself? Why didn't you wait for Asma'u to help?”
"I can't wait for her. I want to cook something special for Amatullah; she hasn't eaten properly since this started." She sighed. “My only wish is to see her happy again and to see the person who did this to her punished.”
Amir said, “If I ever see that man, I’ll beat him so badly his own mother wouldn't recognize him!”
"The law will deal with him," Sawwama said. “And not just him—the woman whose house this happened in will also pay.”
They finished cooking together and set the table. "Let me go wake her," Sawwama said. She went to the room, but it was empty. Panic seized her. She checked everywhere—under the mattress, in the kitchen, the store.
“She's not there! Amatullah is gone!”
Alhassan and Amir searched the entire neighborhood and the city, but they returned at Asr time empty-handed. “Umma, we looked everywhere. Where could she go without telling us?”
They wondered if she had gone to her mother's house, but phone calls confirmed she wasn't there. Sawwama was devastated. “Innalillahi wa inna ilaihir raji'un! Where is she?”
Alhassan admitted he was the last to speak to her. “I told her about the marriage proposal, but I didn't force her. I told her to think about it.”
"Maybe she ran away to avoid the marriage," Sawwama suggested.
"Why would she run from me? Do I have a flaw?" Alhassan asked, pained. They searched again until Isha but found nothing. The fear of what Amatullah's mother would do when she found out weighed heavily on them.
### Part 4: The Reality of the "Club" House
The next morning, I could barely open my eyes. I was so weak I couldn't lift a finger. I missed the morning prayer because I couldn't move. My breathing was ragged and scary.
"My God! Are you okay?" It was the girl from the night before—the one in the white hijab. She lifted me up. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?" She rubbed my hands.
"Please... help me with water... so hunger and thirst don't kill me," I whispered through clenched teeth.
She brought me bread and tea. I drank half the tea and started eating the bread ravenously. Suddenly, my stomach cramped painfully, and I rushed outside to vomit everything up. I was completely spent. She helped me clean up, and I performed my missed prayers.
"What is your name?" I asked her.
"My name is La'aniyatu (The Accursed One)," she said.
I was shocked. “La'aniyatu? Do you know what that means?”
“I don't know the meaning. It's just the name my mother gave me. She liked it.”
“Is your mother here?”
“Yes. Hajiya Babba is my mother.”
I broke into a cold sweat. "And my name is Amatullah," I said.
“Where are you from? Your Hausa sounds different. Why did you leave your parents?”
"I'll tell you eventually," I said. “But first, tell me how this house works so I don't get into trouble.”
She looked at me for a long time. “First, everyone here is on their own. Most were kicked out by their parents or did something shameful. Many have their mothers' curses on them, which is why they have no shame. Second, everything is for sale. If you want to survive here, you have to be tough, shameless, and ready to fight anyone who crosses you.”
I clutched my chest. “What kind of life is this? How do these women afford to live here?”
She smiled sadly. “Their bodies are their capital. They sell themselves to satisfy their needs. They deal with powerful, wealthy men. My mother has connections with the big people in this state, which is why she does whatever she wants and no one touches her.”
“You mean... zina (adultery/fornication)?”
“Exactly. And I’m telling you, if you stay here long enough, you'll end up doing the same. It's the only way for a woman to survive in this house.”
I was breathing hard. “Is there no other way? I’ll work as a maid, anything to feed myself!”
“I’m just telling you the reality. If you can't handle it, go back to your parents. A woman’s dignity is best kept at home, no matter how poor they are. I hate seeing young girls like you end up here.”
Just then, the curtain was pulled back and Aminu barged in. “La'aniyatu, are you trying to poison her mind again? When a mouse leaves its hole and jumps into a fire, it’s because it found a heat worse than the fire.”
La'aniyatu rolled her eyes and left. Aminu turned to me. “I didn't come for that. I came to hear your decision.”
I lowered my head. “I will stay.”
"You've made the right choice," he said. “You won't regret it. From the moment I saw you, I knew the street life would fit you like a glove.”
"I didn't come here for the street life!" I interrupted him…