My name is Amina Malam Salisu, also known as “Mai wankin hula” (the cap washer). I am a skilled tailor and also a government school teacher. I teach Hausa language to primary school children in Gwale Local Government. I am currently a widow with two children, both boys. The elder one is named Kamalu, and his younger brother is Yusuf, whom we call Yusi. Their father passed away four years ago when Yusi was only seven years old. The age difference between him and his brother Kamalu is just one year. Now Kamalu is twelve years old, while Yusi is eleven.
After the death of their father, I returned to my family home to live, because the house we were living in was rented, and he did not have a stable income or strong means of livelihood. By Allah’s grace, the room I once shared with my siblings was still available, though it was being used for storing things by the women of the house. I moved in there with my belongings and began struggling through life, waiting for whatever Allah had destined for us.
During the thirteen years of my marriage with my late husband, Aminu, I was practically the backbone of the household. Allah blessed me with work—I was teaching, sewing clothes, doing minor tailoring adjustments, and even making bags and caps from hijab fabric. Alhamdulillah, Allah made things easy for me. My monthly salary, along with my tailoring income, sustained us well enough that we never completely lacked before the next month arrived.
I never felt regret or resentment whenever my husband asked me for anything. As long as I had it, I would give it to him willingly. My greatest wish was that our dignity would be preserved. From the beginning of our marriage, I made a promise that as long as Allah continued to support me, Aminu would always come first in my life because of the kindness and support he showed me.
Even though my salary as a primary school teacher was small, I always set aside transport money for him, especially after he lost his job due to illness. He then started doing small trading in the market. Because he had no means of transportation and the distance from our home to the market was far, I made sure he had enough for his daily movement.
We did not even know he had any illness until he was brought back from work in a critical condition. The doctor confirmed he had severe asthma, along with pneumonia caused by exposure to cold and constant early morning air. He used to leave the house very early after prayers and walk to work. He also had a disability in one leg—his heel did not fully touch the ground. The doctor explained that the harsh walking conditions and air exposure triggered his illness.
After he was dismissed from work, life became very difficult. He was always bitter and upset, constantly saying that Alhaji Tajo treated him unfairly by dismissing him without compensation despite all his hard work. I tried to encourage him to be patient and not dwell on it. I reminded him that Allah is the provider. Sometimes he would return home with something small; other times he came back empty-handed and in pain.
His second illness became his final one. He remained at home, overwhelmed by worry and sadness, especially over how he was treated. Eventually, he passed away.
Returning to my family home as a widow brought even more hardship. The difficulties I faced became worse than before. Sometimes when the pressure became too much, I would lock myself in my room and cry. There were moments I even thought about renting a house again, trusting that Allah would provide.
One of my biggest challenges now is Kamalu. He is stubborn and often causes trouble, unlike his younger brother. Neighbors frequently complain about him fighting their children, and sometimes their parents insult and threaten me.
That is how my life has been…
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Later, after staying up all night sewing clothes that had piled up, I overslept. I only managed to wake up for Fajr prayer with difficulty. After sending my children to the mosque, I went back to sleep. I was awakened by Yusi crying. When I opened my eyes, I saw him crouched against the wall while my younger brother Saminu was beating him with a broom.
I quickly intervened and asked why he was beating him. He said it was because Yusi defecated near the toilet. I became angry and scolded him, saying that was no reason to beat him. He then added that Kamalu had slapped another child earlier, and he was taking revenge on Yusi.
Frustrated, I sent him away.
I then attended to Yusi, who explained what happened. Shortly after, Kamalu returned with food, admitting he had taken money from my bag without permission. I scolded him seriously, warning him about his behavior and how it could influence his younger brother. He apologized as usual.
Later, when he went to fetch water, he came back saying a neighbor refused to lend us a bucket, telling us to buy our own since I had a job. This hurt me deeply.
I went to confirm, and indeed the woman spoke harshly to me, accusing me of always borrowing. Another neighbor defended me and offered her own bucket, which led to an argument between them.
I decided in my heart that I would buy my own bucket to avoid such humiliation.
My name is Amina Malam Salisu, also known as “Mai wankin hula” (the cap washer). I am a skilled tailor and also a government school teacher. I teach Hausa language to primary school children in Gwale Local Government. I am currently a widow with two children, both boys. The elder one is named Kamalu, and his younger brother is Yusuf, whom we call Yusi. Their father passed away four years ago when Yusi was only seven years old. The age difference between him and his brother Kamalu is just one year. Now Kamalu is twelve years old, while Yusi is eleven.
After the death of their father, I returned to my family home to live, because the house we were living in was rented, and he did not have a stable income or strong means of livelihood. By Allah’s grace, the room I once shared with my siblings was still available, though it was being used for storing things by the women of the house. I moved in there with my belongings and began struggling through life, waiting for whatever Allah had destined for us.
During the thirteen years of my marriage with my late husband, Aminu, I was practically the backbone of the household. Allah blessed me with work—I was teaching, sewing clothes, doing minor tailoring adjustments, and even making bags and caps from hijab fabric. Alhamdulillah, Allah made things easy for me. My monthly salary, along with my tailoring income, sustained us well enough that we never completely lacked before the next month arrived.
I never felt regret or resentment whenever my husband asked me for anything. As long as I had it, I would give it to him willingly. My greatest wish was that our dignity would be preserved. From the beginning of our marriage, I made a promise that as long as Allah continued to support me, Aminu would always come first in my life because of the kindness and support he showed me.
Even though my salary as a primary school teacher was small, I always set aside transport money for him, especially after he lost his job due to illness. He then started doing small trading in the market. Because he had no means of transportation and the distance from our home to the market was far, I made sure he had enough for his daily movement.
We did not even know he had any illness until he was brought back from work in a critical condition. The doctor confirmed he had severe asthma, along with pneumonia caused by exposure to cold and constant early morning air. He used to leave the house very early after prayers and walk to work. He also had a disability in one leg—his heel did not fully touch the ground. The doctor explained that the harsh walking conditions and air exposure triggered his illness.
After he was dismissed from work, life became very difficult. He was always bitter and upset, constantly saying that Alhaji Tajo treated him unfairly by dismissing him without compensation despite all his hard work. I tried to encourage him to be patient and not dwell on it. I reminded him that Allah is the provider. Sometimes he would return home with something small; other times he came back empty-handed and in pain.
His second illness became his final one. He remained at home, overwhelmed by worry and sadness, especially over how he was treated. Eventually, he passed away.
Returning to my family home as a widow brought even more hardship. The difficulties I faced became worse than before. Sometimes when the pressure became too much, I would lock myself in my room and cry. There were moments I even thought about renting a house again, trusting that Allah would provide.
One of my biggest challenges now is Kamalu. He is stubborn and often causes trouble, unlike his younger brother. Neighbors frequently complain about him fighting their children, and sometimes their parents insult and threaten me.
That is how my life has been…
---
Later, after staying up all night sewing clothes that had piled up, I overslept. I only managed to wake up for Fajr prayer with difficulty. After sending my children to the mosque, I went back to sleep. I was awakened by Yusi crying. When I opened my eyes, I saw him crouched against the wall while my younger brother Saminu was beating him with a broom.
I quickly intervened and asked why he was beating him. He said it was because Yusi defecated near the toilet. I became angry and scolded him, saying that was no reason to beat him. He then added that Kamalu had slapped another child earlier, and he was taking revenge on Yusi.
Frustrated, I sent him away.
I then attended to Yusi, who explained what happened. Shortly after, Kamalu returned with food, admitting he had taken money from my bag without permission. I scolded him seriously, warning him about his behavior and how it could influence his younger brother. He apologized as usual.
Later, when he went to fetch water, he came back saying a neighbor refused to lend us a bucket, telling us to buy our own since I had a job. This hurt me deeply.
I went to confirm, and indeed the woman spoke harshly to me, accusing me of always borrowing. Another neighbor defended me and offered her own bucket, which led to an argument between them.
I decided in my heart that I would buy my own bucket to avoid such humiliation.