He sat without speaking again. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. There was something curious about him — his speech was calm, without signs of madness. Maybe he was hiding something? He was not a young boy; by his appearance he looked old enough to be her father. She looked again and saw him holding his knees, shaking his head, then smiling lightly.
Softly she asked, “Baban-Baba, are you hungry?” He raised his head without looking directly at her.
She asked, “Where will you get food now?” He looked at her for a second then turned his face away.
She was about to say something when she saw Baba Asabe crossing the road. He glared at her and barked, “Move and give me space.” She stepped aside quickly, looking at him. He took a small stick in front of him and waved it.
“I told you — move and give me space, don’t you hear?”
She hurried away, keeping an eye on him.
He shook his head while playing with the small stick. She wiped away tears of pity, wondering where he would find food; perhaps he would go to a rubbish heap and find spoiled scraps to eat, since frequently mad people’s relatives would feed them bits like that.
When she reached their yard, she found Saliha’s things in disorder. She entered muttering a greeting and saw Saliha, who said, “I’m done staying with you — leave. You are dishonorable.”
“Mother, I’m sorry — don’t be harsh. You know I didn’t waste your money deliberately. It’s fate,” she pleaded.
Saliha replied, “I don’t believe in fate — I tell you I’m done staying with you. Go to your father’s house; let them do to you what they will. I’ve tolerated you out of pity, but because you’re deceitful, that patience ends now. Go wherever Talatu will send you; I won’t care.”
Shahida collapsed, crying and begging, pleading with the woman who had been raising her, then she went into the kitchen and left Saliha standing there. She told Saliha, “Speak to her kindly, alright?” Saliha didn’t even look at her and continued what she was doing.
Angry, she left the kitchen and headed to the room; there Saliha pulled out a cane, already ready to strike her. Seeing that, Shahida quickly ran out of the house, carrying only what she could, and left for her father’s house in Ja’in. She had to travel by foot because she had no money, and the distance between Gadar Salga and Ja’in was long.
He sat without speaking again. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. There was something curious about him — his speech was calm, without signs of madness. Maybe he was hiding something? He was not a young boy; by his appearance he looked old enough to be her father. She looked again and saw him holding his knees, shaking his head, then smiling lightly.
Softly she asked, “Baban-Baba, are you hungry?” He raised his head without looking directly at her.
She asked, “Where will you get food now?” He looked at her for a second then turned his face away.
She was about to say something when she saw Baba Asabe crossing the road. He glared at her and barked, “Move and give me space.” She stepped aside quickly, looking at him. He took a small stick in front of him and waved it.
“I told you — move and give me space, don’t you hear?”
She hurried away, keeping an eye on him.
He shook his head while playing with the small stick. She wiped away tears of pity, wondering where he would find food; perhaps he would go to a rubbish heap and find spoiled scraps to eat, since frequently mad people’s relatives would feed them bits like that.
When she reached their yard, she found Saliha’s things in disorder. She entered muttering a greeting and saw Saliha, who said, “I’m done staying with you — leave. You are dishonorable.”
“Mother, I’m sorry — don’t be harsh. You know I didn’t waste your money deliberately. It’s fate,” she pleaded.
Saliha replied, “I don’t believe in fate — I tell you I’m done staying with you. Go to your father’s house; let them do to you what they will. I’ve tolerated you out of pity, but because you’re deceitful, that patience ends now. Go wherever Talatu will send you; I won’t care.”
Shahida collapsed, crying and begging, pleading with the woman who had been raising her, then she went into the kitchen and left Saliha standing there. She told Saliha, “Speak to her kindly, alright?” Saliha didn’t even look at her and continued what she was doing.
Angry, she left the kitchen and headed to the room; there Saliha pulled out a cane, already ready to strike her. Seeing that, Shahida quickly ran out of the house, carrying only what she could, and left for her father’s house in Ja’in. She had to travel by foot because she had no money, and the distance between Gadar Salga and Ja’in was long.