She was just praying as she walked back and back. Suddenly, she bumped into something. Turning around, she saw her father’s burned car. Her uncle’s son—the driver—had also perished in the fire. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. It felt as if she had been pierced straight through. She rushed into the house. Inside, there was nothing left but ash, charred human bones, and soot.
Some parts of the house were almost intact, but all were affected by the fire. In some areas where the fire hadn’t reached, there were bodies lying on the floor, like slaughtered animals. She ran past them to a place where Qur’ans were kept. Amazingly, everything else in the house had burned, yet the Qur’ans remained untouched, except for some edges where the text was slightly scorched. She whispered, “ALLAHU AKBAR”, and broke down crying again, clutching the Qur’an to her chest.
She kept praying, thinking that if anyone came back to set the house on fire or attack them again, she would have no reason to continue living.
“When will our town know peace?”
“When will these killings stop?”
“When will women stop being violated?”
“When will children stop becoming orphans?”
“The oppressed, the poor, the neglected—no care, no one to guide them. They are left only with orphanages, barely enough to survive, no proper food, clothing, or parental care.”
“Where are our leaders and our resources?”
She whispered these questions to herself, knowing there were no answers, only prayers.
She stayed kneeling in that spot, thinking about the life ahead. If she were to return to Bauchi to her father’s sister, how would she get money for transport? Where would she find a car? Clearly, the town had suffered greatly. What could she do? Should she wait until night to find someone willing to help her?
She hugged herself tightly, continuing to cry. From afar, she could hear people talking. It seemed as if they were entering the house. The sound of heavy footsteps made her tense; she knew someone was approaching. Her whole body shivered. Even the slightest movement of her hand was too much. She dared not lift her head to see her attackers, yet she heard one of them muttering “get her” in broken English.
She hugged the Qur’an even tighter to her chest, threatening to collapse. Her hands shook as she held it, crying softly. Slowly, she lifted her eyes, still wet with tears. A familiar voice said, “Yesmeen, open your eyes, it’s me.”
She slowly opened her eyes to see her father’s sister. She rushed to embrace her, crying, saying:
“UMMAH HABIBAH, they killed them! They killed everyone! They left us orphans!”
Her aunt comforted her: “Be patient, pray for them.”
"How can I stop crying?" she asked.
“When will my tears stop for the injustices done to us?”
“I will never stop. I will live to pray that those responsible receive punishment, that they live a life of disgrace and die in humiliation.”
Her aunt reminded her that the neighborhood was empty; the attack had left no one behind. “We must leave now. With the soldiers’ help, we can escape this town.”
Without saying a word, they went outside. She gave one last glare at the soldiers—they were helpless against the attackers.
They moved toward the car. She loaded her belongings, looking at the burned house and crying. Was her life over there? Would she start anew in another town? Why hadn’t the attackers killed her immediately? Why did they leave her alive?
She closed her eyes as the driver of the car started it. They drove until they reached Jos without opening her eyes, finally reaching safety.
---
Days later, she reflected on her life. Despite ten years of marriage, Yesmeen had not been blessed with children and endured daily pressure and harsh words from her husband’s family. She wondered why people forgot that children are a gift from Allah, not from human schemes. Now, without her family nearby and with her aunt also busy with her own household, she felt abandoned.
Her only solace was prayer. Life continued simply in her aunt’s house. Although her aunt’s husband was not wealthy, he provided enough for the family.
Even so, Yesmeen’s mind often returned to the orphans she had seen, wondering if they were surviving, eating, wearing clothes, or being cared for.
---
Later, Hanifa prepared for a trip, dressed in matching clothes with shoes, while Yesmeen dressed elegantly as well. They headed out without greeting anyone. Hanifa teased Yesmeen, saying she still hadn’t fully adapted to the area. Yesmeen reminded her that she had manners and knew how to behave.
They visited a young girl’s celebration for her cousin. Yesmeen noticed the children, all orphans, with no one to care for them. She wondered how they would survive, who would fill their parents’ role, and if they would ever get proper care.
Her aunt advised that the best anyone could do was pray for them. Yesmeen was moved to tears.
Finally, they continued their journey to Bauchi, stopping in the Federal Low-Cost area at her aunt Ummah Habibah’s house. Yesmeen immediately began her prayers and ablution, preparing herself spiritually for the new challenges ahead.
---
Later, Yesmeen and Hanifa prepared for another outing. Hanifa carried a bag, and Yesmeen noticed it was her boyfriend’s car taking them around. She realized they were now mingling with people from her boyfriend’s family.
Yesmeen felt conflicted inside but continued with the plan, stepping into the car without protest.
She was just praying as she walked back and back. Suddenly, she bumped into something. Turning around, she saw her father’s burned car. Her uncle’s son—the driver—had also perished in the fire. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. It felt as if she had been pierced straight through. She rushed into the house. Inside, there was nothing left but ash, charred human bones, and soot.
Some parts of the house were almost intact, but all were affected by the fire. In some areas where the fire hadn’t reached, there were bodies lying on the floor, like slaughtered animals. She ran past them to a place where Qur’ans were kept. Amazingly, everything else in the house had burned, yet the Qur’ans remained untouched, except for some edges where the text was slightly scorched. She whispered, “ALLAHU AKBAR”, and broke down crying again, clutching the Qur’an to her chest.
She kept praying, thinking that if anyone came back to set the house on fire or attack them again, she would have no reason to continue living.
“When will our town know peace?”
“When will these killings stop?”
“When will women stop being violated?”
“When will children stop becoming orphans?”
“The oppressed, the poor, the neglected—no care, no one to guide them. They are left only with orphanages, barely enough to survive, no proper food, clothing, or parental care.”
“Where are our leaders and our resources?”
She whispered these questions to herself, knowing there were no answers, only prayers.
She stayed kneeling in that spot, thinking about the life ahead. If she were to return to Bauchi to her father’s sister, how would she get money for transport? Where would she find a car? Clearly, the town had suffered greatly. What could she do? Should she wait until night to find someone willing to help her?
She hugged herself tightly, continuing to cry. From afar, she could hear people talking. It seemed as if they were entering the house. The sound of heavy footsteps made her tense; she knew someone was approaching. Her whole body shivered. Even the slightest movement of her hand was too much. She dared not lift her head to see her attackers, yet she heard one of them muttering “get her” in broken English.
She hugged the Qur’an even tighter to her chest, threatening to collapse. Her hands shook as she held it, crying softly. Slowly, she lifted her eyes, still wet with tears. A familiar voice said, “Yesmeen, open your eyes, it’s me.”
She slowly opened her eyes to see her father’s sister. She rushed to embrace her, crying, saying:
“UMMAH HABIBAH, they killed them! They killed everyone! They left us orphans!”
Her aunt comforted her: “Be patient, pray for them.”
"How can I stop crying?" she asked.
“When will my tears stop for the injustices done to us?”
“I will never stop. I will live to pray that those responsible receive punishment, that they live a life of disgrace and die in humiliation.”
Her aunt reminded her that the neighborhood was empty; the attack had left no one behind. “We must leave now. With the soldiers’ help, we can escape this town.”
Without saying a word, they went outside. She gave one last glare at the soldiers—they were helpless against the attackers.
They moved toward the car. She loaded her belongings, looking at the burned house and crying. Was her life over there? Would she start anew in another town? Why hadn’t the attackers killed her immediately? Why did they leave her alive?
She closed her eyes as the driver of the car started it. They drove until they reached Jos without opening her eyes, finally reaching safety.
---
Days later, she reflected on her life. Despite ten years of marriage, Yesmeen had not been blessed with children and endured daily pressure and harsh words from her husband’s family. She wondered why people forgot that children are a gift from Allah, not from human schemes. Now, without her family nearby and with her aunt also busy with her own household, she felt abandoned.
Her only solace was prayer. Life continued simply in her aunt’s house. Although her aunt’s husband was not wealthy, he provided enough for the family.
Even so, Yesmeen’s mind often returned to the orphans she had seen, wondering if they were surviving, eating, wearing clothes, or being cared for.
---
Later, Hanifa prepared for a trip, dressed in matching clothes with shoes, while Yesmeen dressed elegantly as well. They headed out without greeting anyone. Hanifa teased Yesmeen, saying she still hadn’t fully adapted to the area. Yesmeen reminded her that she had manners and knew how to behave.
They visited a young girl’s celebration for her cousin. Yesmeen noticed the children, all orphans, with no one to care for them. She wondered how they would survive, who would fill their parents’ role, and if they would ever get proper care.
Her aunt advised that the best anyone could do was pray for them. Yesmeen was moved to tears.
Finally, they continued their journey to Bauchi, stopping in the Federal Low-Cost area at her aunt Ummah Habibah’s house. Yesmeen immediately began her prayers and ablution, preparing herself spiritually for the new challenges ahead.
---
Later, Yesmeen and Hanifa prepared for another outing. Hanifa carried a bag, and Yesmeen noticed it was her boyfriend’s car taking them around. She realized they were now mingling with people from her boyfriend’s family.
Yesmeen felt conflicted inside but continued with the plan, stepping into the car without protest.