He realized that if you do not take a firm stand in this world, it will trample over you; an untruthful person acts wrongly, yet if you dare to speak up, you are made out to be the villain. With these thoughts weighing on his mind, he went to sleep, and early the next morning, he prepared and set off for the market.
That evening, while Aaminat was sitting down reciting her evening prayers, Umaima walked in giggling. “Abba says you should come,” she announced, muffling her laughter behind her hand.
“Alright, tell him I’m coming,” Aaminat replied, rising immediately. Without delay, she went to her father’s room, and after greeting him once more, Abba addressed her coldly: “Hurry up and dress yourself to go meet the suitor Allah has brought for you. And I don’t want to hear or see any nonsense; if you dare drive him away, you will face my wrath. Even if you don’t want to, swallow your pride—this useless remaining unmarried helps no one.”
“Yes, Abba,” she murmured with her head bowed low.
Mama let out a sly smirk, muttering, “As if she’s serious.” Aaminat didn’t even glance her way, refusing to dignify the comment with a response. Returning to her room to dress, she felt a quiet glimmer of hope deep within her heart, praying that Allah had sent a good man to marry her so she could finally escape the unrelenting harassment of society.
Fati stepped closer, scrutinizing her before bursting into mock laughter. “Honestly, you really need to put on some eyeliner!”
“No, I won’t,” Aaminat replied gently.
Fati clicked her tongue in disdain: “Dirty woman.”
Aaminat merely smiled. She had no desire for endless petty arguments, and Fati wasn’t worth her breath; besides, not even Mama, Fati’s own mother, could match Aaminat’s neatness and hygiene.
Dressing quickly, Aaminat stepped outside. He was seated on one of the chairs arranged outside, leaving the opposite one for her. She approached with a polite greeting of peace, which he returned with a smile, saying, “Please, sit down.”
She sat down, offered her respects again, and fell silent. Neither of them spoke for a while, wrapping them in an awkward silence. Checking the watch on his phone and realizing it was getting late, he spoke up to avoid delay: “My name is Salis Bara’u. I was told about you and advised to come so we might talk and see if we are compatible—which I hope we are.”
She offered a faint smile without speaking.
“Although I know your name, I’d love to hear it directly from you,” he added.
“Aaminat.”
He smiled warmly: “A lovely name. I was told you are twenty-five years old, but which school do you attend? I assume you are still pursuing your education,” he finished, grinning broadly.
Realizing that Abba had hidden the truth from him about her status as a divorcee (Bazawara), she shook her head in disbelief at her father’s persistent deceit and his desperate attempt to barter her off.
“I am not currently studying,” she clarified calmly. “I am living as a divorcee.”
“W… what do you mean, a divorcee? Are you teasing me?” he stammered, his smile vanishing.
A bitterly sad smile touched her lips. “This is no joke; it is the truth. I dislike hiding facts. It is better you know whom you are marrying. If you can love me for who I am, for God’s sake, then so be it—but I am a divorcee.”
He adjusted his seating and let out a heavy sigh before staring at her: “Do you have children?”
“I have none.”
“Then tell me why you and your ex-husband separated.”
She fell silent, contemplating, before shaking her head: “I cannot tell you.”
He clicked his tongue angrily, adjusted his cap by pulling it forward, and snapped: “If I marry you, I would be exchanging bad for worse! My current wife is younger than you—the only reason I wanted another wife is because she is unhygienic. But instead of marrying a divorcee, I’d rather stay with my messy wife until I find an eligible maiden! Who knows what awful thing you did to make your ex-husband cast you out? Anyone who takes on a divorcee is taking on a mountain of trouble. What does anyone get from used goods except regret? I cannot marry someone else’s leftover. Tell your father that if he wants to parade you around for marriage, he should tell people the truth, because nowadays nobody willingly marries a divorcee!” With those harsh words, he stood up, dusted off his outer robe, and stormed off.
Tears streamed down Aaminat’s face as she turned and ran inside the house. On her way, she nearly collided with Umar, who barked at her: “Hey! What is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?!”
The weeping she had been trying to suppress burst out. Through heavy sobs, she cried out: “Why does everyone say they won’t marry a divorcee, as if a person writes their own destiny?! If no one marries us, are we meant to die under constant humiliation and contempt?! I didn’t choose this, Brother Umar! I had no idea Kamal would treat me like this! I swear by Allah, I am innocent! I would never choose this kind of life for myself! Abba keeps bringing men here, but they all leave saying they won’t marry a divorcee!”
Her sobbing intensified. Covering her mouth with the edge of her veil, she pushed past him into the compound.
“Aamina! Aamina!” Brother Umar called out after her.
She didn’t stop. Inside, she ran straight into Abba, Umma, Mama, and the other children gathered in the yard, having overheard her conversation with Umar.
Mama sneered, “Well, she’s done it again, hasn’t she?”
Seeing everyone staring, Aaminat stood frozen. Abba demanded, “What are you crying for in front of everyone?”
“Abba, he also said he won’t marry a divorcee,” she sobbed.
Abba clicked his tongue furiously: “Since you clearly don’t want to get married, stay right here then! You can rot in this house! Every day your only job is to claim suitors refused you, and when I ask them, they tell me you lied to them. Stay in this house forever!”
Umma added coldly, “May God grant us wisdom,” before pushing the curtain aside and entering her room.
Mama held her chin in mock shock: “Truly, this girl’s deceit has reached new heights! Look at her crying as if someone stabbed a knife into her heart!”
Wiping her tears in bitter frustration, Aaminat spoke up: “I swear, Abba, I am not at fault! They are not telling you the truth! I am only begging for one favor: whenever you present me to suitors, tell them the honest truth that I am a divorcee! Otherwise, even if a marriage happens, it will inevitably collapse because it wasn’t built on truth from the start!”
Abba snapped angrily: “Are you trying to make me out to be a fool?! Are you implying I am trying to deceive people?! Since nobody wants divorcees, why shouldn’t we say you are an eligible maiden? Self-preservation isn’t a crime, you foolish girl!” Fuming, he turned on his heels and walked out into the street.
Mama remarked, “You see? We’ve given advice until we’re exhausted. You keep driving suitors away, Aamina—do you have a spirit husband or something?”
Umar, leaning against the wall with his hands on his hips listening, finally spoke up: “She actually has a point, Mama. For God’s sake, no man will tolerate being lied to that a woman is an unmarried maiden, only to find out she’s a divorcee. Even if it were me or my brother Anas, our own parents wouldn’t accept it. We need to speak the truth and seek dignity for our sister. It is pure foolishness to claim she’s a maiden, only for a man to find out she’s a divorcee!” Clicking his tongue in disgust, Umar turned and walked out. Aaminat hurried into her room, bursting into fresh, heartbroken sobs. Mama and Fati finished their hushed gossip and dispersed.
The next morning, neither Abba, Umma, nor Mama responded to Aaminat’s greetings due to their lingering anger. After finishing the dishes and sweeping the floor, she stayed inside her room, only stepping out for ablution. By late afternoon, she felt exhausted and stiff; remaining cooped up gave her a severe headache. Taking a bath, she dressed in a long print (atamfa) gown and picked up a hand fan, fanning herself to get some air.
Siyama arrived with a greeting of peace, walking straight into the room without waiting for permission. “Aaminat, my favorite housemate!” she called out cheerfully.
Aaminat chuckled softly: “I’m so glad to see you, Siyama! I’ve been sitting here all alone, and Fati and the rest aren’t even around for me to hear their noise.”
“As if Fati’s noise is anything worth listening to!” Siyama retorted.
“Movement is better than dead silence, Siyam.”
Siyama nodded. “Well, I’m not staying long. Get up, let me take you to our house.” Without argument, Aaminat put on her hijab and walked out with her.
Before reaching Siyama’s house, Aaminat asked thoughtfully: “Where are you going, Sister Aaminat?” Abdulkareem suddenly called out as he approached.
She clicked her tongue: “Did I ask you to run errands for me? Why aren’t you at the market today anyway?”
He rubbed his head playfully: “I have a case in this street—a little project I’m tending to. I haven’t seen my focus for two days, so I’m waiting around to see if my fortune strikes today.”
She ignored him and kept walking, but he quickly cut in front of her. She stepped back, widening her eyes at him: “Abdulkareem! For God’s sake, don’t you realize you’re stepping on my boundaries?! Don’t you know you’re intruding into my life every time you speak to me like this?!”
In a low, emotional voice, he said: “Please forgive me, Sister Aaminat. You know every human heart has its own weakness. If I could step out of your life, I would have done so before you even grew angry with me—but I can’t. That is my heart’s weakness. I cannot build a wall against you or stay away from your path. You just have to bear with me. Right now, I only wanted to ask because you look unwell.”
“Yes, I am unwell; I have a headache, but I’m fine now. Let me pass.”
“I will let you pass, Aaminat, but only after I finish. Have you taken medicine? Have you seen a doctor?”
On the verge of tears, she pleaded: “Abdulkareem, it’s just my headache! This has nothing to do with you! Whether I take medicine or not, it costs you nothing! Why?? Why do you insist on disrupting my life, Abdulkareem?! Aren’t you just like one of my younger brothers in this neighborhood? Do you think there’s any difference between you and Bilal?!”
His heart sank deeply, his eyes changing color as tears welled up. Softly, he looked at her: “Indeed, there is no difference between me and Bilal—I am a male, and so are they. And I see no difference between myself and your brothers Anas and Umar. Aaminat, I want to stand up for your life far more than Umar ever would! Don’t misunderstand me; I swear by Allah, I have never held a single inappropriate thought about you. All I think about is your future elevation. I cannot stop until I draw my last breath in this world, even if you push me into a pit of torment! I myself feel terrible whenever I upset you, but I don’t know what comes over me that keeps me from stopping. Perhaps I’ve gone mad!” He finished with a faint smile that allowed his tears to spill over.
She shook her head rapidly, her lips trembling: “Abdul, you aren’t mad, but there is an affliction troubling you. Pray to Allah to cure you of it, because it will destroy your life! And you cannot stand up for me—Allah alone is my protector and controller of my affairs. Neither parents nor siblings can stand up for Aaminat, let alone a neighbor’s boy! Remove this thought from your heart, Abdul.” With that, she slipped past him and ran quickly into Siyama’s house, bursting into tears right in the entrance corridor.
Anti asked: “Subhanallah! What happened, Aaminat?!”
Sitting down heavily, she sobbed: “I don’t even know, Anti… I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I know my trials in this life are many.”
Siyama stepped out of her room adjusting her veil, sitting beside her: “Oh, Aaminat! I’ve told you this crying is too much! Everything leads to crying?! Give yourself freedom from these constant tears, for God’s sake! In this world, everyone carries their own worries and tests. If you just cry, how can you face your trials and overcome them? Please, stop crying.” Aaminat nodded, attempting to hold back her tears, though fresh tears spilled over as fast as she wiped them.
After she left, Abdulkareem stood there frozen, unable to move forward or backward. Haisam Cokali strolled over dramatically: “Master, I hope all is well, because I swear I saw tears in your eyes!”
Abdulkareem took a breath without saying a word, leaned back against their house wall, and stared blankly into the distance.
Haisam Cokali remarked: “I swear, today real men have suffered, because your weakness is completely exposed, Boss!”
Abdulkareem clicked his tongue: “Cokali, I will wash my hands and slap you silly, I swear!”
Haisam quickly held his chin: “Oh, my leader, spare me! Things aren’t that severe! Put away the knife, I’m taking my leave!”
Abdulkareem asked quietly: “Haisam, for God’s sake, do you notice some affliction troubling me? Do I seem healthy, or am I showing signs of madness?”
Haisam burst into laughter, clapping his hands: “Our Master, God bless you! In this entire street among young men up to thirty, I haven’t seen anyone as sensible as you! And you are perfectly healthy—no fever, no headache!”
Shaking his head somberly, Abdulkareem replied: “She is right, but I can’t figure out what kind of illness it is. I myself know I am not well.”
“God bless you, Master. Put your mind at ease and go pray. Can’t you hear the call to prayer from your house mosque?” Nodding silently, he went inside, performed ablution, joined the congregational prayer, and went into the family mansion. He didn’t emerge until late evening when the street football match was nearly set up, waiting only for him. As soon as he came out, they began.
Midway through the game, Nana Kadija strutted down the street heavily dressed in red trousers, a black knee-length top adorned with stonework, a small red scarf, and stylish black sunglasses. She frowned deeply, annoyed that they had filled the street playing football as if they owned it.
Walid noticed her arrival and called out: “Hold on, let her pass!”
They ignored him until Abdulkareem commanded: “Stop for a moment! Can’t you see?!” They paused and watched her. She strutted past as if afraid to touch the earth, and as she reached Abdulkareem, she let out a loud hiss, spat on the ground, threw him a disdainful glare, and walked on.
Astonished, Abdulkareem watched her: “Hey!! You! Come back here! Did you just glare at me, hiss, and spit?!”
She turned around insolently, looked him up and down, and hissed again.
Muktar said: “Come on, Master, she wasn’t targeting you, she meant us. Just let her be.”
Darkening his face, Abdulkareem ordered: “Block her for me so I can see if I’m her mate!”
Walid asked: “What are you going to do to her? Leave her alone, she didn’t mean you.”
“I swear, if she leaves this section without you blocking her, everyone will regret it!” Before he even finished speaking, they surrounded her. Abdulkareem leaped up, snapped a small whip from a nearby tree, trimmed it, and walked toward her. She was hurling insults at them, her mouth running wild as she acted superior.
The boys parted to let him through. Seeing him with a whip, her eyes widened: “What is the meaning of this?!”
He began landing whip lashes across her back. Though she tried to act tough at first, she soon broke down crying and begging. After flogging her to his heart’s content, he told the boys to make way. They opened a path, and Abdulkareem landed one last lash, shouting: “Run along, you spoiled brat!” Nana Kadija leaped forward and sprinted away, discarding all her arrogant posture, crying loudly all the way until she reached home.
Abdulkareem casually instructed the boys to resume their football match.
Later, when he returned home, he found Nana Kadija still pouting and swollen with tears.
Ummi asked: “Babban Mutum (Big Man), what happened between you and Nana Kadija?”
“Oh, so she came and told you I beat her? Why didn’t she tell you what she did to me first?”
Ummi replied: “Didn’t I just ask you? You grabbed a mature young woman in front of children and whipped her—is that how things are done?!”
“Well, Ummi, since she lacks respect, she’ll get even worse! She stared at me, hissed, and spat! And to top it off, she’s walking around complaining that I play with poor people’s children—what business is it of hers?! Look at her strutting around the street like a plucked pigeon pretending to be a rich man’s daughter! I don’t care about money, and I will break her leg if she ever disrespects me like that again!”
Insolently, Nana Kadija retorted: “Yes, I am better than a plucked pigeon! You’re just giving people a reason to disrespect us by rolling around in the dirt with those filthy kids! Ummi, aren’t you going to stop him from playing with them?! And I swear, Ummi, if he ever hits me again, I’ll hit him back! A body is just a body, and you’re only three or four years older than me—you don’t get to treat me like your daughter! I swear you can’t!”
“If you’re done talking, stand up and try hitting me back right now—here is the body, here is the flesh! Even if I’m older by one minute, I am still your elder, and as a male, I view myself in the place of a father to you!”
Lacking words to respond, she burst into loud sobs again.
Ummi sighed: “Honestly, Auta, I am upset as well. Enough is enough—Nana Kadija is grown up now. She is your sister; stop beating her for God’s sake, especially outside! It’s better inside the house for privacy’s sake. Don’t you know that when a woman grows up, you stop beating her?”
“This little girl hasn’t gained any sense, Ummi, so she isn’t too old for a beating!” he declared, walking away to give them space, tired of hearing her loud crying.
Ummi shook her head: “May Allah guide you…”
Nana Kadija grumbled: “I swear, Ummi, you just don’t want to scold him, which is why he goes around troubling everyone!”
Ummi smiled softly…