She walked with hasty, frantic steps, her face visibly etched with intense distress and anxiety. She was a young girl, barely eighteen years of age.
She turned into a modest family compound where she found her siblings gathered around their sick father, offering him gentle words of comfort. As Na’ima stepped inside, she looked down at her father lying weakly on his mat and asked softly, “Sorry Baba, how are you feeling now?”
“Welcome, Na’ima. Where is Hassan?” asked Mama before Na’ima could answer.
Just then, Hassan offered the traditional greeting of peace and rushed inside, hurrying straight to where Malam Yahaya lay. “Sorry Baba, how is your body?”
“Welcome, Hassan. Thank God, I am holding on (Alhamdulillah),” Malam Yahaya replied weakly.
“Baba, has the illness flared up again?” Hassan asked with concern.
Mama interjected desperately, “Hassan, for God’s sake, you need to go to Salanke right now to fetch his herbal medicine so we can boil it for him. Perhaps Allah will grant him relief.”
“Alright Mama, but I swear I don’t have a single coin—not even transport fare, let alone money for the medicine.”
Before Mama could respond, Malam Yahaya spoke up: “Mariya, let him take the remaining bag of maize and sell it in the market. He can use the proceeds for transport and get the medicine.”
Within ten minutes, Hassan took the bag of maize to the market, sold it, and boarded a vehicle bound for Salanke. Since Sabon Yalwa and Salanke were not far apart, Hassan returned within an hour. Mama hastily took the traditional herbs, washed them thoroughly, added red potash (jar kanwa), and placed the pot over the fire.
By God’s grace, upon drinking the medicinal brew, Malam Yahaya felt considerable relief. His body relaxed, feeling far better than before. Masha Allah, within three days, Malam Yahaya’s health improved remarkably.
Malam Yahaya was sitting happily among his family, engaging in warm conversation and sharing stories of the world. Hassan entered after giving his greeting, a backpack slung over his shoulders. Squatting respectfully beside Malam Yahaya, Hassan said after exchanging pleasantries:
“Baba, today is our departure day. Remember I told you that my name appeared on the entrance examination list? Well, today they require us to report for physical screening.”
“Masha Allah, Hassan! I am so glad to hear this news,” Malam Yahaya beamed. “May Allah help you and shower His blessings upon you. May He grant you someone who will treat you like a son, just as you have stood in for me as a true son. Thank you so much for your care towards…”
The sound of incoming greetings at the entrance cut him off before he could finish his blessings. Four of Malam Yahaya’s elder relatives walked into the compound.
With a welcoming smile, Malam Yahaya greeted his elder siblings: “Ah, Yaya Jimmai! You are most welcome. Yaya Rabi’u, Yaya Ya’u, please sit down!” He spread out a woven mat near himself for them.
Once they settled and formal pleasantries were exchanged, Gwaggo Jimmai turned sharply to Ya’u: “Ya’u, tell Yahaya the purpose of our visit.”
The one named Ya’u adjusted his posture, looked at Yahaya, and declared firmly: “Yahaya, concerning Na’ima’s marriage—we have decided that by the end of this month, Na’ima’s wedding with Gali will be solemnized, just as we notified you days ago.”
Not just Na’ima, but even Malam Yahaya and Mama felt sheer panic and terror wash over their faces.
“We hear silence, Yahaya. We are waiting for your response,” Rabi’u barked impatiently.
Malam Yahaya took a heavy breath and pleaded softly, “Well, Yaya Rabi’u, with all due respect, since Na’ima insists she does not love Gali, why can’t we give her to…”
“You lie, by God!” Rabi’u interrupted harshly. “We didn’t come here to ask for your opinion or Na’ima’s consent! We came to tell you to prepare—by the end of this month, Na’ima will be married to Gali!”
Na’ima’s father sighed again, “Yaya Rabi’u, I am only trying to avoid future regret, that is why…”
Rabi’u raised a stern hand to quiet him: “Enough of that! Yaya Jimmai, let us get up and leave.”
Desperate and terrified, Na’ima threw herself at Jimmai’s feet, crying out: “Gwaggo, for God’s sake help me! I swear I am willing to marry anyone else, but I don’t want Yaya Ga…”
A stinging slap across her face from Ya’u cut her sentence short. Shaking violently in shock, she scrambled toward Rabi’u, clutching his legs: “Baba Rabi’u, please help me, don’t force me to marry…”
Rabi’u shoved her away forcefully. Before her mother could reach her, Na’ima crashed hard onto the unpaved ground. Screaming in agony and anguish, blood suddenly began streaming from her mouth.
“Aunty Jimmai, Yaya Rabi’u, Yaya Ya’u, please forgive me, but I cannot give Na’ima away in marriage to someone she does not love!” Malam Yahaya proclaimed passionately.
“Nonsense! Marriage is ordained by Allah, not arranged by you. Consider it done!” snapped their eldest sister Jimmai. “Let’s go, Rabi’u.”
Overwhelmed by total helplessness, poor Malam Yahaya burst into tears. Panic-stricken, Na’ima and her siblings gathered around their father. Hassan helped him sit upright, comforting him: “Please Baba, stop crying. It will be alright.”
Seeing her father weeping, Na’ima sobbed heavily: “Baba, please stop crying! I agree… I will marry Yaya Gali.”
Malam Yahaya shook his head repeatedly: “No, Na’ima. You will not marry Gali.”
He grabbed a nearby water kettle to head toward the washroom, but a violent, uncontrollable fit of coughing seized him, causing him to collapse on the ground. Na’ima scrambled over to support him as he choked, crying: “Baba, please calm down! I agree to marry him!”
Still coughing violently, Malam Yahaya managed to whisper her name: “Na’ima… as long as I am your father… you will never marry Gali!”
“But Baba, you heard what Gwaggo Jimmai and the others said!”
Malam Yahaya kept shaking his head, attempting to speak, but the choking cough strangled his words. He motioned weakly with his hand for Na’ima’s mother. Mama Mariya rushed to his side in panic.
In a raspy, agonizingly strained voice, Malam Yahaya stammered his final command: “Ma… ri… ya… even after my death… I forbid Na’ima from marrying Ga… li…”
His tongue grew heavy and choked. The violent coughing fit overcame him so entirely that his speech slurred into silence—until finally, they heard him utter the Shahada (declaration of faith). Realizing he had stopped breathing, Mama shook him in frantic panic. Weeping hysterically, she pulled at him, crying out: “Malam! For God’s sake, don’t do this to us! Please wake up!”