She remained quiet, listening to how her uncle’s voice rose in anger and bitterness. His fury and frustration were obvious on his face, tightened without a trace of relief or mercy.
All that rage was directed at her mother, who sat silently, enduring his scolding. From the mother down to her daughter, who was already old enough to feel pain deep in her heart, every time her mother was humiliated in such a way, it cut through her soul. Yet, neither she nor her mother ever raised their heads to look at him, let alone respond to his outburst that shook his veins.
Her uncle Bello, at any time he visited, would always unleash his anger and insult them. No one ever replied; he would only finish his rant, and her mother would quietly accept with “I’m sorry.” Jannat herself never lifted her head nor uttered a word.
But this time, his words were harsh and heavy, piercing their hearts. Both she and her mother had their eyes filled with tears, but neither wanted him to see them cry. Wiping sweat from his forehead with his flowing gown, he repeated his final words to her mother:
> “Truly, if Abdulhameed dares return to that western school and another complaint is brought to me, I swear I will send him to almajiranci. I cannot bear the sorrow. My brother died and left me nothing but your burdens. If you and your son will not stay within the limits God has placed you, then pack your things and leave—we cannot endure this anymore.”
With that, he turned and left, still cursing and ranting until he reached the door of their small section, where they had been living alone since the death of their father.
Her mother sighed deeply but did not look towards where AmatulMaleek sat, busy stitching Abdulhameed’s torn trousers with thread and needle, though she wasn’t skilled enough due to her young age. Neither of them said a word. Despite her childhood, AmatulMaleek had learned to swallow her feelings and hide them within.
Her mother, knowing that AmatulMaleek would never speak, swallowed her own tears so her daughter wouldn’t notice, stood up, and went to begin the heavy laundry. AmatulMaleek secretly glanced at her mother, putting down her needle and thread, her clear eyes staring in silence without saying a word.
What always disturbed her heart was this: If Mommy was truly her mother’s sister, why did she only send them food and clothes, but never rescue them from this life of humiliation at the hands of their father’s family?
Whenever their food finished, it was her little brother, still very small, who would beg around for something to eat, while they would spend nights hungry—unless her mother cooked dinner for the household women, from which she would secretly keep a portion for her children.
Her greatest surprise was that whenever Mommy sent foodstuff, it was immediately shared among the family, leaving them with barely enough to last two days before returning to hardship.
A Life of Struggle in the Family House
They had grown up in a large family house filled with their father’s brothers and their wives—some with two wives, some with three, even four. The house was overcrowded.
Everyone minded their own business, caring only for their families. No one helped another, as each household’s burden was already too much to bear.
There were five elder brothers in the family, each living with his wives and children. None ever left, despite the suffocating hardship of the household. Her father was the youngest of them all, the only one with western education, and the only one working—a government teacher at their village primary school. He could have left the village for greener pastures, but chose to stay, rising to become vice principal before his death. He left behind his wife, his daughter AmatulMaleek, and a newborn son named Abdulhameed, named after his own late father.
Before his death, life in the family house for them was different, because of his care and attention. He refused to marry another wife, knowing the difficulty of life in that household. His aim was to protect his daughter’s upbringing from the poor morals of other children in the compound.
AmatulMaleek was the apple of his eye, his hope and dream. She was the only girl in the house sent to western school, as he wanted her life to be different. He shielded her from the corrupt lifestyle of the other children, who were often exploited and violated in the dark corners of the compound. Many had already lost their innocence, with elders covering up by marrying them off among themselves.
Because of this, she never went anywhere without her father. He held her hand firmly, ensuring her protection.
There was, however, a misfortune that nearly befell her. One day, while returning from an errand inside the compound, one of her older cousins ambushed her in a corridor, covered her mouth, and tried to assault her. Thankfully, her father arrived in time, saving her. But the incident broke his heart, causing him chest pain that eventually led to his death.
Before this, he had once moved his family to Abuja to live with her mother’s close friend and cousin, Madame Abeeda. Life there was peaceful, but they eventually returned to the village. Even then, he rented a separate place for his family near the compound to protect them.
It was during this period that AmatulMaleek realized her mother and Mommy Abeeda were not truly full sisters. They shared a father but had different mothers, which explained the vast difference in their lives. While Abeeda lived in wealth and traveled abroad, her mother endured poverty in the family house.
The Separation of Two Sisters’ Destinies
Her mother, Asmau, grew up under the care of her grandmother, while Abeeda was raised by her father. Both girls were loved equally and treated like twins, inseparable in affection. Abeeda was also an orphan, her mother having died early, so her stepmother raised her.
They studied together through secondary school, but their destinies separated when Abeeda’s wealthy father died. Abeeda’s maternal relatives inherited her wealth and took her away to Port Harcourt, later sending her abroad for studies in Malaysia. She grew into a life of privilege, comfort, and prosperity.
Asmau, however, remained in the village with her grandmother, unable to finish secondary school. Eventually, she was married off in a simple rural wedding to Babah, AmatulMaleek’s father. Her life became one of hardship and sorrow, though she was blessed with a loving husband.
When Babah died, life became unbearable for Asmau and her children. Madame Abeeda wanted to take them in, but Babah’s family refused, desiring to control the little he left behind. Thus, they remained trapped in suffering.
Over time, Abeeda left Nigeria with her husband, continuing her life abroad, while her sister and her children were left in misery. Despite this, the bond between the two sisters never broke. Whenever Abeeda returned, she visited her sister in the village, always providing food, clothing, and gifts.
Though their lives had taken different paths—one filled with luxury, the other with hardship—the love between them never faded.
Description
The Heated Argument and Silent Endurance
She remained quiet, listening to how her uncle’s voice rose in anger and bitterness. His fury and frustration were obvious on his face, tightened without a trace of relief or mercy.
All that rage was directed at her mother, who sat silently, enduring his scolding. From the mother down to her daughter, who was already old enough to feel pain deep in her heart, every time her mother was humiliated in such a way, it cut through her soul. Yet, neither she nor her mother ever raised their heads to look at him, let alone respond to his outburst that shook his veins.
Her uncle Bello, at any time he visited, would always unleash his anger and insult them. No one ever replied; he would only finish his rant, and her mother would quietly accept with “I’m sorry.” Jannat herself never lifted her head nor uttered a word.
But this time, his words were harsh and heavy, piercing their hearts. Both she and her mother had their eyes filled with tears, but neither wanted him to see them cry. Wiping sweat from his forehead with his flowing gown, he repeated his final words to her mother:
> “Truly, if Abdulhameed dares return to that western school and another complaint is brought to me, I swear I will send him to almajiranci. I cannot bear the sorrow. My brother died and left me nothing but your burdens. If you and your son will not stay within the limits God has placed you, then pack your things and leave—we cannot endure this anymore.”
With that, he turned and left, still cursing and ranting until he reached the door of their small section, where they had been living alone since the death of their father.
Her mother sighed deeply but did not look towards where AmatulMaleek sat, busy stitching Abdulhameed’s torn trousers with thread and needle, though she wasn’t skilled enough due to her young age. Neither of them said a word. Despite her childhood, AmatulMaleek had learned to swallow her feelings and hide them within.
Her mother, knowing that AmatulMaleek would never speak, swallowed her own tears so her daughter wouldn’t notice, stood up, and went to begin the heavy laundry. AmatulMaleek secretly glanced at her mother, putting down her needle and thread, her clear eyes staring in silence without saying a word.
What always disturbed her heart was this: If Mommy was truly her mother’s sister, why did she only send them food and clothes, but never rescue them from this life of humiliation at the hands of their father’s family?
Whenever their food finished, it was her little brother, still very small, who would beg around for something to eat, while they would spend nights hungry—unless her mother cooked dinner for the household women, from which she would secretly keep a portion for her children.
Her greatest surprise was that whenever Mommy sent foodstuff, it was immediately shared among the family, leaving them with barely enough to last two days before returning to hardship.
A Life of Struggle in the Family House
They had grown up in a large family house filled with their father’s brothers and their wives—some with two wives, some with three, even four. The house was overcrowded.
Everyone minded their own business, caring only for their families. No one helped another, as each household’s burden was already too much to bear.
There were five elder brothers in the family, each living with his wives and children. None ever left, despite the suffocating hardship of the household. Her father was the youngest of them all, the only one with western education, and the only one working—a government teacher at their village primary school. He could have left the village for greener pastures, but chose to stay, rising to become vice principal before his death. He left behind his wife, his daughter AmatulMaleek, and a newborn son named Abdulhameed, named after his own late father.
Before his death, life in the family house for them was different, because of his care and attention. He refused to marry another wife, knowing the difficulty of life in that household. His aim was to protect his daughter’s upbringing from the poor morals of other children in the compound.
AmatulMaleek was the apple of his eye, his hope and dream. She was the only girl in the house sent to western school, as he wanted her life to be different. He shielded her from the corrupt lifestyle of the other children, who were often exploited and violated in the dark corners of the compound. Many had already lost their innocence, with elders covering up by marrying them off among themselves.
Because of this, she never went anywhere without her father. He held her hand firmly, ensuring her protection.
There was, however, a misfortune that nearly befell her. One day, while returning from an errand inside the compound, one of her older cousins ambushed her in a corridor, covered her mouth, and tried to assault her. Thankfully, her father arrived in time, saving her. But the incident broke his heart, causing him chest pain that eventually led to his death.
Before this, he had once moved his family to Abuja to live with her mother’s close friend and cousin, Madame Abeeda. Life there was peaceful, but they eventually returned to the village. Even then, he rented a separate place for his family near the compound to protect them.
It was during this period that AmatulMaleek realized her mother and Mommy Abeeda were not truly full sisters. They shared a father but had different mothers, which explained the vast difference in their lives. While Abeeda lived in wealth and traveled abroad, her mother endured poverty in the family house.
The Separation of Two Sisters’ Destinies
Her mother, Asmau, grew up under the care of her grandmother, while Abeeda was raised by her father. Both girls were loved equally and treated like twins, inseparable in affection. Abeeda was also an orphan, her mother having died early, so her stepmother raised her.
They studied together through secondary school, but their destinies separated when Abeeda’s wealthy father died. Abeeda’s maternal relatives inherited her wealth and took her away to Port Harcourt, later sending her abroad for studies in Malaysia. She grew into a life of privilege, comfort, and prosperity.
Asmau, however, remained in the village with her grandmother, unable to finish secondary school. Eventually, she was married off in a simple rural wedding to Babah, AmatulMaleek’s father. Her life became one of hardship and sorrow, though she was blessed with a loving husband.
When Babah died, life became unbearable for Asmau and her children. Madame Abeeda wanted to take them in, but Babah’s family refused, desiring to control the little he left behind. Thus, they remained trapped in suffering.
Over time, Abeeda left Nigeria with her husband, continuing her life abroad, while her sister and her children were left in misery. Despite this, the bond between the two sisters never broke. Whenever Abeeda returned, she visited her sister in the village, always providing food, clothing, and gifts.
Though their lives had taken different paths—one filled with luxury, the other with hardship—the love between them never faded.