She ran, bursting out from the path into the deep forest where it was very dark — even though it wasn’t yet night, the time was only about 4:30 to 5:00. The sound of people behind her told her they hadn’t stopped chasing; they were close. A cry escaped her and she began to breathe hard. She didn’t understand why wicked people had multiplied in the world; she didn’t understand why her enemies had somehow found out about her and her children by every means. In her life she had no real enemy from childhood to adulthood, and even now, while running for her life and that of her children, she couldn’t fathom why they wanted to kill them.
The crying of the girl behind her made me realize she was an infant — though not a newborn, only a few months old — and she hadn’t closed her mouth; another cry rose out. Only then did I notice the woman had someone supporting her both front and back, and it seemed there were two children, because the woman herself was in front of another female. That cry confused the mother and made her cry louder as she kept running.
“Look — there she is! Run faster, catch her before she gets out of this forest. In front of us it’s darker; we might not see her otherwise.”
With urgency she increased her pace to hear what she thought must be their leader saying. Her only aim then was to get out of there and fall out into the open area ahead of the forest so they might breathe — but she didn’t get that far. She felt a hard slap on the back of her neck; whether they pushed her or something hit her she did not know.
She fell, but quickly put her hand to the ground so her baby wouldn’t feel pain. Hearing them close behind, she forced herself to rise despite feeling blood running down her throat and the dizziness she saw. She looked for somewhere to hide, but it seemed there was no safe spot in the forest. In that moment she no longer lived for herself but for her children. She knew it was unlikely they would escape those cruel people, yet she hoped her children would survive even if she had to die. They were infants who knew nothing yet; they had barely started life — now only three months old. She did not want their lives to end; she did not want her enemies to triumph over her. She suspected they sought to kill her so their father would not have any light or hope in his life.
She couldn’t understand why unbelievers filled the world, but she felt pity for her husband, the father of her children. The children were all his joy, his comfort and happiness — that’s why the jealous ones wanted to separate them and make her share their fate. Their life had been full of darkness she’d never imagined until that moment, caught between death and life. Many memories came back to her, and she realized she had been wrong—terribly wrong—to assume every human had a good heart.
A small glimmer of light she could see made her run toward it as fast as she could, praying that God would grant her salvation for the sake of her children even if only their lives were saved. She resolved that she would die if they lived; she hoped they would live well, not for any worldly reason but for the blessing of their prayers. The Prophet said the prayers of righteous children for their parents are accepted — and children are the only legacy that remains when a person dies, aside from charity that benefits you after death, and she had never thought much about that before.
The Long Walk Home and the Return
Like someone returning from school vacation, she walked as if her legs had become her whole body — unlike the other children who had rides in cars, tricycles, motorbikes or carts. She walked all the way to her village, a four-hour walk from the school by foot. She had never felt she couldn’t make it because she loved studying so much; if she gave up, she would be the only one to suffer. Education was the one chance she believed could change her life and the world around her.
Slowly she continued until she grew tired. The distance between her and the village was only about thirty minutes because she had come closer, but being tired she thought cutting through the forest would get her home faster than following the road. Without delay she plunged into the forest without fear; the forest was familiar to them. They knew where to find timber, medicinal herbs, and fruits — they often went into it.
The sound of running made her pause, wondering if everything was alright. It sounded like more than one person running, so she pressed herself against a tall tree quickly to see what was happening. She saw a woman leaning forward and another behind her, both running while some men holding weapons chased them. Her heart raced even though she didn’t know why they were pursuing the woman; at her young age she knew it could only mean something bad. Besides the weapons, many people came into this forest to carry out evil deeds because its darkness protected them from the eyes of others. She didn’t know the reason, she only felt it was necessary to help this woman — she couldn’t let these wicked people overpower her.
Quickly she sprang from the tree toward the woman, timing it just as someone shot and hit the woman in the leg. Seeing how they were tormenting her, she dragged the injured woman into a hollow under a tree and hurriedly supported her because the baby looked limp as if unconscious or already dead. The woman lay down; she too helped pull her close.
The woman could only breathe; she was so weakened that she could barely open her eyes or speak. The stranger’s hand gripped tightly and she breathed like someone choking. With effort she opened her mouth and said faintly, “A…a..m..na… let them… let them live… for God’s sake.”
A heavy feeling filled the little girl’s chest when she heard what the woman said. She shook her and said, “Get up, Aunty, we must run — don’t close your eyes. I don’t know where to take these children, truly.”
She couldn’t say anything else, so with all ten fingers she helped lift the woman and pointed to the wounds on her body — five in total: three on the right arm and two on the left. Quickly she removed what she thought were charms; the woman showed her a neckpiece and an earring, then sighed deeply and opened her eyes fully, looking at her children. Then, clearly, she spoke:
“Please take care of them for me. I left nothing in this world except them — they are the light of their father’s heart. Take them, raise them well as proper Hausa Muslims. Take them, keep them with your necklace — please don’t let them be killed entirely. Don’t say anything; my part has ended. If they don’t kill me, I will die because I feel I have no blood left. My hope is my children will live, and praise be to God that He sent you to save them. Go, take them to my people, please go.”
Hearing their footsteps very close by the tree, the girl quickly took the necklace and put it into her school bag (the sack she carried) and slung one baby over her shoulder to hold, taking her bag as she slipped into the long grasses and fled so they would not see her. After she moved a little distance she stopped by another tree and watched them reach the place where they had left the woman. Their torches flickered as they searched where she had hidden the children, but they saw nothing. A long time passed before they returned to the place where they had left the woman with one of their men guarding her.
“How will we explain this woman to the others? What will we say about the missing children?” one of them asked.
One answered, then another kicked the body and began to accuse the woman, asking where she had taken the children — by then she had already given up the ghost, her life gone. The blood on the ground where she lay made it look like a small animal had been slaughtered. One of them spat angrily and ordered the rest to take her corpse into a vehicle while he continued to search the area. Without knowing the layout of the forest, he did not find the girl who hugged a baby to her chest, her eyes full of tears for the fallen woman and the children in her arms who had become orphans. She wondered what kind of faithless people now lived in the world, full of wickedness; no one showed pity, no one knew anyone else — everyone only cared for themselves. Oh God, how will the world fare?
Hearing the woman’s loud cry that tried to escape her, she stood and began to walk cautiously so she wouldn’t attract attention that might lead those men to kill the innocent babies she carried. She walked a good distance, exited the forest, crossed through farms and entered her village. The town was quiet, the sun gone down, the breeze pleasant as Maghrib approached — it looked like between 5:30 and 6:00 pm.
Without thinking, she went straight to their house — a large, compound-style home — and greeted at the main hall door, but nobody answered as usual. She entered the part where she lived; the few women and children in the big courtyard watched her and muttered among themselves when they saw her supporting an infant and another child in her arms.
She greeted again at the door to her section and still there was no reply, only a long cold silence. She entered and walked slowly like someone ashamed or like an egg that had cracked inside. A woman named Mariya, crouched and busy with food, nodded to her but instead of the usual friendly reply there came harsh scolding and insults as was customary:
“Back from your wandering they call ‘Western education’ — we know full well there is no such thing as that Western learning; it is a pretext for immorality and evil. Who knows if some misdeed of that so-called schooling has happened?”
Description
Escape through the Dark Forest
She ran, bursting out from the path into the deep forest where it was very dark — even though it wasn’t yet night, the time was only about 4:30 to 5:00. The sound of people behind her told her they hadn’t stopped chasing; they were close. A cry escaped her and she began to breathe hard. She didn’t understand why wicked people had multiplied in the world; she didn’t understand why her enemies had somehow found out about her and her children by every means. In her life she had no real enemy from childhood to adulthood, and even now, while running for her life and that of her children, she couldn’t fathom why they wanted to kill them.
The crying of the girl behind her made me realize she was an infant — though not a newborn, only a few months old — and she hadn’t closed her mouth; another cry rose out. Only then did I notice the woman had someone supporting her both front and back, and it seemed there were two children, because the woman herself was in front of another female. That cry confused the mother and made her cry louder as she kept running.
“Look — there she is! Run faster, catch her before she gets out of this forest. In front of us it’s darker; we might not see her otherwise.”
With urgency she increased her pace to hear what she thought must be their leader saying. Her only aim then was to get out of there and fall out into the open area ahead of the forest so they might breathe — but she didn’t get that far. She felt a hard slap on the back of her neck; whether they pushed her or something hit her she did not know.
She fell, but quickly put her hand to the ground so her baby wouldn’t feel pain. Hearing them close behind, she forced herself to rise despite feeling blood running down her throat and the dizziness she saw. She looked for somewhere to hide, but it seemed there was no safe spot in the forest. In that moment she no longer lived for herself but for her children. She knew it was unlikely they would escape those cruel people, yet she hoped her children would survive even if she had to die. They were infants who knew nothing yet; they had barely started life — now only three months old. She did not want their lives to end; she did not want her enemies to triumph over her. She suspected they sought to kill her so their father would not have any light or hope in his life.
She couldn’t understand why unbelievers filled the world, but she felt pity for her husband, the father of her children. The children were all his joy, his comfort and happiness — that’s why the jealous ones wanted to separate them and make her share their fate. Their life had been full of darkness she’d never imagined until that moment, caught between death and life. Many memories came back to her, and she realized she had been wrong—terribly wrong—to assume every human had a good heart.
A small glimmer of light she could see made her run toward it as fast as she could, praying that God would grant her salvation for the sake of her children even if only their lives were saved. She resolved that she would die if they lived; she hoped they would live well, not for any worldly reason but for the blessing of their prayers. The Prophet said the prayers of righteous children for their parents are accepted — and children are the only legacy that remains when a person dies, aside from charity that benefits you after death, and she had never thought much about that before.
The Long Walk Home and the Return
Like someone returning from school vacation, she walked as if her legs had become her whole body — unlike the other children who had rides in cars, tricycles, motorbikes or carts. She walked all the way to her village, a four-hour walk from the school by foot. She had never felt she couldn’t make it because she loved studying so much; if she gave up, she would be the only one to suffer. Education was the one chance she believed could change her life and the world around her.
Slowly she continued until she grew tired. The distance between her and the village was only about thirty minutes because she had come closer, but being tired she thought cutting through the forest would get her home faster than following the road. Without delay she plunged into the forest without fear; the forest was familiar to them. They knew where to find timber, medicinal herbs, and fruits — they often went into it.
The sound of running made her pause, wondering if everything was alright. It sounded like more than one person running, so she pressed herself against a tall tree quickly to see what was happening. She saw a woman leaning forward and another behind her, both running while some men holding weapons chased them. Her heart raced even though she didn’t know why they were pursuing the woman; at her young age she knew it could only mean something bad. Besides the weapons, many people came into this forest to carry out evil deeds because its darkness protected them from the eyes of others. She didn’t know the reason, she only felt it was necessary to help this woman — she couldn’t let these wicked people overpower her.
Quickly she sprang from the tree toward the woman, timing it just as someone shot and hit the woman in the leg. Seeing how they were tormenting her, she dragged the injured woman into a hollow under a tree and hurriedly supported her because the baby looked limp as if unconscious or already dead. The woman lay down; she too helped pull her close.
The woman could only breathe; she was so weakened that she could barely open her eyes or speak. The stranger’s hand gripped tightly and she breathed like someone choking. With effort she opened her mouth and said faintly, “A…a..m..na… let them… let them live… for God’s sake.”
A heavy feeling filled the little girl’s chest when she heard what the woman said. She shook her and said, “Get up, Aunty, we must run — don’t close your eyes. I don’t know where to take these children, truly.”
She couldn’t say anything else, so with all ten fingers she helped lift the woman and pointed to the wounds on her body — five in total: three on the right arm and two on the left. Quickly she removed what she thought were charms; the woman showed her a neckpiece and an earring, then sighed deeply and opened her eyes fully, looking at her children. Then, clearly, she spoke:
“Please take care of them for me. I left nothing in this world except them — they are the light of their father’s heart. Take them, raise them well as proper Hausa Muslims. Take them, keep them with your necklace — please don’t let them be killed entirely. Don’t say anything; my part has ended. If they don’t kill me, I will die because I feel I have no blood left. My hope is my children will live, and praise be to God that He sent you to save them. Go, take them to my people, please go.”
Hearing their footsteps very close by the tree, the girl quickly took the necklace and put it into her school bag (the sack she carried) and slung one baby over her shoulder to hold, taking her bag as she slipped into the long grasses and fled so they would not see her. After she moved a little distance she stopped by another tree and watched them reach the place where they had left the woman. Their torches flickered as they searched where she had hidden the children, but they saw nothing. A long time passed before they returned to the place where they had left the woman with one of their men guarding her.
“How will we explain this woman to the others? What will we say about the missing children?” one of them asked.
One answered, then another kicked the body and began to accuse the woman, asking where she had taken the children — by then she had already given up the ghost, her life gone. The blood on the ground where she lay made it look like a small animal had been slaughtered. One of them spat angrily and ordered the rest to take her corpse into a vehicle while he continued to search the area. Without knowing the layout of the forest, he did not find the girl who hugged a baby to her chest, her eyes full of tears for the fallen woman and the children in her arms who had become orphans. She wondered what kind of faithless people now lived in the world, full of wickedness; no one showed pity, no one knew anyone else — everyone only cared for themselves. Oh God, how will the world fare?
Hearing the woman’s loud cry that tried to escape her, she stood and began to walk cautiously so she wouldn’t attract attention that might lead those men to kill the innocent babies she carried. She walked a good distance, exited the forest, crossed through farms and entered her village. The town was quiet, the sun gone down, the breeze pleasant as Maghrib approached — it looked like between 5:30 and 6:00 pm.
Without thinking, she went straight to their house — a large, compound-style home — and greeted at the main hall door, but nobody answered as usual. She entered the part where she lived; the few women and children in the big courtyard watched her and muttered among themselves when they saw her supporting an infant and another child in her arms.
She greeted again at the door to her section and still there was no reply, only a long cold silence. She entered and walked slowly like someone ashamed or like an egg that had cracked inside. A woman named Mariya, crouched and busy with food, nodded to her but instead of the usual friendly reply there came harsh scolding and insults as was customary:
“Back from your wandering they call ‘Western education’ — we know full well there is no such thing as that Western learning; it is a pretext for immorality and evil. Who knows if some misdeed of that so-called schooling has happened?”