She was a girl not more than sixteen years old, still wearing her secondary school uniform. She hurried along as dark clouds gathered overhead, with no means of transport available. In a rush—half walking, half running—she struggled on until she reached a well-arranged house, which she entered quickly, greeting with “Peace be upon you.”
A woman not more than forty-five years old replied to her greeting and asked, “Why are you late coming back today?”
Removing the hijab she was wearing, the girl replied, “Honestly, Mama, I couldn’t find a ride, so I had to walk all the way home.”
“Alright, go and eat. Your food is in the kitchen.”
“Okay, Mama,” she answered as she headed to the kitchen.
She took her food, returned to the parlour, and ate. Afterward, she washed all the dishes in the house, removed her school uniform, bathed, and changed into her Islamiyya clothes. She greeted Mama again and went out to the veranda, where she met Yaya Kabeer and greeted him. He brought out some money to give her, but she refused, saying, “No, Yaya, please keep it. I already have money.”
He smiled and said, “I gave it to you—take it.”
“No, please leave it,” she said playfully.
Laughing, he said, “Yuseera, don’t you grow up at all? You keep growing every day, yet you still behave like a child.”
She laughed and replied, “But you all pamper me, Yaya.”
“Alright then, hurry up so you won’t be late,” he said.
“Okay,” she replied, excusing herself as she went out.
Yuseef’s Anger and an Unexpected Encounter
He was lying down, dressed in shorts, sprawled on a chair in the parlour. He was a man not more than thirty-five years old, dark-skinned, tall, with a broad chest like that of a lion. All he did was press his phone, and there were many contacts saved in it.
His full attention was on the phone when a young woman entered the parlour. She was light-skinned with a fair complexion, tall, and wearing only a towel. She found a place to sit, stared at him, and softly said, “Dear.”
He raised his head, looked at her, then dropped the phone and asked, “What is it again?”
With worry in her voice she said, “I haven’t been able to sleep since you arrived. I even took a bath, but it didn’t help. I thought if we lay down together, maybe I’d fall asleep.”
He glared at her, hissed, picked up his phone, and continued pressing it.
She pushed her lips forward and said, “You’re always like this. Even at night, you hurt people unnecessarily.”
He gave her a fierce look that made her quickly stand up and leave, knowing Yuseef’s temper very well.
He hissed again, stood up, went to the bedroom, dropped his phones on the bed, entered the bathroom, bathed, and dressed in fine clothes without a cap. Taking his car key and one phone, he left straight for the family house. On arrival, he entered their section and met his mother sitting on the carpet. He sat close to her and greeted her softly, but she didn’t even look at him.
He gently held her legs and pleaded, “Please, Mami, stop being angry with me.”
She raised her hand to hit him, but he held on, begging. She finally looked at him and said, “I’m tired—tired of your behavior, Yuseef. Every day it’s the same talk about marriage. If you don’t know the pain, I do. If you won’t marry again, then quit the film industry. It’s not right that years of marriage pass without a child.”
Respectfully, he said, “Mami, I already told you—Nuratu, the one I work with in films, is the one I want to marry…”
Her sharp glare stopped him. Angrily she said, “How many times must I tell you that you won’t marry that girl? You prefer women with open eyes like Saudat. Even though she’s not a film actress, she understands you better. As for Nuratu, she’s stubborn. You should choose someone stronger than you.”
He lowered his head, scratching it, and said, “Mami, you know there’s no girl I can marry now who can endure living with me…”
She cut him off, “For God’s sake, stop talking. Whether you have strength or fame, you must marry a woman of good character, not a reckless one. I won’t allow my grandchildren to be raised with a film actress’s behavior.”
Softly he replied, “That’s not what I meant…”
She stopped him again, “Enough. Go. I know the step I’ll take.”
He stood up sadly and left some money for her. As he reached the door, she called him back to take it, but he said, “Give it to Munirat.”
“She doesn’t need it either,” she replied.
“Just leave it,” he said and walked out.
At about 5:40 p.m., Yuseera was returning from Islamiyya school. Since the school was by the roadside, they usually crossed the road to enter their street. As she was crossing, a black car with tinted windows sped toward her. She didn’t notice—then screeeech! The brakes screeched loudly.
She screamed, covered her ears, and froze in shock. The driver stepped out—it was Yuseef. Seeing the crowd and realizing the damage to his image if anything went wrong, he quickly went to her, held her hand, and helped her cross. Calmly, without recognizing her, he said, “Please, be careful when crossing the road—you behave like animals.”
He finished speaking, crossed her over, and returned to his car. The crowd began praising and greeting him, recognizing him as Yuseef YJ, the film star. Yuseera stood still in shock—today, Yuseef YJ himself had helped her cross the road. Yet, despite the excitement, the word “animals” hurt her deeply.
Description
A Young Girl’s Daily Struggle
She was a girl not more than sixteen years old, still wearing her secondary school uniform. She hurried along as dark clouds gathered overhead, with no means of transport available. In a rush—half walking, half running—she struggled on until she reached a well-arranged house, which she entered quickly, greeting with “Peace be upon you.”
A woman not more than forty-five years old replied to her greeting and asked, “Why are you late coming back today?”
Removing the hijab she was wearing, the girl replied, “Honestly, Mama, I couldn’t find a ride, so I had to walk all the way home.”
“Alright, go and eat. Your food is in the kitchen.”
“Okay, Mama,” she answered as she headed to the kitchen.
She took her food, returned to the parlour, and ate. Afterward, she washed all the dishes in the house, removed her school uniform, bathed, and changed into her Islamiyya clothes. She greeted Mama again and went out to the veranda, where she met Yaya Kabeer and greeted him. He brought out some money to give her, but she refused, saying, “No, Yaya, please keep it. I already have money.”
He smiled and said, “I gave it to you—take it.”
“No, please leave it,” she said playfully.
Laughing, he said, “Yuseera, don’t you grow up at all? You keep growing every day, yet you still behave like a child.”
She laughed and replied, “But you all pamper me, Yaya.”
“Alright then, hurry up so you won’t be late,” he said.
“Okay,” she replied, excusing herself as she went out.
Yuseef’s Anger and an Unexpected Encounter
He was lying down, dressed in shorts, sprawled on a chair in the parlour. He was a man not more than thirty-five years old, dark-skinned, tall, with a broad chest like that of a lion. All he did was press his phone, and there were many contacts saved in it.
His full attention was on the phone when a young woman entered the parlour. She was light-skinned with a fair complexion, tall, and wearing only a towel. She found a place to sit, stared at him, and softly said, “Dear.”
He raised his head, looked at her, then dropped the phone and asked, “What is it again?”
With worry in her voice she said, “I haven’t been able to sleep since you arrived. I even took a bath, but it didn’t help. I thought if we lay down together, maybe I’d fall asleep.”
He glared at her, hissed, picked up his phone, and continued pressing it.
She pushed her lips forward and said, “You’re always like this. Even at night, you hurt people unnecessarily.”
He gave her a fierce look that made her quickly stand up and leave, knowing Yuseef’s temper very well.
He hissed again, stood up, went to the bedroom, dropped his phones on the bed, entered the bathroom, bathed, and dressed in fine clothes without a cap. Taking his car key and one phone, he left straight for the family house. On arrival, he entered their section and met his mother sitting on the carpet. He sat close to her and greeted her softly, but she didn’t even look at him.
He gently held her legs and pleaded, “Please, Mami, stop being angry with me.”
She raised her hand to hit him, but he held on, begging. She finally looked at him and said, “I’m tired—tired of your behavior, Yuseef. Every day it’s the same talk about marriage. If you don’t know the pain, I do. If you won’t marry again, then quit the film industry. It’s not right that years of marriage pass without a child.”
Respectfully, he said, “Mami, I already told you—Nuratu, the one I work with in films, is the one I want to marry…”
Her sharp glare stopped him. Angrily she said, “How many times must I tell you that you won’t marry that girl? You prefer women with open eyes like Saudat. Even though she’s not a film actress, she understands you better. As for Nuratu, she’s stubborn. You should choose someone stronger than you.”
He lowered his head, scratching it, and said, “Mami, you know there’s no girl I can marry now who can endure living with me…”
She cut him off, “For God’s sake, stop talking. Whether you have strength or fame, you must marry a woman of good character, not a reckless one. I won’t allow my grandchildren to be raised with a film actress’s behavior.”
Softly he replied, “That’s not what I meant…”
She stopped him again, “Enough. Go. I know the step I’ll take.”
He stood up sadly and left some money for her. As he reached the door, she called him back to take it, but he said, “Give it to Munirat.”
“She doesn’t need it either,” she replied.
“Just leave it,” he said and walked out.
At about 5:40 p.m., Yuseera was returning from Islamiyya school. Since the school was by the roadside, they usually crossed the road to enter their street. As she was crossing, a black car with tinted windows sped toward her. She didn’t notice—then screeeech! The brakes screeched loudly.
She screamed, covered her ears, and froze in shock. The driver stepped out—it was Yuseef. Seeing the crowd and realizing the damage to his image if anything went wrong, he quickly went to her, held her hand, and helped her cross. Calmly, without recognizing her, he said, “Please, be careful when crossing the road—you behave like animals.”
He finished speaking, crossed her over, and returned to his car. The crowd began praising and greeting him, recognizing him as Yuseef YJ, the film star. Yuseera stood still in shock—today, Yuseef YJ himself had helped her cross the road. Yet, despite the excitement, the word “animals” hurt her deeply.