He walked as if the wind would sweep him off his feet, nearly falling from his hurried steps. Muttering under his breath like someone newly possessed by madness, he stumbled again for the second time. Luckily, this time he caught the wall of his solid, imposing house — unlike earlier, when he had fallen to the ground.
With a long hiss that swelled with anger deep into his throat, he seethed. In frustration and irritation, he kicked the door of his house, which was completely covered in rust from age — since the house was built, it seemed the iron sheet of the door had never been replaced, its rust bubbling like an old steel drum.
The ball he had in hand rolled toward a clay pot at the entrance, clearly marking where their toilet was. It hit the wall; the door swung aside.
Baba Nafi’s Calmness
Baba Nafi, who was making ablution for Maghrib prayer, lifted her head in calmness and serenity to look at him. She quickly lowered her gaze under the fierce glare he shot at her, as if his eyes would pierce the ground.
“Every rascal in this house, come out!!” he barked harshly, banging on the wooden partition that enclosed the area in front of the kitchen.
From the central room, someone flung open the curtain.
“For God’s sake, man, calm your heart! At this blessed Maghrib hour when everyone is preparing to break their fast, instead of being seen greeting your Lord after the Imam, you come bringing trouble — stopping your family from breaking their fast in peace, just like you deny yourself peace?”
Dauda’s Warning to Larai
He glared fiercely, gathering all his irritation into his voice. Pointing a finger at her, hand shaking in warning, he said:
“Larai, I’ve told you before — if I’m speaking, don’t cut me off. I swear to God, if I don’t unleash everything I’ve brought down upon you, then my name isn’t Dauda, son of Mai Dan-Wake!”
She pouted, letting go of the curtain but still speaking as she walked back inside.
“Go look for your trouble elsewhere, not with me. You haven’t fulfilled your duty of giving me food this blessed month — yet you’re here ranting. When the money you hustled is gone, don’t come looking at me.”
The Boiling Anger
Ignoring her words, Dauda kept shouting for everyone to come before him. The house remained silent, as if no one lived there. Swallowing down the lump of anger in his chest, he spat out:
“So now, I’ve been reduced to the riffraff under the bridge? Me, the so-called master of this house, left here rambling while you all ignore me — what, you think I’m a child born on a railway platform?”
The Interruption
“Calm down, Mallam, we’re just praying—”
But before Baba Nafi could finish, Larai stormed out, adjusting her wrapper that was about to fall off from her hurried movement.
“With all due respect, we’re also praying — so keep that plan of starting trouble in your stomach!” she snapped.
The Entrance of Asabe
Minutes later, the curtain of the last room lifted. Out came a beautiful woman, likely between 35 and 37 years old. Her looks alone declared her a woman of the world. She eyed Dauda and his wives, chewing gum carelessly as if she hadn’t just been fasting.
“What’s all this shouting at Maghrib time when we haven’t even touched water? You should know times have changed — back when you were rich, we’d tolerate your trouble. But now? You’re just making noise for nothing, you black shadow.”
The Tension Escalates
“Asabe! Did you just call me a black shadow?”
“Worse than that — even the sun is better than you!”
Larai burst into laughter. “I like you, co-wife. When it comes to fighting back, you’re better than me!”
Asabe ignored her and kept chewing gum. Dauda’s face tightened again as he went straight to the point:
“I want to know which fool went to Jabiru’s shop to collect soda and chin-chin, claiming I sent them?”
The Confession
From inside, a young girl, about 16 or 17, came out wearing a prayer gown, her resemblance to Asabe striking. Bowing respectfully, she said:
“Welcome back, father. Did you break your fast well?”
“In which hell did I break my fast? You too will join in spoiling my mood!”
With tears brimming in her eyes, she confessed:
“Forgive me, father. I was the one who went to Jabiru’s to get the drinks. No one sent me — I only told him you had sent me so he would give them.”
Dauda’s eyes blazed. “So you think you can lie against me while I’m thirsty from fasting? Mark my words — you and your mother will regret this!”
From nowhere, a resounding slap landed on her cheek, shaking her entire body.
“This slap is to stop you from going to Jabiru’s again, and for the lies you told. Asabe, I’ll deal with you later,” he warned.
Asabe sprang forward. “Touch my daughter again, and I’ll retaliate! I’m not your wife for you to insult — I’m your equal. You know exactly who I am — Asabe, the city princess. Don’t test me!”
Dauda turned to leave, but Asabe hissed after him:
“Walk away, coward — you think you can spend the night peacefully after this?”
The young girl remained kneeling, crying bitterly. Asabe turned to her in annoyance:
“Get up! You brought this on yourself by letting him take his anger out on you. I won’t sit here and let him humiliate me in front of my rivals — next time, I’ll deal with him myself!”
Description
Stumbling Arrival
He walked as if the wind would sweep him off his feet, nearly falling from his hurried steps. Muttering under his breath like someone newly possessed by madness, he stumbled again for the second time. Luckily, this time he caught the wall of his solid, imposing house — unlike earlier, when he had fallen to the ground.
With a long hiss that swelled with anger deep into his throat, he seethed. In frustration and irritation, he kicked the door of his house, which was completely covered in rust from age — since the house was built, it seemed the iron sheet of the door had never been replaced, its rust bubbling like an old steel drum.
The ball he had in hand rolled toward a clay pot at the entrance, clearly marking where their toilet was. It hit the wall; the door swung aside.
Baba Nafi’s Calmness
Baba Nafi, who was making ablution for Maghrib prayer, lifted her head in calmness and serenity to look at him. She quickly lowered her gaze under the fierce glare he shot at her, as if his eyes would pierce the ground.
“Every rascal in this house, come out!!” he barked harshly, banging on the wooden partition that enclosed the area in front of the kitchen.
From the central room, someone flung open the curtain.
“For God’s sake, man, calm your heart! At this blessed Maghrib hour when everyone is preparing to break their fast, instead of being seen greeting your Lord after the Imam, you come bringing trouble — stopping your family from breaking their fast in peace, just like you deny yourself peace?”
Dauda’s Warning to Larai
He glared fiercely, gathering all his irritation into his voice. Pointing a finger at her, hand shaking in warning, he said:
“Larai, I’ve told you before — if I’m speaking, don’t cut me off. I swear to God, if I don’t unleash everything I’ve brought down upon you, then my name isn’t Dauda, son of Mai Dan-Wake!”
She pouted, letting go of the curtain but still speaking as she walked back inside.
“Go look for your trouble elsewhere, not with me. You haven’t fulfilled your duty of giving me food this blessed month — yet you’re here ranting. When the money you hustled is gone, don’t come looking at me.”
The Boiling Anger
Ignoring her words, Dauda kept shouting for everyone to come before him. The house remained silent, as if no one lived there. Swallowing down the lump of anger in his chest, he spat out:
“So now, I’ve been reduced to the riffraff under the bridge? Me, the so-called master of this house, left here rambling while you all ignore me — what, you think I’m a child born on a railway platform?”
The Interruption
“Calm down, Mallam, we’re just praying—”
But before Baba Nafi could finish, Larai stormed out, adjusting her wrapper that was about to fall off from her hurried movement.
“With all due respect, we’re also praying — so keep that plan of starting trouble in your stomach!” she snapped.
The Entrance of Asabe
Minutes later, the curtain of the last room lifted. Out came a beautiful woman, likely between 35 and 37 years old. Her looks alone declared her a woman of the world. She eyed Dauda and his wives, chewing gum carelessly as if she hadn’t just been fasting.
“What’s all this shouting at Maghrib time when we haven’t even touched water? You should know times have changed — back when you were rich, we’d tolerate your trouble. But now? You’re just making noise for nothing, you black shadow.”
The Tension Escalates
“Asabe! Did you just call me a black shadow?”
“Worse than that — even the sun is better than you!”
Larai burst into laughter. “I like you, co-wife. When it comes to fighting back, you’re better than me!”
Asabe ignored her and kept chewing gum. Dauda’s face tightened again as he went straight to the point:
“I want to know which fool went to Jabiru’s shop to collect soda and chin-chin, claiming I sent them?”
The Confession
From inside, a young girl, about 16 or 17, came out wearing a prayer gown, her resemblance to Asabe striking. Bowing respectfully, she said:
“Welcome back, father. Did you break your fast well?”
“In which hell did I break my fast? You too will join in spoiling my mood!”
With tears brimming in her eyes, she confessed:
“Forgive me, father. I was the one who went to Jabiru’s to get the drinks. No one sent me — I only told him you had sent me so he would give them.”
Dauda’s eyes blazed. “So you think you can lie against me while I’m thirsty from fasting? Mark my words — you and your mother will regret this!”
From nowhere, a resounding slap landed on her cheek, shaking her entire body.
“This slap is to stop you from going to Jabiru’s again, and for the lies you told. Asabe, I’ll deal with you later,” he warned.
Asabe sprang forward. “Touch my daughter again, and I’ll retaliate! I’m not your wife for you to insult — I’m your equal. You know exactly who I am — Asabe, the city princess. Don’t test me!”
Dauda turned to leave, but Asabe hissed after him:
“Walk away, coward — you think you can spend the night peacefully after this?”
The young girl remained kneeling, crying bitterly. Asabe turned to her in annoyance:
“Get up! You brought this on yourself by letting him take his anger out on you. I won’t sit here and let him humiliate me in front of my rivals — next time, I’ll deal with him myself!”