It was nighttime, the blanket of darkness covering the earth, everyone had followed and prepared for him.
A bulky black Highlander vehicle sped across the tarred road as though the road was made solely for its driver. On both sides of the road there was nothing but desert sand and occasional dry trees. Since it was night, the moon was fourteen days old, casting its light everywhere, while the stars beautified the sky. The road stretched through the Sahara, its sands giving the night a calm atmosphere.
“How many kilometers are left?” one of the passengers asked. His face was hidden under a turban.
The driver looked back and replied: “Not more than 95 kilometers.”
“In a few minutes?” he asked.
“No, less than an hour left,” the driver answered.
“We must arrive exactly at the appointed time, I fear he might wake up.”
He spoke while shining a light on the face of a young man lying against him, sweating heavily, caught in a state between sleep and unconsciousness. His heavy sweating showed that his sleep was troubled. He did not move, except for the rise and fall of his chest, breathing with difficulty.
The man placed his hand on the youth’s chest; his heartbeat was slow, a long pause before it beat again. But whenever it did, it pounded so hard it felt like it would burst through his chest — dummm!
With worry he said, “Lawali, you must drive faster, otherwise he might die. His heartbeat is weakening.”
Lawali nodded and pressed harder on the accelerator.
Nana’s Household and Struggles
Around 6:15 AM on Saturday morning, inside a modest but well-built room below ground level, its decoration revealed its worth. In one corner, a young woman lay asleep on a medium mattress, covered only with a wrapper that barely concealed her nakedness. With a little movement, she could have been fully exposed.
She struggled to wake but couldn’t, paralyzed by sleep paralysis, known locally as dannau, believed by people to be a spirit that pins one down, leaving them awake but unable to move.
Suddenly, as though a weight was lifted, she jumped up, panting from the struggle, relieved to be freed from the death-like sleep. She opened her eyes and realized dawn had broken — she had missed the Subh prayer.
As she rose from the mattress, her joints ached as if she had been beaten. Her wrapper slipped aside. She sat in silence, trying to recall the events of the previous night. All she remembered was folding laundry, but not when she laid down. She knew she had gone to bed clothed, yet her current state filled her with suspicion.
She adjusted her wrapper and went to the inner bathroom to cleanse herself and perform Subh prayer.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, the unconscious young man awoke slowly. His eyes hurt from the bright light, feeling as though he had woken in another world.
A tall dark man entered the tent, his face hidden by a red turban, holding a small cup. He dropped it, hurried to the youth, and helped him sit up. The youth was fair-skinned with a yellowish complexion, a narrow nose matching his slim face, a little moustache joining a short beard, and big reddish eyes. His long hair fell like a woman’s down his shoulders.
The turbaned man removed his veil and asked, “How are you feeling?”
The young man stayed silent, only staring.
“Are you in pain?”
With effort he whispered, “Where am I?”
The man replied, “We have just entered Nigeria.”
“Nigeria?” he repeated.
“Yes, Nigeria,” he confirmed.
The young man stayed silent, trying to recall if he’d ever heard that name.
“Don’t you recognize me?” the man asked.
He shook his head.
“Do you know your own name?”
He tried but failed, clutching his head in pain.
“That’s enough, don’t force it. Do you at least know ablution and prayer?”
He nodded.
“How many rak’ahs in Subh?” — the youth raised two fingers.
“And Zuhr?” — he showed four.
“Good. Perform ablution and make up the missed prayers. We traveled far from Niger.”
The youth obeyed, prayed, and was given food and tea. Afterwards, his hair was tied up, a turban placed on his head, and he was led outside. He saw trees, wilderness, and a camel chewing nearby.
“Do you know what this is?” the man asked.
He nodded.
“What is it?”
“Le chameau — a camel.”
“Good. Mount, let’s go.”
The man helped him onto the camel and led it forward.
Back in Nana’s home, she returned to find devastation after heavy rains collapsed half their wall. Their well and latrine, being too close, had merged into one disaster. Her father demanded she contribute money for repairs, despite her salary already being spent.
Her mother rebuked him: “Nana keeps giving you her salary, yet you waste it. Now you ask again? Shame on you. You must find a way!”
Neighbors gathered, sympathizing. Inside, Nana joined Jamila and another girl. Jamila, bitter, said she planned to leave the house, tired of poverty and disgrace. Nana only sighed, praying for God’s relief.
That night they slept with the wall collapsed, neighbors peeking in as they passed. By dawn, they managed to pray Subh amid leaking water. Jamila kept complaining: “Only Allah can fix this wall, otherwise we’ll keep living in shame.” Nana stayed silent, reading her Qur’an.
Lost Memory and Uncertain Future
The fair young man ate his meal quietly, then washed his hands. Habu, his companion, asked, “Are you full?” He nodded.
“Do you remember your name now?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing at all comes back to you?”
“Nothing,” he replied briefly.
“Alright. Don’t pressure yourself. But whenever you remember something, tell me. Before anything, we must find you treatment in a trustworthy place.”
The young man said nothing.
Habu pulled out a phone from his robe, dialed a number, and after greetings said:
“We arrived in Nigeria yesterday. What’s the next step?” He paused, listening. “You’re sure there’s no problem? We must be careful. No mistakes. We’ll only move after knowing the safe place for treatment.” He stayed silent again, nodding, before ending the call.
Meanwhile, three days later in Nana’s household, the broken wall was only covered with sacks. Neighbors gave contributions, but her father often diverted the money. Her mother quarreled with him, accusing him of wasting funds.
Tired of their endless fights, Nana dressed and left without a word, carrying her Qur’an to her study corner, as her classmates recited their lessons.
Description
The Journey Through the Sahara
It was nighttime, the blanket of darkness covering the earth, everyone had followed and prepared for him.
A bulky black Highlander vehicle sped across the tarred road as though the road was made solely for its driver. On both sides of the road there was nothing but desert sand and occasional dry trees. Since it was night, the moon was fourteen days old, casting its light everywhere, while the stars beautified the sky. The road stretched through the Sahara, its sands giving the night a calm atmosphere.
“How many kilometers are left?” one of the passengers asked. His face was hidden under a turban.
The driver looked back and replied: “Not more than 95 kilometers.”
“In a few minutes?” he asked.
“No, less than an hour left,” the driver answered.
“We must arrive exactly at the appointed time, I fear he might wake up.”
He spoke while shining a light on the face of a young man lying against him, sweating heavily, caught in a state between sleep and unconsciousness. His heavy sweating showed that his sleep was troubled. He did not move, except for the rise and fall of his chest, breathing with difficulty.
The man placed his hand on the youth’s chest; his heartbeat was slow, a long pause before it beat again. But whenever it did, it pounded so hard it felt like it would burst through his chest — dummm!
With worry he said, “Lawali, you must drive faster, otherwise he might die. His heartbeat is weakening.”
Lawali nodded and pressed harder on the accelerator.
Nana’s Household and Struggles
Around 6:15 AM on Saturday morning, inside a modest but well-built room below ground level, its decoration revealed its worth. In one corner, a young woman lay asleep on a medium mattress, covered only with a wrapper that barely concealed her nakedness. With a little movement, she could have been fully exposed.
She struggled to wake but couldn’t, paralyzed by sleep paralysis, known locally as dannau, believed by people to be a spirit that pins one down, leaving them awake but unable to move.
Suddenly, as though a weight was lifted, she jumped up, panting from the struggle, relieved to be freed from the death-like sleep. She opened her eyes and realized dawn had broken — she had missed the Subh prayer.
As she rose from the mattress, her joints ached as if she had been beaten. Her wrapper slipped aside. She sat in silence, trying to recall the events of the previous night. All she remembered was folding laundry, but not when she laid down. She knew she had gone to bed clothed, yet her current state filled her with suspicion.
She adjusted her wrapper and went to the inner bathroom to cleanse herself and perform Subh prayer.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, the unconscious young man awoke slowly. His eyes hurt from the bright light, feeling as though he had woken in another world.
A tall dark man entered the tent, his face hidden by a red turban, holding a small cup. He dropped it, hurried to the youth, and helped him sit up. The youth was fair-skinned with a yellowish complexion, a narrow nose matching his slim face, a little moustache joining a short beard, and big reddish eyes. His long hair fell like a woman’s down his shoulders.
The turbaned man removed his veil and asked, “How are you feeling?”
The young man stayed silent, only staring.
“Are you in pain?”
With effort he whispered, “Where am I?”
The man replied, “We have just entered Nigeria.”
“Nigeria?” he repeated.
“Yes, Nigeria,” he confirmed.
The young man stayed silent, trying to recall if he’d ever heard that name.
“Don’t you recognize me?” the man asked.
He shook his head.
“Do you know your own name?”
He tried but failed, clutching his head in pain.
“That’s enough, don’t force it. Do you at least know ablution and prayer?”
He nodded.
“How many rak’ahs in Subh?” — the youth raised two fingers.
“And Zuhr?” — he showed four.
“Good. Perform ablution and make up the missed prayers. We traveled far from Niger.”
The youth obeyed, prayed, and was given food and tea. Afterwards, his hair was tied up, a turban placed on his head, and he was led outside. He saw trees, wilderness, and a camel chewing nearby.
“Do you know what this is?” the man asked.
He nodded.
“What is it?”
“Le chameau — a camel.”
“Good. Mount, let’s go.”
The man helped him onto the camel and led it forward.
Back in Nana’s home, she returned to find devastation after heavy rains collapsed half their wall. Their well and latrine, being too close, had merged into one disaster. Her father demanded she contribute money for repairs, despite her salary already being spent.
Her mother rebuked him: “Nana keeps giving you her salary, yet you waste it. Now you ask again? Shame on you. You must find a way!”
Neighbors gathered, sympathizing. Inside, Nana joined Jamila and another girl. Jamila, bitter, said she planned to leave the house, tired of poverty and disgrace. Nana only sighed, praying for God’s relief.
That night they slept with the wall collapsed, neighbors peeking in as they passed. By dawn, they managed to pray Subh amid leaking water. Jamila kept complaining: “Only Allah can fix this wall, otherwise we’ll keep living in shame.” Nana stayed silent, reading her Qur’an.
Lost Memory and Uncertain Future
The fair young man ate his meal quietly, then washed his hands. Habu, his companion, asked, “Are you full?” He nodded.
“Do you remember your name now?”
He shook his head.
“Nothing at all comes back to you?”
“Nothing,” he replied briefly.
“Alright. Don’t pressure yourself. But whenever you remember something, tell me. Before anything, we must find you treatment in a trustworthy place.”
The young man said nothing.
Habu pulled out a phone from his robe, dialed a number, and after greetings said:
“We arrived in Nigeria yesterday. What’s the next step?” He paused, listening. “You’re sure there’s no problem? We must be careful. No mistakes. We’ll only move after knowing the safe place for treatment.” He stayed silent again, nodding, before ending the call.
Meanwhile, three days later in Nana’s household, the broken wall was only covered with sacks. Neighbors gave contributions, but her father often diverted the money. Her mother quarreled with him, accusing him of wasting funds.
Tired of their endless fights, Nana dressed and left without a word, carrying her Qur’an to her study corner, as her classmates recited their lessons.