Hurriedly, she walked along, often glancing behind her and seeing children following an old man while singing. Some even held onto his long robe, pulling it so he staggered as if he might fall. She entered the house and headed straight to where her mother was trying to light charcoal to start cooking. Placing the ground pepper in front of her mother, she quickly turned to leave.
Her mother asked, “Why the hurry? Where are you going? Didn’t you just come in?”
Pouting, almost in tears, she replied, “Mother, I just saw the children following Father, singing for him. I think he went to drink that thing you don’t like, the one he drinks every day.”
Without a word, her mother sighed deeply and went on tending the fire. Seeing this, the ten-year-old girl rushed out to where her father was. When the children saw her, they ran off shouting, “Here comes Meelah, everyone run before she smashes his head!”
She reached him and, in frustration, said, “Father, you know Mother doesn’t want you drinking this. Why won’t you stop? Aren’t you ashamed of how village kids follow you singing every day? Mother told us this drink is bad, forbidden by our religion, and harmful to health. She told us never to touch it — why can’t you stop, if only for God’s sake?”
Barely opening his eyes, he pointed a finger at her and said, “I’ll deal with you if you talk to me like that again. Move aside before I kick you — I have no money for medicine if I injure you.”
She took his hand and they walked home, silently praying he wouldn’t hit her mother. Whenever he was drunk, he would lose control and beat her in front of the children — a habit that never changed since their childhood.
The Beating
When they got home, her mother didn’t even glance at them but kept working, calling out for Safeenah. She came out of the room annoyed, saying, “Why are you shouting like you want to break my head? I was praying.”
Her mother frowned. “So you just prayed Asr now?”
Safeenah apologized, saying she had fallen asleep and lost track of time. Her mother sighed and told her to prepare the soup ingredients before the tuwo was ready.
Meanwhile, their drunken father looked at Ummy and said, “You, Ummy, didn’t you see me? Are you pretending I’m not here, you useless woman?”
She softly replied, “Sorry, welcome back.”
He snapped, “Keep your welcome to yourself, I don’t want it. But today, your body will teach you respect — you still don’t know how to care for a husband.”
The children all stared. Meelah pleaded, “Please, Father, don’t hit her today.”
“Shut up before I smash your mouth,” he barked, going for his large whip.
Seeing this, their mother quietly slipped into the bedroom to avoid neighbors hearing her beating. The children cried and begged, but he ignored them, lashing their mother so hard they could hear her labored breathing. She didn’t cry aloud so as not to upset them further.
When he was tired, he left the room. The three children rushed to their mother, finding her lying in tears, whip marks on her body and thighs. They covered her up and hugged her with love and pity. She told Safeenah to finish cooking, which she agreed to despite her tears.
Meelah offered her water and later asked if she should heat water to bathe her, but her mother shook her head, saying she would manage after resting. Despite being so young, they understood their father was cruel to her.
Audi’s Life and Cruelty
Malam Audi, from Jere, was an alcoholic from his twenties. His parents, worried about his behavior, married him to a beautiful, well-mannered Buzu woman, Ummy Aysha, hoping she would change him. Instead, he worsened, selling her belongings to buy alcohol.
When their first child, Safeenah, was born a girl, he became more abusive, believing — under his friend Shamwilu’s influence — that daughters were useless. When she got pregnant again, fear made her run to her parents to explain her situation. Her parents were deeply saddened and kept her until Audi’s parents came to beg for her return.
Afterward, they warned him to improve or lose his wife. He pretended to soften, even buying her food during pregnancy. But when their second child, Jameelah, was born another girl, he beat her even in her postpartum pain, forcing neighbors to intervene.
When his father died, Audi’s focus was not mourning but inheritance. Against his mother’s tears, he insisted on discussing property before the funeral rites were complete. Soon after, his mother also died suddenly — an event Audi treated with equal coldness, blaming gossipers for accusing him of causing her death.
Ummy’s parents died in a car crash on their way to console her. Left without support, she watched Audi sell his father’s house and squander the money on alcohol with Shamwilu. She resorted to laundry work to feed herself and her two children.
When she became pregnant a third time, Audi warned her that if she dared give birth to another girl, he would kill the baby — he would not tolerate raising another daughter in his house.
Description
The Rush and the Warning
Hurriedly, she walked along, often glancing behind her and seeing children following an old man while singing. Some even held onto his long robe, pulling it so he staggered as if he might fall. She entered the house and headed straight to where her mother was trying to light charcoal to start cooking. Placing the ground pepper in front of her mother, she quickly turned to leave.
Her mother asked, “Why the hurry? Where are you going? Didn’t you just come in?”
Pouting, almost in tears, she replied, “Mother, I just saw the children following Father, singing for him. I think he went to drink that thing you don’t like, the one he drinks every day.”
Without a word, her mother sighed deeply and went on tending the fire. Seeing this, the ten-year-old girl rushed out to where her father was. When the children saw her, they ran off shouting, “Here comes Meelah, everyone run before she smashes his head!”
She reached him and, in frustration, said, “Father, you know Mother doesn’t want you drinking this. Why won’t you stop? Aren’t you ashamed of how village kids follow you singing every day? Mother told us this drink is bad, forbidden by our religion, and harmful to health. She told us never to touch it — why can’t you stop, if only for God’s sake?”
Barely opening his eyes, he pointed a finger at her and said, “I’ll deal with you if you talk to me like that again. Move aside before I kick you — I have no money for medicine if I injure you.”
She took his hand and they walked home, silently praying he wouldn’t hit her mother. Whenever he was drunk, he would lose control and beat her in front of the children — a habit that never changed since their childhood.
The Beating
When they got home, her mother didn’t even glance at them but kept working, calling out for Safeenah. She came out of the room annoyed, saying, “Why are you shouting like you want to break my head? I was praying.”
Her mother frowned. “So you just prayed Asr now?”
Safeenah apologized, saying she had fallen asleep and lost track of time. Her mother sighed and told her to prepare the soup ingredients before the tuwo was ready.
Meanwhile, their drunken father looked at Ummy and said, “You, Ummy, didn’t you see me? Are you pretending I’m not here, you useless woman?”
She softly replied, “Sorry, welcome back.”
He snapped, “Keep your welcome to yourself, I don’t want it. But today, your body will teach you respect — you still don’t know how to care for a husband.”
The children all stared. Meelah pleaded, “Please, Father, don’t hit her today.”
“Shut up before I smash your mouth,” he barked, going for his large whip.
Seeing this, their mother quietly slipped into the bedroom to avoid neighbors hearing her beating. The children cried and begged, but he ignored them, lashing their mother so hard they could hear her labored breathing. She didn’t cry aloud so as not to upset them further.
When he was tired, he left the room. The three children rushed to their mother, finding her lying in tears, whip marks on her body and thighs. They covered her up and hugged her with love and pity. She told Safeenah to finish cooking, which she agreed to despite her tears.
Meelah offered her water and later asked if she should heat water to bathe her, but her mother shook her head, saying she would manage after resting. Despite being so young, they understood their father was cruel to her.
Audi’s Life and Cruelty
Malam Audi, from Jere, was an alcoholic from his twenties. His parents, worried about his behavior, married him to a beautiful, well-mannered Buzu woman, Ummy Aysha, hoping she would change him. Instead, he worsened, selling her belongings to buy alcohol.
When their first child, Safeenah, was born a girl, he became more abusive, believing — under his friend Shamwilu’s influence — that daughters were useless. When she got pregnant again, fear made her run to her parents to explain her situation. Her parents were deeply saddened and kept her until Audi’s parents came to beg for her return.
Afterward, they warned him to improve or lose his wife. He pretended to soften, even buying her food during pregnancy. But when their second child, Jameelah, was born another girl, he beat her even in her postpartum pain, forcing neighbors to intervene.
When his father died, Audi’s focus was not mourning but inheritance. Against his mother’s tears, he insisted on discussing property before the funeral rites were complete. Soon after, his mother also died suddenly — an event Audi treated with equal coldness, blaming gossipers for accusing him of causing her death.
Ummy’s parents died in a car crash on their way to console her. Left without support, she watched Audi sell his father’s house and squander the money on alcohol with Shamwilu. She resorted to laundry work to feed herself and her two children.
When she became pregnant a third time, Audi warned her that if she dared give birth to another girl, he would kill the baby — he would not tolerate raising another daughter in his house.