Why don’t you take your mother’s words seriously, that you would treat me with this wickedness behind her back? Or is she only pitying me — maybe she knows how I feel about Sabir? she planted her eyes into his, which made them both look at each other. With courage and resolve she slammed Adam’s car door and said, “Even after aunty Aisha’s death they ordered Sabir killed, I would take any risk, God being my witness, to save him. Do you think after we escape someone will join me to hurt the child I promised to care for as his father? What sort of heart is in you?”
The workers at the place came toward them, but Adam stopped them because Rumaisa had just spoken something very important.
“You know from the start what ties me to you, and I will not retract what I said. I will never withdraw. Sabir — if you can, take him to the ends of the earth; do whatever you think is fit. I have never hated anything in this world like I hate you. Even the bandits I once lived among treated me with more respect because of what you said about me — that I would join you to harm your child. From today I swear I will never come back to your house, God willing. Even if I am of lawful birth — my mother bore me, my brothers Usman are my kin — I will not return to this house.” She finished her harsh speech with a hiss, crying as she turned toward the gate.
Adam’s body grew cold; certainly his words had cut deep.
Quickly she left, crying and moving on; there was no way she would ride in his car. A burning hatred kept gnawing at her heart — anyone who tried to separate her from Sabir was a mortal enemy.
Mummy’s part of the house became thoughtful; now and then he smiled. Mummy looked at him and said, “Don’t tell me that smile — has his return made you happy?”
He smiled again and said, “I met a girl I intended to bring in; I left and now I saw her. Her whole manner and character are laughable.”
Mummy looked at him calmly and asked, “Have you started falling in love?”
He said, “Love? She’s still a child, but what she said surprised me — that she returned the infant people are talking about, Aisha’s baby. She said she came to see her son and insisted she shouldn’t be barred from entering. That girl has a harsh spirit; her words don’t match her age. There’s a pretension in her speech, but also a wisdom beneath it. What surprised me most was how she could hold herself with such confidence and accuse me as if I were that man.”
Mummy, puzzled, asked, “You mean the girl who brought Aisha’s baby to this house? You said she’s a child?”
“Yes. You who live here know better than I do; I don’t know the full story. I only know she’s a young girl who caused an uproar — I think she’s no more than thirteen.”
“What! You mean a thirteen-year-old brought the infant said to be Adam’s? People’s scorn is too much — how could a thirteen-year-old take a child from armed men?”
Mahmud shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“But wait, the girl is still here, I want to see her.”
“Mummy, don’t go to her. There’s no need. For God’s sake stop meddling and following their affairs until you know exactly what’s happening. That’s why they look down on you. Let them face their problem themselves,” he said, standing up.
Mummy watched him with her eyes but had nothing else to say. She was surprised — and a little proud — that such a small girl could have rescued a baby.
Rumaisa walked on crying; the sting of the words cut her badly. She reached the roadside when someone grabbed her hand. Angrily she looked up, but before she could move he pulled her closer; she tried to wrench away, shouting, “What have I done to you?”
She could not forget Sidi’s face — the ones who once grabbed her and took her to that place. He didn’t listen; he opened the back of his Takawa car and threw her out, then closed it. Adam rolled down his car window, nodded to Sidi, shut the window and began to drive.
“Sir, let me down — I don’t want you to take me to your house. Let me down,” she begged. He ignored her and kept driving.
“I told you to let me down — why are you doing this to me? Let me go!” she cried.
Seeing he had no intention of helping her, she tried to force the car door open but felt it shut tight.
In Adam’s heart he admired Rumaisa’s toughness; had the door been open she would have flung it wide and left. Finding she could not, she sat and continued to cry, muttering small complaints.
They didn’t stop until they reached the gate of their house. She wondered how he knew where they lived. Even when he parked he didn’t get out or open the car. Rumaisa tried again to open the door, but it was locked.
“Open the door so I can get out,” she struck him in frustration.
He checked his phone for a moment, then opened the door and stepped out — but he locked Rumaisa inside and did not release her. She pounded on the door, but he left, refusing to listen.
Aliyu came out of the house and saw Adam; he widened his smile and greeted him. Rumaisa could not hear what they said for a while, then after some talking he opened the door and she came out in a humiliated state.
Aliyu gave her a nasty look and said, “Go on in.” She went inside, because by then she had to face whatever punishment was coming.
She froze when she saw the man called Baba at Mama’s room door, adjusting the button of his sleeve. A fearful shudder overcame her and she began to walk slowly, face revealing raw fear and confusion.
Aliyu greeted the man and Adam. The man called Baba answered without raising his eyes, only motioning them into Mama’s sitting room. He paid no special attention to Adam; Adam too ignored him. They entered Mama’s room and greeted; Rumaisa followed them quickly, repeatedly calling Baba’s name.
Mama smiled broadly and welcomed Adam.
He said, “I apologize, Mama. Since he left the hospital I couldn’t come to greet you — many things happened.”
Mama asked, “No problem. Is Hajiyar well? How is the household?”
“All are fine. She asked me to greet you.”
Rumaisa looked at him thinking, “Look at him — as if he hasn’t just humiliated me, yet he sits here like a decent man.”
Mama said, “Rumaisa, fetch some water for him,” and Rumaisa felt like she would wet herself rather than go near Baba.
She peered back, then hurried to the kitchen, fetched a bottle of water, and returned to offer it.
The look Mama gave her made her unsure where to place herself; truly she was terrified.
She went back and poured the water into a large container, almost a dozen cups, and carried it over to serve him.
Aliyu said, “What kind of carelessness is this? How will he drink this water without plates in the kitchen? Did you set out four plates or is this your usual show?”
Adam said, “Leave her; I’ll go now. I’m well fed from home, Alhamdulillah. Ammi asked me to bring her back as I told Aliyu on the phone. Instead of going to school she came into town to see Sabir, and she went on foot where it was risky. She should be under strict supervision. I brought her to add a little watchfulness. If she needs to see him, call and we’ll bring him. The school should also check why she didn’t come — they ought to call home.”
Aliyu said, “Their school might try, but she’s like a stubborn little spirit. When she’s determined to do something, what you tell her only prompts her more. And their school is a government one with many pupils; they might not even notice she was absent.”
Mama said, “If she didn’t go, then it’s part of their negligence. We thank you very much. God willing, she’ll be watched more closely and this won’t happen again.”
Rumaisa’s face clouded — how Mama spoke of her as if she were a spectacle in front of guests. No one realized Adam had come and left with her, leaving her outside, crying. Adam looked at the man called Baba as if lifting Rumaisa were nothing.
Aliyu said, “Great — since you returned and they haven’t met, at least he remembered to come.”
Adam commented, “I hope that carrying her didn’t harm her. Since she’s not yet recovered...”
“If she were harmed, she should have been here sooner with her hands intact; she’d be facing the school’s discipline master.” At first Rumaisa kept calling Mama’s name, asking forgiveness, but when he snapped at her she quieted and shut her mouth.
They brought water and set it before him; he made her carry a small bucket to him, placed it down, and then stepped out wearing his shoes.
Their conversation continued; no one mentioned Rumaisa again, although Mama secretly felt some pity for her.
After a while they talked about his social media presence and praised Mama’s calm and the upbringing of her seven sons — how some were still studying and others working. That made him think Mama had life experience; from their brief hospital meeting and how she spoke now, he decided Rumaisa’s chatter was shaped by living among those boys, each with his own thinking and character.
Mama in her description of national matters sounded like a well-read person; her listening to radio and following news gave her the impression of knowledge about the country’s affairs.
Adam said he would go. Mama said, “You haven’t even come to drop your midday meal yet. Is your work place far? Shall I prepare rice now?”
Aliyu said, “Not yet, and there’s stew too. Anything else to buy?”
Adam asked in surprise, “You cook? You know how to cook?” He spoke with astonishment, as if he feared the stove more than anything.
Aliyu laughed, “Shall I come to your mother to fetch the pot? There’s nothing I can’t cook.”
Description
Why don’t you take your mother’s words seriously?
Why don’t you take your mother’s words seriously, that you would treat me with this wickedness behind her back? Or is she only pitying me — maybe she knows how I feel about Sabir? she planted her eyes into his, which made them both look at each other. With courage and resolve she slammed Adam’s car door and said, “Even after aunty Aisha’s death they ordered Sabir killed, I would take any risk, God being my witness, to save him. Do you think after we escape someone will join me to hurt the child I promised to care for as his father? What sort of heart is in you?”
The workers at the place came toward them, but Adam stopped them because Rumaisa had just spoken something very important.
“You know from the start what ties me to you, and I will not retract what I said. I will never withdraw. Sabir — if you can, take him to the ends of the earth; do whatever you think is fit. I have never hated anything in this world like I hate you. Even the bandits I once lived among treated me with more respect because of what you said about me — that I would join you to harm your child. From today I swear I will never come back to your house, God willing. Even if I am of lawful birth — my mother bore me, my brothers Usman are my kin — I will not return to this house.” She finished her harsh speech with a hiss, crying as she turned toward the gate.
Adam’s body grew cold; certainly his words had cut deep.
Quickly she left, crying and moving on; there was no way she would ride in his car. A burning hatred kept gnawing at her heart — anyone who tried to separate her from Sabir was a mortal enemy.
Mummy’s part of the house became thoughtful; now and then he smiled. Mummy looked at him and said, “Don’t tell me that smile — has his return made you happy?”
He smiled again and said, “I met a girl I intended to bring in; I left and now I saw her. Her whole manner and character are laughable.”
Mummy looked at him calmly and asked, “Have you started falling in love?”
He said, “Love? She’s still a child, but what she said surprised me — that she returned the infant people are talking about, Aisha’s baby. She said she came to see her son and insisted she shouldn’t be barred from entering. That girl has a harsh spirit; her words don’t match her age. There’s a pretension in her speech, but also a wisdom beneath it. What surprised me most was how she could hold herself with such confidence and accuse me as if I were that man.”
Mummy, puzzled, asked, “You mean the girl who brought Aisha’s baby to this house? You said she’s a child?”
“Yes. You who live here know better than I do; I don’t know the full story. I only know she’s a young girl who caused an uproar — I think she’s no more than thirteen.”
“What! You mean a thirteen-year-old brought the infant said to be Adam’s? People’s scorn is too much — how could a thirteen-year-old take a child from armed men?”
Mahmud shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“But wait, the girl is still here, I want to see her.”
“Mummy, don’t go to her. There’s no need. For God’s sake stop meddling and following their affairs until you know exactly what’s happening. That’s why they look down on you. Let them face their problem themselves,” he said, standing up.
Mummy watched him with her eyes but had nothing else to say. She was surprised — and a little proud — that such a small girl could have rescued a baby.
Rumaisa walked on crying; the sting of the words cut her badly. She reached the roadside when someone grabbed her hand. Angrily she looked up, but before she could move he pulled her closer; she tried to wrench away, shouting, “What have I done to you?”
She could not forget Sidi’s face — the ones who once grabbed her and took her to that place. He didn’t listen; he opened the back of his Takawa car and threw her out, then closed it. Adam rolled down his car window, nodded to Sidi, shut the window and began to drive.
“Sir, let me down — I don’t want you to take me to your house. Let me down,” she begged. He ignored her and kept driving.
“I told you to let me down — why are you doing this to me? Let me go!” she cried.
Seeing he had no intention of helping her, she tried to force the car door open but felt it shut tight.
In Adam’s heart he admired Rumaisa’s toughness; had the door been open she would have flung it wide and left. Finding she could not, she sat and continued to cry, muttering small complaints.
They didn’t stop until they reached the gate of their house. She wondered how he knew where they lived. Even when he parked he didn’t get out or open the car. Rumaisa tried again to open the door, but it was locked.
“Open the door so I can get out,” she struck him in frustration.
He checked his phone for a moment, then opened the door and stepped out — but he locked Rumaisa inside and did not release her. She pounded on the door, but he left, refusing to listen.
Aliyu came out of the house and saw Adam; he widened his smile and greeted him. Rumaisa could not hear what they said for a while, then after some talking he opened the door and she came out in a humiliated state.
Aliyu gave her a nasty look and said, “Go on in.” She went inside, because by then she had to face whatever punishment was coming.
She froze when she saw the man called Baba at Mama’s room door, adjusting the button of his sleeve. A fearful shudder overcame her and she began to walk slowly, face revealing raw fear and confusion.
Aliyu greeted the man and Adam. The man called Baba answered without raising his eyes, only motioning them into Mama’s sitting room. He paid no special attention to Adam; Adam too ignored him. They entered Mama’s room and greeted; Rumaisa followed them quickly, repeatedly calling Baba’s name.
Mama smiled broadly and welcomed Adam.
He said, “I apologize, Mama. Since he left the hospital I couldn’t come to greet you — many things happened.”
Mama asked, “No problem. Is Hajiyar well? How is the household?”
“All are fine. She asked me to greet you.”
Rumaisa looked at him thinking, “Look at him — as if he hasn’t just humiliated me, yet he sits here like a decent man.”
Mama said, “Rumaisa, fetch some water for him,” and Rumaisa felt like she would wet herself rather than go near Baba.
She peered back, then hurried to the kitchen, fetched a bottle of water, and returned to offer it.
The look Mama gave her made her unsure where to place herself; truly she was terrified.
She went back and poured the water into a large container, almost a dozen cups, and carried it over to serve him.
Aliyu said, “What kind of carelessness is this? How will he drink this water without plates in the kitchen? Did you set out four plates or is this your usual show?”
Adam said, “Leave her; I’ll go now. I’m well fed from home, Alhamdulillah. Ammi asked me to bring her back as I told Aliyu on the phone. Instead of going to school she came into town to see Sabir, and she went on foot where it was risky. She should be under strict supervision. I brought her to add a little watchfulness. If she needs to see him, call and we’ll bring him. The school should also check why she didn’t come — they ought to call home.”
Aliyu said, “Their school might try, but she’s like a stubborn little spirit. When she’s determined to do something, what you tell her only prompts her more. And their school is a government one with many pupils; they might not even notice she was absent.”
Mama said, “If she didn’t go, then it’s part of their negligence. We thank you very much. God willing, she’ll be watched more closely and this won’t happen again.”
Rumaisa’s face clouded — how Mama spoke of her as if she were a spectacle in front of guests. No one realized Adam had come and left with her, leaving her outside, crying. Adam looked at the man called Baba as if lifting Rumaisa were nothing.
Aliyu said, “Great — since you returned and they haven’t met, at least he remembered to come.”
Adam commented, “I hope that carrying her didn’t harm her. Since she’s not yet recovered...”
“If she were harmed, she should have been here sooner with her hands intact; she’d be facing the school’s discipline master.” At first Rumaisa kept calling Mama’s name, asking forgiveness, but when he snapped at her she quieted and shut her mouth.
They brought water and set it before him; he made her carry a small bucket to him, placed it down, and then stepped out wearing his shoes.
Their conversation continued; no one mentioned Rumaisa again, although Mama secretly felt some pity for her.
After a while they talked about his social media presence and praised Mama’s calm and the upbringing of her seven sons — how some were still studying and others working. That made him think Mama had life experience; from their brief hospital meeting and how she spoke now, he decided Rumaisa’s chatter was shaped by living among those boys, each with his own thinking and character.
Mama in her description of national matters sounded like a well-read person; her listening to radio and following news gave her the impression of knowledge about the country’s affairs.
Adam said he would go. Mama said, “You haven’t even come to drop your midday meal yet. Is your work place far? Shall I prepare rice now?”
Aliyu said, “Not yet, and there’s stew too. Anything else to buy?”
Adam asked in surprise, “You cook? You know how to cook?” He spoke with astonishment, as if he feared the stove more than anything.
Aliyu laughed, “Shall I come to your mother to fetch the pot? There’s nothing I can’t cook.”