Everyone in the house was filled with joy over Aunty Shahudah’s return—everyone except me. Nothing else caused that feeling except the kind of reception I got from her the day I came back from work, the same day she returned home.
Out of excitement and longing, I went to meet her. But she looked at me with disdain and disgust, the same way she used to in the past, and ended up mocking my job. That really hurt me deeply—especially seeing how Mom and the others joined her in laughter.
I forced myself to laugh along with them because I had already made a vow to myself that, by Allah, they would no longer see my weakness again. After the laughter ended, I went to my room and left them there. I could hear Aunty Aamilah narrating how I became a DSS officer.
As soon as I got to my room, I threw myself on the bed and burst into tears. Truly, humiliation has no beauty in life; belittling others is an ugly act. But in this world, there seems to be nothing people take pride in more than humiliating their fellow Muslim.
You’ll see a rich person looking down on the poor—even with words. The educated belittle the uneducated; rulers belittle their followers; husbands belittle their wives; siblings belittle those beneath them. Whenever someone is more privileged, they often flaunt it arrogantly, trying to disgrace those who have less.
Alas, people forget that the God who blessed you did not forget the others, and He did not give you because you are better—He gave by His will. He gives knowledge to one and leaves another ignorant; He gives wealth to one and leaves another poor; He grants children to one and withholds from another; He gives authority to one and makes another a follower; He grants health to one and leaves another sick. Everyone in life has their own trial. Having something others don’t have doesn’t mean Allah loves you more. I too believe Allah loves me, and I thank Him for how He created me, Aunty Shahudah.
From that day, I completely withdrew from everyone and everything in the house. Dad wasn’t home yet, and Yah Qaseem had traveled the morning after Aunty Shahudah’s return.
Even at work, I wasn’t cheerful. Ummie and some colleagues attributed my mood to missing Yah Qaseem after his departure, since by now many people knew about our relationship. But for me, it wasn’t just that—something else was disturbing me deeply, something I was trying hard to suppress in my heart because I didn’t want to believe what my mind was telling me, not even as a joke.
The Sudden Tragedy
It was Friday, four days after Aunty Shahudah’s return, when Dad also came back home. Everyone was happy, as usual, and he was warmly received by his wife and even by Aunty Shahudah—who seemed to take pride in his return.
I, however, stayed quietly at the back, even though Dad tried to draw me closer by mentioning my name now and then. I noticed that this irritated both Mom and Aunty Shahudah, so before things got tense, I excused myself and went to my room. We had been having dinner at that moment.
I didn’t step out again until the next morning. I felt it was better to give them space to bond with their father. Although it was Saturday and there was no work, I couldn’t go back to sleep since I had already adapted to waking up early.
After performing the dawn prayer, I stayed on my prayer mat reciting azkar and reading the Qur’an. Having nothing else to do, I decided to clean my room—it took me until about nine o’clock.
Then, I began to hear noise, like someone crying. The voice sounded like Mom’s. Alarmed, I dropped the towel I was holding and rushed out. My heart pounded as I saw Mom crying uncontrollably while Dad held her. I could barely make sense of their words, but soon I understood—Mom’s younger brother, Uncle Usman, had passed away.
I had heard them mention Uncle Usman’s name before, but I had never met him. Throughout my time in the house, I had never visited Mom’s family, nor did her relatives visit often—typical of some educated people who dislike being inconvenienced.
Out of sympathy for Mom, I joined others in tears. Dad continued consoling her before leading her upstairs, then told everyone to get ready to travel to her family’s house. Everyone went to prepare.
Later that same Friday night, around midnight, terrible news reached Jawaad’s family—that Uncle Usman had died in a car accident while returning from a two-day trip.
The family was thrown into shock, as it had been long since they lost anyone after Jawaad’s father’s death. Of all the children of Mallam Yusif Abdul-Aziz, only four had passed away—Mallam Yusif himself, his wife, and Mama Maryam—everyone else was still alive and even growing in number with grandchildren.
The shock overwhelmed Mama Atika, and she fainted. None of them had imagined such a tragedy coming so soon, though they knew death was certain for every soul.
While this chaos unfolded at Jawaad’s house, he and his team were engaged in a fierce encounter with a group of armed bandits they had been tracking for about three weeks. That very night, Allah granted them success in capturing some of the criminals, though others escaped.
By 4 a.m., they arrived at their station with the captured suspects, exhausted and starving after the long operation. Despite their fatigue, their courage and endurance as trained officers hid all signs of weakness.
Rose, being the only female among them, tried her best to endure, though her body could no longer match the men’s stamina. Jawaad hadn’t wanted her to join the mission, but she insisted.
They spent the night at the station. The next morning, Saturday after dawn prayers, Jawaad called Gimba to come pick him up. He was surprised by Gimba’s trembling voice when he answered. Curious, Jawaad asked what was wrong, and since Gimba was never one to hide things, he told him the tragic news of Uncle Usman’s death.
Despite his exhaustion and the troubles within his father’s family, the news hit Jawaad hard. He immediately informed Jabeer and the others, who also fell into shock upon hearing it. Without delay, they headed straight to Jawaad’s family house, despite their fatigue and need for rest.
They arrived around seven in the morning, and seeing the sorrowful state of his family made Jawaad forget all his tiredness. Not long after, Uncle Nasir and the others took him along to the hospital to claim Uncle Usman’s body. They hadn’t gone earlier because the accident had happened far from town, so the body had been taken to the nearest hospital.
Description
The Pain of Disrespect
Everyone in the house was filled with joy over Aunty Shahudah’s return—everyone except me. Nothing else caused that feeling except the kind of reception I got from her the day I came back from work, the same day she returned home.
Out of excitement and longing, I went to meet her. But she looked at me with disdain and disgust, the same way she used to in the past, and ended up mocking my job. That really hurt me deeply—especially seeing how Mom and the others joined her in laughter.
I forced myself to laugh along with them because I had already made a vow to myself that, by Allah, they would no longer see my weakness again. After the laughter ended, I went to my room and left them there. I could hear Aunty Aamilah narrating how I became a DSS officer.
As soon as I got to my room, I threw myself on the bed and burst into tears. Truly, humiliation has no beauty in life; belittling others is an ugly act. But in this world, there seems to be nothing people take pride in more than humiliating their fellow Muslim.
You’ll see a rich person looking down on the poor—even with words. The educated belittle the uneducated; rulers belittle their followers; husbands belittle their wives; siblings belittle those beneath them. Whenever someone is more privileged, they often flaunt it arrogantly, trying to disgrace those who have less.
Alas, people forget that the God who blessed you did not forget the others, and He did not give you because you are better—He gave by His will. He gives knowledge to one and leaves another ignorant; He gives wealth to one and leaves another poor; He grants children to one and withholds from another; He gives authority to one and makes another a follower; He grants health to one and leaves another sick. Everyone in life has their own trial. Having something others don’t have doesn’t mean Allah loves you more. I too believe Allah loves me, and I thank Him for how He created me, Aunty Shahudah.
From that day, I completely withdrew from everyone and everything in the house. Dad wasn’t home yet, and Yah Qaseem had traveled the morning after Aunty Shahudah’s return.
Even at work, I wasn’t cheerful. Ummie and some colleagues attributed my mood to missing Yah Qaseem after his departure, since by now many people knew about our relationship. But for me, it wasn’t just that—something else was disturbing me deeply, something I was trying hard to suppress in my heart because I didn’t want to believe what my mind was telling me, not even as a joke.
The Sudden Tragedy
It was Friday, four days after Aunty Shahudah’s return, when Dad also came back home. Everyone was happy, as usual, and he was warmly received by his wife and even by Aunty Shahudah—who seemed to take pride in his return.
I, however, stayed quietly at the back, even though Dad tried to draw me closer by mentioning my name now and then. I noticed that this irritated both Mom and Aunty Shahudah, so before things got tense, I excused myself and went to my room. We had been having dinner at that moment.
I didn’t step out again until the next morning. I felt it was better to give them space to bond with their father. Although it was Saturday and there was no work, I couldn’t go back to sleep since I had already adapted to waking up early.
After performing the dawn prayer, I stayed on my prayer mat reciting azkar and reading the Qur’an. Having nothing else to do, I decided to clean my room—it took me until about nine o’clock.
Then, I began to hear noise, like someone crying. The voice sounded like Mom’s. Alarmed, I dropped the towel I was holding and rushed out. My heart pounded as I saw Mom crying uncontrollably while Dad held her. I could barely make sense of their words, but soon I understood—Mom’s younger brother, Uncle Usman, had passed away.
I had heard them mention Uncle Usman’s name before, but I had never met him. Throughout my time in the house, I had never visited Mom’s family, nor did her relatives visit often—typical of some educated people who dislike being inconvenienced.
Out of sympathy for Mom, I joined others in tears. Dad continued consoling her before leading her upstairs, then told everyone to get ready to travel to her family’s house. Everyone went to prepare.
Later that same Friday night, around midnight, terrible news reached Jawaad’s family—that Uncle Usman had died in a car accident while returning from a two-day trip.
The family was thrown into shock, as it had been long since they lost anyone after Jawaad’s father’s death. Of all the children of Mallam Yusif Abdul-Aziz, only four had passed away—Mallam Yusif himself, his wife, and Mama Maryam—everyone else was still alive and even growing in number with grandchildren.
The shock overwhelmed Mama Atika, and she fainted. None of them had imagined such a tragedy coming so soon, though they knew death was certain for every soul.
While this chaos unfolded at Jawaad’s house, he and his team were engaged in a fierce encounter with a group of armed bandits they had been tracking for about three weeks. That very night, Allah granted them success in capturing some of the criminals, though others escaped.
By 4 a.m., they arrived at their station with the captured suspects, exhausted and starving after the long operation. Despite their fatigue, their courage and endurance as trained officers hid all signs of weakness.
Rose, being the only female among them, tried her best to endure, though her body could no longer match the men’s stamina. Jawaad hadn’t wanted her to join the mission, but she insisted.
They spent the night at the station. The next morning, Saturday after dawn prayers, Jawaad called Gimba to come pick him up. He was surprised by Gimba’s trembling voice when he answered. Curious, Jawaad asked what was wrong, and since Gimba was never one to hide things, he told him the tragic news of Uncle Usman’s death.
Despite his exhaustion and the troubles within his father’s family, the news hit Jawaad hard. He immediately informed Jabeer and the others, who also fell into shock upon hearing it. Without delay, they headed straight to Jawaad’s family house, despite their fatigue and need for rest.
They arrived around seven in the morning, and seeing the sorrowful state of his family made Jawaad forget all his tiredness. Not long after, Uncle Nasir and the others took him along to the hospital to claim Uncle Usman’s body. They hadn’t gone earlier because the accident had happened far from town, so the body had been taken to the nearest hospital.