Today is Saturday and around three o’clock in the afternoon she was entering their neighborhood which was extremely busy with people all around; because the area is by the market this neighborhood is extremely busy and full of commercial activity. There were those who beat metal drums, those who sell firewood, those who sell charcoal, people carrying parcels, some smoking, and the shoe-repair men were checking machines — the neighborhood was basically the definition of a ghetto area. She was walking, sweating because of the heat of the day and moving quickly because she sensed some commotion today. As she entered the lane she saw tyres and wooden planks gathered together and petrol — may God forbid that anything bad happen today. She went down an alley and came to two small houses facing each other. She stopped in front of one of the houses and froze when she saw a frog at the doorway; she turned and entered the house opposite theirs where a woman sat in the middle of the compound. On seeing her the woman said, “Nurses, you’ve returned.” The girl turned her eyes — they were like the eyes of adults, very white as if washed with milk. The girl could not be more than fifteen years old. She was dressed in a white nurse’s uniform and a small white hijab. Her skin was light caramel with a lot of cheek fullness and a plump mouth; her eyelashes were thick and very black, and her large white eyes looked as if they had been washed with milk. Her mouth was centered by a long nose and a small mouth with beautifully pink lips that made you want to taste them. Her cheeks and hair lay flat with the sweat she was producing making them even flatter; you could see she had full lower cheeks as well. Just last month she had taken her WAEC exams and her father had enrolled her in an auxiliary nursing program held Saturdays and Sundays at the LEA school grounds; she had started going to learn basic things — she did not want to remain idle at home while she waited for the exam results.
The woman who was washing rice said, “Come into my room on top of the fridge; your mother put the key there for you. They went to the mosque to visit the grave near here; they and our neighbors will return by evening.” She nodded, passed by and went in, took the key and came out; she stood and opened their house door, took out the key and entered the formal sitting area and continued walking before picking up a sack. She entered the main courtyard which was tidy all around. The house was not large, but the room where she took the key was small. Passing through, she opened the door to their room and entered the sitting room which was also neat — they had black plastic chairs, one looking worn, but overall the room was tidy. There were two rooms behind the living room; she went and opened one and entered. It had a small mat the type used in boarding schools laid on the floor and a good bedspread on it; next to the bed were English textbooks, a small care item, and a large wardrobe in the room which Mama had not been there long to bring in. From there she moved to take off her black school shoes when she heard loud noise and shouting in their neighborhood.
“Let’s burn him! Let’s kill him! Let’s cut him with a tyre! Let’s burn him! We will show the government — they cannot close the way we make our living!…” Her face dropped. She was born and raised in this neighborhood and, except for going to school and Islamic classes, she never went elsewhere. Every day there was unrest in the neighborhood — people could be lynched or burned with tyres; to kill or beat someone here was not a difficult thing. The police themselves were fed up with the neighborhood’s people because they were constant customers at the station. The shouts and the running she heard made her not wait to finish removing her other shoe; she stood and came out of their room. She wanted to go and lock the house; Mama was not at home and neither was Baba — she was scared. She hated chaos. She tried to pull the curtain in the living room when she heard someone run into their compound with a speed she only associated with trouble. Before she could move, someone pulled the curtain and fell into the room. She stumbled backwards as she clutched a chair and looked ahead in terror.
A tall, big man had come in wearing black shadda trousers that were so dark she couldn’t really tell their exact pattern; there was no shirt on his body but black covered him everywhere like charcoal. His left hand was in some kind of deformation, like it had been burned. His face was black all over and there was blood on his cheeks with a smoky thickness to his appearance. He looked at her and saw how her eyes widened and her mouth moved as if about to scream; at that same time they heard people running toward the house shouting, “He came into that compound! He came into that compound!” Quickly he looked at her again, raised his hands and with a firm but somewhat calm voice — meant to ease the frightened girl — he said, “Please help me!”
[05/04, 9:57 am] +234 703 293 4950: 💫TIME IS NOT ON YOUR SIDE💫
âœðŸ»M SHAKUR
EPISODE 2ï¸âƒ£
TOM, I’M GETTING MARRIED — WHO HASN’T BEEN UPSET BY THE MASTER? YOU IMPRESSED HIM, DIDN’T YOU? 🤠AND WHAT ABOUT THE HOUSEWIVES WHO CAN’T HANDLE THESE THINGS BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO CAPACITY? 😀 MY LADY, DON’T BRING A LIGHT 💡 TO THE BED??? WELL, HERE IS GOOD NEWS: THE OPENING OF A NEW CLASS NAMED COITUS JUNCTION, ALSO KNOWN AS THE RAGADADA METHOD 🎊 COME LEARN WITH US THE SEDUCTIONS AND MOVES THAT WILL BLOW THE MASTER’S MIND 💃 THE CLASS IS ONE MONTH; REGISTRATION IS 3K 🔥 COME LEARN HOW TO PLEASE THE MASTER AND GRAB HIS ATTENTION ðŸ¤
Suddenly the girl went rigid, her eyes wide and fixed as she stared at the dark man, looking really, really scared. In a hoarse voice from the pain he begged, “Hide me please! They want to kill me!” Just then the house door slammed — it sounded like it had broken — which made her spin and stand there stunned, not knowing what to do. If she refused to help him, they would kill him, and she would be implicated in the murder of a fellow Muslim because fire would follow; she was certain they would burn her as well. She knew it well — they would seize her and kill her; she gave him a quick glance and then went toward her room, saying, “Come.” He followed quickly, looking around. The wardrobe her mother had brought into the room — she opened it but there was nothing inside — then she turned to him and said, “Go inside, I’ll hide you here.” He nodded, entered, and she quickly closed the door and shut it tightly. The boys from the street had descended on the living room; her body started trembling as they were approaching; she did not want them to come into the room because they might see him. She then pulled off her hijab and dropped it on the floor. The man was crouched down in the wardrobe watching her and she slipped into the wardrobe’s depths. She reached behind her dress and slowly zipped down the front of his clothing. His body began to fall; he said, “What is this girl trying to do?” He saw a large black mark on the right side of his shoulder. At that moment the boys were pulling the curtain aside and shouted loudly, imitating terrorists, “Dalla, forgive the teachers, step back! You see the girl trying to pull off her clothes, not the curtain!” She quickly grabbed her hijab, wrapped it around herself and began trembling as if she felt like she would urinate — her chest felt like it would burst. Seeing these men were not good, frightened to her core, one of them gave her a grin with black lipstick and said, “So you’ve returned from school, Feerahn Mama?” She barely nodded because the intruder was one of their neighbors and the parents feared him; she said, “Yes, Anas.” Something in his chest softened and he laughed again, saying, “So no one else came into this house?” She shook her head slowly and said, “No one is in the house now. I just came back and got the key from Mama’s place because they went to the mosque at the cemetery.” He turned, believing her and said, “Okay then — he didn’t come into the house, right? Good, we’ll go, girl. Little girl — our neighbor is Safeerah. Her mother also went to the mosque; she is aware.” The boys started to leave. He turned and looked at her; she lowered her head in deep fear; her chest was beating rapidly. He smiled again and said, “Don’t worry — no one else will come in. Don’t be afraid; no one has the right to harm you in this lane. Let us go and greet Mama.” She nodded slowly with her head drooped — her face was pale and she had fainted a little; it took her about five minutes before she gathered herself to come out into the living room. Every corner was dirty with people having stepped on their chairs and shoes. She walked out and came to the porch feeling faint; she saw their neighbor and said, “Lock the door, keep it secure, and God protect us from these people. Look what they’ve done to my house — I’m tired of this neighborhood; every day there is trouble here.” She nodded and slowly shut their door and fastened the locks. Her chest was racing as she closed the door and tried to calm down. She went to the small freezer, opened it, took out some cold water, poured it into a rubber cup from the top of the fridge, and went into her room. She drank the cold water slowly and then returned, still trembling with fear. After a moment she handed the cup to him; he took it and drank it within seconds, standing there while she watched. You could see the miserable state she was in; he then handed her the cup back and said, “Little one.” She took it and returned to the living room and brought some food; he took it and ate quickly, then returned the cup to her. She asked quietly, “Did I bring you food?” He looked at her but could not speak — he only looked at her and she went to grab a small food bowl and a spoon and came over to the wardrobe while he kept watching. She quickly opened the bowl and set it down, then took the spoon and moved closer and offered it to him. The rice was oily and not well-cooked — clearly struggling food made by the poor. He paused and looked at the food without answering, and in a soft voice she said, “If you’re still hungry you can eat; I feel hungry.” He lifted his eyes from the food to look at his hand and said, “No, eat — I’m not hungry. You came back from school, so you eat.” She nodded and closed the thermos flask and placed it aside. She watched his hand, seeing the blood at the corner of his mouth and on the side of his face. In a small voice she asked, “Did they burn you with fire?” He nodded his head without looking at her and in a low voice said, “May God judge — God alone has the power to judge with fire, not a human. Why did they do this?” Without looking at her yet he said, “I was sent to some place by the express where they gave me medicine at the hospital and they told me to go to their house. I came and then this happened. It’s like they knew me; it seems set up. I came to Kano for some go
Description
Saturday in the Busy Neighborhood
Today is Saturday and around three o’clock in the afternoon she was entering their neighborhood which was extremely busy with people all around; because the area is by the market this neighborhood is extremely busy and full of commercial activity. There were those who beat metal drums, those who sell firewood, those who sell charcoal, people carrying parcels, some smoking, and the shoe-repair men were checking machines — the neighborhood was basically the definition of a ghetto area. She was walking, sweating because of the heat of the day and moving quickly because she sensed some commotion today. As she entered the lane she saw tyres and wooden planks gathered together and petrol — may God forbid that anything bad happen today. She went down an alley and came to two small houses facing each other. She stopped in front of one of the houses and froze when she saw a frog at the doorway; she turned and entered the house opposite theirs where a woman sat in the middle of the compound. On seeing her the woman said, “Nurses, you’ve returned.” The girl turned her eyes — they were like the eyes of adults, very white as if washed with milk. The girl could not be more than fifteen years old. She was dressed in a white nurse’s uniform and a small white hijab. Her skin was light caramel with a lot of cheek fullness and a plump mouth; her eyelashes were thick and very black, and her large white eyes looked as if they had been washed with milk. Her mouth was centered by a long nose and a small mouth with beautifully pink lips that made you want to taste them. Her cheeks and hair lay flat with the sweat she was producing making them even flatter; you could see she had full lower cheeks as well. Just last month she had taken her WAEC exams and her father had enrolled her in an auxiliary nursing program held Saturdays and Sundays at the LEA school grounds; she had started going to learn basic things — she did not want to remain idle at home while she waited for the exam results.
The woman who was washing rice said, “Come into my room on top of the fridge; your mother put the key there for you. They went to the mosque to visit the grave near here; they and our neighbors will return by evening.” She nodded, passed by and went in, took the key and came out; she stood and opened their house door, took out the key and entered the formal sitting area and continued walking before picking up a sack. She entered the main courtyard which was tidy all around. The house was not large, but the room where she took the key was small. Passing through, she opened the door to their room and entered the sitting room which was also neat — they had black plastic chairs, one looking worn, but overall the room was tidy. There were two rooms behind the living room; she went and opened one and entered. It had a small mat the type used in boarding schools laid on the floor and a good bedspread on it; next to the bed were English textbooks, a small care item, and a large wardrobe in the room which Mama had not been there long to bring in. From there she moved to take off her black school shoes when she heard loud noise and shouting in their neighborhood.
“Let’s burn him! Let’s kill him! Let’s cut him with a tyre! Let’s burn him! We will show the government — they cannot close the way we make our living!…” Her face dropped. She was born and raised in this neighborhood and, except for going to school and Islamic classes, she never went elsewhere. Every day there was unrest in the neighborhood — people could be lynched or burned with tyres; to kill or beat someone here was not a difficult thing. The police themselves were fed up with the neighborhood’s people because they were constant customers at the station. The shouts and the running she heard made her not wait to finish removing her other shoe; she stood and came out of their room. She wanted to go and lock the house; Mama was not at home and neither was Baba — she was scared. She hated chaos. She tried to pull the curtain in the living room when she heard someone run into their compound with a speed she only associated with trouble. Before she could move, someone pulled the curtain and fell into the room. She stumbled backwards as she clutched a chair and looked ahead in terror.
A tall, big man had come in wearing black shadda trousers that were so dark she couldn’t really tell their exact pattern; there was no shirt on his body but black covered him everywhere like charcoal. His left hand was in some kind of deformation, like it had been burned. His face was black all over and there was blood on his cheeks with a smoky thickness to his appearance. He looked at her and saw how her eyes widened and her mouth moved as if about to scream; at that same time they heard people running toward the house shouting, “He came into that compound! He came into that compound!” Quickly he looked at her again, raised his hands and with a firm but somewhat calm voice — meant to ease the frightened girl — he said, “Please help me!”
[05/04, 9:57 am] +234 703 293 4950: 💫TIME IS NOT ON YOUR SIDE💫
âœðŸ»M SHAKUR
EPISODE 2ï¸âƒ£
TOM, I’M GETTING MARRIED — WHO HASN’T BEEN UPSET BY THE MASTER? YOU IMPRESSED HIM, DIDN’T YOU? 🤠AND WHAT ABOUT THE HOUSEWIVES WHO CAN’T HANDLE THESE THINGS BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO CAPACITY? 😀 MY LADY, DON’T BRING A LIGHT 💡 TO THE BED??? WELL, HERE IS GOOD NEWS: THE OPENING OF A NEW CLASS NAMED COITUS JUNCTION, ALSO KNOWN AS THE RAGADADA METHOD 🎊 COME LEARN WITH US THE SEDUCTIONS AND MOVES THAT WILL BLOW THE MASTER’S MIND 💃 THE CLASS IS ONE MONTH; REGISTRATION IS 3K 🔥 COME LEARN HOW TO PLEASE THE MASTER AND GRAB HIS ATTENTION ðŸ¤
Suddenly the girl went rigid, her eyes wide and fixed as she stared at the dark man, looking really, really scared. In a hoarse voice from the pain he begged, “Hide me please! They want to kill me!” Just then the house door slammed — it sounded like it had broken — which made her spin and stand there stunned, not knowing what to do. If she refused to help him, they would kill him, and she would be implicated in the murder of a fellow Muslim because fire would follow; she was certain they would burn her as well. She knew it well — they would seize her and kill her; she gave him a quick glance and then went toward her room, saying, “Come.” He followed quickly, looking around. The wardrobe her mother had brought into the room — she opened it but there was nothing inside — then she turned to him and said, “Go inside, I’ll hide you here.” He nodded, entered, and she quickly closed the door and shut it tightly. The boys from the street had descended on the living room; her body started trembling as they were approaching; she did not want them to come into the room because they might see him. She then pulled off her hijab and dropped it on the floor. The man was crouched down in the wardrobe watching her and she slipped into the wardrobe’s depths. She reached behind her dress and slowly zipped down the front of his clothing. His body began to fall; he said, “What is this girl trying to do?” He saw a large black mark on the right side of his shoulder. At that moment the boys were pulling the curtain aside and shouted loudly, imitating terrorists, “Dalla, forgive the teachers, step back! You see the girl trying to pull off her clothes, not the curtain!” She quickly grabbed her hijab, wrapped it around herself and began trembling as if she felt like she would urinate — her chest felt like it would burst. Seeing these men were not good, frightened to her core, one of them gave her a grin with black lipstick and said, “So you’ve returned from school, Feerahn Mama?” She barely nodded because the intruder was one of their neighbors and the parents feared him; she said, “Yes, Anas.” Something in his chest softened and he laughed again, saying, “So no one else came into this house?” She shook her head slowly and said, “No one is in the house now. I just came back and got the key from Mama’s place because they went to the mosque at the cemetery.” He turned, believing her and said, “Okay then — he didn’t come into the house, right? Good, we’ll go, girl. Little girl — our neighbor is Safeerah. Her mother also went to the mosque; she is aware.” The boys started to leave. He turned and looked at her; she lowered her head in deep fear; her chest was beating rapidly. He smiled again and said, “Don’t worry — no one else will come in. Don’t be afraid; no one has the right to harm you in this lane. Let us go and greet Mama.” She nodded slowly with her head drooped — her face was pale and she had fainted a little; it took her about five minutes before she gathered herself to come out into the living room. Every corner was dirty with people having stepped on their chairs and shoes. She walked out and came to the porch feeling faint; she saw their neighbor and said, “Lock the door, keep it secure, and God protect us from these people. Look what they’ve done to my house — I’m tired of this neighborhood; every day there is trouble here.” She nodded and slowly shut their door and fastened the locks. Her chest was racing as she closed the door and tried to calm down. She went to the small freezer, opened it, took out some cold water, poured it into a rubber cup from the top of the fridge, and went into her room. She drank the cold water slowly and then returned, still trembling with fear. After a moment she handed the cup to him; he took it and drank it within seconds, standing there while she watched. You could see the miserable state she was in; he then handed her the cup back and said, “Little one.” She took it and returned to the living room and brought some food; he took it and ate quickly, then returned the cup to her. She asked quietly, “Did I bring you food?” He looked at her but could not speak — he only looked at her and she went to grab a small food bowl and a spoon and came over to the wardrobe while he kept watching. She quickly opened the bowl and set it down, then took the spoon and moved closer and offered it to him. The rice was oily and not well-cooked — clearly struggling food made by the poor. He paused and looked at the food without answering, and in a soft voice she said, “If you’re still hungry you can eat; I feel hungry.” He lifted his eyes from the food to look at his hand and said, “No, eat — I’m not hungry. You came back from school, so you eat.” She nodded and closed the thermos flask and placed it aside. She watched his hand, seeing the blood at the corner of his mouth and on the side of his face. In a small voice she asked, “Did they burn you with fire?” He nodded his head without looking at her and in a low voice said, “May God judge — God alone has the power to judge with fire, not a human. Why did they do this?” Without looking at her yet he said, “I was sent to some place by the express where they gave me medicine at the hospital and they told me to go to their house. I came and then this happened. It’s like they knew me; it seems set up. I came to Kano for some go
vernment project!”