Since he started working at the shop he kept staring at the place where she would appear; he knew that at exactly that time she used to come to collect bread from him. He didn’t have much money in his hand because right now there wasn’t any business at his sewing shop. He stitched men’s clothes — the earnings he made from them he used to secretly keep for himself and his mother, whom he cared for, and it was with that money he paid the shop rent when the time came. He had no other trade he could rely on to get money aside from this.
As he sat like that, suddenly a madwoman who was visibly pregnant appeared in their row in the afternoon, showing clear signs of hunger. Wherever she went no one cared for her; they simply mocked her. A very young girl suffering from madness and pregnant — she deserved pity. When she came to his shop his heart melted with the desire to help the little girl. He fetched his food — rice with oil and seasoning — and offered it to her. She pinched her face and shook her head as if she did not want it; this surprised him, and she kept bringing her hand toward her mouth as if to indicate hunger. Why wouldn’t she eat, he wondered in surprise. His heart told him that even madwomen, when they are pregnant, he should give them good food. He hesitated, not knowing what to give her that she would want. By luck the bread seller came passing by; he tried buying bread for her and quickly she took it and began to eat. He bought her bottled water and gave it to her. She sat and ate with the water while everyone who passed by watched them. When she finished eating she stood up and left without looking back. From that day on she would come every day at that same time and he would buy bread for her, she would eat and go on her way. He didn’t know her, didn’t know where she came from or where she stayed.
So today he kept staring, waiting for her to come, silent and anxious. There was the bread he had bought earlier lying beside him — she hadn’t come to take it. He got up from where he was sewing and went out of the shop, glancing around to see if God would let him catch sight of her; there was no sign of her. He didn’t know why he felt worried. Maybe she had given birth somewhere, he asked himself; then he shook his head: no — this pregnancy wasn’t far enough along to have delivered. He looked at his coworkers in the shop and said, “Salisu I’ll just take a short walk — in case someone comes looking for me please.” Salisu nodded without delay, slipped on his sandals and hurried out of the shop, wandering and searching without knowing where to start looking for her. Why was he so worried about her, he asked himself. Some inner voice told him it was deep pity. He had only just started seeing her a week ago.
After circling the neighborhood with no sign of her, he turned back and, to his surprise, found her sitting in front of the shop in the sun. He breathed a sigh of relief and hurried toward her, looking at her in astonishment. At the sight of him she turned toward him — she would never forget his face wherever she went; he alone helped her and gave her food whenever she needed it. He alone didn’t mock or shame her when she came by. Only he made her feel calm inside, like a child with its father. She proffered the large piece of bread to him and stared at him. He looked at the bread and then looked at her in wonder, asking, “Where did you go? I’ve been looking for you. Also, where did you get this bread?” She was silent and didn’t speak. To this day he had never heard her voice and didn’t even know if she could hear or talk. No matter which way he went searching for the answer about where she got the bread, he could not get a response — so he took it as she insisted he should take it. He said, “Thank you. But I have food; if I take this from you what will you eat?” Again she was silent and rubbed her belly. He looked at her belly and shook his head in helplessness, not understanding the reason. He went into the shop and fetched another bread and an orange drink to give her. She took them and, when she was about to turn away, he said, “At least tell me your name.” She turned, looked at him — he too was looking at her. The dirt on her body and face, if you were very squeamish you wouldn’t be able to bear looking at her or standing near her. Still she did not speak; she turned and left. He exhaled slowly before returning his gaze to the bread she had given him — where had she gotten it and why did she insist on giving it to him? He puckered his lips as he turned the bread over and went into the shop saying, “Take my money tomorrow to rest; I will put aside your things and give them to you tomorrow if you come back.”
Salisu said, “This madwoman — why are you standing with her?” Kamal glanced at him and replied, “Is it a sin for a Muslim to help his fellow Muslim, especially someone in this state of pregnancy?” Salisu shook his head and said, “It’s not a sin, but you’re too soft. She’s a madwoman and you can see what’s on her body — perhaps wicked people ruined her life and did this to her because of the absence of compassion and faith like ours. And you come and help her; because of that she could cause you trouble. People might see you with her and start accusing you. You know this world: helping now can lead to problems for a person.” Kamal sighed a little and nodded — he knew Salisu spoke the truth, but he still could not refuse to help the girl. He said, “Thank you,” and went back to his sewing.
In the evening he left the shop to go home. Their house was not very good — just a small home with only two rooms: his and his mother’s, plus a toilet and a kitchen. The roof was theirs — they owned the house and did not rent it. He said his greetings and went inside; the old woman was sitting waiting for him. She answered him and said, “Are you well? Today you took long to come back.” He sat down opposite her feet and said, “By God, Mother, it was a very busy day at work.” She said, “May God help you. I was waiting for you to buy charcoal to start cooking; my hands are empty so I did not send the boy to buy.” He put his hand into his pocket and took out two hundred naira, saying, “That’s all I have left from all the work I did today — no one has paid yet. I’m hoping that tomorrow when they come to collect I might get something and then I’ll get us some rice.” She said, “May God bless and protect our secret; you should go and buy it now — I’ll go buy it myself since you look tired. Go and pour water and rest.” He rose saying, “No, Mother, you want me to go buy the things myself? I said I should go buy them.” She shook her head — she had told him to go buy. He hesitated, then put on his shoes and left. He didn’t take long and returned with a bag of charcoal, placing it down just as she came in. They greeted her and all greeted back as they looked at her. She smiled after they locked eyes, then she turned and greeted his mother. His mother said, “You came in the evening again — don’t you get tired of coming around?” She replied, “Mother, I came to cook for you because I heard you say when he comes home he will cook.” His mother said, “No, just rest. You have cleaned and washed the house enough; let me do the cooking myself.” She smiled shyly and said, “Allah, Mother, I will do it. Just bless me when I return.” Happily his mother said, “May God bless you and show me your marriage safely.” Bashfully she pulled her shawl over her face. Kamal only smiled and went to the toilet.
Jiddah began trying to prepare the meal for his mother with her help; they chatted while caring for one another. After he finished bathing in his room he did not take long before coming out and sitting where his mother sat, saying, “Mother, when you serve her the food, if the cooking isn’t tasty and we can’t eat it…” Jiddah gave him a loving look before sticking out her tongue. His mother smiled slightly and said, “This isn’t Maijiddah’s cooking; even at a food stall they wouldn’t show such culinary skill.” He breathed quietly and said, “Don’t make her proud, Mother — I know she won’t be better than the food sellers.” Jiddah opened her mouth and said, “Today you won’t eat this meal.” He only smiled and got up, leaving the house as Maghrib (evening prayer) approached.
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“What is the full name of the missing girl?” — The Police Interview
“What is the full name of the girl who is missing?” one of the policemen asked, looking at the woman. She said, “Zaynab Bello Aji.” He wrote a little and said, “Since when did you say she disappeared?” She said, “About a week ago now; we haven’t seen her.” He asked, “Did you report it at the police station all these days?” She shook her head while wiping her tears and said, “We didn’t have news of her disappearance until only yesterday when this friend of hers came asking for her and said she had been missing from school for two days and she had not returned home.” He asked, “Is your daughter missing for a week and you have no news — are you her mother?” She nodded while gazing at her husband with tears. The elder man cleared his throat a little and, facing the policeman, said, “It’s not our fault and it’s our negligence. We took the girl to school thinking she would be fine. We had no idea she was doing anything at school. Whenever we would call to check on her she would not mention any problem; she would say study had made her busy and that she didn’t want to be bothered. The last call made to her mother she told her she had an exam to write and asked her not to contact her for two days so she could concentrate on studying. The reason we did not call for two days was that we believed her, and then yesterday this friend came seeking her and said she had missed school.”
The D.P.O. turned to the one summoned as Zaynab’s friend and asked, “What is your name?” In a trembling voice she said, “Ruhayma Taj.” He asked, “How are you acquainted with the one who is accused of missing?” She said, “She is my friend — I mean a close friend; we lived in the same hostel room but not the same department.” He asked, “Since when have you been close to Zaynab?” She said, “Since Wednesday. She told me she would go home because her mother was ill and told me not to look for her for just two days; she would come back.” He said, “Tell me the truth about what you know of Zaynab’s behavior. Also, are there other friends she lives with who don’t speak well of her?” She nodded slowly while looking at Zaynab’s parents and said briefly, “Actually, Zeebu (a nickname) can be deaf to advice; she follows some people in their department who go to clubs and take drugs. Several times I have scolded her and warned her I would inform her parents. At home they know she goes to parties with friends and her mother knows she uses drugs.” Hajiya Hauwa widened her eyes with shock and said, “No… that’s not true — my daughter doesn’t take drugs; I never caught her with any intoxicant.” In fear Ruhayma said, “By God, Mother, she does — there is evidence at school. Go and check our room among her clothes; you will find things. Also check her school activities; she does not attend lectures; she is always absent. Many times when I was with her I was complained to for talking to her; I would advise her and admonish her but she wouldn’t listen. On the day she left, I thought her friends had taken her somewhere, but she said she was going home to check on her unwell mother.” Hajiya Hauwa said, “Innalillahi wa inna ilaihir raji'un (We belong to God and to Him we return). When did Zaynab become like this? Please D.P.O., help us find her; she is all we have in this world; we have no other child.” Silence. Alhaji Bello Aji sat in sorrow and amazement that the daughter he had shown love and care to had been hiding these behaviors from them. The D.P.O. cleared his throat slightly and said, “Give me one number from one of her close friends.” Ruhayma thought carefully and remembered a number Deejah had given; they called it and the phone rang but no one answered. After nearly three rings someone finally picked up. He introduced himself, and the person on the line immediately felt faint even though she could not see him. He said, “Tell me the truth about what I am about to ask you. If you lie or hide anything from me I will come and arrest you and lock you in a cell without bail.” She nodded as if he could see her and he asked, “Where is Zaynab Bello Aji?” She paused in fear and then said, “Sir, I don’t know where she is; I swear I really don’t know.” He asked, “On Wednesday did you all leave school together?” She said, “Yes.” He asked, “Where did you go?” She said, “It was a birthday party of a friend that we attended; after that we separated and I didn’t see her again until now.” He asked, “How did you separate? At the party did you leave her there alone after you went somewhere else?” She said, “No. I mean in the middle of the party I saw that they left with someone holding her hand. I tried to stop her but she told me she wouldn’t be long and would return. After the party she did not return; I tried calling her phone and it was not reachable. I thought perhaps she had returned to the hostel; when I came back I asked one of her friends, Ruhayma, and she told me Zeebu had gone home to attend to her sick mother so I did not look for her further.” He asked, “Do you know the guy who left with her?” She said, “No, I only began to see him that day.” He asked, “But if you saw him could you recognize him?” She said, “Not sure. My mind was not focused then and I didn’t think anything bad would happen.” He said, “So Zaynab has been missing for a week now since the day you left. Tomorrow you will come to our office; I will send you the address so you can come and answer some questions.” She said, “Innalillahi — by God I don’t know anything about her disappearance; please don’t lock me up. I have told the truth about what I know.” He said, “Don’t worry; you will just answer questions. If you do not come on your own we will send officers to bring you tomorrow.” He hung up, looking at Zaynab’s parents with stunned surprise and said, “Listen, we’ll continue tomorrow God willing. Keep trying her number — maybe God will make it work — and call all her friends and check, if she didn’t go to their places. We will also try our best to look for her in the town and hospitals where appropriate.” Alhaji Bello Aji gave thanks and they left, all of them in cold fear that there was no clear sign of their child. Ruhayma said, “I will also check the friends I know in the hostel or anyone who has heard news about her.” Hajiya Hauwa said, “But Ruhayma, knowing Zaynab’s state, why did you keep quiet instead of notifying us so we could take action?” She said, “She told me that since you all already knew what she was doing there was no point in telling you.” Alhaji Bello shook his head in sorrow and said, “We had no knowledge of everything she was doing. May God make things right and reveal her whereabouts.” They all answered “Amin.”
Description
The Tailor and the Pregnant Madwoman
Since he started working at the shop he kept staring at the place where she would appear; he knew that at exactly that time she used to come to collect bread from him. He didn’t have much money in his hand because right now there wasn’t any business at his sewing shop. He stitched men’s clothes — the earnings he made from them he used to secretly keep for himself and his mother, whom he cared for, and it was with that money he paid the shop rent when the time came. He had no other trade he could rely on to get money aside from this.
As he sat like that, suddenly a madwoman who was visibly pregnant appeared in their row in the afternoon, showing clear signs of hunger. Wherever she went no one cared for her; they simply mocked her. A very young girl suffering from madness and pregnant — she deserved pity. When she came to his shop his heart melted with the desire to help the little girl. He fetched his food — rice with oil and seasoning — and offered it to her. She pinched her face and shook her head as if she did not want it; this surprised him, and she kept bringing her hand toward her mouth as if to indicate hunger. Why wouldn’t she eat, he wondered in surprise. His heart told him that even madwomen, when they are pregnant, he should give them good food. He hesitated, not knowing what to give her that she would want. By luck the bread seller came passing by; he tried buying bread for her and quickly she took it and began to eat. He bought her bottled water and gave it to her. She sat and ate with the water while everyone who passed by watched them. When she finished eating she stood up and left without looking back. From that day on she would come every day at that same time and he would buy bread for her, she would eat and go on her way. He didn’t know her, didn’t know where she came from or where she stayed.
So today he kept staring, waiting for her to come, silent and anxious. There was the bread he had bought earlier lying beside him — she hadn’t come to take it. He got up from where he was sewing and went out of the shop, glancing around to see if God would let him catch sight of her; there was no sign of her. He didn’t know why he felt worried. Maybe she had given birth somewhere, he asked himself; then he shook his head: no — this pregnancy wasn’t far enough along to have delivered. He looked at his coworkers in the shop and said, “Salisu I’ll just take a short walk — in case someone comes looking for me please.” Salisu nodded without delay, slipped on his sandals and hurried out of the shop, wandering and searching without knowing where to start looking for her. Why was he so worried about her, he asked himself. Some inner voice told him it was deep pity. He had only just started seeing her a week ago.
After circling the neighborhood with no sign of her, he turned back and, to his surprise, found her sitting in front of the shop in the sun. He breathed a sigh of relief and hurried toward her, looking at her in astonishment. At the sight of him she turned toward him — she would never forget his face wherever she went; he alone helped her and gave her food whenever she needed it. He alone didn’t mock or shame her when she came by. Only he made her feel calm inside, like a child with its father. She proffered the large piece of bread to him and stared at him. He looked at the bread and then looked at her in wonder, asking, “Where did you go? I’ve been looking for you. Also, where did you get this bread?” She was silent and didn’t speak. To this day he had never heard her voice and didn’t even know if she could hear or talk. No matter which way he went searching for the answer about where she got the bread, he could not get a response — so he took it as she insisted he should take it. He said, “Thank you. But I have food; if I take this from you what will you eat?” Again she was silent and rubbed her belly. He looked at her belly and shook his head in helplessness, not understanding the reason. He went into the shop and fetched another bread and an orange drink to give her. She took them and, when she was about to turn away, he said, “At least tell me your name.” She turned, looked at him — he too was looking at her. The dirt on her body and face, if you were very squeamish you wouldn’t be able to bear looking at her or standing near her. Still she did not speak; she turned and left. He exhaled slowly before returning his gaze to the bread she had given him — where had she gotten it and why did she insist on giving it to him? He puckered his lips as he turned the bread over and went into the shop saying, “Take my money tomorrow to rest; I will put aside your things and give them to you tomorrow if you come back.”
Salisu said, “This madwoman — why are you standing with her?” Kamal glanced at him and replied, “Is it a sin for a Muslim to help his fellow Muslim, especially someone in this state of pregnancy?” Salisu shook his head and said, “It’s not a sin, but you’re too soft. She’s a madwoman and you can see what’s on her body — perhaps wicked people ruined her life and did this to her because of the absence of compassion and faith like ours. And you come and help her; because of that she could cause you trouble. People might see you with her and start accusing you. You know this world: helping now can lead to problems for a person.” Kamal sighed a little and nodded — he knew Salisu spoke the truth, but he still could not refuse to help the girl. He said, “Thank you,” and went back to his sewing.
In the evening he left the shop to go home. Their house was not very good — just a small home with only two rooms: his and his mother’s, plus a toilet and a kitchen. The roof was theirs — they owned the house and did not rent it. He said his greetings and went inside; the old woman was sitting waiting for him. She answered him and said, “Are you well? Today you took long to come back.” He sat down opposite her feet and said, “By God, Mother, it was a very busy day at work.” She said, “May God help you. I was waiting for you to buy charcoal to start cooking; my hands are empty so I did not send the boy to buy.” He put his hand into his pocket and took out two hundred naira, saying, “That’s all I have left from all the work I did today — no one has paid yet. I’m hoping that tomorrow when they come to collect I might get something and then I’ll get us some rice.” She said, “May God bless and protect our secret; you should go and buy it now — I’ll go buy it myself since you look tired. Go and pour water and rest.” He rose saying, “No, Mother, you want me to go buy the things myself? I said I should go buy them.” She shook her head — she had told him to go buy. He hesitated, then put on his shoes and left. He didn’t take long and returned with a bag of charcoal, placing it down just as she came in. They greeted her and all greeted back as they looked at her. She smiled after they locked eyes, then she turned and greeted his mother. His mother said, “You came in the evening again — don’t you get tired of coming around?” She replied, “Mother, I came to cook for you because I heard you say when he comes home he will cook.” His mother said, “No, just rest. You have cleaned and washed the house enough; let me do the cooking myself.” She smiled shyly and said, “Allah, Mother, I will do it. Just bless me when I return.” Happily his mother said, “May God bless you and show me your marriage safely.” Bashfully she pulled her shawl over her face. Kamal only smiled and went to the toilet.
Jiddah began trying to prepare the meal for his mother with her help; they chatted while caring for one another. After he finished bathing in his room he did not take long before coming out and sitting where his mother sat, saying, “Mother, when you serve her the food, if the cooking isn’t tasty and we can’t eat it…” Jiddah gave him a loving look before sticking out her tongue. His mother smiled slightly and said, “This isn’t Maijiddah’s cooking; even at a food stall they wouldn’t show such culinary skill.” He breathed quietly and said, “Don’t make her proud, Mother — I know she won’t be better than the food sellers.” Jiddah opened her mouth and said, “Today you won’t eat this meal.” He only smiled and got up, leaving the house as Maghrib (evening prayer) approached.
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“What is the full name of the missing girl?” — The Police Interview
“What is the full name of the girl who is missing?” one of the policemen asked, looking at the woman. She said, “Zaynab Bello Aji.” He wrote a little and said, “Since when did you say she disappeared?” She said, “About a week ago now; we haven’t seen her.” He asked, “Did you report it at the police station all these days?” She shook her head while wiping her tears and said, “We didn’t have news of her disappearance until only yesterday when this friend of hers came asking for her and said she had been missing from school for two days and she had not returned home.” He asked, “Is your daughter missing for a week and you have no news — are you her mother?” She nodded while gazing at her husband with tears. The elder man cleared his throat a little and, facing the policeman, said, “It’s not our fault and it’s our negligence. We took the girl to school thinking she would be fine. We had no idea she was doing anything at school. Whenever we would call to check on her she would not mention any problem; she would say study had made her busy and that she didn’t want to be bothered. The last call made to her mother she told her she had an exam to write and asked her not to contact her for two days so she could concentrate on studying. The reason we did not call for two days was that we believed her, and then yesterday this friend came seeking her and said she had missed school.”
The D.P.O. turned to the one summoned as Zaynab’s friend and asked, “What is your name?” In a trembling voice she said, “Ruhayma Taj.” He asked, “How are you acquainted with the one who is accused of missing?” She said, “She is my friend — I mean a close friend; we lived in the same hostel room but not the same department.” He asked, “Since when have you been close to Zaynab?” She said, “Since Wednesday. She told me she would go home because her mother was ill and told me not to look for her for just two days; she would come back.” He said, “Tell me the truth about what you know of Zaynab’s behavior. Also, are there other friends she lives with who don’t speak well of her?” She nodded slowly while looking at Zaynab’s parents and said briefly, “Actually, Zeebu (a nickname) can be deaf to advice; she follows some people in their department who go to clubs and take drugs. Several times I have scolded her and warned her I would inform her parents. At home they know she goes to parties with friends and her mother knows she uses drugs.” Hajiya Hauwa widened her eyes with shock and said, “No… that’s not true — my daughter doesn’t take drugs; I never caught her with any intoxicant.” In fear Ruhayma said, “By God, Mother, she does — there is evidence at school. Go and check our room among her clothes; you will find things. Also check her school activities; she does not attend lectures; she is always absent. Many times when I was with her I was complained to for talking to her; I would advise her and admonish her but she wouldn’t listen. On the day she left, I thought her friends had taken her somewhere, but she said she was going home to check on her unwell mother.” Hajiya Hauwa said, “Innalillahi wa inna ilaihir raji'un (We belong to God and to Him we return). When did Zaynab become like this? Please D.P.O., help us find her; she is all we have in this world; we have no other child.” Silence. Alhaji Bello Aji sat in sorrow and amazement that the daughter he had shown love and care to had been hiding these behaviors from them. The D.P.O. cleared his throat slightly and said, “Give me one number from one of her close friends.” Ruhayma thought carefully and remembered a number Deejah had given; they called it and the phone rang but no one answered. After nearly three rings someone finally picked up. He introduced himself, and the person on the line immediately felt faint even though she could not see him. He said, “Tell me the truth about what I am about to ask you. If you lie or hide anything from me I will come and arrest you and lock you in a cell without bail.” She nodded as if he could see her and he asked, “Where is Zaynab Bello Aji?” She paused in fear and then said, “Sir, I don’t know where she is; I swear I really don’t know.” He asked, “On Wednesday did you all leave school together?” She said, “Yes.” He asked, “Where did you go?” She said, “It was a birthday party of a friend that we attended; after that we separated and I didn’t see her again until now.” He asked, “How did you separate? At the party did you leave her there alone after you went somewhere else?” She said, “No. I mean in the middle of the party I saw that they left with someone holding her hand. I tried to stop her but she told me she wouldn’t be long and would return. After the party she did not return; I tried calling her phone and it was not reachable. I thought perhaps she had returned to the hostel; when I came back I asked one of her friends, Ruhayma, and she told me Zeebu had gone home to attend to her sick mother so I did not look for her further.” He asked, “Do you know the guy who left with her?” She said, “No, I only began to see him that day.” He asked, “But if you saw him could you recognize him?” She said, “Not sure. My mind was not focused then and I didn’t think anything bad would happen.” He said, “So Zaynab has been missing for a week now since the day you left. Tomorrow you will come to our office; I will send you the address so you can come and answer some questions.” She said, “Innalillahi — by God I don’t know anything about her disappearance; please don’t lock me up. I have told the truth about what I know.” He said, “Don’t worry; you will just answer questions. If you do not come on your own we will send officers to bring you tomorrow.” He hung up, looking at Zaynab’s parents with stunned surprise and said, “Listen, we’ll continue tomorrow God willing. Keep trying her number — maybe God will make it work — and call all her friends and check, if she didn’t go to their places. We will also try our best to look for her in the town and hospitals where appropriate.” Alhaji Bello Aji gave thanks and they left, all of them in cold fear that there was no clear sign of their child. Ruhayma said, “I will also check the friends I know in the hostel or anyone who has heard news about her.” Hajiya Hauwa said, “But Ruhayma, knowing Zaynab’s state, why did you keep quiet instead of notifying us so we could take action?” She said, “She told me that since you all already knew what she was doing there was no point in telling you.” Alhaji Bello shook his head in sorrow and said, “We had no knowledge of everything she was doing. May God make things right and reveal her whereabouts.” They all answered “Amin.”