She slowly scanned the entire place where she was seated… this was the first time she had ever entered a company under the name of work. Lowering her shameless eyes, she stared at the computer in front of her. Huuuuu… she let out a long sigh, adjusting the scarf wrapped around her head. She glanced at the suit on her body before bursting into a foolish laugh, and the whole office echoed with her “hahahaaa!”
The quick stares from the staff around her made Sumayya immediately frown, pretending as if she had not laughed at all. That was her habit—she never liked to show any sign of mockery. The way she knitted her brows so tightly caught the attention of the male and female workers, making them whisper in their hearts: “She looks like a BOSS herself. But surely, if she comes face to face with the real boss upstairs, she will drop this arrogance.” Each employee silently formed their own impression about the new worker, Sumayya.
Sumayya’s Thoughts and Troubled Past
Meanwhile, Sumayya shifted in her chair like someone familiar with such seats. Her wide hips and thighs filled the chair, her figure a product of her plumpness—at just twenty-five, she had the kind of body men would steal glances at. She sighed, pressing her chest, whispering to herself: “Oh Sumayya, is this life you’ve chosen really stable? Mtsww…” She hissed, then muttered softly, “I didn’t come here to work, I came to steal the company’s money and run. Why did they even put me here?”
Looking around with disappointment, she found no opportunity to snatch money. “Ah, wallahi, I must leave this place. I’ll go back to the company’s treasury before they discover the certificates I brought are not even mine. I only have secondary school papers. I must vanish from this company quickly!”
Closing her eyes, she remembered her Igbo creditor, the loan that was tormenting her. Opening her eyes wide, she whispered: “Where will I even start?” She stood, glancing upward toward the PA who had employed her. The reflection of her new appearance in his glasses reminded her of her past. She smiled faintly as memories of a recent fight with Mama Biyode came flooding back.
She recalled storming through the streets angrily, cursing loudly, her steps fast and forceful. She was exhausted by the debts that robbed her of peace. “If anyone dares remind me of this loan again, I swear I’ll retaliate no matter who it is! Innalillahi, where will I even begin?” she had shouted, hands on her waist. She was a young girl under twenty, yet with so much trouble. Her attitude already made her the number one troublemaker in town.
Some Yoruba and Igbo kids playing nearby spotted her. Seeing her hijab dragged over her forehead, they shouted mockingly: “Let’s run, here comes Sima… Siman Gaye!”
But Sumayya, never one to spare any child, rushed to them. “You dare call me Siman Gaye? Am I your mate or your mother’s mate?!” The children trembled, and Samuel, guilty of offending her before, tried to escape. But she grabbed him as he cried: “Oh Jesus! Please forgive me, Sima!”
She laughed harshly, replying: “Forget Jesus—today you’ll know there is only one God.” Then she began to slap him mercilessly while the others fled. No one dared intervene, for Sumayya was infamous for her temper.
Confrontation with Mama Biyode
News of the beating quickly reached Mama Biyode, Samuel’s mother. Furious, she stormed to the scene and found her son being punished under a tree. She shouted at Sumayya:
“I have never seen a foolish goat like you! Always fighting everyone. What did my son do to you? I will not tolerate this! I’ll report you to your mother, and if you’re mad, they’ll admit you to the asylum. I’ll even take you to court!”
Hearing her mother insulted, Sumayya’s body shook violently. She grabbed a stick from a nearby tree and attacked Mama Biyode, screaming: “You insulted my mother? Today I’ll deal with you!” The two women wrestled fiercely until people rushed to separate them.
As she was dragged away, tears fell down Sumayya’s cheeks. She muttered: “Oh my dear mother, I won’t allow debts to disgrace you. Forgive me, Company Boss, it wasn’t intentional to plan stealing your money. Astaghfirullah, forgive me…”
Climbing the company stairs, she was mesmerized by the bright, wealthy-looking environment. “Surely, this is where riches lie,” she thought. She approached the secretary’s desk boldly.
Standing over her, Sumayya pulled a chair and sat without permission. The secretary, Mrs. Hauwa Baidu, glared and snapped: “Madam, you can’t sit here.”
But Sumayya raised her sharp eyes, replying coldly: “And yet a chair has been placed here? Why can’t I sit?”
Their eyes locked in a tense stare. Hauwa, realizing Sumayya was a troublemaker, softened her tone and asked: “What exactly do you want?”
Sumayya answered without hesitation: “I want to see the owner of this company.”
Hauwa’s heart skipped. “Could this girl be mad? Sir Khamal—the man people flee from at the sight of him? And she dares say she wants to meet him? The man who fires people after just three conversations?”
The thought left her trembling at the boldness of Sumayya.
Description
Entering the Company
She slowly scanned the entire place where she was seated… this was the first time she had ever entered a company under the name of work. Lowering her shameless eyes, she stared at the computer in front of her. Huuuuu… she let out a long sigh, adjusting the scarf wrapped around her head. She glanced at the suit on her body before bursting into a foolish laugh, and the whole office echoed with her “hahahaaa!”
The quick stares from the staff around her made Sumayya immediately frown, pretending as if she had not laughed at all. That was her habit—she never liked to show any sign of mockery. The way she knitted her brows so tightly caught the attention of the male and female workers, making them whisper in their hearts: “She looks like a BOSS herself. But surely, if she comes face to face with the real boss upstairs, she will drop this arrogance.” Each employee silently formed their own impression about the new worker, Sumayya.
Sumayya’s Thoughts and Troubled Past
Meanwhile, Sumayya shifted in her chair like someone familiar with such seats. Her wide hips and thighs filled the chair, her figure a product of her plumpness—at just twenty-five, she had the kind of body men would steal glances at. She sighed, pressing her chest, whispering to herself: “Oh Sumayya, is this life you’ve chosen really stable? Mtsww…” She hissed, then muttered softly, “I didn’t come here to work, I came to steal the company’s money and run. Why did they even put me here?”
Looking around with disappointment, she found no opportunity to snatch money. “Ah, wallahi, I must leave this place. I’ll go back to the company’s treasury before they discover the certificates I brought are not even mine. I only have secondary school papers. I must vanish from this company quickly!”
Closing her eyes, she remembered her Igbo creditor, the loan that was tormenting her. Opening her eyes wide, she whispered: “Where will I even start?” She stood, glancing upward toward the PA who had employed her. The reflection of her new appearance in his glasses reminded her of her past. She smiled faintly as memories of a recent fight with Mama Biyode came flooding back.
She recalled storming through the streets angrily, cursing loudly, her steps fast and forceful. She was exhausted by the debts that robbed her of peace. “If anyone dares remind me of this loan again, I swear I’ll retaliate no matter who it is! Innalillahi, where will I even begin?” she had shouted, hands on her waist. She was a young girl under twenty, yet with so much trouble. Her attitude already made her the number one troublemaker in town.
Some Yoruba and Igbo kids playing nearby spotted her. Seeing her hijab dragged over her forehead, they shouted mockingly: “Let’s run, here comes Sima… Siman Gaye!”
But Sumayya, never one to spare any child, rushed to them. “You dare call me Siman Gaye? Am I your mate or your mother’s mate?!” The children trembled, and Samuel, guilty of offending her before, tried to escape. But she grabbed him as he cried: “Oh Jesus! Please forgive me, Sima!”
She laughed harshly, replying: “Forget Jesus—today you’ll know there is only one God.” Then she began to slap him mercilessly while the others fled. No one dared intervene, for Sumayya was infamous for her temper.
Confrontation with Mama Biyode
News of the beating quickly reached Mama Biyode, Samuel’s mother. Furious, she stormed to the scene and found her son being punished under a tree. She shouted at Sumayya:
“I have never seen a foolish goat like you! Always fighting everyone. What did my son do to you? I will not tolerate this! I’ll report you to your mother, and if you’re mad, they’ll admit you to the asylum. I’ll even take you to court!”
Hearing her mother insulted, Sumayya’s body shook violently. She grabbed a stick from a nearby tree and attacked Mama Biyode, screaming: “You insulted my mother? Today I’ll deal with you!” The two women wrestled fiercely until people rushed to separate them.
As she was dragged away, tears fell down Sumayya’s cheeks. She muttered: “Oh my dear mother, I won’t allow debts to disgrace you. Forgive me, Company Boss, it wasn’t intentional to plan stealing your money. Astaghfirullah, forgive me…”
Climbing the company stairs, she was mesmerized by the bright, wealthy-looking environment. “Surely, this is where riches lie,” she thought. She approached the secretary’s desk boldly.
Standing over her, Sumayya pulled a chair and sat without permission. The secretary, Mrs. Hauwa Baidu, glared and snapped: “Madam, you can’t sit here.”
But Sumayya raised her sharp eyes, replying coldly: “And yet a chair has been placed here? Why can’t I sit?”
Their eyes locked in a tense stare. Hauwa, realizing Sumayya was a troublemaker, softened her tone and asked: “What exactly do you want?”
Sumayya answered without hesitation: “I want to see the owner of this company.”
Hauwa’s heart skipped. “Could this girl be mad? Sir Khamal—the man people flee from at the sight of him? And she dares say she wants to meet him? The man who fires people after just three conversations?”
The thought left her trembling at the boldness of Sumayya.