The woman continued shouting, “Hey — if you’re still alive, don’t come and act like you didn’t do anything! I’m the one who gave birth to you; I’m your father’s wife, and of course I must make you work for me. Or do you think your father is not alive?”
I was overwhelmed by her words and said, “Please, Mama, have mercy — look at my condition. See how swollen my stomach is; I’m in pain. I sit and stand with difficulty. And besides, just now Inno sent me to wash the children’s clothes and hers too — by the time I finish, I’ll be exhausted.”
Mama replied, “So what? The little bit of washing you do for them that’s nothing to see — get up and do my work. Wash the two bedspreads and the curtains; they’re all dirty. And once you finish, cook for us. Today you’ll make dambu while they’re still at school; they have good upbringing — girls should seek knowledge and not be lazy. Whoever follows laziness will stay at home and not go out; they must do their parents’ housework. If a person knows how to fetch something, they must stay at home and work so their sin will be reduced. But you — you play with the pregnancy you’ll bear and sin will remain on you!”
Cut by the harshness of those words that burned my heart, and feeling as if I might lash out at her, I only said to her, “Mama, honestly, in the state I’m in I can’t do anything for you. My stomach hurts and my back aches!”
Mama raised her hand, said a short prayer for the father, then cried out, “By God, look at you with that huge pregnancy — whose father is unknown — and you think you’ve grown bold, shamelessly insulting me? Women of this house, have you heard what this shameless girl says to me — even insults? Come and see and hear with your own ears — the man (Malam) is not alive, and yet you insult me? Don’t let me be accused of doing her wrong.”
All the women in the house gathered together, including my mother. When my mother realized I was the one being attacked, she sat aside and said nothing.
Mama said, “So I should put Narjeesah to work and she’ll refuse? She says she can’t do it?”
Inno said, “Narjeesah, I’ve noticed you’ve been acting insolent lately. You will ruin the peaceful life Malam built for years. We won’t accept this lack of decency — how can you insult the woman who is like a mother to you?”
I remained silent and listened; the heaviness in my chest grew worse.
“You should listen to your elders,” they said mockingly, and Mama, smiling with satisfaction as if she had supporters, continued.
I stood up angrily, with my cloth lifted as I dragged myself to my bedroom, lay down, and felt resentment toward everyone in the world.
My sister Yaya said, “Won’t you stop talking to Narjeesah about the shameful thing she did to Larai? She is carrying this pregnancy and has grown older; can’t she obey? And frequent movement of her body doesn’t mean she should submit herself — childbirth is very painful.”
Inno said, “Everyone knows Umman Yara’s (the children’s mother’s) nature. If it’s about Narjeesah, you won’t hear her speak badly. She does not treat Narjeesah as her own child because she knows Narjeesah is mixed-blood. They talk like Mariya and Nusaiba — you hear her complaints are louder than most. But because of Narjeesah, Malam removed her from that room and placed her elsewhere. Now her eyes have opened to shamelessness and insolence.”
Umma kept silent, listening, then said, “What do you want me to do? I honestly thought you were talking about someone else, not her.”
They all fell quiet. Umma found me lying on her bed like a runaway. She looked at me once, then sat down at the edge of the bed and said, “You should restrain yourself and limit your movements. I don’t want to hear you talk too much or hear about you doing physical tasks for Larai that show shame. Tell her to be patient — don’t behave shamelessly. I have noticed how you have been disrespectful to Larai; I don’t want to hear or see it again.”
When Umma paused, I responded, “This is because I am under strain. They say I should do everything in this house; yet who’s the one insulting me? Where are Anty Asma and Balkisu? They say I should do everything. And what about the elders like Fauziyya?”
Umma was silent again; I knew she wouldn’t speak more because she rarely argued with me. She is like a parent to me; when others intervene, she won’t speak until I leave the room. The pain of this situation was worse than I imagined — to be insulted even by your husband’s mother with no sign of affection from her.
The chore I hadn’t done was the fura made from millet; she served it to everyone except me. Even though I’m pregnant, I don’t like to eat anything that will be criticized later. Umma knows my temperament; everyone knows me — I don’t eat anything greasy. Inno herself called me and told me to go to her room, open the kettle, and pour food for my brother Deeni and will leave me some to eat later. She told me to portion out food for my brothers because she knew I’d be left hungry today and should be working for others.
Because I know Inno’s nature, when she rises from her room she has no stinginess — she helps freely and never withholds. So I went and poured out the food. Sitting near Inno, I began to look around silently. Yaya brought my portion and I started to eat. Anty Basira said, “Oh Narjeesah, today you put me in a bad mood — what’s your secret?”
I just looked at her and said nothing. Then Yaya said, “No doubt Narjeesah, your delivery is near. You are close to giving birth; your belly shows heavy and I can see it’s sagging low.”
Mama said, “If Narjeesah gives birth in this house, what will happen to people? How will they allow Narjeesah and her baby to live in peace here? Truly, there’s no peace in this house. We should have known earlier — no one should blame me for this. The behavior of your children is such that if a man is alive, you’d say he’s killed himself; you gave him a bad situation and now he preferred someone else over you, and you, you went and lowered yourself.”
Everyone looked toward Mama. I felt tears rising but swallowed them and heard everyone speaking about me.
Inno, surprised, said, “What kind of talk is this, Larai? When you say your children didn’t cause you shame, Narjeesah — if Malam truly loves honesty, he loves Narjeesah too; you should let her be.”
Yaya said, “Larai, unless you’ll insult Narjeesah without cause — she hasn’t done you any wrong. If you start this, you will be the one to change the household’s atmosphere.”
Haulatu, Inno’s house girl, pleaded, “Please, stop this talk. We don’t want it. Fate is upon everyone, right?”
Quickly, Shamsiyya, Mama’s house girl, said, “No — fate isn’t an excuse for lying. A person who does not intend to sin but does it, it’s because they caused themselves to fall. A womb without a known father is the result of licentiousness — severe wrongdoing; we cannot ignore it. If a marriage happens and we now face consequences, I am angry. How could a fifteen-year-old’s pregnancy be treated lightly? We have cared for her for five years; we did nothing wrong, yet this happens.”
Aunty Zuwaira, Yaya’s house girl, added, “Really, we stirred up problems. Narjeesah, you’ve smeared our reputation. Bilya broke off his marriage offer; I swore to him I wouldn’t do such a thing. I know he forgave, and he will send his parents with dowry, and I won’t refuse to marry him if he returns — I can’t accept being denied the marriage I nearly died for.”
A heated argument began; some backed Mama, others defended me. I pushed my plate away, feeling the pain of what they said, and said, “Everyone always speaks insults. Please leave me to my own worries. For God’s sake — do you want me to be harmed? Or do you want my heart to be crushed?”
I stood up, left them staring at me. Mama said, “Oh, it’s not our fault; your bad behavior brought this upon you. Your poor ways led you to this point — when Malam was alive you would have killed him with reproach; you took advantage and now you reaped what you sowed. You invested in him and he preferred you over everyone, but you went and degraded yourself.”
Sccusations, Shame, and Fear of Childbirth
(Continuation & context from the argument)
They accused me harshly, saying my behavior had ruined reputations and relationships. They talked as if my pregnancy were a scandal that would bring the household shame, stressing that if I gave birth here, no one would live in peace. They reminded me I was under watch, that even servants were speaking against me, and that my situation might affect marriage prospects and family honor.
I felt cornered, criticized from every side — from Mama, Inno, Yaya, and the household girls. They debated fate, responsibility, and blame: some argued compassion and fate, others insisted that choices brought consequences. The tension in the house was thick; their words cut deep, making me ashamed and afraid.
At the end, separated and wounded, I left the room with my feelings raw — surrounded by accusations, fearful of how my childbirth and future would be received in that house.
Description
The Argument Escalates
The woman continued shouting, “Hey — if you’re still alive, don’t come and act like you didn’t do anything! I’m the one who gave birth to you; I’m your father’s wife, and of course I must make you work for me. Or do you think your father is not alive?”
I was overwhelmed by her words and said, “Please, Mama, have mercy — look at my condition. See how swollen my stomach is; I’m in pain. I sit and stand with difficulty. And besides, just now Inno sent me to wash the children’s clothes and hers too — by the time I finish, I’ll be exhausted.”
Mama replied, “So what? The little bit of washing you do for them that’s nothing to see — get up and do my work. Wash the two bedspreads and the curtains; they’re all dirty. And once you finish, cook for us. Today you’ll make dambu while they’re still at school; they have good upbringing — girls should seek knowledge and not be lazy. Whoever follows laziness will stay at home and not go out; they must do their parents’ housework. If a person knows how to fetch something, they must stay at home and work so their sin will be reduced. But you — you play with the pregnancy you’ll bear and sin will remain on you!”
Cut by the harshness of those words that burned my heart, and feeling as if I might lash out at her, I only said to her, “Mama, honestly, in the state I’m in I can’t do anything for you. My stomach hurts and my back aches!”
Mama raised her hand, said a short prayer for the father, then cried out, “By God, look at you with that huge pregnancy — whose father is unknown — and you think you’ve grown bold, shamelessly insulting me? Women of this house, have you heard what this shameless girl says to me — even insults? Come and see and hear with your own ears — the man (Malam) is not alive, and yet you insult me? Don’t let me be accused of doing her wrong.”
All the women in the house gathered together, including my mother. When my mother realized I was the one being attacked, she sat aside and said nothing.
Mama said, “So I should put Narjeesah to work and she’ll refuse? She says she can’t do it?”
Inno said, “Narjeesah, I’ve noticed you’ve been acting insolent lately. You will ruin the peaceful life Malam built for years. We won’t accept this lack of decency — how can you insult the woman who is like a mother to you?”
I remained silent and listened; the heaviness in my chest grew worse.
“You should listen to your elders,” they said mockingly, and Mama, smiling with satisfaction as if she had supporters, continued.
I stood up angrily, with my cloth lifted as I dragged myself to my bedroom, lay down, and felt resentment toward everyone in the world.
My sister Yaya said, “Won’t you stop talking to Narjeesah about the shameful thing she did to Larai? She is carrying this pregnancy and has grown older; can’t she obey? And frequent movement of her body doesn’t mean she should submit herself — childbirth is very painful.”
Inno said, “Everyone knows Umman Yara’s (the children’s mother’s) nature. If it’s about Narjeesah, you won’t hear her speak badly. She does not treat Narjeesah as her own child because she knows Narjeesah is mixed-blood. They talk like Mariya and Nusaiba — you hear her complaints are louder than most. But because of Narjeesah, Malam removed her from that room and placed her elsewhere. Now her eyes have opened to shamelessness and insolence.”
Umma kept silent, listening, then said, “What do you want me to do? I honestly thought you were talking about someone else, not her.”
They all fell quiet. Umma found me lying on her bed like a runaway. She looked at me once, then sat down at the edge of the bed and said, “You should restrain yourself and limit your movements. I don’t want to hear you talk too much or hear about you doing physical tasks for Larai that show shame. Tell her to be patient — don’t behave shamelessly. I have noticed how you have been disrespectful to Larai; I don’t want to hear or see it again.”
When Umma paused, I responded, “This is because I am under strain. They say I should do everything in this house; yet who’s the one insulting me? Where are Anty Asma and Balkisu? They say I should do everything. And what about the elders like Fauziyya?”
Umma was silent again; I knew she wouldn’t speak more because she rarely argued with me. She is like a parent to me; when others intervene, she won’t speak until I leave the room. The pain of this situation was worse than I imagined — to be insulted even by your husband’s mother with no sign of affection from her.
The chore I hadn’t done was the fura made from millet; she served it to everyone except me. Even though I’m pregnant, I don’t like to eat anything that will be criticized later. Umma knows my temperament; everyone knows me — I don’t eat anything greasy. Inno herself called me and told me to go to her room, open the kettle, and pour food for my brother Deeni and will leave me some to eat later. She told me to portion out food for my brothers because she knew I’d be left hungry today and should be working for others.
Because I know Inno’s nature, when she rises from her room she has no stinginess — she helps freely and never withholds. So I went and poured out the food. Sitting near Inno, I began to look around silently. Yaya brought my portion and I started to eat. Anty Basira said, “Oh Narjeesah, today you put me in a bad mood — what’s your secret?”
I just looked at her and said nothing. Then Yaya said, “No doubt Narjeesah, your delivery is near. You are close to giving birth; your belly shows heavy and I can see it’s sagging low.”
Mama said, “If Narjeesah gives birth in this house, what will happen to people? How will they allow Narjeesah and her baby to live in peace here? Truly, there’s no peace in this house. We should have known earlier — no one should blame me for this. The behavior of your children is such that if a man is alive, you’d say he’s killed himself; you gave him a bad situation and now he preferred someone else over you, and you, you went and lowered yourself.”
Everyone looked toward Mama. I felt tears rising but swallowed them and heard everyone speaking about me.
Inno, surprised, said, “What kind of talk is this, Larai? When you say your children didn’t cause you shame, Narjeesah — if Malam truly loves honesty, he loves Narjeesah too; you should let her be.”
Yaya said, “Larai, unless you’ll insult Narjeesah without cause — she hasn’t done you any wrong. If you start this, you will be the one to change the household’s atmosphere.”
Haulatu, Inno’s house girl, pleaded, “Please, stop this talk. We don’t want it. Fate is upon everyone, right?”
Quickly, Shamsiyya, Mama’s house girl, said, “No — fate isn’t an excuse for lying. A person who does not intend to sin but does it, it’s because they caused themselves to fall. A womb without a known father is the result of licentiousness — severe wrongdoing; we cannot ignore it. If a marriage happens and we now face consequences, I am angry. How could a fifteen-year-old’s pregnancy be treated lightly? We have cared for her for five years; we did nothing wrong, yet this happens.”
Aunty Zuwaira, Yaya’s house girl, added, “Really, we stirred up problems. Narjeesah, you’ve smeared our reputation. Bilya broke off his marriage offer; I swore to him I wouldn’t do such a thing. I know he forgave, and he will send his parents with dowry, and I won’t refuse to marry him if he returns — I can’t accept being denied the marriage I nearly died for.”
A heated argument began; some backed Mama, others defended me. I pushed my plate away, feeling the pain of what they said, and said, “Everyone always speaks insults. Please leave me to my own worries. For God’s sake — do you want me to be harmed? Or do you want my heart to be crushed?”
I stood up, left them staring at me. Mama said, “Oh, it’s not our fault; your bad behavior brought this upon you. Your poor ways led you to this point — when Malam was alive you would have killed him with reproach; you took advantage and now you reaped what you sowed. You invested in him and he preferred you over everyone, but you went and degraded yourself.”
Sccusations, Shame, and Fear of Childbirth
(Continuation & context from the argument)
They accused me harshly, saying my behavior had ruined reputations and relationships. They talked as if my pregnancy were a scandal that would bring the household shame, stressing that if I gave birth here, no one would live in peace. They reminded me I was under watch, that even servants were speaking against me, and that my situation might affect marriage prospects and family honor.
I felt cornered, criticized from every side — from Mama, Inno, Yaya, and the household girls. They debated fate, responsibility, and blame: some argued compassion and fate, others insisted that choices brought consequences. The tension in the house was thick; their words cut deep, making me ashamed and afraid.
At the end, separated and wounded, I left the room with my feelings raw — surrounded by accusations, fearful of how my childbirth and future would be received in that house.