That night, the house was wrapped in silence. The only sounds were the soft creaks of the bed and the slow rhythm of breathing. Rabi and Basiru had found themselves lost in one another’s arms, clinging with a hunger that came from both love and desire.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly as they gave themselves fully to the moment. For hours, they remained entangled—sometimes whispering, sometimes sighing, sometimes simply holding on tightly as if afraid the other might slip away.
Every touch carried a mixture of longing and urgency, as though they were trying to heal all the wounds of their strained marriage in one night. Basiru, overwhelmed, felt both satisfied and drained; Rabi, on her part, felt a dangerous mix of triumph and guilt—because in her heart, she feared this peace would not last.
By the time exhaustion finally claimed them, the night was far spent. Sleep took over, heavy and deep, as if it was dragging them into another world.
Rabi Visits Boka Aruguntsu
But at dawn, Rabi woke with a restless spirit. Her heart beat fast, and her mind raced with thoughts of her co-wife—the endless insults, the bitter quarrels, the fear that Basiru’s love might shift away again.
Quietly, she rose from the bed, wrapped her scarf tightly around her body, and tiptoed out. Every step she took felt heavy with both determination and shame. She knew where she was heading—to the home of Boka Aruguntsu, a man feared and respected in equal measure.
The path to his compound was narrow and filled with shadows of trees swaying in the morning breeze. By the time she reached the entrance, her palms were sweaty. Animal skulls hung on the fence, charms dangled from the doorway, and the entire compound reeked of strange herbs and smoke.
Taking a deep breath, she whispered: “Assalamu Alaikum.”
From inside came a voice, deep and almost echoing: “Wa Alaikumus Salam. Who dares disturb Aruguntsu at this hour?”
Rabi’s voice shook. “It is me… Rabi.”
Moments later, the old man stepped out. His eyes were sharp, burning with a strange fire. He studied her silently, then let out a low laugh. “I already know why you are here. You have come because you want to bind the love of your husband, Basiru. You have come because your rival wife is tormenting you. You want to win this battle.”
Rabi’s lips parted in shock. She hadn’t spoken a single word, yet the Boka had uncovered her secret. She lowered her head, ashamed, then whispered: “Yes, Mallam. You are right.”
The Boka nodded slowly, his face breaking into a crooked smile. “Then you must listen carefully. If you follow my words, you will conquer. Bring me a white hen, seven cowries, and one piece of red cloth. With these, I will prepare a charm. Basiru will see only you, he will love only you, and your co-wife will become like dust before his eyes.”
Rabi shivered. The way his voice rolled, the certainty in his words—it terrified her, but at the same time, it filled her with hope.
The Trap of Desperation
That evening, with her mind clouded by desperation, Rabi returned to Boka Aruguntsu’s compound carrying the items he demanded. Every step she took felt like she was crossing a dangerous bridge, yet she could not turn back.
The Boka accepted the hen, the cowries, and the cloth. He mumbled strange incantations, sprinkling powder over the items and drawing signs on the ground. Rabi watched in silence, her heart pounding harder with every chant.
Finally, he gave her a small calabash filled with a dark, bitter-smelling substance. “Sprinkle this into Basiru’s food,” he instructed firmly. “The day he eats it, his heart will become blind to every woman but you. His love will be chained to you alone. As for your co-wife, her presence will torment him. He will despise her like filth.”
Rabi held the calabash tightly, her hands trembling. She didn’t know if this was truly salvation or a trap that would destroy everything. Yet, blinded by jealousy and pain, she convinced herself it was the only way left.
That night, she prepared Basiru’s favorite meal. As she stirred the pot, she remembered the Boka’s words. Her conscience whispered, “This is dangerous… this is sin.” But another voice in her heart screamed louder: “Do it! Do it, or you will lose him forever!”
With shaking hands, Rabi sprinkled the charm into the food, her eyes filled with both fear and determination.
She placed the meal before Basiru with a soft smile, hiding the storm raging in her soul.
Description
Rabi and Basiru’s Intimacy
That night, the house was wrapped in silence. The only sounds were the soft creaks of the bed and the slow rhythm of breathing. Rabi and Basiru had found themselves lost in one another’s arms, clinging with a hunger that came from both love and desire.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly as they gave themselves fully to the moment. For hours, they remained entangled—sometimes whispering, sometimes sighing, sometimes simply holding on tightly as if afraid the other might slip away.
Every touch carried a mixture of longing and urgency, as though they were trying to heal all the wounds of their strained marriage in one night. Basiru, overwhelmed, felt both satisfied and drained; Rabi, on her part, felt a dangerous mix of triumph and guilt—because in her heart, she feared this peace would not last.
By the time exhaustion finally claimed them, the night was far spent. Sleep took over, heavy and deep, as if it was dragging them into another world.
Rabi Visits Boka Aruguntsu
But at dawn, Rabi woke with a restless spirit. Her heart beat fast, and her mind raced with thoughts of her co-wife—the endless insults, the bitter quarrels, the fear that Basiru’s love might shift away again.
Quietly, she rose from the bed, wrapped her scarf tightly around her body, and tiptoed out. Every step she took felt heavy with both determination and shame. She knew where she was heading—to the home of Boka Aruguntsu, a man feared and respected in equal measure.
The path to his compound was narrow and filled with shadows of trees swaying in the morning breeze. By the time she reached the entrance, her palms were sweaty. Animal skulls hung on the fence, charms dangled from the doorway, and the entire compound reeked of strange herbs and smoke.
Taking a deep breath, she whispered: “Assalamu Alaikum.”
From inside came a voice, deep and almost echoing: “Wa Alaikumus Salam. Who dares disturb Aruguntsu at this hour?”
Rabi’s voice shook. “It is me… Rabi.”
Moments later, the old man stepped out. His eyes were sharp, burning with a strange fire. He studied her silently, then let out a low laugh. “I already know why you are here. You have come because you want to bind the love of your husband, Basiru. You have come because your rival wife is tormenting you. You want to win this battle.”
Rabi’s lips parted in shock. She hadn’t spoken a single word, yet the Boka had uncovered her secret. She lowered her head, ashamed, then whispered: “Yes, Mallam. You are right.”
The Boka nodded slowly, his face breaking into a crooked smile. “Then you must listen carefully. If you follow my words, you will conquer. Bring me a white hen, seven cowries, and one piece of red cloth. With these, I will prepare a charm. Basiru will see only you, he will love only you, and your co-wife will become like dust before his eyes.”
Rabi shivered. The way his voice rolled, the certainty in his words—it terrified her, but at the same time, it filled her with hope.
The Trap of Desperation
That evening, with her mind clouded by desperation, Rabi returned to Boka Aruguntsu’s compound carrying the items he demanded. Every step she took felt like she was crossing a dangerous bridge, yet she could not turn back.
The Boka accepted the hen, the cowries, and the cloth. He mumbled strange incantations, sprinkling powder over the items and drawing signs on the ground. Rabi watched in silence, her heart pounding harder with every chant.
Finally, he gave her a small calabash filled with a dark, bitter-smelling substance. “Sprinkle this into Basiru’s food,” he instructed firmly. “The day he eats it, his heart will become blind to every woman but you. His love will be chained to you alone. As for your co-wife, her presence will torment him. He will despise her like filth.”
Rabi held the calabash tightly, her hands trembling. She didn’t know if this was truly salvation or a trap that would destroy everything. Yet, blinded by jealousy and pain, she convinced herself it was the only way left.
That night, she prepared Basiru’s favorite meal. As she stirred the pot, she remembered the Boka’s words. Her conscience whispered, “This is dangerous… this is sin.” But another voice in her heart screamed louder: “Do it! Do it, or you will lose him forever!”
With shaking hands, Rabi sprinkled the charm into the food, her eyes filled with both fear and determination.
She placed the meal before Basiru with a soft smile, hiding the storm raging in her soul.