She kept tossing and turning on the bed, shaking her head and fidgeting. Anyone who looked at her could tell she was in a strange state, yet her eyes remained closed as if she were sleeping. In a deep, echoing voice, someone spoke to her:
“Zahra, I love you, and forever I will never part from you. You are mine alone.”
She followed him with her eyes but could not speak. He, on the other hand, kept approaching her until he reached the edge of the bed. Sitting down, he lifted her up and began touching every part of her body. She remained motionless like a statue, unable even to lift a finger. He pressed his mouth against hers, sucking as if he had found a lollipop. They stayed in this condition for a while until he raised his bewildered eyes and said:
“Zahra, you are mine forever.”
Suddenly, a blinding light appeared—so bright no human eye could withstand it. It looked like lightning had struck, then duff!! it vanished in the blink of an eye. The light, however, kept drawing closer to her.
Startled, she woke from her sleep. This was the dream she often had whenever she lay down. Being naturally fearless and strong-hearted, she sat upright on the bed reflecting on what had just happened. Hisham! she called the name he had given her in the dream. Then, from nowhere, she heard a response from above:
“Yes, Zarahta, love of my soul. Always, and at every moment, I am with you.”
Quickly she turned around the room, but no one was there. She hissed loudly, stood up, dressed in jeans and a male-style t-shirt, with a cap tucking in her hair. She walked outside just as her mother, Hanne, was coming out of the bathroom. Looking at her, Zahra exhaled heavily through her nose:
“Well, Hanne, what shall I find today? Is there anything to eat or just the same old hunger?”
Hanne glared at her.
“Baabata, you know in this house everyone fends for themselves. If you have money, buy your food.”
Zahra stared at her and said in a rough, masculine tone:
“Really? God knows?”
Hanne hissed again.
“Yes, indeed!”
Just then, Feesu entered in skimpy clothes, her hair styled, carrying a bag of items. Hanne rushed to her:
“Nafisatu, welcome back.”
Feesu shot her a glare:
“What’s so special? Of course you’ll greet me when you see a bag in my hand. At least today I managed to earn something and even bought things.”
Zahra shook her head and mocked:
“That’s poverty for you—fools! You, Hanne, didn’t you just say everyone must fend for themselves? Then fend for yourself too!”
She left the house angrily, walking like a man with bold steps, bareheaded. She went straight to the market to Hajiya Sa’a, the food vendor. Zahra was well-known for her cheerfulness, so she greeted everyone warmly as she arrived.
At Hajiya Sa’a’s stall she said in her masculine tone:
“Hajjaju, how’s the town? How’s today?”
Hajiya frowned:
“Zarah, you’re late. I told you to be here by nine in the morning. Now it’s almost eleven. I won’t take you today.”
“Haba, Hajjaju, don’t be hard on me. We’re family, aren’t we?” Zahra tilted her head playfully.
Hajiya Sa’a sighed:
“You’re lucky, Zarah. Fine, serve those who already bought food first, then you can eat.”
Zarah smiled:
“Thank you, Hajjaju. Truly, I love you.”
As she worked, she suddenly saw him—seated, smiling at her. She froze, whispering softly:
“Hisham!”
He smiled back.
“Yes, it’s me. Come to me, my beloved!”
Glancing behind her and seeing no one else, she shook her head and went back inside.
After work, she walked home, strutting boldly. Passing a group of young men, she greeted:
“Yah Baaba, how are you all?”
They raised their hands, answering: “Fine.”
At a shop, Bala handed her a bag.
“This was left for you.”
Inside were tea and bread—exactly what she planned to buy. She asked:
“From who?”
Bala replied:
“The one who told me to give you this.”
Her lips whispered: “Hisham!”
At home, she found her mother Hanne gripping Musa, her father, in a heated quarrel. He wanted to leave, but she accused him of neglecting his family. When Zahra entered, both of them turned. Hanne quickly let go of Musa:
“Welcome, my blessed daughter. I knew Zahra wouldn’t let us go hungry.”
Zahra shot her a sharp look:
“What did you just say? Listen well—everyone must fend for themselves. Count me out.”
She went inside, leaving Musa to slip away as Hanne continued ranting.
The Governor’s Campaign and Ahmad’s Struggles
Luxury cars lined the road, almost ten in number, with police escorts front and back. A large crowd gathered, waving happily. Inside one car sat the Governor of Katsina State, His Excellency Alhaji Mahmud Mai Abaya, a charismatic and well-loved leader. Smiling and waving, he moved with his convoy.
Beside him was his eldest son, Ahmad, who also waved reluctantly. His smile was forced, and from time to time he hissed in irritation. The noise of the people gave him headaches. Unlike his father, Ahmad hated politics. His dream was to live quietly, but his father had forced him to study political science and now insisted he must enter politics.
After the campaign ended, Ahmad returned home, frustrated. His head throbbed from the noise. Soon, his mother, Hajiya Batula, entered elegantly dressed in fine lace, makeup, and matching shoes.
“My son,” she said warmly, “your father is waiting for you.”
“Mum,” Ahmad sighed, “why must Dad force me to do what I hate? I don’t want politics in my life.”
She stroked his head gently:
“My son, be patient. Do what your father asks. One day you’ll see its benefit.”
“But Mum, I don’t like the fights and hostility in politics.”
“Don’t worry, Ahmad. By Allah’s will, politics will bring you blessings.”
Ahmad forced a smile, stood up, and followed her out.
Zahra, Her Sisters, and Hisham’s Mystery
Zarah sat watching as her sisters Feesu and Hanne argued. Just then, Habu, a notorious thug, stormed in holding a machete and stick. High on drugs, he glared wildly.
Feesu mocked him:
“Why do you barge in without greeting?”
His red eyes blazed.
“Shut up! I’ll cut you into pieces if you insult me again.”
As she tried to walk past, he pulled her roughly to the ground and raised his knife. Zahra instantly grabbed his hand, saving Feesu. Shocked, Feesu thought she was dead.
“You fool,” she snapped at Habu.
Zahra scolded him in her rough tone:
“Haba Baaba, is this how a man behaves? Attacking a woman?”
Habu sneered drunkenly:
“If you had let me, I’d have taught her some manners.”
Hanne shouted:
“You children are nothing but trouble! One a drunk, one a prostitute, and you, Zahra, we can’t even tell if you’re male or female. You seem to have two souls.”
Zahra retorted:
“You should know better since you gave birth to me. Maybe I really do have two souls. But remember, the trouble lies with you, not me!”
Later that evening, after Maghrib prayer, Zahra went to Bala’s shop to buy juice and biscuits. He handed her the items, saying:
“Your admirer gave me this for you.”
She took them quietly, wondering why Bala never called her when that admirer came.
That night, after Isha prayer, she lay on her small bed. Feesu was dressing provocatively, preparing to go out.
“Feesu,” Zahra asked, “why do you go out every night? Can’t you stay home?”
Feesu replied sharply:
“If I don’t go out and fend for myself, will you feed me? Our parents already said each of us must take care of ourselves. I won’t starve when I can go out and earn.”
She left. Zahra muttered:
“You’re lazy. Better I sleep now.”
As usual, while she slept, Zahra felt a presence near her.
“Hisham,” she whispered softly.
He smiled warmly.
“Yes, it’s me. Please, don’t let anyone else claim you. That would be the greatest mistake of their life.”
She wanted to respond but could not move her lips. He leaned close, whispering:
“I know what’s in your heart. You have many questions about me. In time, you’ll understand who I am.”
He pressed his face close to hers, licking from her nose down to her lips before kissing her deeply. She tried to speak but her tongue felt tied. His lips trailed down to her neck as she screamed loudly.
Just then, Hanne entered, calling:
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Zahra opened her eyes slowly. It was morning, the sunlight stinging her eyes.
Description
Zahra’s Strange Dream and Encounter
She kept tossing and turning on the bed, shaking her head and fidgeting. Anyone who looked at her could tell she was in a strange state, yet her eyes remained closed as if she were sleeping. In a deep, echoing voice, someone spoke to her:
“Zahra, I love you, and forever I will never part from you. You are mine alone.”
She followed him with her eyes but could not speak. He, on the other hand, kept approaching her until he reached the edge of the bed. Sitting down, he lifted her up and began touching every part of her body. She remained motionless like a statue, unable even to lift a finger. He pressed his mouth against hers, sucking as if he had found a lollipop. They stayed in this condition for a while until he raised his bewildered eyes and said:
“Zahra, you are mine forever.”
Suddenly, a blinding light appeared—so bright no human eye could withstand it. It looked like lightning had struck, then duff!! it vanished in the blink of an eye. The light, however, kept drawing closer to her.
Startled, she woke from her sleep. This was the dream she often had whenever she lay down. Being naturally fearless and strong-hearted, she sat upright on the bed reflecting on what had just happened. Hisham! she called the name he had given her in the dream. Then, from nowhere, she heard a response from above:
“Yes, Zarahta, love of my soul. Always, and at every moment, I am with you.”
Quickly she turned around the room, but no one was there. She hissed loudly, stood up, dressed in jeans and a male-style t-shirt, with a cap tucking in her hair. She walked outside just as her mother, Hanne, was coming out of the bathroom. Looking at her, Zahra exhaled heavily through her nose:
“Well, Hanne, what shall I find today? Is there anything to eat or just the same old hunger?”
Hanne glared at her.
“Baabata, you know in this house everyone fends for themselves. If you have money, buy your food.”
Zahra stared at her and said in a rough, masculine tone:
“Really? God knows?”
Hanne hissed again.
“Yes, indeed!”
Just then, Feesu entered in skimpy clothes, her hair styled, carrying a bag of items. Hanne rushed to her:
“Nafisatu, welcome back.”
Feesu shot her a glare:
“What’s so special? Of course you’ll greet me when you see a bag in my hand. At least today I managed to earn something and even bought things.”
Zahra shook her head and mocked:
“That’s poverty for you—fools! You, Hanne, didn’t you just say everyone must fend for themselves? Then fend for yourself too!”
She left the house angrily, walking like a man with bold steps, bareheaded. She went straight to the market to Hajiya Sa’a, the food vendor. Zahra was well-known for her cheerfulness, so she greeted everyone warmly as she arrived.
At Hajiya Sa’a’s stall she said in her masculine tone:
“Hajjaju, how’s the town? How’s today?”
Hajiya frowned:
“Zarah, you’re late. I told you to be here by nine in the morning. Now it’s almost eleven. I won’t take you today.”
“Haba, Hajjaju, don’t be hard on me. We’re family, aren’t we?” Zahra tilted her head playfully.
Hajiya Sa’a sighed:
“You’re lucky, Zarah. Fine, serve those who already bought food first, then you can eat.”
Zarah smiled:
“Thank you, Hajjaju. Truly, I love you.”
As she worked, she suddenly saw him—seated, smiling at her. She froze, whispering softly:
“Hisham!”
He smiled back.
“Yes, it’s me. Come to me, my beloved!”
Glancing behind her and seeing no one else, she shook her head and went back inside.
After work, she walked home, strutting boldly. Passing a group of young men, she greeted:
“Yah Baaba, how are you all?”
They raised their hands, answering: “Fine.”
At a shop, Bala handed her a bag.
“This was left for you.”
Inside were tea and bread—exactly what she planned to buy. She asked:
“From who?”
Bala replied:
“The one who told me to give you this.”
Her lips whispered: “Hisham!”
At home, she found her mother Hanne gripping Musa, her father, in a heated quarrel. He wanted to leave, but she accused him of neglecting his family. When Zahra entered, both of them turned. Hanne quickly let go of Musa:
“Welcome, my blessed daughter. I knew Zahra wouldn’t let us go hungry.”
Zahra shot her a sharp look:
“What did you just say? Listen well—everyone must fend for themselves. Count me out.”
She went inside, leaving Musa to slip away as Hanne continued ranting.
The Governor’s Campaign and Ahmad’s Struggles
Luxury cars lined the road, almost ten in number, with police escorts front and back. A large crowd gathered, waving happily. Inside one car sat the Governor of Katsina State, His Excellency Alhaji Mahmud Mai Abaya, a charismatic and well-loved leader. Smiling and waving, he moved with his convoy.
Beside him was his eldest son, Ahmad, who also waved reluctantly. His smile was forced, and from time to time he hissed in irritation. The noise of the people gave him headaches. Unlike his father, Ahmad hated politics. His dream was to live quietly, but his father had forced him to study political science and now insisted he must enter politics.
After the campaign ended, Ahmad returned home, frustrated. His head throbbed from the noise. Soon, his mother, Hajiya Batula, entered elegantly dressed in fine lace, makeup, and matching shoes.
“My son,” she said warmly, “your father is waiting for you.”
“Mum,” Ahmad sighed, “why must Dad force me to do what I hate? I don’t want politics in my life.”
She stroked his head gently:
“My son, be patient. Do what your father asks. One day you’ll see its benefit.”
“But Mum, I don’t like the fights and hostility in politics.”
“Don’t worry, Ahmad. By Allah’s will, politics will bring you blessings.”
Ahmad forced a smile, stood up, and followed her out.
Zahra, Her Sisters, and Hisham’s Mystery
Zarah sat watching as her sisters Feesu and Hanne argued. Just then, Habu, a notorious thug, stormed in holding a machete and stick. High on drugs, he glared wildly.
Feesu mocked him:
“Why do you barge in without greeting?”
His red eyes blazed.
“Shut up! I’ll cut you into pieces if you insult me again.”
As she tried to walk past, he pulled her roughly to the ground and raised his knife. Zahra instantly grabbed his hand, saving Feesu. Shocked, Feesu thought she was dead.
“You fool,” she snapped at Habu.
Zahra scolded him in her rough tone:
“Haba Baaba, is this how a man behaves? Attacking a woman?”
Habu sneered drunkenly:
“If you had let me, I’d have taught her some manners.”
Hanne shouted:
“You children are nothing but trouble! One a drunk, one a prostitute, and you, Zahra, we can’t even tell if you’re male or female. You seem to have two souls.”
Zahra retorted:
“You should know better since you gave birth to me. Maybe I really do have two souls. But remember, the trouble lies with you, not me!”
Later that evening, after Maghrib prayer, Zahra went to Bala’s shop to buy juice and biscuits. He handed her the items, saying:
“Your admirer gave me this for you.”
She took them quietly, wondering why Bala never called her when that admirer came.
That night, after Isha prayer, she lay on her small bed. Feesu was dressing provocatively, preparing to go out.
“Feesu,” Zahra asked, “why do you go out every night? Can’t you stay home?”
Feesu replied sharply:
“If I don’t go out and fend for myself, will you feed me? Our parents already said each of us must take care of ourselves. I won’t starve when I can go out and earn.”
She left. Zahra muttered:
“You’re lazy. Better I sleep now.”
As usual, while she slept, Zahra felt a presence near her.
“Hisham,” she whispered softly.
He smiled warmly.
“Yes, it’s me. Please, don’t let anyone else claim you. That would be the greatest mistake of their life.”
She wanted to respond but could not move her lips. He leaned close, whispering:
“I know what’s in your heart. You have many questions about me. In time, you’ll understand who I am.”
He pressed his face close to hers, licking from her nose down to her lips before kissing her deeply. She tried to speak but her tongue felt tied. His lips trailed down to her neck as she screamed loudly.
Just then, Hanne entered, calling:
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Zahra opened her eyes slowly. It was morning, the sunlight stinging her eyes.