The house was beautiful and properly sealed — the kind of house with its secrets kept tight — located in a neighborhood where houses were similarly well-hidden. The house had four rooms plus a living room and two toilets in the middle courtyard. Most of the floors were cement; only the living room and toilets had tiles. The house was in a district in Kano. A very handsome young man lived there — fair-skinned, but not pale; he looked to be about 31 years old. He came in greeting, holding a little girl of about three years old — a pretty child who resembled the young man named Mohsin.
The children in the house greeted him, “Welcome, Brother Mohsin.” He smiled and replied. Hidaya came and took his hand; they went into the living room. After they greeted him, he asked, “And Mother?” Hidaya shut her eyes briefly from shyness, suppressing a laugh, and said, “Brother, she went to fetch a fragrant scent — you know how Mother likes nice smells. I don’t understand.” Mohsin asked, “What do you mean?” Hidaya burst out laughing again and said, “You see, Brother, Mother did something because Father stopped bathing — she wanted to get her favorite scent. I don’t understand why he refuses to bathe, but when she smelled that scent she felt calm. She kept leaving to visit the construction workers and then returning. We tried and tried but she wouldn’t stop. Aunty Naila is in prison; she was the one who could rein her in.”
Mohsin himself was surprised. He thought it was because of the place his mother found — that every time she smelled that particular scent she felt fine. As they talked, they heard Mother’s voice greeting them. She came in wearing a long flowing black robe made of silk, her headscarf wrapped, and she greeted them cheerfully.
She entered the living room, sat down and said, “All praise to God — I feel relieved. That scent — it’s a truly strong, real scent; it calms me the way I like.” Mohsin looked at his mother and said, “Now Mother, your marriage and husband — yet you go inhale some foreign scent; even though it calms you, it isn’t appropriate.” Kubra, whom they called Mother, said, “Ahh, see my mistake? Your father’s hygiene is so poor I refused to let him bathe for three days — he wouldn’t agree. I had to step out to find peace. Once I inhaled the scent I wanted, I felt calm. Truly, I felt comfort and peace. All my worries melted away — Naila is in prison, and when I think of her I can finally sleep and relax. If you are upset with me, then stop bathing and shaving your private area and come let me smell your scent instead.” Mohsin puckered his face and said, “God protect me.” Mother asked, “Where is Hanan, your wife?” Mohsin said she was there and fine.
Mother continued: “That wife of yours — poor thing. She didn’t even give the customary small gifts to her in-laws when she married in; her sister is barren; what will you do with a woman like Hanan?” Mohsin replied, “Mother, whatever respect she gives is what is wanted.” Before he could finish, Mother added, “No — respect is like gifts these days. Who shows true respect? People think being called ‘brother-in-law’ is honor.”
Changing the subject, Mohsin asked, “Mother, when will we visit Naila? She’s almost a week in prison; we should go.” Mother said, “No one will go early — she knows what she did. Naila, without a doubt, will do something again; let her realize her mistakes herself. Mohsin, Father said he will not go either — not Hidaya, no one will go. I refuse; Naila cannot have committed murder — I said no one will go. Whoever goes without my permission, I will not forgive.” Mother continued angrily: “Naila, despite having good suitors with money, refused one who loved her — she chose a worthless fellow instead. She chose to marry that rogue; now look at what her arrogance has brought. I gave birth to Naila but everyone knows her nature — she is hard-headed. I raised her at my father’s place; she ruined my daughter. When I remember Alhaji Ibrahim who wanted to marry Naila and she pushed him away because he had money, I feel Naila betrayed me.” Mother wept and said her heart was bitter; because of that she refused anyone to visit Naila.
The girl — because of her dishonesty — left wearing a wrapper. They thought she had gone to get a haircut; it turned out she was taken and made to dress as a man to sell medicine. She had gone to the prison’s male wing disguised as a man. Now you want us to expose her secret by saying she is a woman? God forbid — if they discover her, the court will devour us. Mohsin was surprised by their mother’s attitude and asked, “But Mother, didn’t she go to Abuja to find the fortune you told her about? Didn’t you tell her to go there to make money?” Mother replied: “Why worry me? I will beat you; go and mind your affairs and leave my house.”
Mohsin rose, straightened his robe, took his little sister Amal, put her on his shoulder, and left the house, his mind restless.
He headed straight to where his father worked guarding the petrol — the men who handled petrol. He went there in the evening. His father was one of those tough types whose nature God made them that way. Some people came to steal their petrol; that’s why they had guards. That day his coworkers didn’t come, so he was there from morning till evening. Some local young thieves saw him and tricked him: they brought empty sacks and two 50-liter gallons and pretended they were villagers bringing petrol. His father pretended to sleep leaning against a tree; the thieves put the hose and siphoned the petrol into their containers. They filled their sacks, put them on the donkey and left. When his father woke up he shouted at them, “What’s wrong with you thieves?!” The thieves said, “We brought petrol for the foreigners to buy.” He chased them away, but they had already filled the containers and taken the petrol.
Mohsin saw everything. He wrapped his scarf and put Amal in front of him. He laughed at his father’s situation — people had stolen the petrol while he lay sleeping and he chased them away. The thieves laughed as if nothing would happen — the petrol tanker truck would later reveal that the petrol had been stolen.
Mohsin arrived at his father’s place, climbed down from the machine. His father looked at him and said, “Mohsin, when I look at you I feel like I didn’t father you — you are spotless, well-behaved, calm. I might even praise myself for raising you well.” Mohsin laughed and said, “Father, you know us — you see how we behave.” The father replied, “No — you are like a monkey being played with; you’re long and unruly, but I see you are rough to the touch like hyena skin.” Mohsin laughed, greeted his father, then asked, “Father, won’t we visit Naila?” His father frowned because Mother had influenced him and said, “No one is going now.” Mohsin said, “But she’s in prison, Father.” The father said, “If they keep her in custody, lock her up deep so she doesn’t come back out. Who said she should be treated like a man? The proof is not solid.” Mohsin fell silent and started to leave, but his father called him back and asked for five hundred. He turned and gave him one thousand, then left. The father lay back down and complained that thieves cause trouble but God sees everything; he would do what he could. Closing his eyes, he slept.
Mohsin returned home worried. His house was fine and tidy with tiles everywhere. His wife Hanan was clean and neat; she smelled pleasant. She was well-dressed, pretty and graceful. He entered the living room; she stood and hugged him, his arms around her, breathing in her scent. Her face softened as she looked at him affectionately and quietly asked, “Who has touched my husband?” Amal shouted, pushing Hanan while touching her cheek. They laughed. Hanan said, “Sorry, Amal; I’m a bit tired.” He felt a little annoyed because she only mentioned such things when she thought she had the right. He stayed quiet.
Naila’s Disguise and the Prison Wing
At the Kano prison, people walked in a hurried, rough manner — there was pushing and pulling. She walked in front wearing men’s clothes: blue jeans men’s trousers, a long-sleeved shirt and a heavy jean jacket on top, men’s shoes, and a cap like a taxi driver’s. You could swear she looked like a handsome young man, though there was still doubt whether she was actually a woman.
Her breasts weren’t visible — she had wrapped them with a strip of cloth and used sellotape from the back around to the front to flatten them, then wore a vest and another heavy jean jacket over it.
They walked quickly but not hastily. A burly male prison worker, seeing her and thinking she was a man, barked orders at her roughly. “Hurry up!” He treated her rudely. God helped her; they did not force her to remove her clothes, and they didn’t do anything more to her during the case hearing. They passed judgment and sentenced her, but God answered Naila’s prayers — they did not discover she was a woman. Her fear of being exposed kept her constantly praying that her true sex would not be found out.
Naila walked in a proud, swaggering manner like a man, moving with a swagger, shoulders back, walking aggressively yet sometimes lowering her pace, making a show, tugging at her lips — she projected a fierce, intimidating look. One prison officer shouted angrily, “I’ll break your pretentious look, criminal!” Naila felt the man was accusing her of being hired by someone to ruin a wealthy house and cause ruin; she faced the punishment of life imprisonment without parole. She thanked God that some inmates serving life sentences were suffering; he mocked and s
Description
A Fine House and a Family Visit
The house was beautiful and properly sealed — the kind of house with its secrets kept tight — located in a neighborhood where houses were similarly well-hidden. The house had four rooms plus a living room and two toilets in the middle courtyard. Most of the floors were cement; only the living room and toilets had tiles. The house was in a district in Kano. A very handsome young man lived there — fair-skinned, but not pale; he looked to be about 31 years old. He came in greeting, holding a little girl of about three years old — a pretty child who resembled the young man named Mohsin.
The children in the house greeted him, “Welcome, Brother Mohsin.” He smiled and replied. Hidaya came and took his hand; they went into the living room. After they greeted him, he asked, “And Mother?” Hidaya shut her eyes briefly from shyness, suppressing a laugh, and said, “Brother, she went to fetch a fragrant scent — you know how Mother likes nice smells. I don’t understand.” Mohsin asked, “What do you mean?” Hidaya burst out laughing again and said, “You see, Brother, Mother did something because Father stopped bathing — she wanted to get her favorite scent. I don’t understand why he refuses to bathe, but when she smelled that scent she felt calm. She kept leaving to visit the construction workers and then returning. We tried and tried but she wouldn’t stop. Aunty Naila is in prison; she was the one who could rein her in.”
Mohsin himself was surprised. He thought it was because of the place his mother found — that every time she smelled that particular scent she felt fine. As they talked, they heard Mother’s voice greeting them. She came in wearing a long flowing black robe made of silk, her headscarf wrapped, and she greeted them cheerfully.
She entered the living room, sat down and said, “All praise to God — I feel relieved. That scent — it’s a truly strong, real scent; it calms me the way I like.” Mohsin looked at his mother and said, “Now Mother, your marriage and husband — yet you go inhale some foreign scent; even though it calms you, it isn’t appropriate.” Kubra, whom they called Mother, said, “Ahh, see my mistake? Your father’s hygiene is so poor I refused to let him bathe for three days — he wouldn’t agree. I had to step out to find peace. Once I inhaled the scent I wanted, I felt calm. Truly, I felt comfort and peace. All my worries melted away — Naila is in prison, and when I think of her I can finally sleep and relax. If you are upset with me, then stop bathing and shaving your private area and come let me smell your scent instead.” Mohsin puckered his face and said, “God protect me.” Mother asked, “Where is Hanan, your wife?” Mohsin said she was there and fine.
Mother continued: “That wife of yours — poor thing. She didn’t even give the customary small gifts to her in-laws when she married in; her sister is barren; what will you do with a woman like Hanan?” Mohsin replied, “Mother, whatever respect she gives is what is wanted.” Before he could finish, Mother added, “No — respect is like gifts these days. Who shows true respect? People think being called ‘brother-in-law’ is honor.”
Changing the subject, Mohsin asked, “Mother, when will we visit Naila? She’s almost a week in prison; we should go.” Mother said, “No one will go early — she knows what she did. Naila, without a doubt, will do something again; let her realize her mistakes herself. Mohsin, Father said he will not go either — not Hidaya, no one will go. I refuse; Naila cannot have committed murder — I said no one will go. Whoever goes without my permission, I will not forgive.” Mother continued angrily: “Naila, despite having good suitors with money, refused one who loved her — she chose a worthless fellow instead. She chose to marry that rogue; now look at what her arrogance has brought. I gave birth to Naila but everyone knows her nature — she is hard-headed. I raised her at my father’s place; she ruined my daughter. When I remember Alhaji Ibrahim who wanted to marry Naila and she pushed him away because he had money, I feel Naila betrayed me.” Mother wept and said her heart was bitter; because of that she refused anyone to visit Naila.
The girl — because of her dishonesty — left wearing a wrapper. They thought she had gone to get a haircut; it turned out she was taken and made to dress as a man to sell medicine. She had gone to the prison’s male wing disguised as a man. Now you want us to expose her secret by saying she is a woman? God forbid — if they discover her, the court will devour us. Mohsin was surprised by their mother’s attitude and asked, “But Mother, didn’t she go to Abuja to find the fortune you told her about? Didn’t you tell her to go there to make money?” Mother replied: “Why worry me? I will beat you; go and mind your affairs and leave my house.”
Mohsin rose, straightened his robe, took his little sister Amal, put her on his shoulder, and left the house, his mind restless.
He headed straight to where his father worked guarding the petrol — the men who handled petrol. He went there in the evening. His father was one of those tough types whose nature God made them that way. Some people came to steal their petrol; that’s why they had guards. That day his coworkers didn’t come, so he was there from morning till evening. Some local young thieves saw him and tricked him: they brought empty sacks and two 50-liter gallons and pretended they were villagers bringing petrol. His father pretended to sleep leaning against a tree; the thieves put the hose and siphoned the petrol into their containers. They filled their sacks, put them on the donkey and left. When his father woke up he shouted at them, “What’s wrong with you thieves?!” The thieves said, “We brought petrol for the foreigners to buy.” He chased them away, but they had already filled the containers and taken the petrol.
Mohsin saw everything. He wrapped his scarf and put Amal in front of him. He laughed at his father’s situation — people had stolen the petrol while he lay sleeping and he chased them away. The thieves laughed as if nothing would happen — the petrol tanker truck would later reveal that the petrol had been stolen.
Mohsin arrived at his father’s place, climbed down from the machine. His father looked at him and said, “Mohsin, when I look at you I feel like I didn’t father you — you are spotless, well-behaved, calm. I might even praise myself for raising you well.” Mohsin laughed and said, “Father, you know us — you see how we behave.” The father replied, “No — you are like a monkey being played with; you’re long and unruly, but I see you are rough to the touch like hyena skin.” Mohsin laughed, greeted his father, then asked, “Father, won’t we visit Naila?” His father frowned because Mother had influenced him and said, “No one is going now.” Mohsin said, “But she’s in prison, Father.” The father said, “If they keep her in custody, lock her up deep so she doesn’t come back out. Who said she should be treated like a man? The proof is not solid.” Mohsin fell silent and started to leave, but his father called him back and asked for five hundred. He turned and gave him one thousand, then left. The father lay back down and complained that thieves cause trouble but God sees everything; he would do what he could. Closing his eyes, he slept.
Mohsin returned home worried. His house was fine and tidy with tiles everywhere. His wife Hanan was clean and neat; she smelled pleasant. She was well-dressed, pretty and graceful. He entered the living room; she stood and hugged him, his arms around her, breathing in her scent. Her face softened as she looked at him affectionately and quietly asked, “Who has touched my husband?” Amal shouted, pushing Hanan while touching her cheek. They laughed. Hanan said, “Sorry, Amal; I’m a bit tired.” He felt a little annoyed because she only mentioned such things when she thought she had the right. He stayed quiet.
Naila’s Disguise and the Prison Wing
At the Kano prison, people walked in a hurried, rough manner — there was pushing and pulling. She walked in front wearing men’s clothes: blue jeans men’s trousers, a long-sleeved shirt and a heavy jean jacket on top, men’s shoes, and a cap like a taxi driver’s. You could swear she looked like a handsome young man, though there was still doubt whether she was actually a woman.
Her breasts weren’t visible — she had wrapped them with a strip of cloth and used sellotape from the back around to the front to flatten them, then wore a vest and another heavy jean jacket over it.
They walked quickly but not hastily. A burly male prison worker, seeing her and thinking she was a man, barked orders at her roughly. “Hurry up!” He treated her rudely. God helped her; they did not force her to remove her clothes, and they didn’t do anything more to her during the case hearing. They passed judgment and sentenced her, but God answered Naila’s prayers — they did not discover she was a woman. Her fear of being exposed kept her constantly praying that her true sex would not be found out.
Naila walked in a proud, swaggering manner like a man, moving with a swagger, shoulders back, walking aggressively yet sometimes lowering her pace, making a show, tugging at her lips — she projected a fierce, intimidating look. One prison officer shouted angrily, “I’ll break your pretentious look, criminal!” Naila felt the man was accusing her of being hired by someone to ruin a wealthy house and cause ruin; she faced the punishment of life imprisonment without parole. She thanked God that some inmates serving life sentences were suffering; he mocked and s
colded her, continuing his tirade.