The next morning, Khadija—also known as Mero—returned to the room she had been struggling to break into. As soon as she arrived, she heard faint sobs coming from the next room. To her surprise, she noticed someone speaking softly, apologizing to the man crying.
He was saying, “She was the one I was supposed to marry. Now she’s gone and left me.”
Mero’s eyes widened as she clutched her chest with both hands. “So, he already had someone he wanted to marry? And now she’s dead? May God have mercy on her soul. When our time comes, may we die with faith,” she murmured.
Then she shook her head in disbelief, whispering, “Look at him crying like a woman over love. That’s how the rich are—so fragile that they cry over small things. A poor man doesn’t have time for that; he’s used to hardship and destiny.”
Unable to hold her curiosity, she asked loudly, “So, did she die in the fire?”
The men in the room froze in fear. They thought an unseen spirit (Aljanna) had spoken, for they had never in their lives heard a voice coming from behind someone’s wall—let alone that of a woman.
A man finally answered hesitantly, “Yes, she burned in the fire.”
“I didn’t hear you well. Speak louder!” Mero insisted.
He sighed in frustration, then shouted, “Yes, she was burned in the fire!”
Mero replied, “May Allah have mercy on her and grant her the death of a martyr.”
The men, still terrified, quickly stood up and left, unwilling to believe that a human voice had truly spoken from behind the wall.
Khadija continued, ignoring them. “So, you’re done crying, right?” she said aloud. He didn’t respond. She shrugged and resumed scratching the wall until, finally, she managed to make a small hole wide enough for two fingers. Peeking through with one eye, she saw the room clearly.
“So, this is what they call VIP?” she muttered. “Looks more like a prison cell.”
Life Inside the Prison and Strange Encounters
Maman Wahida had now become used to prison life. She had adapted completely and minded her own business. Her family often visited her, and she had no problems. She lived comfortably in the VIP section—where those with money never faced much trouble. She didn’t meddle in anyone’s affairs unless they were also in VIP; if not, she ignored them entirely.
Mero didn’t know that Maman Wahida was actually Mima’s sister. She only noticed that the woman resembled Mummy and found it strange. Eventually, she couldn’t resist her curiosity and went over to greet her.
Dressed in an old lace blouse and skirt borrowed from Azima—the girl who had no trousers to spare—Mero looked pitifully worn. “Good day,” she greeted.
Maman Wahida looked up slowly and said, “How are you? You’re even lucky I let you greet me. What if I refused?”
Khadija (Mero) replied playfully, “I already greeted you before you could stop me. By the way, you look so much like someone called Mummy Spark.”
Startled, Maman Wahida asked, “Where did you know them from?”
“She’s my sister,” she said after a pause. “We share the same mother and father.”
Mero’s eyes widened. “I know all of them—Mima, Rafeeq, Misam—every single one!”
Only then did Maman Wahida ask her to sit.
“I’m not from a rich home,” Khadija continued. “I used to work in Mummy Spark’s house doing house chores. Even Spark himself came to see me once.”
“Spark came to see you?” Maman Wahida asked, surprised.
“Yes,” said Mero. “He gives me money and everything, but even though I’m like a mother figure to him, he hasn’t come to visit me here. Maybe I offended him. Anyway, your sister will soon arrive here, and when she does, you two can reconnect and talk about family love.”
Just then, Azima emerged, stretching lazily. “Khadija, aren’t you going to knitting class today?”
“Of course, I’m going,” Mero said, getting up to follow her.
As they walked, Mero said, “Azima, you know I struggle to understand these lessons. I’m such a slow learner. Thank God for religious studies at least. I didn’t even know how to perform purification properly until yesterday!”
Azima laughed hard. “You really are ignorant, Khadija.”
“The most ignorant,” Mero agreed. “I’ve got such a nice, meaningful name, but my parents didn’t give me any education. Now, prison is where I’m finally becoming wise. Imagine—me, learning in jail!”
Azima smiled. “Well, now you’ve become a proper city woman. You’re even changing your attitude. But seriously, you should learn faster and complete your rehabilitation here. As for me, I don’t even want to leave this place. Anyone who marries me after prison will regret it!”
Mero chuckled. “You? You’re destined to stay here; your offense wasn’t even that bad.”
Azima replied, “Thank God I’ve learned my lesson. I’m so used to this place that even if I went home, I wouldn’t feel right.”
Mero nodded. “By the way, do you know Chika and Beauty?”
Azima laughed. “Oh, don’t remind me of them! You really had no luck in that house where you worked. Some housemaids find favor and even get educated—but you stayed ignorant.”
Mero shrugged. “Those ones were book-learned people who valued money more than God. They forgot religion completely. And you know how the rich look down on the poor—they’d never teach me anything useful.”
Azima grinned. “And to think the woman you worked for—her son is marrying Naila. Now Naila’s in prison, her husband too, and even her mother-in-law is on her way. It runs in their bloodline!”
They both burst into laughter as they arrived at the knitting section.
Mero became so skilled that she was assigned to weave royal-style fabrics—the type used in palaces. Her skill was unmatched, and she even bought two expensive pieces just to gift others.
Meanwhile, in another section of the prison, Dan Indo and a few others were chatting. Dan Indo claimed he dreamt about Jamilu returning to the prison, causing laughter among his friends.
Later, Schola teased him, saying, “Forget about Jamilu; he’s the old version. The new version is Khadija! You’ll hear her voice by the wall soon—she’s the talk of the place now!”
True enough, when Mero and Azima passed by, the men heard Mero’s voice greeting them loudly, “Peace be upon you all!”
The men scrambled to respond, excited by the rare sound of a woman’s voice.
“Ah, this girl’s voice brings me peace,” one said. “It’s been ages since I heard a woman speak.”
Mero joked back, “You men smell like the bush!”
They all laughed, and the teasing continued.
When Hanif passed by and heard their laughter, he frowned in disapproval, muttering, “What’s so enjoyable about this nonsense?”
The others just laughed harder. “You’re new here,” one said. “You still have the scent of women on you. Wait till it fades—then you’ll understand why we enjoy just hearing a woman’s voice!”
Hanif walked off angrily, while they kept joking—praising Spark, teasing Mero, and turning the dull prison day into one filled with laughter and chaos.
Description
The Mysterious Cry and the Burning Tragedy
The next morning, Khadija—also known as Mero—returned to the room she had been struggling to break into. As soon as she arrived, she heard faint sobs coming from the next room. To her surprise, she noticed someone speaking softly, apologizing to the man crying.
He was saying, “She was the one I was supposed to marry. Now she’s gone and left me.”
Mero’s eyes widened as she clutched her chest with both hands. “So, he already had someone he wanted to marry? And now she’s dead? May God have mercy on her soul. When our time comes, may we die with faith,” she murmured.
Then she shook her head in disbelief, whispering, “Look at him crying like a woman over love. That’s how the rich are—so fragile that they cry over small things. A poor man doesn’t have time for that; he’s used to hardship and destiny.”
Unable to hold her curiosity, she asked loudly, “So, did she die in the fire?”
The men in the room froze in fear. They thought an unseen spirit (Aljanna) had spoken, for they had never in their lives heard a voice coming from behind someone’s wall—let alone that of a woman.
A man finally answered hesitantly, “Yes, she burned in the fire.”
“I didn’t hear you well. Speak louder!” Mero insisted.
He sighed in frustration, then shouted, “Yes, she was burned in the fire!”
Mero replied, “May Allah have mercy on her and grant her the death of a martyr.”
The men, still terrified, quickly stood up and left, unwilling to believe that a human voice had truly spoken from behind the wall.
Khadija continued, ignoring them. “So, you’re done crying, right?” she said aloud. He didn’t respond. She shrugged and resumed scratching the wall until, finally, she managed to make a small hole wide enough for two fingers. Peeking through with one eye, she saw the room clearly.
“So, this is what they call VIP?” she muttered. “Looks more like a prison cell.”
Life Inside the Prison and Strange Encounters
Maman Wahida had now become used to prison life. She had adapted completely and minded her own business. Her family often visited her, and she had no problems. She lived comfortably in the VIP section—where those with money never faced much trouble. She didn’t meddle in anyone’s affairs unless they were also in VIP; if not, she ignored them entirely.
Mero didn’t know that Maman Wahida was actually Mima’s sister. She only noticed that the woman resembled Mummy and found it strange. Eventually, she couldn’t resist her curiosity and went over to greet her.
Dressed in an old lace blouse and skirt borrowed from Azima—the girl who had no trousers to spare—Mero looked pitifully worn. “Good day,” she greeted.
Maman Wahida looked up slowly and said, “How are you? You’re even lucky I let you greet me. What if I refused?”
Khadija (Mero) replied playfully, “I already greeted you before you could stop me. By the way, you look so much like someone called Mummy Spark.”
Startled, Maman Wahida asked, “Where did you know them from?”
“She’s my sister,” she said after a pause. “We share the same mother and father.”
Mero’s eyes widened. “I know all of them—Mima, Rafeeq, Misam—every single one!”
Only then did Maman Wahida ask her to sit.
“I’m not from a rich home,” Khadija continued. “I used to work in Mummy Spark’s house doing house chores. Even Spark himself came to see me once.”
“Spark came to see you?” Maman Wahida asked, surprised.
“Yes,” said Mero. “He gives me money and everything, but even though I’m like a mother figure to him, he hasn’t come to visit me here. Maybe I offended him. Anyway, your sister will soon arrive here, and when she does, you two can reconnect and talk about family love.”
“God forbid!” Maman Wahida snapped. “Don’t bring misfortune upon our family.”
Just then, Azima emerged, stretching lazily. “Khadija, aren’t you going to knitting class today?”
“Of course, I’m going,” Mero said, getting up to follow her.
As they walked, Mero said, “Azima, you know I struggle to understand these lessons. I’m such a slow learner. Thank God for religious studies at least. I didn’t even know how to perform purification properly until yesterday!”
Azima laughed hard. “You really are ignorant, Khadija.”
“The most ignorant,” Mero agreed. “I’ve got such a nice, meaningful name, but my parents didn’t give me any education. Now, prison is where I’m finally becoming wise. Imagine—me, learning in jail!”
Azima smiled. “Well, now you’ve become a proper city woman. You’re even changing your attitude. But seriously, you should learn faster and complete your rehabilitation here. As for me, I don’t even want to leave this place. Anyone who marries me after prison will regret it!”
Mero chuckled. “You? You’re destined to stay here; your offense wasn’t even that bad.”
Azima replied, “Thank God I’ve learned my lesson. I’m so used to this place that even if I went home, I wouldn’t feel right.”
Mero nodded. “By the way, do you know Chika and Beauty?”
Azima laughed. “Oh, don’t remind me of them! You really had no luck in that house where you worked. Some housemaids find favor and even get educated—but you stayed ignorant.”
Mero shrugged. “Those ones were book-learned people who valued money more than God. They forgot religion completely. And you know how the rich look down on the poor—they’d never teach me anything useful.”
Azima grinned. “And to think the woman you worked for—her son is marrying Naila. Now Naila’s in prison, her husband too, and even her mother-in-law is on her way. It runs in their bloodline!”
They both burst into laughter as they arrived at the knitting section.
Mero became so skilled that she was assigned to weave royal-style fabrics—the type used in palaces. Her skill was unmatched, and she even bought two expensive pieces just to gift others.
Meanwhile, in another section of the prison, Dan Indo and a few others were chatting. Dan Indo claimed he dreamt about Jamilu returning to the prison, causing laughter among his friends.
Later, Schola teased him, saying, “Forget about Jamilu; he’s the old version. The new version is Khadija! You’ll hear her voice by the wall soon—she’s the talk of the place now!”
True enough, when Mero and Azima passed by, the men heard Mero’s voice greeting them loudly, “Peace be upon you all!”
The men scrambled to respond, excited by the rare sound of a woman’s voice.
“Ah, this girl’s voice brings me peace,” one said. “It’s been ages since I heard a woman speak.”
Mero joked back, “You men smell like the bush!”
They all laughed, and the teasing continued.
When Hanif passed by and heard their laughter, he frowned in disapproval, muttering, “What’s so enjoyable about this nonsense?”
The others just laughed harder. “You’re new here,” one said. “You still have the scent of women on you. Wait till it fades—then you’ll understand why we enjoy just hearing a woman’s voice!”
Hanif walked off angrily, while they kept joking—praising Spark, teasing Mero, and turning the dull prison day into one filled with laughter and chaos.