“Zahra’u, you should come out. Please come so you all can go. Hanne and the others have been standing and waiting for you for long. I don’t like this useless carelessness,” said an elderly woman sitting on a chair in the middle of the compound, tying milk into a small nylon bag.
From inside the hut nearby, the girl called Zahra’u replied, “Inna, for Allah’s sake and the Prophet’s sake, let me finish applying my lipstick in peace. Don’t you know if you don’t beautify yourself, no one even looks at you?”
“Work indeed. You’ve been applying that same lipstick since last year, and your face is still the same. What a waste of money buying things for you,” Inna retorted.
Zahra’u came out of the hut adjusting the cloth tied around her waist. Her face was beautifully decorated in Fulani style. Her lips glowed red with lipstick. She looked no more than fifteen.
“You, Inna, you are always something else. Your mouth never speaks goodness—only trouble. Please give me my things so we can go,” she said, pushing out her small lips.
Inna placed the calabash of milk on Zahra’u’s head, handed her a nylon containing viva with a small ladle and sour milk inside. Zahra’u turned toward Hanne and the others waiting. She smiled, her dimples appearing, her small gap-toothed grin shining.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting. Let’s go so we don’t waste more time.”
They smiled back, then all greeted Inna and left.
As they walked, they chatted as usual. One of them, Haule, said, “With all our friendship, once we get married won’t it reduce if not end?”
Zahra’u laughed. “May Allah make it easy. Even if I travel to China to get married, I won’t stop being your friend. Besides, all of us live in the same settlement—we aren’t going anywhere.”
Hanne added, “Marriage even scares me. Look at Ma’u. Rabi’u married her like she was treasure, but look at the humiliation she is facing now.”
“That’s why I go to school. I’ll never allow any man to disrespect me,” Zahra’u said, smiling.
With their conversation, they finally walked out of the Falgore forest where their settlement was. They followed the long road toward the army barracks inside the forest. New soldiers had been brought for training, so the place was crowded like a marketplace. Even vehicles struggled to pass because of the number of soldiers.
Not long after they arrived, everything was already sold out because food was scarce. People bought whatever they could get immediately. They reached the bread seller, each bought one loaf, and happily turned back, excited they got bread to take to a naming ceremony for their friend Zina, who just gave birth.
They bumped into a young soldier wearing army trousers, holding a gun, with an army green T-shirt and cap. He was quite handsome. They tried to pass, but he stepped in front of them, smiling.
“Please forgive us. We’re strangers here and we just arrived from Abuja. We need food, but we haven’t been able to find any.”
Zahra’u gave him a harsh glare. “So you see us carrying calabashes of milk, and instead of buying, you’re complaining? If you’re hungry, why not buy something?”
He smiled, realizing the girl was sharp-tongued. Softly he said, “We didn’t notice, my sister. Sorry.”
“So what do you want us to do for you? Because we are not food for you to eat,” Zahra’u said boldly. Nothing frightened her.
“If this is where you stay, please help us. We’ll give you money—cook food for me and my friend and bring it to us.”
They went silent. Then Hanne said, “Our place is far. I can’t go home and come back.”
“Exactly. Who wants to go all the way home and return?” Haule added.
“Please help us,” the young soldier begged. “My friend has stomach ulcers. He can’t endure hunger. Please help before the pains start. We’ll pay you well.”
Zahra’u felt pity for his friend. She too suffered from stomach ulcers and knew the pain. So she said:
“Give me the money. I’ll cook for you. But we stay far—can you wait?”
The young man nodded quickly. He had been searching for someone to cook since morning but hadn’t found any. His friend was stubborn—he’d rather die than eat roadside food. That was why he was so worried.
The soldier pulled money from his pocket, not even checking the amount, and gave it to her. Zahra’u turned the money in her hand, surprised at how much it was, but said nothing. She assumed they needed plenty.
“I’ll bring it, insha’Allah. Wait at the roadside where I’ll easily find you,” she told him.
He thanked her repeatedly. “Let’s meet right here. It’s easier. My name is Capt. Jameel Ahmad. I’ll be waiting.”
Zahra’u said nothing more and left with her friends—who were all angry at her. Hanne snapped:
“So you’re not going to the naming ceremony, right? That’s why you collected cooking money from strange soldiers you don’t even know.”
Zahra’u answered calmly, not bothered: “You don’t know ulcer pain, nor do you feel pity. I’m doing it for Allah’s sake.”
Description
The Call to Leave
“Zahra’u, you should come out. Please come so you all can go. Hanne and the others have been standing and waiting for you for long. I don’t like this useless carelessness,” said an elderly woman sitting on a chair in the middle of the compound, tying milk into a small nylon bag.
From inside the hut nearby, the girl called Zahra’u replied, “Inna, for Allah’s sake and the Prophet’s sake, let me finish applying my lipstick in peace. Don’t you know if you don’t beautify yourself, no one even looks at you?”
“Work indeed. You’ve been applying that same lipstick since last year, and your face is still the same. What a waste of money buying things for you,” Inna retorted.
Zahra’u came out of the hut adjusting the cloth tied around her waist. Her face was beautifully decorated in Fulani style. Her lips glowed red with lipstick. She looked no more than fifteen.
“You, Inna, you are always something else. Your mouth never speaks goodness—only trouble. Please give me my things so we can go,” she said, pushing out her small lips.
Inna placed the calabash of milk on Zahra’u’s head, handed her a nylon containing viva with a small ladle and sour milk inside. Zahra’u turned toward Hanne and the others waiting. She smiled, her dimples appearing, her small gap-toothed grin shining.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting. Let’s go so we don’t waste more time.”
They smiled back, then all greeted Inna and left.
As they walked, they chatted as usual. One of them, Haule, said, “With all our friendship, once we get married won’t it reduce if not end?”
Zahra’u laughed. “May Allah make it easy. Even if I travel to China to get married, I won’t stop being your friend. Besides, all of us live in the same settlement—we aren’t going anywhere.”
Hanne added, “Marriage even scares me. Look at Ma’u. Rabi’u married her like she was treasure, but look at the humiliation she is facing now.”
“That’s why I go to school. I’ll never allow any man to disrespect me,” Zahra’u said, smiling.
With their conversation, they finally walked out of the Falgore forest where their settlement was. They followed the long road toward the army barracks inside the forest. New soldiers had been brought for training, so the place was crowded like a marketplace. Even vehicles struggled to pass because of the number of soldiers.
Not long after they arrived, everything was already sold out because food was scarce. People bought whatever they could get immediately. They reached the bread seller, each bought one loaf, and happily turned back, excited they got bread to take to a naming ceremony for their friend Zina, who just gave birth.
They bumped into a young soldier wearing army trousers, holding a gun, with an army green T-shirt and cap. He was quite handsome. They tried to pass, but he stepped in front of them, smiling.
“Please forgive us. We’re strangers here and we just arrived from Abuja. We need food, but we haven’t been able to find any.”
Zahra’u gave him a harsh glare. “So you see us carrying calabashes of milk, and instead of buying, you’re complaining? If you’re hungry, why not buy something?”
He smiled, realizing the girl was sharp-tongued. Softly he said, “We didn’t notice, my sister. Sorry.”
“So what do you want us to do for you? Because we are not food for you to eat,” Zahra’u said boldly. Nothing frightened her.
“If this is where you stay, please help us. We’ll give you money—cook food for me and my friend and bring it to us.”
They went silent. Then Hanne said, “Our place is far. I can’t go home and come back.”
“Exactly. Who wants to go all the way home and return?” Haule added.
“Please help us,” the young soldier begged. “My friend has stomach ulcers. He can’t endure hunger. Please help before the pains start. We’ll pay you well.”
Zahra’u felt pity for his friend. She too suffered from stomach ulcers and knew the pain. So she said:
“Give me the money. I’ll cook for you. But we stay far—can you wait?”
The young man nodded quickly. He had been searching for someone to cook since morning but hadn’t found any. His friend was stubborn—he’d rather die than eat roadside food. That was why he was so worried.
The soldier pulled money from his pocket, not even checking the amount, and gave it to her. Zahra’u turned the money in her hand, surprised at how much it was, but said nothing. She assumed they needed plenty.
“I’ll bring it, insha’Allah. Wait at the roadside where I’ll easily find you,” she told him.
He thanked her repeatedly. “Let’s meet right here. It’s easier. My name is Capt. Jameel Ahmad. I’ll be waiting.”
Zahra’u said nothing more and left with her friends—who were all angry at her. Hanne snapped:
“So you’re not going to the naming ceremony, right? That’s why you collected cooking money from strange soldiers you don’t even know.”
Zahra’u answered calmly, not bothered: “You don’t know ulcer pain, nor do you feel pity. I’m doing it for Allah’s sake.”
With that, she walked ahead, leaving them behind.