The girl called Nanne moved slightly and continued sleeping.
“Will you open your eyes or should I pour water on you…”
Inna said, shaking her harder. Hearing that, Nanne pouted her lips and sat up, rubbing her eyes through her long messy hair that had fallen over her face.
“Get up, wash your face, and go out before Salisu leaves. You know we agreed on this since yesterday.”
Nanne raised her head and looked at the clock fixed on the wall. It was a quarter past eight in the morning. The sleep she had after the dawn prayer wasn’t even up to two hours. She had completely forgotten that she and Inna had agreed she would go early to tell Salisu the type of cotton he should pick for her at their uncle’s farm — the one they would harvest today before the company buyers arrived to select the best grades. She needed the cotton to weave the special bridal shawls worn during the “wankan amarya” ceremony (a cultural tradition of a tribe in Niger).
“Oh Inna, if you knew how exhausted I was when I lay down, you would have let one of them — even Umar — tell him.”
“And you know I won’t see them before they leave. So get up, wash your face, and go before Salisu leaves. I know they’ll start moving any moment. I’ve been hearing car engines since dawn.”
Nanne gathered her hair to the back, tied it, and entered the bathroom attached to the room. She poured water into a container, washed her mouth and face, then came out. Inna handed her a hijab.
“No, not that one. It’s crooked. Let me get another.”
She opened the wardrobe, pulled out a long one, wore it, and collected the large nylon bag Inna pointed at.
“Explain to him exactly as I told you yesterday, please,” Inna said, stretching her voice in a pleading tone that almost made Nanne laugh as she walked out.
Since they lived on the first floor, Nanne could clearly see the big compound, quiet except for a few early-morning workers passing by.
Their house, located in a Katsina neighborhood, was an old, solidly-built structure whose thick walls rarely cracked. The entire building had three floors. From the heavy steel gate standing at the tall fence that enclosed the house, a wide courtyard stretched inside — spacious enough to host extended-family ceremonies. There were large parking sheds and flower beds surrounding the field.
Closer to the main building ran a long veranda across the width of the house, with six rooms in a row belonging to their older male siblings. At the center was a huge door leading into their uncle’s section — containing a grand guest parlor and two rooms with a bathroom. On the left side was the massive kitchen with two sections: the storage area lined with cabinets and the firewood area filled with timber and large cooking pots.
Apart from that, the ground floor had only two big store rooms where farm produce was kept. The staircase to the upper floors stood wide and open in the middle of the compound, branching right and left because each wing was surrounded by the rooms of their uncle’s four wives. Each wife had a sitting room and two large bedrooms with bathrooms. Inna, the mother of their uncle, also had a large parlor but with only one room and a bathroom.
The second and last floor had the broadest veranda — a huge open space bordered by walls high enough that one couldn’t see below without leaning over. That was where they dried clothes, vegetables, and spent evenings enjoying the breeze. Chairs of different types and flower pots were placed all around. From there, one could see the entire neighborhood — scattered houses, many uninhabited or unfinished.
Among all the uncle’s children, Nanne was the seventeenth. Two girls belonging to Aunty Amarya — who were older than her — were also there.
The first wife, Hajiya Nasiba (Hajiya Babba), was the daughter of the uncle’s benefactor in Katsina. The uncle, originally from Niger, had married her there. She had six children: Ahmad, Nasir, Muhammad, Ishaq, Farida, and Aisha. Four boys and two girls. Ahmad and Farida were married; the rest were still at home.
Mama Rabi was the uncle’s cousin from Niger. She had four children: Ibrahim, Sulaiman, Umar, and a daughter Jamila. Ibrahim was already married.
Mama Halime, also from Niger but not related by blood, had four daughters: Khadija, Maryam, Nafisa, and Zainab. Only Khadija was married.
Aunty Amarya had five children — her first birth being twin boys, Salim and Suraj, followed by Sadiq, Safiya, and Surrayya.
Nanne’s Background and the Family Dynamics
Among all the uncle’s children, Nanne was the only one without a mother in the house. Her mother was a Fulani woman from Adamawa, living with her relatives. The uncle married her when he and Mama Rabi had a dispute that led to their separation. He met Nuratu (Nanne’s mother) in Adamawa during a week-long farmers’ conference. His friends teased him that he should not return home without the beautiful Fulani woman. What began as a joke became reality — within a week they had visited her family, confirmed her status, and she was given to him in marriage. Only later did they learn she had been previously married and already had two children with her ex-husband.
When he returned home and told his mother (Inna), she didn’t object. But his wives were unhappy — especially Mama Rabi, who feared losing her place. Despite that, God had destined it: within a month, the uncle and Nuratu were married.
For a year and a half she lived in the house and gave birth to a daughter who looked like her but with the uncle’s lighter complexion. He named her Sa’adha, while Nuratu lovingly nicknamed her Nanne — a name that stuck.
After childbirth, Nuratu’s behavior changed drastically. She became disrespectful — to the uncle, to Inna, and to everyone. No advice changed her. Eventually, though unwillingly, the uncle divorced her once. She planned to leave with Nanne, but he refused. She returned to Adamawa and later remarried her former husband.
At that time, Mama Halime was nursing her baby Zainab; she refused to breastfeed Nanne, saying she wouldn’t nurse a rival’s child unless she herself was divorced. Aunty Amarya, also nursing, refused too. Hajiya Babba didn’t involve herself in such issues. At last, Inna took Nanne, even though she had initially distanced herself out of anger toward Nuratu.
With fresh cow milk from the uncle’s farm, Nanne grew in her grandmother’s arms. Inna poured all her love into her — as if Nanne were her only grandchild. Anyone who wanted Inna’s happiness only needed to do something kind for Nanne.
Three times since her birth, the uncle sent Nanne to Adamawa to visit her mother. But through relatives, they learned that Nuratu often sent her errands and treated her more like a helper than a child.
In the entire household, including the many workers, Nanne could count those who genuinely cared for her on her fingers. Many disliked her — some because of her mother’s behavior, others because of her own sharp tongue and fearlessness. Even the older men in the house maintained a certain distance.
This was largely because Inna never allowed anyone to scold Nanne. Even the uncle avoided reprimanding her, knowing Inna would take offense. People were careful not to upset Inna, so Nanne grew up somewhat spoiled and wild. Her face looked calm and quiet, but a single day with her would prove otherwise.
No one in the house despised her more openly than Mama Rabi and her children. They believed that because the uncle brought her back to the house after weaning, she became a burden they didn’t ask for.
Hajiya Babba and her children didn’t bother with her unless Inna sent her to them. Mama Halime pretended Nanne didn’t exist. Her daughters didn’t care for her either. Whenever a conflict occurred between them and Nanne, the entire house knew chaos had erupted.
Aunty Amarya scolded and penalized her whenever Inna wasn’t looking — Nanne always responded with insults before leaving.
Even the workers stayed out of her affairs; crossing her meant dealing with In
na, and once Inna was upset, anyone could fall into trouble with the uncle.
Description
The Wake-Up Call
“Nanne! Nanne! Nanne!! … will you get up or not?”
The girl called Nanne moved slightly and continued sleeping.
“Will you open your eyes or should I pour water on you…”
Inna said, shaking her harder. Hearing that, Nanne pouted her lips and sat up, rubbing her eyes through her long messy hair that had fallen over her face.
“Get up, wash your face, and go out before Salisu leaves. You know we agreed on this since yesterday.”
Nanne raised her head and looked at the clock fixed on the wall. It was a quarter past eight in the morning. The sleep she had after the dawn prayer wasn’t even up to two hours. She had completely forgotten that she and Inna had agreed she would go early to tell Salisu the type of cotton he should pick for her at their uncle’s farm — the one they would harvest today before the company buyers arrived to select the best grades. She needed the cotton to weave the special bridal shawls worn during the “wankan amarya” ceremony (a cultural tradition of a tribe in Niger).
“Oh Inna, if you knew how exhausted I was when I lay down, you would have let one of them — even Umar — tell him.”
“And you know I won’t see them before they leave. So get up, wash your face, and go before Salisu leaves. I know they’ll start moving any moment. I’ve been hearing car engines since dawn.”
Nanne gathered her hair to the back, tied it, and entered the bathroom attached to the room. She poured water into a container, washed her mouth and face, then came out. Inna handed her a hijab.
“No, not that one. It’s crooked. Let me get another.”
She opened the wardrobe, pulled out a long one, wore it, and collected the large nylon bag Inna pointed at.
“Explain to him exactly as I told you yesterday, please,” Inna said, stretching her voice in a pleading tone that almost made Nanne laugh as she walked out.
Since they lived on the first floor, Nanne could clearly see the big compound, quiet except for a few early-morning workers passing by.
Their house, located in a Katsina neighborhood, was an old, solidly-built structure whose thick walls rarely cracked. The entire building had three floors. From the heavy steel gate standing at the tall fence that enclosed the house, a wide courtyard stretched inside — spacious enough to host extended-family ceremonies. There were large parking sheds and flower beds surrounding the field.
Closer to the main building ran a long veranda across the width of the house, with six rooms in a row belonging to their older male siblings. At the center was a huge door leading into their uncle’s section — containing a grand guest parlor and two rooms with a bathroom. On the left side was the massive kitchen with two sections: the storage area lined with cabinets and the firewood area filled with timber and large cooking pots.
Apart from that, the ground floor had only two big store rooms where farm produce was kept. The staircase to the upper floors stood wide and open in the middle of the compound, branching right and left because each wing was surrounded by the rooms of their uncle’s four wives. Each wife had a sitting room and two large bedrooms with bathrooms. Inna, the mother of their uncle, also had a large parlor but with only one room and a bathroom.
The second and last floor had the broadest veranda — a huge open space bordered by walls high enough that one couldn’t see below without leaning over. That was where they dried clothes, vegetables, and spent evenings enjoying the breeze. Chairs of different types and flower pots were placed all around. From there, one could see the entire neighborhood — scattered houses, many uninhabited or unfinished.
Among all the uncle’s children, Nanne was the seventeenth. Two girls belonging to Aunty Amarya — who were older than her — were also there.
The first wife, Hajiya Nasiba (Hajiya Babba), was the daughter of the uncle’s benefactor in Katsina. The uncle, originally from Niger, had married her there. She had six children: Ahmad, Nasir, Muhammad, Ishaq, Farida, and Aisha. Four boys and two girls. Ahmad and Farida were married; the rest were still at home.
Mama Rabi was the uncle’s cousin from Niger. She had four children: Ibrahim, Sulaiman, Umar, and a daughter Jamila. Ibrahim was already married.
Mama Halime, also from Niger but not related by blood, had four daughters: Khadija, Maryam, Nafisa, and Zainab. Only Khadija was married.
Aunty Amarya had five children — her first birth being twin boys, Salim and Suraj, followed by Sadiq, Safiya, and Surrayya.
Nanne’s Background and the Family Dynamics
Among all the uncle’s children, Nanne was the only one without a mother in the house. Her mother was a Fulani woman from Adamawa, living with her relatives. The uncle married her when he and Mama Rabi had a dispute that led to their separation. He met Nuratu (Nanne’s mother) in Adamawa during a week-long farmers’ conference. His friends teased him that he should not return home without the beautiful Fulani woman. What began as a joke became reality — within a week they had visited her family, confirmed her status, and she was given to him in marriage. Only later did they learn she had been previously married and already had two children with her ex-husband.
When he returned home and told his mother (Inna), she didn’t object. But his wives were unhappy — especially Mama Rabi, who feared losing her place. Despite that, God had destined it: within a month, the uncle and Nuratu were married.
For a year and a half she lived in the house and gave birth to a daughter who looked like her but with the uncle’s lighter complexion. He named her Sa’adha, while Nuratu lovingly nicknamed her Nanne — a name that stuck.
After childbirth, Nuratu’s behavior changed drastically. She became disrespectful — to the uncle, to Inna, and to everyone. No advice changed her. Eventually, though unwillingly, the uncle divorced her once. She planned to leave with Nanne, but he refused. She returned to Adamawa and later remarried her former husband.
At that time, Mama Halime was nursing her baby Zainab; she refused to breastfeed Nanne, saying she wouldn’t nurse a rival’s child unless she herself was divorced. Aunty Amarya, also nursing, refused too. Hajiya Babba didn’t involve herself in such issues. At last, Inna took Nanne, even though she had initially distanced herself out of anger toward Nuratu.
With fresh cow milk from the uncle’s farm, Nanne grew in her grandmother’s arms. Inna poured all her love into her — as if Nanne were her only grandchild. Anyone who wanted Inna’s happiness only needed to do something kind for Nanne.
Three times since her birth, the uncle sent Nanne to Adamawa to visit her mother. But through relatives, they learned that Nuratu often sent her errands and treated her more like a helper than a child.
In the entire household, including the many workers, Nanne could count those who genuinely cared for her on her fingers. Many disliked her — some because of her mother’s behavior, others because of her own sharp tongue and fearlessness. Even the older men in the house maintained a certain distance.
This was largely because Inna never allowed anyone to scold Nanne. Even the uncle avoided reprimanding her, knowing Inna would take offense. People were careful not to upset Inna, so Nanne grew up somewhat spoiled and wild. Her face looked calm and quiet, but a single day with her would prove otherwise.
No one in the house despised her more openly than Mama Rabi and her children. They believed that because the uncle brought her back to the house after weaning, she became a burden they didn’t ask for.
Hajiya Babba and her children didn’t bother with her unless Inna sent her to them. Mama Halime pretended Nanne didn’t exist. Her daughters didn’t care for her either. Whenever a conflict occurred between them and Nanne, the entire house knew chaos had erupted.
Aunty Amarya scolded and penalized her whenever Inna wasn’t looking — Nanne always responded with insults before leaving.
Even the workers stayed out of her affairs; crossing her meant dealing with In
na, and once Inna was upset, anyone could fall into trouble with the uncle.