The voice full of command cut through me, making me turn sharply. I saw Hajiya standing, listening to her phone on hands-free, someone calling her “Juliana.” She wore a traditional Hausa outfit, holding a prayer bead, but that name kept echoing: Juliana!
Her body trembled all over as the voice on the phone continued. She tried to respond, her voice choked, calling the woman on the other end Mother.
“That’s enough! Don’t you dare call me Mother again. If you don’t obey me, anything can happen to you and your household.”
“Innalillahi wa’inna ilaihir raji’un,” Juliana whispered, sweat breaking all over her. With hot tears, she pleaded, “No, Mother, I will return to you. But I beg you, leave my husband’s family out of this; they have nothing to do with it.”
Her mother’s voice roared again: “I want to see you today. I heard you married and even had a son. Bring him with you—we will not let our bloodline be corrupted. The true faith is Christianity!”
“That’s not true, Mother. Christianity is the religion of fire,” Juliana tried to resist. But her mother cut her off with anger: “Juliana! Kill me if you want, relieve me from the sorrow you planted in our hearts. You made our enemies laugh at us!”
Weeping bitterly, Juliana whispered: “I will return, Mommy. I am on my way now. I will come back to the religion of unbelief for your sake, even though I know it is fire. But I beg you, let my son be spared to live in his father’s lineage.”
Suddenly, the call ended. Juliana stared at her phone before collapsing into tears. She lifted her eyes toward the photo of her husband and their little boy not more than three years old. “Haidar…” she sobbed.
Clutching her chest, she cried: “I had hoped my son Aliyu would grow up a Muslim. But I must abandon that dream, not because I want to, but because I must obey my mother.”
The Departure
Her thoughts consumed her for hours, until a knock broke the silence. Quickly wiping her tears, she opened the door to see her son’s caretaker with little Haidar, who rushed into her arms. She hugged him tightly, letting out a deep sigh.
“Laraba, take his school bag in. I need to step out,” she instructed. “Okay Hajiya, safe journey,” Laraba replied. “Amin,” Juliana muttered, brushing past and shutting the door.
She put on her hijab, carried a small box, and stepped out, her son watching her with innocent eyes. He sensed something strange, for he had never seen his mother so troubled, nor crying.
She left her beautiful home, greeting the gatekeeper Zubairu who offered to open the gate. “Not with the car today, I’ll just stretch my legs,” she said faintly. He wished her safe travels, and she walked out only to find a black car already waiting.
Without hesitation, she entered, and the vehicle sped away recklessly. Looking around, she recognized only one face inside—the stern Madam Silvaline, her elder sister.
A Mother’s Ultimatum
Madam Silvaline’s eyes burned into her. “You have disgraced us, Juliana. But from today, you say goodbye to life in Nigeria forever. Mother said even after her death, if you return, she will never forgive you. Now tell me, which faith are you in? The true faith of Jesus Christ, or something else?”
Tears rolled down Juliana’s face as she replied: “I am still in the faith I was born into, Christianity—the faith of Christ.”
Silvaline smirked. “Good. That is the truth.” Her eyes turned toward the little boy. “What’s his name?”
“Aliyu Haidar,” Juliana answered softly.
“What nonsense is Aliyu?” Silvaline snapped. “From today, his name is Alexander.”
Juliana said nothing, frozen in pain, as Madam Silvaline lifted the boy, playing with him. “Will you stay with me, Alexander? Because your mommy is leaving Nigeria today. Maybe when you grow up, you’ll see her again—someday.”
Description
A Troubled Call
“Juliana! Juliana!!”
The voice full of command cut through me, making me turn sharply. I saw Hajiya standing, listening to her phone on hands-free, someone calling her “Juliana.” She wore a traditional Hausa outfit, holding a prayer bead, but that name kept echoing: Juliana!
Her body trembled all over as the voice on the phone continued. She tried to respond, her voice choked, calling the woman on the other end Mother.
“That’s enough! Don’t you dare call me Mother again. If you don’t obey me, anything can happen to you and your household.”
“Innalillahi wa’inna ilaihir raji’un,” Juliana whispered, sweat breaking all over her. With hot tears, she pleaded, “No, Mother, I will return to you. But I beg you, leave my husband’s family out of this; they have nothing to do with it.”
Her mother’s voice roared again: “I want to see you today. I heard you married and even had a son. Bring him with you—we will not let our bloodline be corrupted. The true faith is Christianity!”
“That’s not true, Mother. Christianity is the religion of fire,” Juliana tried to resist. But her mother cut her off with anger: “Juliana! Kill me if you want, relieve me from the sorrow you planted in our hearts. You made our enemies laugh at us!”
Weeping bitterly, Juliana whispered: “I will return, Mommy. I am on my way now. I will come back to the religion of unbelief for your sake, even though I know it is fire. But I beg you, let my son be spared to live in his father’s lineage.”
Suddenly, the call ended. Juliana stared at her phone before collapsing into tears. She lifted her eyes toward the photo of her husband and their little boy not more than three years old. “Haidar…” she sobbed.
Clutching her chest, she cried: “I had hoped my son Aliyu would grow up a Muslim. But I must abandon that dream, not because I want to, but because I must obey my mother.”
The Departure
Her thoughts consumed her for hours, until a knock broke the silence. Quickly wiping her tears, she opened the door to see her son’s caretaker with little Haidar, who rushed into her arms. She hugged him tightly, letting out a deep sigh.
“Laraba, take his school bag in. I need to step out,” she instructed. “Okay Hajiya, safe journey,” Laraba replied. “Amin,” Juliana muttered, brushing past and shutting the door.
She put on her hijab, carried a small box, and stepped out, her son watching her with innocent eyes. He sensed something strange, for he had never seen his mother so troubled, nor crying.
She left her beautiful home, greeting the gatekeeper Zubairu who offered to open the gate. “Not with the car today, I’ll just stretch my legs,” she said faintly. He wished her safe travels, and she walked out only to find a black car already waiting.
Without hesitation, she entered, and the vehicle sped away recklessly. Looking around, she recognized only one face inside—the stern Madam Silvaline, her elder sister.
A Mother’s Ultimatum
Madam Silvaline’s eyes burned into her. “You have disgraced us, Juliana. But from today, you say goodbye to life in Nigeria forever. Mother said even after her death, if you return, she will never forgive you. Now tell me, which faith are you in? The true faith of Jesus Christ, or something else?”
Tears rolled down Juliana’s face as she replied: “I am still in the faith I was born into, Christianity—the faith of Christ.”
Silvaline smirked. “Good. That is the truth.” Her eyes turned toward the little boy. “What’s his name?”
“Aliyu Haidar,” Juliana answered softly.
“What nonsense is Aliyu?” Silvaline snapped. “From today, his name is Alexander.”
Juliana said nothing, frozen in pain, as Madam Silvaline lifted the boy, playing with him. “Will you stay with me, Alexander? Because your mommy is leaving Nigeria today. Maybe when you grow up, you’ll see her again—someday.”