...of the past, which showed that back then, the house was among those that were considered high-class in those days. However, in this modern era, it has become like a primitive village building to us. Because of its old age, the plaster on the walls is cracking and peeling away. Some parts of the perimeter wall have collapsed entirely, and old corrugated zinc sheets have been used to block the gaps.
In the center of the courtyard stands a large durumi (ficus) tree, which spreads wide, providing the residents with pleasant shade and cool air. To the outside corner of the room stand water clay pots, covered with large old-fashioned metal bowls from the past, showing that back then, this house was among those that were considered high-class in those days. However, in this modern era, it has become like a primitive village building to us. Because of its old age, the plaster on the walls is cracking and peeling away. Some parts of the perimeter wall have collapsed entirely, and old corrugated zinc sheets have been used to block the gaps.
In the center of the courtyard stands a large durumi tree, which spreads wide, providing the house with pleasant breeze and sweet shade. To the outside corner of the room stand water clay pots, covered with large, traditional metal bowls of the old days, along with a thatched awning constructed in front of the room, which further keeps the interior cool.
A middle-aged woman—though not overly old—emerged from the room. She was dressed in a faded atamfa (African print cloth) wrapper and blouse; however, the wrapper was different from the blouse, and the headscarf was different yet again. In her hand, she carried an old silver metal bowl, which was visibly dented and battered near the rim. Inside the bowl was a small, modest amount of broken maize grits. She moved toward a small, low traditional stool typical of women in local courtyards, sat down slowly, and began cleaning the dirt out of the broken maize in the bowl.
The sound of a greeting from the entrance made her quickly raise her head, which had been bowed down. Her mouth softly returned the greeting.
It was her son, Hamza, who entered the courtyard. In his hand, he held a small black plastic bag, through which one could glimpse soup vegetables inside. His gaze was fixed fully on his mother as he approached where she sat, saying, "Welcome home, Umma."
She raised her head with a warm smile, saying, "My Baba, did you return safely?"
Before he could answer her, he knelt down on the ground, saying, "Umma, well done with your chores. Hope you had a peaceful day?" He tried to place the plastic bag he brought home by her side, and she accepted it, saying, "Alhamdulillah (Praise be to God)."
"Don't tell me you are fasting today as well?" she asked, her eyes fixed intently upon him with concern.
He smiled, bowing his head again as he sat down with his hands clasped together, saying through a lump of suppressed bitter grief: "Umma, it is better that I fast, because even if I don't, there is nothing for me to eat anyway. The market conditions these days are very slow, honestly."
"May Allah grant His aid," she said as she reached out to open the plastic bag beside her. Inside the bag were green vegetables—specifically a little spinach—along with some bell peppers, scotch bonnets, and onions.
She lifted her head, saying, "We managed to get all of this, my Baba? May the Lord God make it beneficial, may He bless you, protect you all for us, and guide you on a blessed path."
He replied, "Amen, Umma," as he slid his hand into his trousers pocket and pulled out some money. However, it was all small change—not any substantial amount of wealth. Handing it over to his mother, he said, "Mama, take this. The market was completely choked up today; I only made one hundred and fifty Naira in total, so I used part of it to buy these soup ingredients because I knew you needed them. This remaining change, I decided to bring it to you so you can buy something else with it here."
She fell silent, staring at him with deep pity. Her son, despite his young age, knew exactly how to sacrifice and help support them.
"My Baba, keep this money. Find a way to buy something to break your fast with when you drink water, because look, I am already cleaning these broken maize grits so I can prepare something small for us to eat. Besides, these vegetables are perfect for the pate (local porridge) I wanted to make for us; I didn't have any greens to add to it earlier and was going to cook it plain, but now we have the perfect accompaniment. May Allah bless it."
He shook his head, saying, "Umma, just accept it. Whatever is cooked in this house, I will break my fast with it too."
She said, "My Baba, may Allah make this hardship you endure for our sake the foundation of your blessings in this world and the hereafter." He replied, "Amen," deeply comforted by the daily blessings his mother showered upon him and his siblings.
A wave of pity for his family washed over him. He could say that for nearly two days now, he had been hustling hard through odd jobs but hadn't made any significant money to buy substantial food for them, as he usually tried to do to support his mother and the younger siblings currently at home. One could say that for almost seven years, since he was a young child, he had carried the financial burden of their household in everything.
Even so, their mother was also doing her utmost to feed her orphaned children since the death of her husband. In the past, they were wealthy and comfortably well-off, but the moment her husband died, his relatives swooped in and plundered every little thing he left behind for his family. They betrayed the orphans under the greedy pretext that the children were too young to manage the wealth at the time.
Years later, when her daughter was old enough to get married, there was no wealth left and no trace of it. The wedding had to be conducted in utter poverty because the father’s relatives had consumed everything they owned—even their farmland and plots of land were sold off under the claim that they were clearing the deceased's debts. It was her own maternal relatives who pooled some contributions together and gave her, which was used to buy the basic wedding items.
The blessings his mother was showering upon him pulled his mind back from his brief reflection. With a soft sigh, he said, "Mama, the market is no longer profitable, which is why I want to switch to a different trade to see if it will be more successful."
Lifting her head, she asked, "My Baba, what kind of trade can you switch to now? You see, you are already accustomed to this one."
He told his mother, "Umma, I will look around. The moment I find one that is thriving, I will discuss it with you." He stood up, adding, "Let me quickly tidy up my room before Maghrib (sunset) approaches."
Umma's eyes followed his retreating figure with deep pity—her son who grew up as an orphan, saddled with a life of grueling labor that had been too heavy for him since childhood.
The Maghrib call to prayer echoed everywhere across the town. You could hear nothing but the sound of speakers blaring as the muezzins called people to prayer.
From where he sat, holding two pieces of dates in his hand, he softly whispered a prayer of supplication. From his own spot where he was performing ablution, Malam Ayuba watched him closely until the moment the boy took water to drink. This action made him realize that the boy was fasting and was currently breaking his fast.
Malam Ayuba had always admired this boy deeply; not just today, but always. He was completely different from the other youths in the neighborhood.
After the prayers were concluded, an announcement was made seeking anyone interested in doing manual farm labor on the village head's (Mai Unguwa) farm. Hamza immediately submitted his name because he desperately needed the work, not just for today but for his ongoing struggles.
However, the local men present immediately began to object, claiming that he was too young and weak to do anything and should not be included. It was Malam Ayuba, who was just stepping out of the mosque, who intervened, saying, "Please, let us have patience and write his name down. If we try him and see he cannot handle it, then he can be removed from among them."
With a greeting on his lips, Hamza entered his house and greeted his mother.
Still standing, she said, "My Baba, welcome. May Allah accept our fast and fulfill our good desires." He replied, "Allahumma Amin, Umma," and then sat down slowly by her side.
After finding a spot to sit, he informed his mother that they would be leaving for work at the village head's farm the next morning, if Allah spared their lives.
Quickly, Umma—who was trying to pull a covered local food warmer containing his meal from the side—jerked her head up, looking at him in utter shock and pity because she could see how small her son still was. She knew that it was death that had reduced their lives to this state; if their father were alive, none of this hardship would have befallen them.
In a strained voice, as she set down the small food container, she said, "Are you sure, my Baba, that you can handle this kind of work? You look far too young for such heavy labor."
He smiled, washing his hands with the water nearby, and said, "Umma, I only need your prayers."
Subduively, she said, "Alright, may Allah protect you and bring blessings to your endeavors." He replied, "Amen, Umma," as he opened the food container in front of him.
Even though the porridge lacked rich ingredients—made of just broken maize, fresh scotch bonnets, spinach, and a few groundnuts sprinkled inside—a delicious aroma wafted from the dish. Before he could take a bite, his mouth watered, but he was interrupted.
Hearing his voice, Rakiya, his beloved sister, emerged from the room while adjusting the hijab on her head. It was only then that his attention turned to her, and he said, "Oh, Rakiya, you're back from school already?"
"Yaya Hamza, good afternoon. How was the market?" she asked.
He replied, "Very well, Alhamdulillah. Where is Abdul?"
She said, "He just went out to fetch kerosene for Mama's lamp."
A greeting from the entrance interrupted their conversation, and Umma responded to it, saying, "Oh! Could it be Aisha coming at this time of the night?"
From a distance, the young girl named Aisha responded, "It's me, mother of Abdul. My mother sent me to bring you this food because we cooked too much and cannot finish it."
"Masha Allah," Umma exclaimed as she stepped forward to receive the containers from the young teenage girl. She showered continuous gratitude and blessings on the woman who sent the food.
The girl's voice added, "There is hot Dan Wake (bean dumplings) in a separate covered container. My mother said it's a special treat for you."
The Dan Wake was richly laced with groundnut oil and hot spice mix (yaji), and a mouthwatering aroma rose from the container. The other food flask was packed with white rice and a separate soup made with dried fish and heavily spiced with curry.
Umma insisted on washing the containers clean on the spot, even though the girl politely said, "Umma, leave them, we can wash them in the morning."
As the girl left the house, saying, "Umma, goodnight," Umma turned to where Hamza was sitting and said, "Well, Hamza, look, here is food to break your fast. Allah has provided. Take whichever one you prefer and eat."
He let out a deep sigh, adjusting his posture, and said, "Alhamdulillah, Umma. Honestly, seeing this has made me very happy."
Despite how much his mother urged him to eat some of the rice, he refused. She noticed this recurring habit of his—he strongly disliked eating food brought to them by neighbors, even though he knew such food helped them immensely in many ways. The only saving grace was that he highly respected the character of the girl's mother who sent the food; she never sent left-overs, but would often scoop out a portion of the meal while it was still piping hot.
He stayed where he was, watching his younger siblings happily descend upon the food with joy and excitement, leaving their mother's porridge, which she had prepared to the best of her limited means.
Umma pushed the bowl of Dan Wake in front of him, saying, "You should eat this since you won't eat the rice."
He had no choice but to comply rather than argue with his mother, so he drew the container closer and slowly reached his hand in. The dumplings were hot; he picked one up and put it in his mouth. It was undeniably delicious. As he chewed slowly, enjoying the taste, his mind drifted into a silent prayer, wishing that Allah would bless him with wealth so that he too could support his mother and siblings.
He ate a substantial amount, nearly half of it, and then pushed the rest back to his mother. Even though he wanted to eat more, he left it for her because he knew Dan Wake was her absolute favorite meal. His mother smiled with genuine joy, seeing that her son had eaten well, despite his usual aversion to neighborly handouts.
The next morning, Hamza prepared very early to go to the village head's farm—a task that had consumed his thoughts all night. Although they hadn't slept with any breakfast food in the house, he used the remaining change his mother had left with him the previous night to buy a little kwaki (garri) and sugar to take along to the farm.
A group of physically strong, robust men gathered to go to the village head's farm for labor. Among them, Hamza was the only young boy, and he had only managed to secure a spot through the backing of their neighbor, Malam Mudi.
Twenty-five of them were packed into an open-back truck and driven to the farm. To his credit, Hamza proved himself outstanding. No matter how hard the strong men worked, he refused to be left behind. He pushed himself to the absolute limit and pulled his weight perfectly.
Hamza worked alongside them on the village head's farm for an entire week. This allowed him to save up a significant amount of money. From it, he set aside one hundred Naira to buy high-quality white kola nuts for Malam Mudi—the man who had secured him the job—and delivered them right to his doorstep. Malam Mudi was deeply moved by the wisdom and gratitude of this blessed orphan boy. He honestly hadn't expected Hamza to endure such grueling physical labor, considering how modern youths prefer easy paths and avoid straining their bodies.
From the 1,500 Naira he earned from the farm labor, Hamza bought the kola nuts for Malam Mudi, gave Umma 300 Naira, and gave his younger siblings 50 Naira to buy slippers for their bare feet. He tied the rest of the money securely in a plastic bag and tucked it deep into his pocket.
The very first thing he did was pay off the 250 Naira school book debt that had forced him to stop attending classes.
The next morning, Umma was astonished to see him dressed and ready for school—something he hadn't done in over three months. Deep pity filled her heart, knowing how much he loved education and that only a lack of money had stopped him. At the school, the administration accepted him back after a stern warning regarding his prolonged absenteeism.
By Allah’s power, Hamza successfully balanced his studies with a small retail trade. On every local market day, he would take out his capital and invest it. Allah blessed his efforts, and his 1,000 Naira capital steadily grew to 2,000, then 3,000, and eventually 4,000 Naira.
This financial success inspired him to try farming on the small plot of land left behind by their late father. Before his paternal relatives even agreed to let him cultivate it, they gave him an incredibly hard time. It took the intervention of one of his paternal aunts before they finally conceded.
Farming in the past did not require heavy financial investment like it does today; back then, a person relied primarily on physical strength rather than money. Allah further blessed his venture when Umma traveled to visit her relatives and brought back high-quality maize seeds typical of the Bauchi region.
He planted the maize first, and Allah blessed the crop immensely; the farm yielded an incredibly abundant harvest. Anyone who passed by the farm commented on it because the corn stalks had grown beautifully and produced ears of corn that were magnificent to behold.
This success, however, sparked deep resentment, envy, and bitter jealousy among his deceased father's relatives. They targeted this vulnerable family, even though the late father had been incredibly compassionate and supportive of them when he was alive. The relatives could not bear to see the family thrive; they preferred to see them destitute.
Driven by bitter jealousy over how successful the farm had become, the relatives deeply regretted allowing him to use the land. Consequently, they declared that by the next season, Hamza would have to look elsewhere, as he would not be allowed to plant there again; they intended to cultivate the land themselves.
When Hamza finally harvested his crops, the entire community was stunned to see a young boy achieve such a legendary, blessed yield.
Dear readers, this new novel comes with a change in format as it is a premium paid book available for a token fee of just three hundred Naira. Anyone interested can join my group to register. I hope you will understand and support this new direction for our book titled Sarautar Mata (The Dominion of Women), which explores the dramatic dynamics of housewives, husbands, co-wives, mothers-in-law, husbands' relatives, neighbors, and more. May Allah make this an impactful lesson. Follow me as we journey together; please do not be upset with Zee, as this change is necessary for the progress of writers...
ZEEE MAKAWA YELWA
SEENABU 👑SARAUTAR MATA👑
02
ZAINAB IDRIS MAKAWA
Subhanallahi wa bihamdihi, Subhanallahil Azeem (Glory be to Allah and praise be to Him, Glory be to Allah the Supreme).
It had been about three weeks since Hamza resumed his schooling, and he focused entirely on his studies because he was naturally a very passionate student. When he returned home in the afternoons, he sold petty retail items to ensure a steady stream of income—items such as sugarcane, local brown sugar cakes (mazzakwaila), candies, fried groundnuts, tiger nuts, and even local milk candies (madaran gullusuwa).
As soon as it was time for his evening Islamic classes (Islamiya), he would leave his business to attend his religious studies, returning late at night to display his wares again, which the neighborhood children and youths patronized. Through this routine, Allah protected the family’s dignity, ensuring they had enough to eat and drink.
This visible improvement was what first caught the eyes of the neighborhood. People noticed they were no longer suffering as severely as before, all thanks to the industriousness of the brilliant and hardworking son Allah had blessed Umma Rabi with. Soon, local gossips began whispering around the neighborhood that Rabi's burdens had been lifted by her growing son.
This gossip caused the late father's relatives to lock their eyes securely onto the family, realizing that Hamza's drive might actually cause them to prosper. Without a shred of shame, the boy's paternal uncle walked right up to Hamza at his business spot and forcefully confiscated all the capital and savings he had on hand, claiming he was using it to pay off an ancient debt supposedly owed by Hamza's late father.
Without any resistance, Hamza—who had just made sales and was planning to restock his goods—handed over all his money to him.
As soon as Baba Ado left the market, he headed straight to the butchers, bought a whole ram's head along with other rich soup ingredients, bought rice, and headed home, his heart bursting with joy over his windfall. His wife was grinning from ear to ear when she saw the luxury ingredients her husband brought home. Without wasting time, she began preparing the meal while loudly bragging to the other women in the compound that her husband was an absolute champion when it came to providing for his household. Within a short time, the cooking was underway, and a rich aroma filled the entire house.
Meanwhile, Hamza returned home visibly distraught, utterly at a loss as to where he would find the money to revive his ruined business. He sat down in the courtyard, burying his face in his hands, completely consumed by anxiety.
Umma, who had just stepped out of the bathroom after washing up early to avoid being caught unprepared by the Maghrib prayer, noticed him. "Oh, my Baba! Is everything alright? I see you here at a time you are supposed to be at the gardens wholesaling sugarcane."
He adjusted his posture, trying desperately to mask his distress so his mother wouldn't worry. But a mother's intuition cannot be fooled; Umma rushed toward him in a panic, demanding, "What happened? Tell me, what is wrong?"
In a small, vulnerable voice, he said, "It's nothing, Umma. I am just trying to figure out how to get money to restock my goods."
Anxiously, she asked, "What about the capital you were already trading with?"
In a low, hesitant voice, not wanting to upset her, he confessed, "Baba Ado came and took it all earlier. He claimed he was going to settle a debt that our Abba owed a very long time ago."
Umma Rabi let out a loud exclamation of grief, clapping her hands together bitterly. "Incredible! So Ado possesses absolutely no mercy in this world? Out of sheer malice and cruelty, he comes to snatch the tiny wealth in the hands of a child? I swear, I will not let this slide today! This public humiliation is enough. I do not know what they want from us in this life. Every little thing this poor servant of Allah left for us, they plundered and left us in poverty and starvation. Now that he sees Allah has protected our dignity, he comes to ruin us again!"
"Umma, please just leave him," Hamza pleaded. "Consider it as lifting the burden of debt from our late father, because an outstanding debt is a terrible thing for a deceased person."
She stormed into her room, raging and venting loudly to herself while Hamza sat outside, continuously begging her to drop the matter. He kept telling her, "It's fine, Umma. Don't cause a rift between you and them. This is nothing to worry about compared to the worse things they have done to us in the past."
But Umma Rabi’s wrath was fully fueled. She snapped, "My patience ends today! If I don't go and put an end to this madness, it will never stop." She waited purposefully until the exact hour she knew the male heads of the household would be back from work, and then she marched straight into their compound.
Crossing the threshold with a sharp greeting, she entered Baba Ado's section. There, she saw a large mat spread out across the courtyard, and the children were happily feasting on a massive, luxurious mountain of food. Baba Ado's wives turned their heads, fixing Umma with glares full of malice, jealousy, and deep resentment.

Chapter Summary

1. The Setting and Hamza's Sacrifice

The story opens by describing the family’s ancestral home—a once-prestigious house that has decayed into a crumbling, primitive structure patched with old zinc sheets. Hamza, a deeply responsible and pious orphan boy, returns home from a slow day at the market. Despite fasting from poverty rather than choice, he uses his meager daily earnings of 150 Naira to buy soup vegetables for his mother, Umma Rabi, while surrendering the remaining change to her.

2. Family Backstory and Systematic Injustice

The text reveals that after the death of Hamza’s father, greedy paternal relatives plundered the family's substantial wealth and land under the false pretext of protecting the young orphans and clearing debts. This left Umma Rabi and her children in absolute destitution. For seven years, Hamza has carried the crushing burden of providing for his family through grueling odd jobs.

3. Turning Points: Hard Labor and Education

With the help of a kind neighbor, Malam Ayuba, who defends him against local skeptics, Hamza joins a manual labor crew on the village head's farm. Despite his young age, his extraordinary work ethic earns him 1,500 Naira in a week. Demonstrating immense maturity, he uses this money to show gratitude to his backers, buy shoes for his bare-footed siblings, give money to his mother, and pay off a 250 Naira debt that allowed him to return to school after a three-month absence.

4. Agricultural Success Breeds Envy

Hamza successfully balances his studies with a growing retail business, turning his 1,000 Naira capital into 4,000 Naira. He uses this profit to cultivate a small leftover family plot with high-quality Bauchi maize seeds provided by his mother. The farm yields a historic, beautiful harvest, which stuns the community but triggers intense jealousy and envy from his paternal relatives, who immediately threaten to evict him from the plot by the next season.

5. Betrayal and Confrontation

Hamza continues to work relentlessly, selling local snacks and attending his religious classes (Islamiya) at night. However, noticed by local gossips, his success attracts the greed of his paternal uncle, Baba Ado. Baba Ado shamelessly robs Hamza of his entire business capital under the guise of settling his late brother's ancient debts, using the stolen money to throw a lavish feast for his own household. When a devastated Hamza confesses the theft to his mother, Umma Rabi’s patience shatters. Ignoring Hamza's pleas for peace, she storms into Baba Ado's compound to confront the relatives, setting the stage for a fierce family showdown.