As you approach the town of Giwa, the very first house that catches your eye to the southeast is a magnificent mansion roofed with shining red aluminum sheets, encircled by towering iron gates popularly known as Mahdi-ka-ture. Within its walls lies an entire estate that swallows up fifteen modern flats.

If you lift your eyes upward, golden letters gleam boldly on the archway: ABUBAKAR BAMALLI GIWA ESTATE. The houses are neatly arranged, painted in the soft color of boiled eggshells—beautiful, clean, and soothing to the eye. Yet, among the fifteen houses, one stands apart: the very first house.

It is the largest of them all, the only one built with an upper floor. Its mistress is an elderly woman of about seventy-five, known as Hajiya Hadiza Giwa, but to her children and grandchildren she is simply Hajjah.

It would surprise you to know that despite the enormity of the mansion, she alone lives in it as the sole wife of the household. All fifteen children were born by her—one after the other—without the presence of a co-wife or rival.

The people of Giwa would tell you this was due to the deep love her late husband, Abubakar Bamalli Giwa, had for her, combined with her own good character and kind dealings with everyone. After his passing, her children did not taste much of orphanhood, for Hajjah became their wall of refuge. This did not mean she spoiled them; far from it. She upheld strict discipline for every child and grandchild alike.

No one dared raise their voice at her; no one could contradict her. No decision could be taken in the family without her consent. She was sharp-minded and wise, quick to sense the intentions behind every movement of her children and grandchildren. She was firm, unbending, and precise in judgment.

Though she showered love on her grandchildren, she would never allow the younger ones to disrespect their elders. Her grandchildren adored her—more, in fact, than their own parents. One by one, many left their parents’ homes and came to live in the Big House, as they called it. They claimed life was sweeter there: endless varieties of food, tales of wisdom and folklore, and above all, the warm embrace of their grandmother, who would soothe and console them whenever their parents upset them.

Yet love did not blind her to justice. If a grandchild misbehaved, Hajjah would not beat them herself, but she would summon the authority of Baban Giwa to discipline them.

After A.B. Giwa’s death, she stood firm in raising his descendants and in keeping his vision alive: that their bloodline must intermarry among themselves. Whether they liked it or not, Hajjah saw to it. Only later, when they experienced the blessings of such unions, did they return to thank her.

This practice led to the spreading and multiplication of the Bamalli lineage throughout Giwa and beyond. Wherever they went, people recognized them instantly by their striking resemblance—the distinct tribal mark carved by their family barber on the cheeks of every child during naming ceremonies.

Though they lived secluded in their estate, their professions and government jobs took them out to Kaduna and Zaria. Within the mansion itself also lived the extended family: widowed relatives like Kaltume and Kubra, who busied themselves with cooking and keeping the house in order, despite the abundance of servants.

The boys’ quarters had been set aside for her grandsons, many of whom abandoned their parents’ houses to stay with Hajjah. The granddaughters she raised were mostly married off within Giwa or Zaria, strictly within the family line. Of Hajjah’s fifteen children, ten were sons and four daughters.

Her late husband, Abubakar Bamalli Giwa, had been a wealthy man in his time, a son of Giwa by ancestry. His livelihood was farming—vast crops of maize, millet, sorghum, wheat, rice, potatoes, yams, and vegetables. His harvests filled truckloads bound for markets across the region. He owned more than ten sprawling farmlands, inherited from his forefathers, along with countless rental houses in Giwa, Kaduna, and Zaria.

His wealth was immense, and to this day his fortune continued to grow because his children upheld zakat and did not trifle with Allah’s rights in their wealth.

The eldest son, Alhaji Mukhtar Abubakar Bamalli, managed their company branch in Kaduna, Bamalli Food Crops and Cash Crops Production. Though his home was in Kaduna, he had a house in the estate and returned for festivals. Next was Professor Ahmadu A.B., a lecturer in Agriculture at Ahmadu Bello University, living mostly in Zaria. Then came Na’ibi A.B., caretaker of their farms; Ibrahim A.B., who managed their rental properties; Barau A.B., in charge of distribution; followed by Sani, Sadi, and Salisu, each with their own roles in the family trade.

Her daughters, too, were married within strong ties: Hauwa in Kaduna, Ladidi in Zaria, Hafsatu in Giwa, and the youngest, Rabi—the darling of the family—who had just married Muftahu, a cousin working in Kano.

Despite her seventy-five years, Hajjah’s energy seemed ever renewed. She looked far younger than her age, free of the common ailments of old women. She herself possessed wealth from her late husband, and her roots traced back to Zaria’s Tukur-Tukur quarters.

In the estate stood a grand mosque where they all gathered for prayers, men and women separated by a curtain. Rarely did anyone perform their prayers at home unless necessity forced them. Next to the mosque was a small clinic with a resident doctor and nurse, ensuring constant care. Even in Giwa’s main food market, half the shops belonged to the Bamalli family.

The grandchildren were raised with prayer, discipline, and education. Among them, none dared date or choose a spouse outside Hajjah’s consent. Her word was law.

At present, three little girls under her wing—Ummi, Zanirah, and Fa’iza—were her focus. Among the boys, there were many young men in secondary school and university, most of whom had left their parents’ homes to live with her.

But one grandson stood out among them all: Fa’iz, the son of Alhaji Mukhtar. He bore the name Abubakar, after the late patriarch, and was, in Hajjah’s eyes, his living photocopy—both in looks and in character. A memorizer of the Qur’an at just fifteen, he could recite in the voices of famous Saudi reciters. He had even studied secondary school in Madinah under government sponsorship.

Fa’iz’s bond with Hajjah was unlike any other. She favored him openly, giving him the best portions of food, calling him Hafizi, and keeping a special room for him in the boys’ quarters. His devotion to her was equally unmatched—he supplied her with kola nuts, olive oil, black seed, and musk perfume, never letting her lack any of her favorite things.

Living alongside him were his younger sister Zanirah, who had refused to return to her mother after Haj pilgrimage, and their cousin Khadija (Ummi), the daughter of Aunty Hauwa, who had also stubbornly insisted on staying with Hajjah since childhood.

Finally, there was Fa’izah Ahmad Abubakar Giwa—the narrator herself—daughter of Professor Ahmadu Bamalli. Taken away from her inattentive mother at age five, she too was raised in Hajjah’s household, forming a trio with Ummi and Zanirah.

Together, the three girls grew under Hajjah’s watchful eyes, their daily mischiefs and quarrels constantly settled by her patient judgments. And so, in the estate of Abubakar Bamalli Giwa, life continued—a world of discipline, wealth, tradition, and the ever-present shadow of Hajjah, the matriarch who bound them all.