The light of the full moon illuminated the surrounding stars, which cast a brilliant sparkle across the sky. This beautiful sight greatly adorned the town and brought immense joy and contentment to the hearts of God's servants. This was especially true for the village folks who, lacking electricity, found great solace and happiness in the moonlit night. A gentle, pleasant breeze blew from time to time, carrying the delightful scent of the earth. Children were out enjoying the weather; despite the lateness of the hour, they played outside since the brightness kept the shadows at bay.
She walked briskly, the wind gently whipping against her hand as she held a white plastic container with a tight lid. Inside was the ground paste for the awara (soya curds) that she would fry in the morning before heading to her secular school. She walked with a light heart, thoroughly enjoying the serene atmosphere, even closing her eyes at intervals to soak it all in. Moving quickly, her only goal was to reach home and strain the washed, ground mixture she had just brought back from the grinding mill.
Along the way, a group of family men sat outside. It was their nightly habit to spread a large mat in front of a house to gossip and snack before heading inside to their families, who were often left with nothing but tuwo and a plain kuka soup lacking fish or meat—meals their wives swallowed blindly out of sheer habit. These men had no occupation while seated there other than to pry and keep watch; the moment a woman passed by on a nighttime errand, they would immediately begin whispering about whose wife or whose daughter she was.

"If there is one thing I absolutely detest in this life, it is passing by this particular gathering of our neighborhood gossips. No matter how much respect you accord them, you will never escape their judgment; they are bound to backbite you the moment you turn your back."

As I approached the spot, I initially wanted to just walk past and ignore them, but that was impossible given how brightly the full moon lit up the area. Upon reaching them, I leaned down slightly and greeted, "How is your evening?" They replied almost in unison, "Very well." I hurried past them, knowing fully well that I too would not escape their malicious whispers. My mind was entirely focused on getting home to finish my pending chores.
Entering the house with a greeting, I found Inna (my mother) seated with my siblings eating dinner, and my father had just returned home as well. I greeted them, and Inna asked, "Did you retrieve the ground paste?" I replied, "Yes, Inna." Without wasting time, I stripped off my outer wrapper so it wouldn't get soiled and tied a faded domestic wrapper instead. Although the one I took off was quite worn, the one I put on was even more severely faded.
I began straining the thick mixture into a large container while listening to the adults converse until I finally finished my chores and found a moment to rest. I pulled a bowl of tuwo toward me to eat, but as I stared at the corn tuwo, I lost my appetite. It had grown completely cold in the bowl, and the top layer was already beginning to dry out.
Hearing my mother's voice, she scolded, "Rahama, aren't you going to eat that food and get up? You've sat there just staring at the tuwo. Now you'll probably complain that it's cold and refuse to eat, choosing to sleep on an empty stomach instead."
Prompted by her words, I reached out and began to pick at the food slowly, knowing that eating cold tuwo usually upset my stomach and made me feel nauseous. But God had willed that I be born into a poor family—truly poor, for even by our village standards, my parents possessed absolutely nothing. This was why we struggled so much; it was only through my petty hawking that we raised enough money to meet our daily basic needs. Despite our hardships, we constantly said Alhamdulillah (Praise be to Allah), because we were genuinely content with the life we found ourselves living.
Whenever I returned from school, I would carry different items to hawk—one thing today, another tomorrow. It started with awara in the morning; once I sold it out, I would head to school. Upon returning, I would hawk boiled rice and beans until evening. Sometimes I briefly attended the Islamic school (Islamiya), and at other times I would go out again hawking groundnuts, cassava, marau-marau, or even boiled eggs. Whatever chore or trade was placed upon me, Allah always granted me success, and I would sell everything out in no time. Through this, we managed to cover our basic needs and ensure that no one went hungry in our household.
People often say that hawking ruins a young girl's character, but I believe that only happens if the girl already harbors bad intentions. I never loitered around to play with boys, let alone give them room to speak loosely to me. If a male ever dared to touch my hand, I would humiliate him so severely on the spot that he would never attempt it again.
Seeing how Allah blessed my trades with quick success, some envious parents in the neighborhood began to slander me, claiming that I probably sneaked into dark corners with men to be touched in exchange for cash, or that I had a secret lover funding me. They failed to realize that my success was a blessing from Allah, fueled by my deep desire to bring peace of mind to my mother in her matrimonial home.
My father’s co-wife (Mama Laure) was constantly muttering and comparing me to her own daughters, because they utterly lacked my drive and resourcefulness. Even though I didn't get the privilege of advanced schooling, Allah blessed me with a sharp intellect in both my secular and Islamic studies. I was never held back a grade, which was why I pushed myself to attend classes whenever possible.
Although our father disliked the idea of us hawking, he felt compelled to allow it because whenever he spoke up against it, he knew the fierce backlash he would receive from our mothers regarding our upkeep.
One day, someone brought a formal complaint regarding Hafsat, the daughter of my mother’s co-wife. Father walked into the house visibly upset and began to scold her, to which Mama Laure retorted: "Oh! If they don't hawk, what are we going to eat? Of what use is a daughter to us if she cannot hawk to help accumulate her bridal dowry items, especially since you cannot fulfill all our daily needs? You brought us here and packed us into this house like a crowded grove, reproducing child after child, yet you provide zero financial support!"
Father replied, "But for Allah's sake, even if I cannot provide everything, it is shameful that your children's behavior while hawking has dragged my name into public complaints."
Mama Laure snapped back, "If you don't want them to hawk, provide an alternative on the ground so they can rest and we can rest too! And as for those gossips who came to report their flaws to you, is there any household in this entire village where the children do not hawk?"
He simply smiled sadly and said, "Lauratu, one day you will realize that I am speaking the truth. When a child errs and you find someone honest enough to point it out, you should reflect instead of jumping into an angry defense."
She countered, "Of course I will defend them! You were clearly instigated by outsiders before coming in here to humiliate me in the courtyard. Lawisa isn't the only one hawking in this house, but out of sheer jealousy, everyone has singled out that poor girl for hatred."
Father quietly walked out of the house, having nothing left to say, since he held no real authority over Mama Laure. My own mother similarly lived a life of patient endurance, constantly yielding to her just to maintain peace.
I had just returned from school and was trying to take off my uniform when I heard the voice of Sanusi, the son of our neighbor Mama Altine, calling out greetings at our entrance. He brought a neighborly gift to our house, saying his mother instructed him to deliver it because Anty Sa'ade had just arrived from the city.
It was a bar of clean laundry soap and biscuits packed inside a plastic container. You know how village hospitality works—no matter how small a gesture, a neighbor will always share with another if they have a little extra. Hearing the name of the person who arrived from the city, I quickly pulled back the room divider curtain.
Anty Sa'ade was the ultimate sophisticated city lady, yet her speech was delightful and she loved people dearly; she never looked down on us village folks in the slightest. From what I gathered, she was the daughter of Mama Altine’s late beloved city sister. There were only two children born to their parents, so when her biological mother passed away, Sa'ade took Mama Altine as her own mother.
Pulling the curtain completely aside, I eagerly asked, "Sanusi, did Anty Fara (The Fair Anty) arrive?"
"Yes, she's here! She even gave birth to a very beautiful baby girl," he replied.
I quickly turned around, grabbed my old hijab, slipped into my worn-out shoes—which were completely scuffed from endless hawking journeys since no one had bought me new ones—and bolted out of the house. I could hear Inna yelling after me, "Hey! Hey!" She never called me by my actual name because I was her firstborn child. I didn't stop, knowing she was calling me back to carry the boiled groundnuts that had been prepared for me to hawk.
Upon entering the neighbor's house, I found Anty Sa'ade fetching water in a kettle to perform ablution, so I paused out of shyness. For some reason, ever since I was a little girl, I felt incredibly shy around her, yet I always clung to her whenever she visited. Before she would return to the city, she would thoroughly pamper me, styling my hair into beautiful city braids. Allah had blessed me with an abundance of soft, long, jet-black hair, but it rarely received proper care because I was always too busy hawking since my childhood.
Her eyes fell upon me, and she smiled warmly. "Ah, who do I see here? Is this my little Rama-Rama?"
I brushed against the wall as I approached her, kneeling down just as she was about to start her ablution. Right then, Mama Altine emerged from her thatched room and chimed in, "It's her indeed! She refuses to grow up, and now she's acting all shy around you when she used to wet the bed right under you."
I protested blushingly, "Oh, come on, Mama! That was a very long time ago."
As Mama stood there holding the baby, I crept closer and asked, "Mama, is this Anty’s daughter? Is this beautiful baby really hers?" The infant smelled incredibly sweet, like a perfume factory. I admired aloud, "You city people are so fortunate; everything about you is sophisticated. Look at this baby, Mama, she looks just like a foreigner!"
My dramatic commentary burst Anty into a fit of laughter. She didn't speak until she concluded her ablution, and as she stood up, she teased, "Well, Rama, you didn't even greet me. I am actually upset with you."
"Please, Anty, forgive me! If you are upset with me, then I am completely ruined," I pleaded.
She laughed again, revealing her neatly aligned teeth. "Oh, Rama, you are still as full of antics as ever! But look at how much you've grown, Rama. If I met you somewhere else, I honestly wouldn't believe it was you."
Blushing at her words, I lowered my head against her baby, thoroughly enjoying the sweet fragrance emanating from the child.
Anty asked, "I hope you are focusing on your studies? You haven't dropped out, have you?"
"Oh no, Anty! Didn't I promise you I would study? You said if I acquire an education, I might travel to visit you one day."
"Absolutely, Rama. In fact, you might achieve far more than I ever did; that is our prayer, in sha Allah," she encouraged.
Lifting my head in disbelief, I asked, "Anty, someone like me? A village girl who hawks all day long without rest until night falls?"
She smiled gently. "Well, don't you know the wonders of Allah's destiny?"
Nodding like an adult, I replied, "True, but honestly, it seems highly unlikely for someone in my position."
A deep sense of pity swelled in Anty's heart as she looked at me; I was a young girl trapped in poverty and a backward village lifestyle that threatened to stifle my potential.
"Excuse me, residents!" a sharp voice barked from the entrance. It was Mama Laure, my mother’s co-wife, who had followed me all the way to Mama Altine's house to cause a scene.
She exchanged brief, cold greetings with Mama Altine, who asked, "I assume your favorite person is inside?"
Pointing toward the room, Mama Altine replied, "She's inside. And you know how it is—ever since Sa'ade arrived, Rahama has completely lost her focus. Her father will only get her back in order after Sa'ade leaves."
From inside the room, I could hear Mama Laure raging loudly outside about how my mother had prepared goods for me to hawk, but the moment I heard Sa'ade was in town, I abandoned everything, grabbed my shoes, and ran over to loiter.
pouting my lips inside the room, I muttered quietly, "I am not going anywhere. I am staying right here with my Anty today. Where does she expect me to go anyway? Left to that daughter of Mama Altine's, she doesn't even know how to properly carry a baby on her back and would probably leave her on the floor."
Anty chuckled softly. "Oh, Rama! So Mama doesn't know how to carry a baby? Then who carried me until I grew up to this stage?"
At that moment, Mama Altine and Mama Laure entered the room. Mama Altine asked, "What is she grumbling about outside?" Anty burst into loud laughter. After exchanging formal pleasantries, Mama Laure immediately turned her wrath upon me.
Anty Sa'ade interrupted her tirade, asking, "Mama, how much is the groundnut inventory worth?"
Mama Laure replied, "Oh, it's quite a lot! You know how excessive Rahama’s mother is when prepping goods. But how can a child sit idle here while her mother’s business suffers?"
To Mama Laure’s absolute shock, instead of scrambling up to do her bidding as I normally would, I sat perfectly still without moving an inch.
"Rahama, am I not speaking to you?" Mama Laure repeated, her voice rising in anger.
Anty Sa'ade asked again, "How much would the entire stock fetch, Mama?"
"It should be worth about two bags of money (Two thousand Naira) if she sells everything out, or perhaps a little over," Mama Laure estimated.
Anty Sa'ade stood up, walked over to her handbag, and pulled out a crisp, brand-new one-thousand-naira note. Handing it over, she said, "Here, please take this to cover today's and tomorrow's sales. For Allah's sake, let my Rama rest for these two days, Mama."
Mama Laure shot a venomous glare at me from where she stood, muttering bitterly. It was obvious she was dying of jealousy because she hated seeing anyone support my hawking, yet here she was forced to accept the cash. Snatching the money, she turned on her heel and stomped out of the house, mumbling under her breath.
Once she was gone, I exclaimed, "Oh, Anty! You shouldn't have given her that money. You don't know how wicked Mama Laure is. She will probably only give my mother a fraction of that money and claim that was all you gave."
From the corner, Mama Altine agreed, "That is completely typical of Lauratu's petty nature."
She then suggested, "Tell you what, when you are ready to leave, sneak through the back and hand the rest directly to your Inna to keep in her possession."
And true to my fears, that was exactly what happened. The moment Mama Laure reached our house, she ducked into her room, kept a significant portion for herself, and handed a mere fraction over to my Inna, claiming Anty Sa'ade bought out my inventory for two days so the children could share the groundnuts.
Inna sighed, "My goodness, that lady never tires of spending her wealth on this girl. Whenever she comes to town, she showers her with endless generosity. May Almighty Allah bless her bonds." Mama Laure simply smirked and scoffed, "Greed is the root of all suffering. A mere young girl already learning to cling to wealthy folks since childhood just because she sees them; now that she's grown, the habit has stuck. May Allah guide us."
I didn't return home until the evening dusk (Maghrib), solely because I knew my father would reprimand me if he found out I was loitering. He was the only one in the house who could discipline us effectively without causing a massive, chaotic family uproar.
I sneaked into the house while they were performing prayers, grabbed a plastic kettle, and hurried to perform my ablution. After finishing my prayers, I approached Inna while she was reciting her supplications and whispered, "Inna, how much did Mama Laure hand over to you earlier?"
She replied, "Why do you care? She brought it to me right in your presence. It was a crisp five-hundred-naira note."
Hearing this, I quickly blurted out, "I knew it! It was actually a brand-new one-thousand-naira note."
A silent sigh escaped Inna, confirming that she knew she had been cheated. Wow, Mama Laure really refuses to change, I thought to myself.
Pulling out the extra money Anty had secretly given me from the fold of my wrapper, I handed it to my mother. "Inna, here is this cash. Anty told me to hand it directly to you. I warned her earlier that Mama Laure wouldn't give you the full amount, so she gave me this extra portion to bring to you."
Inna lightly smacked my mouth, reprimanding, "How dare you speak ill of your stepmother in front of a guest? No matter what she does, she is still an elder and a mother figure to you in this house!"
I clutched my lips in pain from her slap, but I still insisted on stretching my hand out to give her the money. She took it with surprise, and upon counting it, her eyes widened. "Good heavens, child! She gave you an extra five hundred naira?"
"I didn't count it, Inna. She just told me to give it to you so you can utilize it before she leaves and I resume my hawking."
Inna mused in amazement, "What kind of lucrative work does she do in the city to possess so much money that she distributes it so casually as gifts?"
I replied naively, "Inna, isn't she living in the city? People say money flows like water in the city; anyone who goes there instantly becomes wealthy."
"Hush your mouth with that foolish talk! Where on earth did you gather such false fairy tales? If money were that easy to come by, why do some people travel there only to return completely empty-handed and wretched? Your own father has traveled to the city countless times and brought back nothing substantial, yet here you are talking nonsense."
I countered, "Well, Inna, how are you sure he didn't just prefer our simple life here?"
Shooting me a look of pure exasperation, she muttered, "Honestly, I don't know when you will ever grow up and get some sense."
"Maybe when I am much older, right Inna?" I teased.
Sighing at my stubbornness, she gestured for me to pay close attention. "Listen to me very carefully, Rahama. Avoid greed and begging at all costs, for nothing destroys a person's dignity faster than that. Keep your eyes off other people's worldly possessions, and you will live in peace with everyone in this world. Allah has naturally aligned your spirit with hers since you were a child, so I won't stop you from associating with her, especially since I've never heard anything bad about her character, only endless testimonies of her generosity from her mother. But for Allah's sake, maintain your self-respect and protect our family honor."
I was thoroughly accustomed to these lectures from my mother; it wasn't anything new to my ears, so I simply added: "In fact, earlier today when Mama Altine prepared a chicken dish and invited me to eat, I politely declined and told her I was full."
"Good. Just remember what I told you, because I can see you still lack maturity."
Our conversation continued until our father returned from the village market, where he went to sell his woven sacks used for storing local foodstuffs. Since it was Inna's turn to cook that night, it meant I would sleep in Mama Laure’s room, just as Lawisa and the others would sleep in Inna’s room whenever it was Mama Laure’s turn to cook.
Since I didn't have any awara to prepare for the morning, I walked out of Inna's room and greeted my father on his return.
He smiled, "Ah, Rahama! You didn't go to get your paste ground tonight?"
"Father, I won't be hawking for the next two days."
"My goodness! What happened to our champion hawker?" he joked.
"Anty Sa'ade arrived at Mama Altine's house, and she insisted that I stay home and rest until she returns to the city."
"Ah! So your favorite city mentor is back? I see you two are still very close," he noted.
Mama Laure chimed in bitterly from where she sat, "Oh, please! The girl is just driven by pure greed. Look at you actively encouraging her parasitic habits! And here I was blaming her mother alone, not realizing the behavior runs deep in the entire family line. May Allah protect us. Mark my words, we are watching a disaster waiting to happen."
Father completely ignored her, pulled his food tray toward himself, and began to eat in visibly annoyed silence.
Later that night, I went into the room to sleep. I had just laid down on my small woven mat when Mama Laure aggressively woke me up. "Hey, Rahama! Get up, we need to talk."
She glared at me and hissed, "I swear to Allah, if I ever hear that you told your foolish mother how much money I was given at Altine's house, your life in this house will become a living hell. You know exactly what I am capable of, don't you?"
I replied defensively, "But Mama, I don't even know how much she gave you, so what could I possibly say?"
"You absolute hypocrite! As if you don't know the value of money. Just remember my warning, because the wrath of the afterlife will be sweeter than what I'll do to you here!"
ZAINAB IDRIS MAKAWA
SEENABU
MARICCIN KAN DUTSE
This is a premium paid book. To read the continuation, you can access my free pages to see if it suits your interest, dear sister.
The next morning, I dressed quickly for school since I didn't have any morning hawking duties. Before leaving, I sneaked a peek into Mama Altine's house. She was alone in the courtyard handling her morning chores. After exchanging greetings, I asked about the guests.
She smiled, "Do you honestly think city folks wake up this early?" She added, "You're off to school quite early today."
"Mama, did you forget Anty bought out my hawking time so I am on holiday for now?" I reminded her.
"Ah, that's true! I completely forgot," she chuckled.
Even though she mentioned they were asleep, I couldn't resist peeking into the room. They were fast asleep on Mama's bed, which was adorned with a beautiful, fresh bedsheet. They looked so peaceful and elegant in their sleep; I stood there for a long time just admiring them. Everything about their city lifestyle was incredibly fascinating to me.
As I turned around to leave, I bumped into Mama Altine as she was entering the room. She whispered, "I was just coming in to check on you; make sure you don't wake them up from their well-deserved rest."
"Oh no, Mama, why would I wake them up? Let them enjoy their sleep." I turned to leave, saying, "I'm heading out to school now, Mama."
"Wait a moment, Rahama," she called out.
I turned back as she untied a knot at the edge of her wrapper where she kept her money. She pulled out a twenty-naira note and handed it to me. "Take this to buy some snacks at school."
My expression shifted into a reluctant look, and I pleaded, "Oh, Mama, please keep it. Inna already gave me five naira today, and that will be more than enough to buy water there."
She frowned, "Just water, Rahama? Especially when I know you haven't even had breakfast before leaving the house?"
"Well, Mama Laure claimed there wasn't enough food at home, so she said the ones staying behind would eat it, and that I wouldn't lack food once I got to school."
Mama Altine sighed deeply. "And despite that, your Inna could only afford to give you a measly five naira? What can anyone possibly buy with five naira these days?"
Lowering my voice so no one else would overhear, I whispered, "Mama, you know that if Inna gives me any significant amount of money, Mama Laure will launch a massive fight against her, accusing her of spoiling me. That's why Mama Laure set a strict rule that I should only be given five naira, claiming it's more than enough for me..."
"Good heavens! Lauratu is truly a wicked woman," Mama Altine muttered angrily. "I can't believe—"

Chapter Summary

• Introduction to Rahama and Her Reality: The chapter introduces Rahama, a hardworking and brilliant village girl who balances her secular and Islamic education with a grueling schedule of petty hawking (awara, groundnuts, rice, and eggs) to support her deeply impoverished family. Despite their severe financial struggles and the judgmental neighborhood gossips, Rahama and her biological mother (Inna) remain deeply content and grateful to Allah.
• The Polygamous Household Friction: Rahama lives in a tense polygamous home. Her father is well-meaning but financially weak and lacks authority over his aggressive first wife, Mama Laure. Mama Laure bitterly envies Rahama’s industrious nature, constantly comparing her to her own lazy daughters, and actively exploits the family's meager resources while subjecting Rahama and Inna to emotional abuse.
• Anty Sa'ade's Arrival: The status quo is disrupted when Anty Sa'ade, a sophisticated and deeply compassionate city lady related to their neighbor Mama Altine, arrives for a visit with her newborn baby girl. Rahama shares a deep, lifelong bond with Sa'ade, who represents the glamorous city life Rahama can only dream of.
• The Monetary Exploitation and Secret Aid: To give Rahama a well-deserved two-day break from her exhausting chores, Anty Sa'ade generously pays Mama Laure 1,000 naira to "buy out" Rahama's inventory. Predictably, the greedy Mama Laure pockets the lion's share and hands a mere 500 naira to Inna. Anticipating this deceit, Anty Sa'ade secretly sends an extra 500 naira directly to Inna through Rahama, prompting Inna to give Rahama a strict lecture on maintaining her dignity and avoiding worldly greed.
• Threats and Neighborly Empathy: That night, Mama Laure aggressively corners Rahama, threatening her with a "living hell" if she exposes the full monetary amount to Inna. The next morning, as Rahama prepares for school on an empty stomach due to Mama Laure withholding family food, her kind neighbor Mama Altine tries to give her pocket money, exposing the cruel domestic restrictions placed on Rahama's daily upkeep.