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BUZU
Jamila burst into a violent, trembling sob. "I am finished!" she cried. "Was it truly a Jinn that slept with me?"
"Yes, but it possessed a human body to use you," Hajiya Sa'a told her directly, without a shred of hesitation or guilt.
"I am ruined! Who will marry me now? How will I survive? My life is destroyed!"
Hajiya Sa'a grabbed Jamila’s hand firmly. "I have told you many times, Jamila—a coward never becomes a champion. Marriage is not a necessity. As long as you are with me, you will have everything you desire. If it is marriage you want, you shall have your pick of men. We can arrange a procedure to fix you so perfectly that no one will ever know you’ve been touched. Furthermore, the organization has already paid your allowance for the year. I have the money; I will give it to you bit by bit so as not to raise suspicion. Calm yourself, toughen up, and let nothing frighten you. You have the money now—relax and enjoy the world. You are the youngest in our circle, and I truly care for you. I wanted to bring your sister in too, but it didn't work out. I pity the life you all live in that house. Cast away all worry, fear, and pity; you are going places you never dreamed of."
Jamila looked up at Hajiya Sa'a with a gaze only she understood. Wiping her tears, she whispered, "Fine. It is settled."
Hajiya Sa'a smiled. "That’s my daughter. Now, let’s get you cleaned up. The organization’s doctor will be here soon to check on you."
It had been four days now that Sayyid remained in this state. What worried Nana most was his refusal to eat and his neglect of prayer; he did nothing but sleep or sit in total silence, watching her. She prayed constantly for help. Even Ummi hadn't visited, leaving Nana alone in her struggle.
At 9:00 PM, Nana sat on the floor, watching him lie on the mattress. She raised her hands in supplication, reciting Suratul Mulk, Ayatul Kursi, and the Mu'awwidhatayn. She blew into her palms and, with a lingering fear, rubbed them over his face. She retreated, waiting for a reaction, but he remained still. Eventually, she lay down, lost in thought.
In her sleep, she felt someone nudging her. She bolted her eyes open to find him trying to lie down beside her in the cramped space.
"Sayyid," she called.
"Yes," he replied.
A massive sigh of relief escaped her. She took his hand. "What is it?"
"I couldn't sleep. You left me all alone on the mattress."
With joyful tenderness, she stroked his back. "I thought you were struggling to breathe, and I didn't want to crowd you."
"Ma vie (My life)," he whispered.
"Yes, my leader."
"I am hungry... as if I have never eaten in my life."
"Let me cook something quickly! But first, let’s wash your mouth—it’s the middle of the night." He struggled to rise; she supported him as he swayed from a mix of hunger, illness, and physical exhaustion. After he freshened up, she peeled some yams and set her small gas stove by the door. As it cooked, she fanned him to keep him cool.
"My life," he called.
"Sayyid?"
"It feels like we haven't eaten breakfast today."
Nana replied, "You have been asleep for four days. I can only thank Allah that you have finally woken up." He fell silent. She served the yams and made tea, watching him eat with a ravenous appetite that warmed her heart.
Afterward, she bathed him as if he were a newborn baby. The cool water seemed to breathe new life into him. She helped him perform ablution, and he began to perform the prayers he had missed. When he grew too weak to stand, he continued sitting. Nana watched him, realizing how similar they were—no matter how ill, he never trifled with his prayers.
By 3:30 AM, he whispered, "I cannot finish... my breath..."
"Can you pray lying down?"
He shook his head. "I prefer sitting or standing."
Seeing him drenched in sweat, she spread a prayer mat by the door and propped him up with pillows. She sat by his side, fanning him and reciting prayers. He reached out and placed his hand on her clothes, his eyes closed. She smiled, but when he began to playfully tickle her, she collapsed onto him giggling. He laughed too.
"Lie down next to me," he said. Before she could respond, a flashlight beam hit them. Sayyid quickly hid his face in Nana’s lap. It was Barira.
"I'm so sorry!" Barira called out. "I heard a noise and got scared, so I came to check. Forgive me." She switched off the light and retreated.
"Sayyid, I'm sorry. I know that upset you," Nana whispered, stroking his hair. "Please speak to me. You’ve been silent for four days; don't let someone else's mistake come between us."
He turned slowly. "My life," she prompted.
"Have you stopped vomiting?" he asked unexpectedly.
"Yes, I have."
"May Allah grant that you carry this child to term."
"Amin. And may Allah grant you health so I can look after both my babies—the big one and the little one."
He smiled. "Insha Allah, once I am better, I will find work and provide for us myself."
"But Sayyid," Nana ventured, "what about the money I saw in your wardrobe? It wasn't there when I packed our things. We could use it for your treatment and to move to a better house."
"Habu took it the last time he was here. He took the Nigerian currency and left me with some Nigerien Francs. If you look closely at my things, they are still there."
"I don't go through your things," she teased. "We will check tomorrow."
The next morning, Nana went to fetch water. The courtyard was full of the usual neighborhood drama and gossip. Barira and Sajida mocked Nana's husband, calling him a "foreigner" or "white man" because of his fair skin and long hair, which they caught a glimpse of when Nana helped him to the mosque. Nana ignored their insults, focused only on Sayyid's recovery.
Despite his lingering breathlessness, Sayyid was eating again. Nana’s mother sent a sack of peppers and foodstuff for Nana to sell to earn a living. However, as Nana prepared for a trip to the hospital the next day, a sudden, intense fever gripped her body, leaving her unable to even take a bite of food.
Summary/Description:
- Genre: Drama / Romance / Mystery.
- Themes: Betrayal, secret societies, spiritual illness, unconditional love, and the struggle for survival in poverty.
- Plot Summary: While Jamila falls deeper into the dark world of Hajiya Sa'a's secret organization after a traumatic event, Nana remains devoted to the mysterious Sayyid, whose health is failing. As Sayyid slowly regains consciousness and reconnects with Nana, the two face financial hardship and the prying eyes of jealous neighbors.
- Key Conflict: The mystery of Sayyid's past and the Nigerien money, versus Nana's silent struggle with her pregnancy and health.
