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CUTARWA (Affliction)
**BRIGHT PENS (FREE BATCH)**
Mariya fell silent, staring intently at Mama. With a heavy heart and weakened body, she said, “Please forgive me. I truly thought it was real. It must have been the medication I took; sleep overtook me and I saw Ummi.”
Mama replied, “Mariya, you need to cut yourself some slack regarding this girl, before you drive yourself completely insane over nothing.”
Mariya simply answered, “Alright.”
"Just keep praying for her; Allah will protect her for you." Mariya merely nodded in agreement and walked back to her room.
As for Ummi, she wept bitterly, like there was no tomorrow, from the agonizing pain of the strangling she had endured.
Iya cornered her in the room, demanding to know if she had whispered anything to Na'ima. Trembling with the fear of being beaten, Ummi could only shake her head as she wept.
By the time dawn broke, her neck still felt incredibly sore. She took her bath and put on her heavily wrinkled school uniform; luckily, it was clean. Na'ima had promised the previous evening to iron it for them, but she had completely neglected it.
Iya completely ignored her, so Ummi swept the courtyard. She then took her cup and went to Sa'adatu’s section with the hope of being given some millet porridge (*kunu*). However, she found that Sa'adatu had already finished distributing it to her own children, who were drinking it before heading to school.
Turning back with the empty cup in her hand, she bumped into Magaji.
"Haven't you left for school yet?" he asked. She nodded in response.
He looked at the cup in her hand and saw it was empty. "You didn't get any porridge either? Didn't Iya give you any?" Again, she nodded.
He took the cup from her, went into the men's quarters, and returned shortly, handing her the cup now filled with porridge.
She knelt all the way down to receive it, then sat on a tree stump, drinking it greedily because of the intense hunger gnawing at her stomach.
When she finished, he took the cup back and handed her twenty naira. She collected it and said, “Thank you.”
"Hurry up and get to school so they don't beat you," he urged. She replied, “Alright.”
She set off on her way, feeling energized and cheerful now that her stomach was full of porridge.
However, she was late once again today. Right at the gate, the discipline mistress began flogging her while hurling insults at her for her filthy appearance. Her skin looked unkempt, her face was stained with dried porridge, and there was crust left in her eyes.
She walked to her classroom crying from the agonizing sting of the cane.
Upon arriving, she found that the lesson was already underway. She opened her schoolbag—which was now just a black plastic bag she used to throw her books into. The books had become crumpled and torn like trash. As for her pencil, she had picked it up off the ground; it was so tiny she could barely hold it to write.
The headmaster walked into the classroom. The pupils all stood up to greet him, and he signaled for them to sit down.
He looked at their teacher and said, “Teacher, select five bright pupils for me. We are taking them to the television station to participate in a program, and they will be broadcast.”
The teacher replied, “Right away, sir.”
She stood up and called three pupils, and for the fourth, she called the name Salma Muhammad Bashir (Ummi).
An overwhelming wave of joy filled Ummi because her teacher had selected her among those going to the Jigawa television station. She was ecstatic at the thought of seeing herself on television. Despite the lack of care at home, Ummi was exceptionally bright; if a lesson was taught in her presence, she absorbed it instantly.
"You! Stop right there," the headmaster halted her in the middle of the classroom. “Where does this one think she is going?”
The teacher intervened, “Sir, this girl is actually very bright. She takes first position in class.”
“Looking like that? Is this the girl who is supposedly doing well in her studies? Isn't she the one always being sent home for failing to pay her PTA dues? How can she even focus on learning?”
The teacher reiterated, “Despite all that, she is the top student.”
“Oh, come on, replace her with someone else! She looks far too wretched. If you put her in front of a camera, she won't even be visible, she is so dark and unkempt. Look at her uniform! Good grief, she is too dark and haggard; find someone more presentable. You, go back and sit down! You are not going anywhere. Look at her clothes, she looks like a migrant laborer's child.”
The classmates burst into a roar of laughter, which shattered Ummi's resolve. Tears streamed down her face as she retreated to a corner of the classroom, quietly wiping them away.
She watched helplessly as another girl was chosen in her place. After the teacher stepped out, the pupils continued to mock and tease her. Some even pulled at her hijab, calling her a filthy girl who never bathes or washes her clothes. They sang the hygiene song usually performed during assembly morning checks, using her as the ultimate example of filth.
The moment school closed, she bolted out of the classroom and ran all the way home to prevent her classmates from catching up to taunt her on the road. She arrived completely out of breath.
After resting for a moment, she entered their quarters with a greeting. She immediately heard Iya's voice raised in a loud argument with Baba Saminu. Not knowing what the fight was about, she pushed her way inside.
There, she saw her maternal uncle sitting and arguing intensely with Iya and the others.
The commotion did not bother her; her only joy was the hope that he had returned with her mother.
He didn't notice Ummi until she reached out and held his hand. He turned around to look at her and she asked, "Where is Mama?" He stared blankly at Ummi, shocked by her appearance. She hardly looked human anymore. He remembered how meticulously Mariya used to clean and care for her, but now she looked as if she had just been dragged out of a dirt pit.
He said, "You haven't greeted me yet." She knelt down and said, “Good morning.”
“Good morning. How is school?”
She replied, “School is fine. So, where is Mama?”
“Mama is doing well. She sends her greetings to you.”
Ummi looked at him longingly and asked, “Are you going to take me to her?”
"Go inside, take off your uniform, and pray!" Iya barked at her. The uncle remained silent, deeply furious. He had never imagined finding Ummi in such a deplorable state.
She emerged from the room without a headscarf. Her hair was heavily matted and tangled, and she kept scratching at it continuously due to a severe infestation of lice that caused unbearable itching.
He looked at Iya and said, “Fine. Since you claim this pregnancy does not belong to your family and that you know nothing about it, we will look for the father. We didn't come to inform you about the pregnancy because we wanted anything from you; we did it to fulfill the command of our Creator. But since this is your stance, may Allah make it easy. We have heard, we have seen, and we accept it. But for God's sake, give me the girl so I can take her to her mother. Mariya is restless and completely distraught; her mind refuses to be at peace. Please, let me take her daughter to her.”
Iya snapped, “It isn't the absence of Ummi that keeps her restless; it's the weight of her own wickedness turning back on her. My rights and the rights of my son will never leave her in peace; they will haunt her forever.”
Realizing that staying any longer would only lead to a vulgar argument, the uncle stood up abruptly and said, “Very well, no problem. May Allah rectify things.”
Hearing that he was about to leave, Ummi ran out of the room and pleaded, “Aren't you going to take me with you to see Mama?”
He knelt down, stroked her head gently, and said, "Be patient. Insha Allah, in the very near future, you will return to your mother. May Allah bless you." He pulled out five thousand naira, handed it to Iya, and said, “Please, use this to buy her a new uniform and some essential clothes.”
Without an ounce of shame, Iya snatched the money while glaring sullenly.
Ummi stood still, watching his back until he disappeared through the exit.
A sudden, sharp blow to her head snapped her back to reality. Terrified, she looked up at Iya.
"If anyone else comes to this house and you dare ask them to take you to your mother, I will have Idris whip the life out of you! You want to make it look like you are neglected here, right? You sucked that hypocrisy straight from your mother's breast, didn't you?" Ummi remained silent, lowering her head toward the ground.
"Hypocrite! Ugly and manipulative. Get up and wash those morning dishes!" Quietly and submissively, Ummi walked over to the pile of dirty dishes and began washing them.
After the Maghrib prayer, Yaya Garba went to their father and informed him that Iya claimed they knew nothing about the pregnancy and that they should go look for the child's father instead.
Malam fell silent, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation. “Is that truly what they said?”
“Wallahi, that woman possesses no human decency or mercy whatsoever. You need to see the state I left the girl in. She looks like a scavenger from a dumpsite due to the sheer amount of dirt and filth on her body.”
“Leave them be. We pray for the girl every single day. Insha Allah, no one will trouble them anymore. As for Mariya, may Allah grant her a safe and smooth delivery.”
He replied, “Ameen.”
As for Na'ima, Ummi was constantly on her mind. However, her mother had strictly forbidden her from associating with Ummi, warning her that her grandmother was a vicious woman and might falsely accuse her of something.
Even so, Na'ima would occasionally pack food secretly, take it to school, and give it to Ummi.
Now, with no one left to wash or iron Ummi's clothes, the crust of dirt on her body was thick enough to be scraped off.
Ummi did her absolute best to avoid encountering Idris. She harbored an intense terror of him because of the brutal, merciless floggings he subjected her to whenever she made a mistake.
Fortunately, Magaji would occasionally step in to restrain Idris from hurting her.
Due to the complete lack of grooming, lice had fully infested Ummi's hair. Her clothes were heavily crumpled and had become too small for her. Even as she sat down, lice could be seen crawling down from her head onto her clothes. She would quickly hide to kill them, terrified of anyone noticing.
Furthermore, large, fluid-filled sores began breaking out all over her scalp underneath her hair. This provided an ideal environment for the lice to multiply uncontrollably.
Aside from the sharp stench of urine and unwashed body odor, she smelled of nothing else. Because she had to wash her own clothes, she would wear the same underwear for more than three days consecutively. Iya did not care enough to tell her to change and wash them.
Sa'adatu, Auwalu's mother, was the first to notice the sores on Ummi's head. She pulled her close, parted her hair, and was shocked by the accumulation of filth on her scalp.
She showed it to Iya. Iya grimaced in disgust and said, “Good grief, I absolutely cannot touch that head. Look at all that hair—it’s a lot, and it’s completely different from ours. It looks like the hair of foreigners. That’s why I keep questioning if she truly belongs to our bloodline; no one in our entire lineage has hair like this. What should we do now? I don't want her head to rot while I watch, only for people to blame me. Look at how foul fluid is oozing out, mixed with clusters of lice eggs.”
"The only solution is to shave this head completely, because I see no other way to treat this condition," Sa'adatu noted.
With intense aversion, Sa'adatu shaved off all of Ummi's hair, leaving her head completely bare like a boy's. Even her ear piercings were oozing fluid because the old earrings had been left in her ears for years without ever being removed.
Iya ordered a mixture of potash, salt, and detergent powder (*Omo*) to be prepared to wash the shaved head. Ummi burst into an agonizing, desperate scream from the piercing, burning pain of the chemical mixture. They stripped her naked in the open courtyard and washed her down with freezing cold water. Iya even remarked, “For skin as dark as this, shouldn't we be scrubbing her with a pumice stone?”
Thick, dark layers of accumulated grime washed off the young girl's body. The other children crowded the area, staring intently at Ummi. She tried desperately to cover her nakedness, but the sheer torture and burning pain made her forget her modesty.
Helplessly, Ummi watched as her shaved hair was gathered into a plastic bag and thrown away. Iya then instructed that sniper insecticide (*fiya-fiya*) be applied to her head, claiming that if they didn't, the remaining lice eggs would hatch.
Without any regard for the danger it posed to her health, they coated her freshly shaved, sore-ridden scalp with the potent chemical insecticide. This immediately triggered violent coughing and sneezing fits. Her head began to spin, and she was overcome with severe dizziness. Before nightfall, a raging fever took hold of her, accompanied by an intense headache.
No one bothered to buy her any medication. She spent the entire night shivering violently from the cold. Whenever she attempted to sit up, she would lose her balance and collapse back down.
In the morning, Gwaggo offered her some porridge and bean cakes (*kosai*), but she was unable to eat. She remained on the floor, tossing and turning in pain as her head throbbed and the coughing fits persisted.
Amidst her painful, delirious sleep, Ummi suddenly caught the scent of a pleasant perfume. She heard faint voices from above that sounded remarkably like her late father's voice.
She opened her eyes quickly and stared intently at the man standing there. Iya stood beside him, engaged in conversation.
The man smiled and said, "My beloved daughter, are you awake? Come closer and greet me." Only then did she realize it wasn't her father, but the uncle who looked exactly like him.
She tried to stand up quickly but stumbled and fell due to the severe dizziness.
The uncle rushed over to help her up. "Iya, is she unwell?" he asked.
Iya shrugged indifferently, especially irked by him calling the girl his beloved daughter. “Yes, she has a fever.”
“Subhanallah! And she hasn't been taken to the hospital?”
He sat Ummi down and leaned close, sniffing her head. "Why do I smell sniper insecticide?" He removed her head covering, revealing a bare scalp covered in dark, weeping sores that had turned black from the chemical application.
Horrified, he cried out, “What on earth is this? Iya, what happened to her head?”
“It was infested with lice and sores, so we shaved it and rubbed insecticide on it.”
“Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un! Iya, this is absolute recklessness! Why didn't you just take her to a hospital? Putting hazardous chemicals on the head of such a young child? This is exactly what triggered this severe fever!”
“Well, Yahaya, we are barely scraping by to find food to eat. Who has time for a hospital? Who is going to provide the money to take her to some hospital?”
Standing up abruptly, he said, “This is utterly shameful.”
He lifted Ummi onto his shoulder and stormed out of the house. Iya hurried after him, demanding to know where he was taking her.
"I am taking her to the hospital! If she dies, make no mistake—you are the ones who killed her!" With that, he carried her out.
He laid her gently in his car and drove off.
At the private hospital, the doctors reprimanded him severely for the chemical application. They thoroughly cleansed Ummi’s head with medical solutions and put her on an intravenous drip to combat the raging fever that kept her shivering.
He went out and bought an assortment of fresh fruits. When she regained full consciousness and her temperature dropped, he fed her with his own hands.
"You look just like my baba," she whispered as the sweet juice of the watermelon refreshed her palate—a taste she hadn't experienced in ages.
He smiled warmly at her. “I am a father to you too.”
“But they told me Baba is never coming back. They said he died and is in his grave.”
"That is true, my dear daughter. Do you pray for him?" She nodded her head indicating yes.
“Now, what would you like me to buy for you?”
"Books," she answered.
"Schoolbooks?" She nodded eagerly.
“Alright, I will buy them for you. And I will buy you fish or meat. Which one do you prefer to eat?”
"Meat," she said with a bright smile.
He smiled back. “Alright, as soon as we are discharged, I will buy it for us and then we'll go home.”
By the time Ummi had fully stabilized, he bought her grilled meat skewers (*tsire*) along with a large bottle of yogurt, schoolbooks, and a brand-new schoolbag. What struck him most during their conversation was the polite manner in which she kept thanking him. He realized the poor girl was enduring pure torture at home. He saw no justifiable reason why Iya insisted on keeping her. Yet, he knew that if he attempted to take Ummi to his own home, it would trigger a massive conflict with his wife, Fauziyya, who would never accept the girl.
Furthermore, he had no idea where her mother was located in Maiduguri, because back when Balarabe got married, Yahaya was away studying in the southern region.
He had Ummi eat inside the car until she was completely full. She felt an immense sense of joy; today she had eaten delicious treats, whereas normally she would only watch as such foods were brought to Iya without ever receiving a share.
He parked outside the house, opened the door for Ummi, and carried the bag containing her medications. Holding her hand, they walked into the compound.
"Look, the black water pot, the black sin, has transformed into a bald black boy! She got a haircut!" Alhassan mocked, bursting into a loud laugh.
Yahaya stopped dead in his tracks. He glared at him and said, “Alhassan, who are you calling a black sin? Is Ummi not your younger sister? Why do you all constantly humiliate and body-shame her?”
Alhassan fell silent, lowering his gaze.
“Would you prefer it if your biological father had created you with ears shaped like a prayer rabbit, or a massive head like a boulder?”
Alhassan shook his head. Yahaya reprimanded him thoroughly before heading inside, where he continued to vent his anger. He gave Iya a stern warning to supervise the household and put an end to the abuse directed at Ummi. He warned that if they didn't stop, they would destroy her self-esteem and leave her isolated from society due to the constant mockery of her appearance.
Iya listened to his complaints silently, but she had absolutely no intention of stopping anyone from insulting Ummi, given that she body-shamed the girl herself.
Yahaya handed Iya a sum of money, as was his usual custom of supporting her. He then requested Magaji to be called. He handed him ten thousand naira and said, “Take this ten thousand naira. For God's sake, whatever this girl needs—be it medical care or school supplies—deduct it from this money and buy it for her. If any issues arise, I will write down my phone number; call me and let me know what she needs, and I will send the funds. This is not how family should treat one another. Her father is late, she has been separated from her mother, and yet no one is stepping up to care for her properly. Please, let us look after this orphan.”
Hashim replied, "Insha Allah, Uncle, we will do everything that is required." He then looked at Ummi and said, “I hope you feel better, Ummi.”
She replied, “Thank you.”
Yahaya stood up and said, “Alright, Iya, I will see you another time. Let us exercise patience, and may Allah protect our dignity.”
Iya sneered and muttered, “Ameen.”
Ummi quickly grabbed his clothing and asked, "Baba, whe
