FreeFreeDescription
CONFLICTING PATHS (*Gaba da Gabanta*)
BRIGHT PENS (FREE BATCH)
By Aisha Adam (Ayshercool/Jakadiyar Arewa)
An elderly man, who appeared to be at least fifty years old, was sitting on a wooden bench, holding a small radio and listening intently.
Suddenly, a sleek, high-end Anaconda car sped down the long street, its blistering speed kicking up a small dust storm in its wake.
The car screeched to a halt right in front of a massive gate, and the driver began blasting the horn furiously, as if sounding a war alarm.
Startled by the racket, the old man dropped his radio, sprang to his feet, and rushed toward the gate, struggling to throw it open.
The moment the gate swung open, the nose of the car poked through, heading toward one of the sections of the compound.
A young woman stepped out of the vehicle. She looked incredibly gaunt, as though she barely ate. Were it not for her feminine posture and clothing, one would hardly take her for a woman due to her extreme thinness. However, a glance at her flawless skin revealed she lived a life of absolute luxury. She wore a long gown made of high-quality material, a hat, and an incredibly sharp pair of high-heeled shoes.
She strutted toward the old man, who was awkwardly struggling to secure the heavy gate shut. Glaring at him with utter disdain, she snapped, “For God's sake, what kind of person are you? You do everything so sluggishly, like someone who has no blood running through their veins or someone starving! You eat food like a termite, yet you are completely useless! I swear to God, from this day on, if I return home and you leave me waiting outside honking the horn, I will thoroughly humiliate you. Wretched helper! I see no use in keeping you at this gate. Daddy just insists that it must be you doing the guarding.”
The elderly man remained silent, lowering his head as he endured the insolence of a girl young enough to be his own daughter.
She zipped open her handbag, pulled out three thousand naira, and tossed it carelessly onto the ground. "Take that and go buy me some Irish potatoes," she ordered. “They need to cook them for me; the ones in the store are finished.”
With utmost respect, he bowed down to pick up the money and said, “Long may you live, but I didn't quite catch what you asked me to buy.”
She gave him a look of pure disgust and scoffed, “Your ignorance is truly overwhelming! I mean *dankali* (potatoes)! May Allah deliver us from this village lifestyle and utter ignorance.”
Without uttering a single word in response, he turned and began walking away, while she headed inside the house.
She entered a room and called out in an affected, pampered voice, “Mummy, Mummy!”
“Yes, dear? Are you back already?”
“Yes, I'm back. Where are those girls?”
“Which girls?”
“The maids, of course!”
“They are in their quarters.”
“Well, I gave that old man some money to buy me Irish potatoes because the ones in the house are finished. I want them to make me a potato porridge (*fate*) with boiled eggs for lunch.”
Mummy replied, “Alright, hopefully, he won't make a mess of the errand.”
“Honestly, Mummy! If it were up to me, that man would have been dismissed long ago. He has fed off us for years and years. But Daddy stubbornly insists that he must be the one guarding this place. For God's sake, Mummy, advise him to replace this old man.”
Mummy widened her eyes in caution. “Fadila, please keep me out of this! I like my peace; I am not getting involved.”
Pouting her lips, Fadila said, “Anyway, let me go lie down because I am exhausted. When he brings them, please collect them. Tell them to make the porridge very spicy, boil three eggs, and place them on top.”
Mummy asked, “I hope you told them yourself?”
"Ugh, even walking down to the kitchen is too much stress for me. Just tell them for me," Fadila dismissed as she turned around and left the room.
Upon reaching her own bedroom, she kicked off her shoes into the middle of the floor. Despite having a designated rack for bags, she tossed her handbag onto a random spot, ripped off her hat, threw it on the ground, and climbed onto her modest bed, yawning and stretching lazily.
Amina's Struggle at the Hearth
Meanwhile, far away, a young girl sat before a traditional clay hearth, pushing dried *tafasa* stalks into the fire. Billows of thick smoke rose into the air. She used a small bucket lid to fan the flames while wiping her nose. Her eyes were bloodshot and watering from the stinging smoke.
After a strenuous effort, the fire finally caught. Gently whispering, "Alhamdulillah," she adjusted the pot sitting on the hearth.
Once she was certain the fire was burning steadily, she stood up, cleared away all the debris she had gathered, and swept the area, leaving only the hearth and the firewood inside it.
She went back to fetch maize flour from a sack, along with a calabash and a sieve. Finding a spot on the woven mat spread out in the tiny courtyard, she sat down and began sifting the flour.
A fair-skinned woman emerged from one of the rooms, holding a prayer rosary (*carbi*). "Masha Allah, good girl," she noted. “So, the fire has finally caught?”
The girl remained quiet, offering no reply.
“Hey, Amina, I am speaking to you!”
Amina snapped out of her deep thoughts, startled, and began clumsily tying the sack of maize flour.
The woman asked, “Amina, what on earth are you thinking about so deeply?”
Amina let out a heavy sigh. “Inno, honestly, I am thinking about our placement examination.”
Inno sneered, “Go ahead and keep overthinking it. If this Western education (*boko*) were the ticket to paradise, you should have given it up by now.”
"Inno, please understand me," Amina pleaded. “I love my studies so much. For God's sake, even if it means taking a loan, please borrow the money so I can pay for this exam before Baba sends some money.”
Inno snapped back, “I swear to God, I am borrowing absolutely nothing! This useless Western education brings no benefit whatsoever. You've done enough; it's time to stop, stay home, and get married. People in this village are already gossiping about you because your father keeps backing you up, insisting you must go to school. Up until now, you have nothing to show for it but a pile of worthless papers. Years and years of loitering on the streets in the name of school, only to bring home useless sheets of paper every day. I am close to grabbing that whole sack of papers and using it as firewood so everyone can finally have peace!”
Undeterred, Amina tried again, “Then please, Inno, at least let me write a letter to Baba so he can help me and send the money to pay for the exam, since you won't pay it for me.”
Inno retorted, “Even if he sends money now, we have a mountain of needs that are far more important than this useless education of yours. I will not allow a single coin to be wasted on a Western school.”
Amina pouted slightly. “Inno, please stop calling it useless. I swear, education is incredibly important for a woman's life.”
“Shut your mouth! Important for what? Did those of us who didn't go to school drop dead? Did anything happen to us? Hurry up and finish my chores, then go over to your stubborn paternal uncle's house—he said you should go and take some grain to the grinding mill for his wife.”
Amina's face instantly darkened. “I am not going anywhere! He has so many children in his house, yet they treat me like a donkey. I do the chores in our house, and then I am expected to go and do theirs too? I swear I won't go. Once I finish cooking, I need to fetch water for us.”
Inno warned, “Well, don't involve me. You know his temper; don't let him come here shouting at us in this house.”
"Let him shout at someone else, but certainly not me," Amina muttered, flaring her nostrils in defiance.
The Unjust Reprimand
Back in the city, Fadila shouted downstairs, “Hey! What is your name again? Where is the food I told you to cook for me?”
The maid, addressing her with forced humility, bowed slightly and said, “Anty, the potatoes haven't been brought yet.”
“What? Meaning what?”
“Yes, Hajiya said Baba Hassan would bring the potatoes for us to cook for you, but he hasn't returned.”
“So, with all this hunger I am feeling, the potatoes haven't even arrived, let alone being cooked? In other words, if I starve to death, it's no loss to him, right? This old man is truly useless!”
"Fadila, what is going on?" Mummy asked, walking into the living room. “I could hear your loud voice all the way from my room. Who are you arguing with?”
Fadila, on the verge of tears from sheer frustration, said, "Mummy, look at that old man! I sent him on an errand ever since I got back because I was starving, and he still hasn't returned!" Tears welled up in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Take it easy. Let them make you some custard to drink so you don't stay on an empty stomach. I am equally frustrated by that old man's behavior, but please be patient." Mummy coddled Fadila as if she were a newborn baby.
Fadila drank a little bit of the custard, then found a spot to lie down on the couch to chat on her phone, while her mother focused on the television.
A respectful greeting was called out repeatedly from the living room entrance, but neither Fadila nor her mother bothered to answer.
Assuming the living room was empty, the old man walked in, balancing a heavy sack on his head.
Upon entering, his heart skipped a beat when he unexpectedly found Fadila and her mother sitting there.
He braced himself and said, “Hajiya, welcome home. For the sake of Allah and His Prophet, please forgive me. I swear I had a very difficult time finding what you asked for. Potatoes are very scarce right now. Please forgive me.”
Frustration kept Fadila silent, but she let out a loud, dramatic sigh and rolled over on the couch.
Seeing that she had no intention of speaking, Baba Hassan stood up, lifted the sack again, and began heading toward the kitchen door.
Instantly, Fadila barked, “Hey! Come here! Come here right now!”
Without hesitation, he quickly turned back into the living room.
"What kind of potatoes did you buy?" she asked, glaring at him furiously.
He replied, “Long may you live, they are the exact potatoes you asked for.”
“Open the sack right now, let me see what they look like!”
Without protest, he bent down, untied the sack, reached in, and pulled out a massive, dirt-covered local sweet potato (*dankalin Hausa*). It looked rugged enough to be used as a projectile, and he held it out for Fadila to see.
“Innalillahi! What on earth is this? Am I supposed to eat this thing? Mummy, look at what he bought! Have I ever eaten anything like this in my life?”
Confused, he stammered, “But Hajiya, this *is* a potato.”
“Shut up, please! Didn't I tell you to buy *Irish*? To clear your ignorance, I even repeated myself: Irish potatoes! And you bring me this garbage? It’s not too late for you; you should really enroll in an adult literacy class so you can start understanding things. Don't let old age completely consume you in ignorance! Now, take that rubbish out of my sight before I open my eyes! Take it away and eat it yourself; I cannot eat this peasant food under any circumstances. Get up and get out!”
The word "Ignorance" stung Baba Hassan more than anything else. It felt like a lump caught in his throat, and his heart burned with a sharp, deep pain. Despite being an exceptionally patient man, today he was cut to the quick. Were it not for certain considerations, he would have quit the job on the spot. However, his master was an incredibly kind and generous man to him, and if he walked away from this job, he had no idea what other work he could find.
Slowly, he stood up, picked up the sack of sweet potatoes, and left the living room with a heavy heart. He felt like crying but suppressed his tears, terrified of what his pain might inadvertently cause in Fadila’s life.
Fadila, on her part, wept out of pure bitter frustration because the old man had wasted her time while she was starving, but there was nothing she could do.
Amina's Academic Dilemma
Meanwhile, Amina sat in her classroom. Most of her classmates were from neighboring villages, but from her own village, only two girls still attended school. All the other girls their age had already been married off, some as early as primary school.
Amina was overwhelmed with worry. She was completely at a loss as to how to raise the funds to pay for her examination. Time was fast running out; if the exam was conducted and she missed it, her education would be set back indefinitely. She had exhausted every option to get the money, but to no avail. Her options had completely run out.
"Amina Hassan, you are being called by Malam Lawan," a fellow student said, standing over her.
Amina replied, “Alright, I'm coming.”
Slowly, she stood up and left the classroom, her body heavy with fatigue. The sheer anxiety had completely robbed her of peace.
She knocked and entered the staff room, finding Malam Lawan sitting alone.
She knelt down and greeted him. He responded warmly and then said, “Amina, what's happening? You still haven't brought your examination fees, and time is seriously running out. What is the situation?”
In a subdued voice, she replied, “Teacher, I will bring it, Insha Allah.”
“Well, time is against us. I don't want the registration to close before you pay.”
Amina reassured him, “Insha Allah, I will bring it, teacher.”
“Alright then, may Allah make it easy.”
She murmured, "Ameen," and walked back to her classroom, her mind spinning with worry.
Despite the scorching midday sun, she barely felt the heat as she walked home. The burning sun was nothing compared to the burning anxiety over her school fees.
"Aminatu!" a voice called out.
She stopped and turned around, spotting a tall, dark young man standing near a tree.
She smiled and said, “Oh, Saminu! Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Alhamdulillah. How is school?”
“School is fine. So, you're back in the village?”
Saminu replied, “Yes, I arrived yesterday. Your father actually gave me an errand to deliver to Inno earlier this morning.”
Amina gasped, “Oh no! I have been looking for a way to speak with him before he sent anything. Has the monthly salary been paid already?”
Saminu said, “No, the month hasn't even ended yet. I just went to visit him and asked if he had any message for home. He gave me a whole sack of sweet potatoes and one thousand naira to bring to you all.”
To herself, Amina thought, *'If only I had known he was sending those potatoes, we could have sold them and used the money to pay for my exam. Now, no matter what I do, Inno will never allow those potatoes to be sold.'*
She looked at Saminu and pleaded, “For God's sake, Saminu, please lend me your phone to call our father. I really need to speak with him.”
Saminu replied, "No problem." He pulled out his phone, dialed her father's number, and handed it to her.
A Father's Promise
On the other end, Baba Hassan was sitting down. It had been four days since Fadila had deeply humiliated him, yet he could not forget the sting of her words. He began recalling the days when the local authorities used to chase them to force them into school, but their parents had refused. Now, look at how education rules the world.
When he felt his phone vibrating, he picked it up, placed it to his ear, and offered a greeting.
Joyfully, Amina cried, “Babana!”
“Yes, my dear Aminatu, how are you?”
“I am fine, Baba. We received the package, thank you so much. May Allah reward your kindness.”
“Ameen, my Aminatu. Please bear with the situation; salaries haven't been paid yet. How is your Inno?”
“She is fine, Baba. Except...”
“Except what?”
"Baba, they said we must submit our examination fees, and I don't have any money. Inno says she won't pay for me," Amina explained, her voice cracking as if she were about to cry.
With a heavy heart, her father asked, “How much is the money?”
“Baba, it is four thousand naira.”
Baba Hassan fell silent for a moment before saying, “My daughter, you remember it hasn't been long since the last salary was paid, and when you fell ill, I sent all of it home. The month hasn't even ended yet. But if Allah wills, I will scramble around to find it and send it to you.”
Amina said, “Thank you, Babana! May Allah reward you with goodness. May Allah grant me the ability to succeed in my studies so that one day, I can make you quit this security job.”
“Ameen, my daughter. May Allah bless you. Give my regards to your mother.”
"Alright, Baba, goodbye." She disconnected the call, handed the phone back to Saminu with a smile, and said, “Saminu, here is your phone. Thank you so much, may Allah bless you.”
Saminu replied, “Ameen, give my regards to everyone at home.”
With that, she resumed her walk back to their house.
When she arrived, she found that Inno had already boiled some of the sweet potatoes her father had sent from the city.
Amina was delighted; at least today they would get a break from eating the usual corn-meal (*tuwo*) and enjoy a lighter meal.
She kept her mouth shut and did not mention a word to Inno about her phone conversation with her father or his promise to send the school fees. She knew that the moment Inno found out, she would try to seize the money, since Amina’s schooling was a constant thorn in Inno's side.
Amina happily dipped her potatoes into groundnut cake powder (*ƙuli-ƙuli*), washing it down with cold water from the clay pot.
"Salamu Alaikum," a young boy called out at the entrance.
"Wa'alaikum salam," Amina answered.
"My mother said you should come over and fetch water for them so they can start cooking," the boy announced.
Amina glared at him and snapped, “Go ask them how much money they contributed to buy me from a slave market! If you boys can't fetch water for them, then let them starve!”
Inno was in the room praying, but she began clearing her throat loudly in protest, "Eheeem, Mmm, Eheeem," as if she wanted to yell Amina's name right in the middle of her prayers.
Amina ignored the warning completely, and the boy turned around and scurried off.
Amina remarked, “Inno, you shouldn't clear your throat like that during prayers. In our Islamic studies class, we read that it is discouraged to make such sounds during prayer, almost as if you are trying to speak.”
“Go to hell, you and your school! You sent that horrible response back to them just so they can come here and cause chaos in this house in the middle of the day, right? Why are you never afraid of trouble?”
Amina remained silent, refusing to argue with Inno, and quietly finished her food.
The Ultimatum
"Salamu Alaikum! Where is that shameless, disrespectful brat? An errand is sent for you to help, and you have the audacity to refuse and give insults? You worthless girl with eyes like charcoal burns!" A man burst into the compound, shouting furiously and adjusting his large gown (*babban riga*) as if he were about to sprout wings from sheer rage.
Amina lowered her gaze and kept quiet as he unleashed a torrent of insults on her. Finally, he barked, “I have realized that this useless school you waste your time at is exactly what makes you so disrespectful to elders! Let's see which father will ever let you step foot in that school again. I am going to marry you off before Hassan even returns, since he is the one backing your insolence. I swear to God, even if I have to give you away without a bride-price, I will do it so everyone can finally have peace, you hypocritical brat!”
Once he finished venting his anger, he stormed out. Neither Inno nor Amina had uttered a word to him. Only after he left did Inno say, “You see what I've been trying to save you from? It's better you get married so everyone can rest. Maybe then you'll gain some sense. Look at what your big mouth has brought upon you.”
Amina retorted, "I see that everyone hates me just be
