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Hawwa was heading toward her room when she heard Baba rushing into the house, urgently calling out her name. “Hawwa! Hawwa! Hawwa, Jiddah!” She froze in her tracks and replied, “Yes, Baba?” Overjoyed, Baba approached her and said, “Hurry inside, put on your hijab, and come out. We have guests. Zainabu, bring out a mat and spread it here in the courtyard.” As he spoke, he turned around, and Hawwa watched him leave, her chest heavy with resentment. She retreated to her room while Umma came out and spread the mat for them.
Baba walked back in accompanied by Malam Sama’ila and an elderly man who looked well over 50 years old. The man wore decent clothing, a cap, and a thin beard; he was so scrawny it looked as if a gust of wind could blow him away. His sparse beard was heavily graying. Baba welcomed them warmly, “Welcome, welcome, please sit.” Once they were seated, Baba called out to Umma in his booming voice, “Zainabu, bring them some water!”
Malam Sama’ila cleared his throat and began, “Well, Malam Hamisu, regarding the discussion we had a few days ago, I made the announcement just as you requested, because a child belongs to the whole community.”
“Indeed!” Baba agreed.
Malam Sama’ila continued, “Hawwa is a sensible, educated girl who works as a police officer. Many suitors have come forward, but frankly, most of them are incompetent—they can barely provide for the wives they already have at home, let alone handle someone like Hawwa. Kabiru here is the only one who approached me that I truly trust.” He gestured toward the man and added, “Although Kabiru doesn't live in this neighborhood anymore, he was born and raised here. His late father was my close friend. Kabiru has two wives and eleven children. He is an Alhaji who has performed his holy pilgrimage, he owns farmlands, and he is a principal at a government school in Bwari.”
Baba’s body trembled with excitement. “Uhmm, Masha Allah, excellent!”
Malam Sama’ila added, “He is reasonably well-off and owns his own house. When I spoke to him, he admitted he has admired Hawwa in his heart for a long time. His only fear was her job. He doesn't want a working woman, especially in a profession like the police force. He wants her to quit her job. That is his sole condition before he brings the bride price. If you agree, he wants the wedding and everything else wrapped up within two to three weeks. Isn't that right, Alhaji Kabiru?”
Calmly, Kabiru nodded and replied, “Exactly, may Allah forgive Malam, that is correct.”
Baba let out a hearty laugh. “If her job is the only issue, you have no problem at all, Kabiru. Consider her retired. To be honest, with the nature of their work, she has to officially submit a resignation letter, otherwise they could come and arrest her for desertion, right Malam? So, I will have her go and submit the letter to be signed so she can part ways with them peacefully.”
Kabiru replied, “That’s fine. If that’s all, there is no problem, Abba. She can go.”
Baba grinned broadly, looking as ecstatic as if he had been gifted a seat to Mecca. He said, “Malam, let’s step outside so he can speak with Hawwa.” Without objection, Malam Sama’ila headed to the entrance hall. Baba walked up to Hawwa’s door, knocked loudly, and said, “Hurry up and come out, Hawwa, you have a guest,” before walking outside with a massive smile on his face.
Hawwa had overheard almost their entire conversation because Baba’s voice was naturally booming. She felt incredibly sad and furious with him. Why on earth should she quit her job when a marriage hadn't even been finalized? What was wrong with Baba? Why was he so blindly obsessed with getting her married that he couldn't see clearly? She deeply regretted not going to work today; if she had gone, she wouldn't have been home to face this nonsense. After agonizing for about 15 minutes, she realized she had no choice—a father is a father. She picked up a nude-colored hijab that looked stunning on her, walked to the door, and peeked through the curtain into the compound.
A wave of nausea hit her. This was not the man she had imagined spending her life with—he was way too old for her! He wasn't handsome at all; he was so thin he looked like a soup bone, and he had a long mouth like a fish. He sat on the mat looking like someone who had come to deliver a sermon. She had standard, refined taste; she loved handsome, classy, well-dressed men, not this type. Taking a deep breath, she whispered to herself, “Hawwa, calm down.” She closed and opened her eyes, exhaled deeply, and pushed open the screen door.
Hearing the sound of the screen door, Alhaji Kabiru quickly turned around. He stared at her with predatory, lustful eyes, thinking to himself: “What a gorgeous woman! Oh my God, once I get her, I will live a life of pure comfort. Thank God her father made that announcement; otherwise, I would never have had the courage to approach her with expressions of love.”
In reality, however, he hardened his expression. He didn't want her to look down on him, especially since her father had to publicly advertise her just to find her a husband because she was unwanted. He felt he needed to project a high value so she would serve him hand and foot. Try as he might to look away, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her, scanning her from her feet all the way up to her head.
His intense gaze—looking as if he wanted to jump up and lick her—repulsed Hawwa. She averted her eyes, walked up to the mat, and stopped dead in her tracks, realizing she couldn't even bring herself to sit near him.
Looking down at his wristwatch, Kabiru remarked, “It has been about fifteen minutes since your father left. Is this how you saw your mother waste your father's time?”
Hawwa instantly flashed him a fierce, menacing glare. Kabiru felt his heart skip a beat with fear. His mouth began to tremble, but trying to cover up his anxiety, he quickly stood up and blurted out, “I will bring your bride price in three days, so make sure you have resigned from that job before I return. And don't ever repeat the mistake you made today.”
As he began putting on his shoes to leave, Hawwa stepped forward, blocking his path with one hand aggressively leveled near her chest, and said in a harsh, commanding tone, “You!”
Alhaji Kabiru’s heart pounded violently. He stared at her hand, which was hovering close to his chest—her skin looked smooth and milky, and her long, white fingernails were perfectly manicured. He forced himself to hold his ground with great difficulty because he felt a sudden, genuine wave of fear washing over him; she genuinely intimidated him. Hawwa lowered her hand and took a step closer, standing directly in front of him. They were roughly the same height, as Hawwa was quite tall.
In the chilling, smooth cadence of a thoroughly defiant woman, she said, “Do you know what I do to men like you in my office?” She spoke slowly, locking her eyes onto his. She raised a finger, pointed it at his forehead, and slowly traced it downward as his eyes fearfully followed her finger all the way to his lower groin area. She cold-bloodedly whispered, “I thrash men like you!”
His heart thumped wildly as he stared at her. He could not conceal the fear in his eyes. Hawwa possessed a unique, intimidating aura that made men fear her whenever she looked them dead in the eye. Leaning her face dangerously close to his, she warned, “If you don't want to end up on my table being thrashed by me, avoid Hawwa! I will never marry you! Take your conditions and get out of this house.” She stepped back, giving him a piercing look. She then turned and walked away, leaving him standing there with his heart hammering against his ribs. He quickly bolted toward the exit.
Hawwa threw herself into her room, ripped off her hijab, tossed it aside, and sat on the bed with a frustrated sigh. Not long after, Baba knocked and opened her door—something he rarely did, as he usually sent for her. She quickly sat up. He walked in with a huge smile, radiating pure happiness.
“Hawwa, did you see Alhaji Kabiru?” Baba asked, pulling over her vanity chair to sit down and placing his crutches aside. “Malam was just giving me a proper description of his father, and I realized he was a very close old friend of ours.”
Hawwa quickly shifted to sit respectfully on the floor. Baba continued, “Alhamdulillah, I thank Allah, Hawwa. He says he wants you to leave your job, and he will send his elders with the bride price the day after tomorrow, okay?”
Hawwa swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. She respected and loved her father deeply. Despite all the hardships, he had raised her and protected her from Umma's worst cruelties whenever he was around. He had ensured she went to school and paid for her WAEC exams. Although his financial support ended there, Hawwa had funded her own university education using money she earned from tailoring. She had grown up watching her late mother sew since she was three years old, and without ever being formally taught, she mastered the craft. Baba had given her her mother's sewing machine as her sole inheritance, and that was how she put herself through school. Baba had supported her education since she didn't have a husband, while her younger sisters were married off by Baba immediately after finishing their WAEC exams. After graduating with a degree in Criminology, she decided to join the police force. They had fought bitterly over it initially, but he eventually relented, allowing her to attend the police academy in Kano. She had even started her Master's degree before securing her job. She loved Baba and wanted to maintain a peaceful relationship with him, but she absolutely could not do what he was asking. If she left her job, who would financially support the household?
To avoid a fight, she simply said, “Alright, Baba. But I don't know how long it will take for them to approve my resignation letter.”
Delighted by her lack of resistance, Baba smiled warmly and said, “If they sign it before the wedding, that's fine. I can speak to Kabiru to let you keep going to work until then; he seems like a decent, easygoing man. May Allah bless you, my daughter.”
Hawwa nodded, looking up at him affectionately as he used her pet name. He then stood up, took his crutches, and left while loudly calling out to Umma to share the good news.
Hawwa closed her eyes. In this entire world, Baba and Umma were the only people she tolerated. She only put up with Umma out of respect for Baba. Despite their frequent arguments, Baba deeply cared for her, and she didn't want to do anything to give him a stroke or break his heart. She was a grown woman now; Umma could no longer physically abuse her, so Umma was the least of her worries.
She picked up her phone to call her friend Ni’ima, only to see a credit alert of 1.5 Million Naira hit her bank account. Surprised, she checked and saw it came from the DIG (Deputy Inspector General). She quickly turned on her mobile data and checked a private group chat consisting of just four of them.
The DIG had posted: “The Vice President appreciates our efforts with a token. I have sent everyone their share. Well done, guys. Get some rest, I will see you tomorrow at work.” She saw that her colleagues, Hayatu and Abraham, had already expressed their gratitude, so she typed out, “Thank you, Sir.”
Thrilled with the money, she opened her banking app and transferred 100,000 Naira to Ni’ima, and 50,000 Naira each to her siblings Aminu, Asiya, Rahma, and Nanah. Quietly, she murmured, “I will keep 50,000 Naira for Mims.”
She smiled just as an incoming call from "Aminu Bro" flashed on her screen. She declined the call—always acting as the protective big sister—and immediately called him back to save his airtime. He answered on the first ring, bursting with excitement. “Ya Hawwa! You are the best big sister ever! Thank you!”
She smiled and asked, “How is school? Have you finished your project?”
He joyfully replied, “I’m submitting Chapter 4 today!”
She nodded. “Okay.”
In a more serious, tender tone, Aminu asked, “Hope you’re fine, sis? I hope Baba and Umma aren't stressing you out too much? Are you okay?”
She smiled gently. “I am very okay, nobody is stressing me. Just study hard, and if you need anything, call me.”
Aminu nodded over the phone. The way Ya Hawwa took care of them was unparalleled; even their biological mother, Umma, didn't care for them the way Hawwa did. He softly said, “Thank you, Ya Hawwa.”
“Bye,” she replied calmly and hung up.
Immediately after, Asiya’s call came through. Hawwa declined and called her back. Asiya gushed, “Ya Hawwa, I saw the alert! Thank you so much, may Allah bless you!”
Hawwa, hating long expressions of gratitude, quickly deflected. “Is baby Akram eating well now?”
“Yes, he has started eating. I even feed him tuwo, but he prefers it with draw soup (miyan\ yauki).”
Hawwa smiled. “Okay, extend my greetings to his father. Bye.”
One by one, all her sisters called her to thank her. Even though they all knew their mother (Umma) despised Hawwa, the siblings genuinely loved and cherished their big sister.
Story Summary
This excerpt highlights a deep conflict between cultural expectations of marriage, personal autonomy, and a hidden life of high-stakes career success.
- The Arranged Suitor: Hawwa’s father (Baba), desperate to see his educated, older daughter married, uses a local mosque announcement to find her a suitor. He welcomes Alhaji Kabiru—a scrawny, arrogant, and significantly older school principal with two wives and eleven children. Kabiru demands that Hawwa resign from her job as a police officer before the wedding. Eager for the marriage, Baba blindly agrees on her behalf.
- The Defiant Officer: In private, Hawwa is disgusted by Kabiru, who acts arrogant and stares at her lustfully. Using her intimidating presence as a trained law enforcement officer, Hawwa fiercely corners Kabiru, pokes him in the forehead, warns him that she "thrashes men like him" in her office, and terrifies him into fleeing the house.
- Family Obligations & Sacrifice: Despite her anger, Hawwa plays along with her disabled father to keep his blood pressure stable and avoid family feuds. It is revealed that she funded her own university degree in Criminology through tailoring after her father stopped paying for her education.
- The Secret Wealth: While her family views her as a desperate woman who needs an old man to provide for her, the reality is revealed at the end: Hawwa is a highly valuable asset to the state. She receives a massive 1.5 Million Naira bonus from the Vice President for an undercover/high-stakes operation. She immediately uses her wealth to selflessly take care of her younger half-siblings, who love her deeply despite their mother’s (Umma) profound hatred for Hawwa.
