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He was driving slowly, his eyes fixed on the road as he listened to his friend, confidant, and brother who was sitting in the passenger seat of the car. Eventually, he hissed, shook his head, and speaking calmly, said, “Personally, Ahmad, I really wish you would change this story of yours. In any way, I see no usefulness in it...”
His friend, Ahmad, laughed and replied, “Well, it is very useful to me since I love her and I want to marry her. Look, Captain, please put your personal bias aside and tell me: what exactly is Maryam's flaw? Let me know.”
The one he called Captain ran a hand through his soft hair and asked, “You know what?”
Ahmad just stared at him, waiting to hear what he would say.
Captain continued, “I want you to tell me why you Hausa people have no other topic of discussion besides love and romance. There are so many diverse, educational, and meaningful things in the world that a person can benefit from... but you people only prioritize love. Did you know that just recently, while doing some reading, I discovered that airplane water is riddled with bacteria? Not even that—just yesterday, I found out that...”
Ahmad, giving him a look, cut him off by saying, “That concerns you and people who think like you. To be honest, what you are saying now adds no value to people like me.”
Captain shifted his full attention back to driving.
Ahmad pressed on, “Every time I bring up the topic of Maryam, you always find a way to dismiss the discussion. Why is that?”
Captain replied, “Okay, you asked me about her flaws, if I am not mistaken, right?”
"Yes, exactly," Ahmad said.
Captain said, “Well, you will hear it now... First of all, she is local. Secondly, she possesses no qualities that should make you cling to her, dude. Just imagine, an undergraduate?? And worst of all, she isn't even beautiful enough. There are plenty of big babes in Abuja, the city you just left. And furthermore... her hygiene is nothing to write home about. I mean, nothing... That is actually my biggest concern.”
Ahmad stared at him in utter disbelief. At first, he couldn't even find the words to respond. Eventually, he managed to ask, “What kind of untidiness did you see her display??”
Captain stole a quick glance at him and muttered, “Whatever. One day you'll see it.”
Ahmad shook his head. “You are talking completely off hook. Maryam possesses the qualities that I personally desire, and I think that's all that matters. But then, as usual, if you don't like something, you will never see anything good in it, and you'll just keep discouraging a person.”
Captain nodded in agreement. “Yes, that's true. Please, close the chapter.”
Just as Ahmad was about to reply, he spotted a roadside spot where *awara* (fried soy cakes) was being fried. He quickly said, “Captain, please pull over for a bit. I want to buy some. I can't even remember the last time I ate *awara*—not since before I left for the UK...”
Captain glanced briefly at the frying spot, accelerated the car, and said, “Allah forbid! Just because I went to pick you up from the railway station doesn't mean you should turn us into wanderers in a slum... What on earth is *awara* anyway?”
Ahmad countered, “Well, drop me off then. It's not like I forced you to come pick me up at the station in the first place; you offered to do so.”
Lowering his voice and slowing down, Captain said, “Ahmad, do you even know how they processed what you are about to eat? This is a slum. Just wait until you get home and have them make it for you. Honestly, I can't stand this local lifestyle of yours.”
Calmly, Ahmad asked, “Are the people living in this slum not human beings, Abuturrab?”
Captain replied, “No, that's not what I mean. I mean... the hygiene. They don't value it, you get it?”
Ahmad scoffed, “To you, everything is about hygiene. Well, greetings to you, the King of Cleanliness! Even so, I still want to buy it, and it's none of your business anyway.”
Captain didn't say another word. Spotting another spot where frying was taking place, he pulled over. Before Ahmad could reach the vendor, Captain remarked, “Fine, go down and buy it. But honestly, you don't even deserve to be a Doctor, wallahi. A very careless Doctor who looks down on hygiene.”
Glaring at him, Ahmad said, “Malam, I didn't tell you I wanted to eat potatoes; I said *awara*, and they are frying potatoes over there.”
Captain looked at the vendors and said, “Well, I don't know what *awara* looks like. Isn't that it?”
"No, it's not," Ahmad said.
Captain drove off slowly, hissing silently under his breath. Ahmad was just too local for his liking.
Soon, Ahmad said, “I think there's another spot over there.”
Captain steered toward the side of the road Ahmad pointed out and parked. He stared at the young girl frying the *awara*, twisting his face in disgust. Even if he were starving to death, could he ever bring himself to eat anything prepared by her?
Ahmad opened the car door, stepped out, and walked over to her. She was sitting alone, surrounded only by children and *almajiri* boys waiting to buy.
Ahmad asked, “Vendor, how much is your *awara*?”
Without looking up at him, she replied coldly, “Twenty naira each.”
Ahmad widened his eyes, placed his hands on his waist, and said, “Good gracious! It feels like we are in a fight with the way you answered.”
Still, she didn't look up at him and continued serving the children in front of her. From inside the car, Captain watched them. Ahmad remained standing, choosing not to say anything else given her sour mood. It was only after she had finished serving the children that she raised her head, looked at him, and asked, “How much worth should I serve you?”
He shrugged. “Just five hundred naira worth.”
She replied, “There isn't up to that left. Unless you want to wait for the next batch to fry.”
He said, “Alright, no problem. I'll wait in the car.”
With that, he turned back to the car, opened the door, and got in. He looked at Captain, who quickly averted his gaze to the opposite side.
She packed his order into two small bags and then placed them together inside a larger nylon bag. She also scooped some pepper into a separate small bag. Rising to her feet, she walked over to the car and handed it to him through the open window.
Receiving it with a smile on his face, Ahmad noted, “It seems someone has upset our *awara* vendor.”
She didn't say a word. He pulled out a two-thousand-naira note from his pocket and offered it to her. “Here you go.”
Looking at the money, she said, “You said five hundred naira.”
He replied, “Yes, so you can keep the change.”
He blinked in surprise as she shook her head and said in a soft, subdued voice, “No, just give me the exact five hundred naira. I wouldn't know what to tell them at home if I brought this back.”
He smiled and said, "Since when does anyone reject a gift? Just hide your money then." With that, he dropped the money onto the seat and added, “Alright, see you later, vendor. May Allah bring plenty of customers.”
Captain, who had stubbornly refused to look at them, started the engine and drove away.
As they were about to exit the slum road, Ahmad sighed, “I imagine it must be harsh circumstances forcing that girl to fry *awara* out in the hot sun. This country is getting tougher and tougher for the less privileged every day...”
Captain remained silent.
Ahmad lowered his voice, “On a serious note, I feel so much pity for the poor masses in this country. If not for desperate circumstances, what would make her parents let her stand by the roadside doing this kind of business? May Allah protect us all.”
Captain still didn't say a word until they entered Unguwan Sarki. Turning to Ahmad, he asked, “Should we just head straight to our house?”
Ahmad adjusted his posture. “No, drop me off to see my mother first. I'll come over to your place in the evening, In sha Allah.”
Without a word, Captain drove to the residence of his mother's younger sister, Hajiya Ramlah, who was Ahmad's mother. He parked at the entrance.
Ahmad looked at him. “Aren't you coming in?”
Captain replied, “No, I was just at this house yesterday.”
Ahmad teased, “So you only come when Ummi sends you, not of your own accord?”
Captain rubbed his head, widening his large eyes, unable to formulate a response. Ahmad smacked his lips, opened the door, and stepped out.
Captain quickly pointed to the bag of *awara*. “Hey! You forgot your parcel in my car.”
Ahmad turned around, shot him a look, grabbed the bag, and headed inside. Captain watched him leave with a smile. Eventually, he turned off the ignition, stepped out, and followed him inside, walking slowly.
Siyama let go of her brother, whom she had been hugging, upon seeing Captain enter the living room. Smiling, she said, “Welcome, Yaya.”
"How are you, Siyama?" he replied.
"I'm fine," she said.
“Where are Maimuna and the others?”
“They went to Islamiyya school.”
“What about you?”
“Did you forget I told you yesterday that I wasn't feeling well?”
“Oh, right, I remember. May Allah grant you full recovery. Where is Umma?”
“She's in her room.”
Ahmad had already headed toward his mother's room, and Captain followed closely behind him.
It wasn't until after the Maghrib prayer that Captain left the house alongside Ahmad to head to their own home in Malali. It was a large duplex with a spacious courtyard. Captain parked the car in one of the two parking slots in the massive compound. They both got out of the car and headed inside.
Ahmad remarked, “Abba isn't in town, right?”
Captain replied, “Yes, he's away.”
She was sitting in their small, cramped courtyard with a bowl of *tuwo* (thick grain pudding) in front of her. However, she wasn't eating, even though her hand was resting inside the bowl.
A young woman was sitting in one of the three small rooms facing the tiny courtyard, holding a hand-fan and her wrapper securely tied across her chest. Sitting on a mat out in the courtyard was a middle-aged man who couldn't be older than 58.
From inside the room, the woman shouted, “Hypocrite! Deceitful wretch! Whenever someone speaks to her, she goes dead silent and refuses to say a word. That is how you will end up ruined by your own malice and bad character. Besides, what on earth did your mother do to spend fifty naira out of my money? Though, of course, you've always had the habits of a thief. But today's loss stings deeply because your father hasn't even brought me five naira for household groceries. So on what grounds should you steal??”
Jiddah couldn't say a single thing. Her hand remained frozen in the bowl, unable to eat.
The woman stood up, adjusted her wrapper, and walked out furiously. Hearing an *almajiri* boy begging at the door, she snatched the bowl of *tuwo* away and called out, “Young mallam, come in and take this!”
Malam Isuhu, who was sitting on the mat, asked, “And what is she supposed to eat then, Hansatu??”
She glared at him. "She can eat whatever food you manage to provide and cook today!" Saying this, she emptied the food into the beggar's bowl, set the empty dish down, and marched back into her room.
He didn't say anything further. Jiddah quietly stood up, picked up the empty bowl, took it to the washing area, and began gathering the utensils scattered around the courtyard to wash them.
Once she finished everything, she stood up. Her father, who was still sitting in the courtyard, pulled a fifty-naira note from his pocket and said gently, “Take this, Jiddah. Go buy some fried potatoes to eat.”
She stepped forward, accepted the money respectfully, and said, “Thank you, Baba.”
Before the words could fully leave her mouth, Hansatu rushed out, snatched the money away, and glared at him. "This leaves a balance of four hundred and fifty naira for today's grocery money!" With that, she tucked the money into the waistband of her wrapper and retreated back into her room.
Jiddah turned around slowly and walked into their room, refusing to let the tears trapped in her eyes spill over.
The next morning, an elderly woman who looked no older than 55 entered a large bedroom, locked the door behind her, and looked at the young man lying face down on the bed. Walking over, she tapped the bed.
He turned around quickly and sat up upon seeing her. “Good morning, Aunty.”
She asked, “Where did you go last night? You didn't come back until well after Isha prayers.”
He replied, “Aunty, I was at Ahmad's house. In fact, we came back here together. I thought you were already asleep, which is why we didn't disturb you.”
She said, “Oh, okay. So Ahmad returned yesterday?”
“Yes.”
She teased, “And here I thought you went courting.”
He smiled faintly. “Courting, Aunty?... But she is in Abuja.”
She countered, “Well, how should I know? For all I know, you might have cast your eyes on someone else here and thrown sand in my face!”
He didn't say anything else, only smiled. She turned and walked toward the door. He watched her until she left and closed it behind her. Standing up, he checked the clock, which read nine o'clock, and went into the bathroom.
Since it was Saturday, it was nearly eleven o'clock by the time Abuturrab emerged from his room dressed in casual clothes that suited him perfectly. Instantly, the fragrance of his perfume filled the entire living room.
His younger sisters were sitting in the main parlor. They all glanced at him once and immediately looked away. He headed toward his mother's section.
Ramlah watched him and said, “Ummi went out.”
He turned around and headed toward his stepmother's side instead. He found her in her living room, braiding her youngest daughter Aisha's hair.
He said, “I'm heading over to Ahmad's house, Aunty.”
She asked, “What about breakfast?”
He replied, “I already had breakfast at dawn.”
"Oh, so you've returned to your dawn breakfast routine then," she noted.
“Yes.”
She said, “My friend is traveling to Lagos on Monday from Kano, and I mentioned that perhaps you would be piloting the plane...”
He answered, “As long as it's a morning flight.”
"I believe it is a morning flight," she said.
"May Allah spare our lives to see it." With that, he turned to leave, saying, “See you when I get back.”
As he stepped out of the parlor, Hajiya Amina (whom they called Aunty) looked at her youngest daughter and asked, “Why didn't you greet him?”
Aisha threw her hands up. “Wallahi, Aunty, just the other day he told us to stop greeting him in this house whenever he's around, and he was completely serious about it.”
Aunty asked, “What did you do to him?”
Aisha explained, “Nothing at all. On Thursday when he came back, we were all in the parlor with Aunty Safiyya and we greeted him, but he didn't respond. We greeted him again. He left, but then he came back and told us in a very serious tone never to greet him again because he doesn't like it. Since then, no one greets him anymore, and he is perfectly comfortable with that.”
Aunty shrugged. “Well, fine then.”
Abuturrab found Ahmad in his room when he arrived. He walked over to the window, drew back the curtains, opened it, and remarked, “Allow for some natural ventilation, man.”
Ahmad laughed. “Classic westerner! Should I turn off the AC then?”
Abuturrab sat down. “No, leave it. How are you?”
Ahmad said, “Fine. How are Ummi and the others?”
"Cool," Abuturrab replied.
Ahmad asked, “Are you flying on Thursday?”
Abuturrab paused for a moment, trying to recall his flight schedule, before replying, “Yeah. Kano to Lagos, then Lagos to Abuja. On Friday, it's Abuja to Port Harcourt.”
Ahmad said, “Oh, okay. Maryam will be heading back to school on Thursday. I thought if you were around, we could drop her off together.”
Abuturrab smirked. “To Ahmadu Bello University?”
"Yes," Ahmad said.
Abuturrab scoffed, “Just take her to the station and put her in a commercial vehicle. Why let a young girl twist you around like this?”
Ahmad glared at him. Abuturrab pulled out his ringing phone to see who was calling.
The bedroom door opened and Maimuna walked in carrying a tray with a food warmer filled with *danwake* (bean dumplings) and a jug of tamarind drink. Setting it down, she greeted Abuturrab with a smile.
He asked, “How are you, Moon?”
She replied, “Alhamdulillah. Yaya, I'm actually going to Abuja!”
He joked, “Should I come and strap you to the wings of the airplane then?”
She laughed heartily. “That's exactly why I'm telling you!”
He smiled but didn't say anything further as she stood up and left.
Ahmad opened the food warmer. Abuturrab, staring intently at the *danwake* inside, remarked, “That thing you bought yesterday at Rigasa slum... it looks just like what I'm seeing here.”
Ahmad opened his eyes wide and laughed. “Oh, this is *danwake*, but that was *awara*. It's as if you knew I planned on going back to buy some more today. Did you actually enjoy that *awara*? Honestly, they are very skilled at making it. Even Umma ate some; I only managed to eat three pieces before they finished the rest.”
Abuturrab stared at him in utter amazement. Eventually, he said, “So you're actually going all the way back just to buy more?”
Ahmad confirmed, “Yes, that was my intention all along.”
Abuturrab nodded and dropped the subject.
Abuturrab spent the entire afternoon with his cousin and friend. They would bicker and then make up as usual. Every three weeks, Ahmad would come down to Kaduna from Abuja—where he practiced as a medical Doctor—to spend the weekend. Throughout the weekend, he and Abuturrab would spend their time together if Abuturrab was also in town.
At around a quarter to five, Ahmad stood up and said, “Captain, come along and accompany me, please.”
Captain looked at him. “Accompany you where?”
Ahmad replied, “Rigasa slum.”
Abuturrab refused, “No way, unless it's a bank errand. Look, malam, let's just go out together; you go your way and I'll go mine, because I intend to head home now, In sha Allah.”
Ahmad insisted, “Oh no you don't! Wallahi, you must come with me.”
As Abuturrab reached for his phone and car keys, Ahmad snatched them away. “Fine, then you can go on foot!”
Abuturrab glared at him, his face darkening instantly. Ahmad just laughed and walked out of the room.
While driving, Ahmad glanced at Abuturrab sitting beside him and asked, “What about Aneesah?”
Abuturrab adjusted his seat. “She's good. Didn't you hear us on the phone earlier?”
Ahmad shook his head. “So you are truly set on a woman whose eyes are wide open in the name of modern sophistication, Captain...?”
Abuturrab argued, “Look at you. Don't you know that sophisticated women are much cleaner? Personally, I don't care about anything else... as long as she maintains 100% hygiene. Wallahi, I can't stand the thought of encountering an untidy woman in my life; it completely unhinges me. You know how sensitive I am...”
Ahmad laughed. “So that Aneesah of yours possesses the exact kind of cleanliness you desire?”
Abuturrab replied, “You know yourself that if she didn't, I would have left her long ago. Sometimes you see a woman completely dolled up on the outside, but just check her inner habits. For me, as long as a woman is clean, even if her beauty is only 80%, I can manage.”
Ahmad shook his head, focusing on the road ahead.
Abuturrab noted, “Didn't we just pass that *danwake* spot over there?”
Ahmad couldn't help but burst into laughter. “No, that's a millet porridge seller, not *danwake*.”
Abuturrab stopped talking when he noticed Ahmad looking for a place to make a U-turn. Ahmad pulled over right by the *awara* spot. A young girl, who couldn't be older than eleven, was sitting there stirring the *awara* inside a deep frying pan.
Ahmad looked at her and asked, “Where is the owner of the *awara*?”
The young girl replied, "She went home to get some change and told me to watch the spot for her. Her name is Aunty Jiddah, she lives at Bibalo's house…
