FreeFreeDescription
G.R.A, Gusau, Zamfara State, Nigeria.
Ever since I woke up at three o'clock in the morning, I haven't been able to close my eyes for even a single second. This was due to the terrifying shriek Ammie woke up with, loud enough to shake the very room we were sleeping in. With great effort, I managed to soothe her and gently gave her the remaining doses of her medication for this month, quietly reciting prayers over her until she drifted back to sleep.
I glanced over at where Bahrain lay sleeping, my eyes welling up with the tears that have now become a permanent fixture of my life. Moving closer to him, I adjusted his blanket, then stepped aside and burst into muffled, quiet sobs. To be completely honest, if it weren't for the fear of becoming one of the faithless, I would say I have completely lost hope of our Ammie ever being cured of this illness. However, remembering that the Almighty Creator holds absolute authority over all our affairs—having decreed everything that will befall us from the beginning of our lives until the moment of our death—keeps me grounded. If we truly possess faith, we must never despair of His mercy, for He has power over all things.
No matter how heavy my exhaustion grew, sleep completely eluded me, overtaken by a relentless cycle of futile thoughts and the agonizing lack of options that faces me every single day. I remained lost in this state until the sudden sound of the morning call to prayer (Adhan) echoed through the quiet air, piercing my ears. After observing my prayers, I went outside, lit the firewood, and set a pot on the stove to cook spaghetti jollof. Once that was done, I heated some bath water and went to wake Bahrain up. I gave him the warm water and told him to go take his bath.
With a pounding heart, I returned to the room and gently began to wake Ammie, praying that she would open her eyes without any major incident. Yet, as often happened on certain days, she just stared blankly; I could pour my heart out in conversation, but she wouldn't open her mouth to utter a single word to me.
I looked at her with eyes that were swollen and heavy from heavy crying. Lowering my voice, I gently clasped her hands in mine and said, "Ammie, are you awake? I've poured water for you in the restroom, would you like to take a bath?"
Seeing her eyes wander fitfully around the room, I quickly nodded reassurance and added, "Bahrain is in the outside restroom taking a bath, Ammie. You'll see him come out very shortly."
She fixed me with an intense, vacant stare. Whenever she locks her eyes onto me with that particular look, it cuts through my soul. It makes me feel as though she is looking at a complete stranger whom she is encountering for the very first time.
I tightly shut my tear-soaked eyes, then opened them slowly and pleaded, "Ammie, please get up and take your bath. Wash your mouth and come have something to eat."
To my relief, she flashed me a faint smile, nodded her head, and stood up to head toward the restroom inside the room.
I fetched Bahrain’s lunch basket and packed the spaghetti along with a bottle of water. I then poured the hot Lipton tea I had brewed into a cup and placed it in the center of the room for him.
After finishing his prayers, he greeted me politely, saying, "Aunty Beenafah, good morning."
Nodding with a warm smile, I replied, "Good morning, Bahrain. I hope you slept well?"
He went over and leaned against Ammie, who was quietly sitting propped up against the bedroom wall, completely lost in a long silence.
Placing the tray in front of her, I turned my attention to Bahrain and said, "Bahrain, stand up and drink this tea so you can head out. They mentioned eight o'clock."
At that, he slipped away from her side, sat down, pulled the cup toward him, and began eating his bread.
Once he finished, he picked up his school bag, looked back at her, and said, "Ammie, I am leaving for school."
She simply nodded and waved her hand—a silent gesture asking Allah to protect him until his return.
"Ammie, I'm going to walk Bahrain out now, I'll be right back," I said, watching her intently to gauge her reaction, but she remained silent as we stepped outside.
As soon as we stepped out, I quietly locked the door behind us, terrified that she might wander out in my absence. We walked quite a distance, since he attends a public school that is very far from our house. Looking down at him, I said, "May Allah protect you. Please don't dawdle or play around; the moment school dismisses, head straight home."
He looked down at his basket, then raised his eyes to me and noted, "Aunty Beena, I noticed you didn't pack any snacks or pocket money for me; there is only the food flask and the bottle of water."
I took his hand in mine, and looking at him with forced confidence, I said, "But Bahrain, didn't I explain to you that everything has run out until we are able to restock?"
He nodded submissively and said, "Alright, please forgive me, I forgot."
Smiling, I replied, "It's alright. May Allah protect you and grant you success."
With that, he headed off toward school while I turned back toward the house. As I walked through the main gate, I made my way directly to Daddy's section of the house. I gently pushed open the living room door and walked in. I found him seated in the dining area alongside Mummy Zaliha and her youngest daughter, Humaida, who was also fully dressed in her school uniform.
I bowed low, casting my eyes strictly to the floor, and said, "Daddy, good morning to you all."
They offered a lukewarm, indifferent response before Daddy asked, "Beenafah, how is your mother's health?"
Only then did I raise my eyes to look at him. Lowering my voice to a humble whisper, I replied, "Ammie is a bit better, Daddy. However, her medication has completely run out, and her hospital appointment was actually due yesterday..."
Instantly, his facial expression hardened and his tone shifted, sending a wave of sheer dread through my chest. If I remembered correctly, we had gone through this exact same ordeal last month; he had nagged and complained endlessly before granting my request.
"Beenafah! You need to understand something. To be completely honest, my patience and ability to accommodate this are wearing dangerously thin..."
Filled with absolute shock and distress, I fixed my tear-rimmed eyes on him and pleaded, "For Allah's sake, Daddy, please have patience and don't grow weary of us! The doctor explicitly assured me that failing to give her the medication on a strict schedule drastically worsens her illness. Ammie is in severe pain right now..."
He adjusted his position, shifting slightly forward to face me directly, and countered, "If you can't show appreciation for what I've already done regarding Mulaifa's illness, then you have no right to blame me, Beenafah. Isn't that right, Hajiya Zaliha?" he concluded, turning to his wife.
Sneering, Hajiya Zaliha set her spoon down with a clatter and chimed in, "Ugh! If you were the one who inflicted this illness upon her, Alhaji, then by all means, take it away so we can see! This whole issue refuses to resolve itself; it drags on endlessly like a blind woman eating eggs! Every single day, a small fortune is melted away in the name of seeking a cure, yet it's as if she's constantly being fueled with a fresh wave of insanity! She acts as though she isn't even a Muslim, completely unable to bear the trial Allah has tested her with. Goodness! If only she were a woman of proper, legitimate lineage."
I watched as Daddy pulled his phone closer and spent several minutes typing away on it. Finally, he redirected his gaze toward me. By this time, I was completely overwhelmed and shaking with tears. He said, "That's enough crying, Beenafah. I am merely performing an act of charity here, and I will only do what is within my capability. I have transferred some money to your account; go find a P.O.S. operator, use your ATM card, and withdraw it. Furthermore, you will have to make do with whatever you find there, because the financial burden has become entirely too heavy for me."
With that, he stood up and headed for the door. Humaida stood up and followed closely behind him, along with their housemaid, Biba, who carried Humaida's school supplies out to the car.
Mummy Zaliha’s voice boomed over me, saying, "Look at you, Beenafah! Can't you even offer a word of gratitude to Alhaji? You know full well the immense hardship he endures to earn a living, yet he transfers a substantial sum of money to you and you can't even open your mouth to say thank you?"
With a heavy heart, I raised my head, looked at her, and murmured, "Please forgive me, Mummy. We are deeply grateful. May Allah reward him abundantly and increase his wealth."
I stood up and walked back to our section of the building. I found Ammie exactly where I had left her. She had only managed to drink the Lipton tea; she had taken the spaghetti and bread, mashed them together, and made a complete mess of the food.
"Beenafah! Where did you go and leave me all this time? I'm scared..."
Sitting down beside her, I looked into her eyes and soothed, "Please forgive me, my Ammie. I went to see Daddy. I have to step out one more time to visit the P.O.S. operator because we desperately need the cash. There is nothing to fear here, nothing will harm you, and I will return shortly."
She nodded with a faint smile and said, "May Allah protect you."
"Amen, Ammie."
Upon stepping out, I locked her inside as usual and walked briskly to a shop I frequented, located quite far out of our neighborhood. After exchanging pleasantries with the elderly shopkeeper, I handed him my ATM card and asked him to check the balance and withdraw whatever he found.
"There is eighty thousand naira in the account. Should I withdraw the full amount?"
I froze on the spot, completely paralyzed by the shopkeeper's words. Eighty thousand? Just eighty thousand naira in the entire account? Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un (To Allah we belong, and to Him we shall return)! Oh, Beenafah, where do I even begin? Ammie's medication alone costs sixty-five thousand naira for a single month. The transportation costs to travel to the hospital and back will easily consume another thirty thousand naira, and our food supplies are completely depleted.
"I'm waiting for your answer, Beenafah. You can see there's a long queue of people waiting behind you."
Wiping away my tears, I nodded numbly and replied, "Please withdraw the entire amount and hand it to me."
He processed the withdrawal, and after deducting his service charges, he handed me seventy-nine thousand five hundred naira.
I walked back along the road, crying openly until I reached our house, unlocked the door, and walked inside.
The moment I stepped into the room, the money slipped from my hands and scattered across the floor. I rushed toward her in a state of absolute terror and panic, seeing that she had severely harmed herself. The glass from the window pane was completely shattered, pieces scattered all over the floor, and she was bleeding.
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I threw my arms around her, holding her tightly against my body as I burst into hysterical tears, shaking my head as I begged, "Ammie, for Allah's sake, please stop! Stop hurting yourself like this, I beg of you! Please, have patience..."
Spitting out anxious prayers through my tears, I quickly grabbed a headscarf (dankwali) that was lying nearby, tore it into strips, and tightly bound the fingers of her right hand, which were bleeding profusely. Once I stabilized her, I fetched a cloth and some water to thoroughly clean up the blood from the floor. I then carefully swept up all the broken shards of glass and threw them away. Returning to where she lay, I collapsed onto the floor right beside her, my heart heavy with an unbearable sense of grief and anxiety, until exhaustion finally pulled her into a deep sleep.
I stood up, gathered the scattered money from the floor, and put it away safely. I then set about packing our bags for our journey to the hospital the following morning.
When I finished packing, I took a small portion of the cash and went out to purchase four measures (gwangwani) of rice, some cooking oil, ground chili powder, and charcoal. I returned and quickly set the pot over the fire. I didn't do this for myself; I did it solely for Bahrain's sake. I knew that if he returned home from school to find that I hadn't prepared any food for him, he would be deeply disheartened.
I was still busy with the cooking when he returned at two o'clock in the afternoon. After changing out of his school uniform and performing his prayers, he came to assist me until we finished. Throughout the meal, he peppered me with his usual endless stream of questions like an inquisitive journalist. Once he finished eating, he took a bath and left for his Islamic evening school (Islamiyya).
By three o'clock in the afternoon, Ammie still hadn't woken up. Growing increasingly concerned, I went over to gently rouse her. My anxiety spiked drastically when I touched her skin; her body was burning hot, radiating a severe, raging fever.
Without a moment's delay, I began reciting prayers and blowing gently over her. I then fetched a cloth, dipping it repeatedly into cold water to wipe down her body, desperately trying to bring her temperature down. The doctor had strictly warned us never to administer any unprescribed over-the-counter medications to her under any circumstances, so this cold compress was the only safe option I had to give her some relief before morning.
After observing my late afternoon (Asr) prayers, I served some food onto a plate and sat beside her to feed her myself. She barely managed a few bites before turning her head away in refusal.
We remained there until Bahrain returned from his classes. We sat together trying to engage in light conversation; it was mostly him asking questions and me forcing myself to provide answers, while Ammie did nothing but watch our movements with a blank, tracking gaze.
At around a quarter to nine in the evening, having concluded my night (Isha) prayers, I stood up and instructed Bahrain to watch over Ammie. I told him I needed to slip away to Mummy Zaliha’s section of the house for a moment. I knew that by this hour, Daddy would be back home, relaxing in his living room surrounded by his family.
I knocked gently, offered a polite greeting, and pushed open the door to step inside. My eyes instantly fell upon Daddy, who was lounging comfortably on a three-seater sofa. Hassana and Husaina were seated right beside him; it was clear they had only just arrived back in town, which explained why I hadn't seen them when I visited earlier that morning. Humaida was nestled next to Mummy, holding a large tub of ice cream, while everyone else held various snacks and refreshing drinks, chatting and laughing happily in absolute comfort.
I stood at a distance from them, sinking to my knees in my usual submissive posture. Casting my eyes downward, I greeted each of them one by one.
Only Aunty Husaina acknowledged me, looking up to ask, "Beenafah, how is Ammie's health?"
Nodding slightly, I replied, "She is a bit better, Aunty Husaina. Welcome back to you all."
"Thank you. How is Bahrain?"
"Bahrain is inside, Aunty Husaina. Thank you."
"What brings you here again, Beenafah?" Daddy interjected, pinning me with a sharp, suspicious glare as if he were interrogating a criminal.
Looking at him, I lowered my voice to a whisper and said, "Daddy, we are traveling to the hospital tomorrow. I simply came over to bid you all goodbye..."
"Did I not already transfer a massive sum of money to your account? What more could you possibly be looking for?"
Shaking my head, I replied, "Nothing, Daddy. I only came to say goodbye because I know that by the time you all wake up tomorrow morning, we will have already departed."
"Fine. Go explain things to Biba right now so she knows you're leaving Bahrain behind, so she doesn't forget about him."
Lowering my gaze even further, I murmured, "Actually, Daddy, we are taking him along with us this time."
"Oh! Fascinating, Beenafah," Mummy remarked, shaking her head as if I had just confessed to a terrible crime.
Daddy remained silent for a few seconds, studying me intently before asking, "But why on earth do you want to take him along? Did he complain to you that he is mistreated whenever you leave?"
I quickly shook my head and replied, "No, Daddy, he hasn't said anything of the sort to me. It's just that I feel deeply uneasy leaving him behind this time around."
Mummy shot me a look of pure astonishment and scoffed, "You feel uneasy leaving him behind? What on earth is that supposed to mean?"
Daddy turned to look at her and interjected, "Let it go, Hajiya Zaliha. When someone insists on swallowing an axe, you might as well hand them the handle."
"After all, Alhaji, Beenafah's partner-in-crime is dead and gone, leaving her all alone in this world. So, you're taking Bahrain to the hospital with you, are you? Well, may Allah protect your journey."
I stood up, silently whispering an "Amen" in my heart. As I turned around to leave, Aunty Husaina called out my name.
I paused and turned back without moving from my spot, answering, "Yes, Aunty Husaina?"
"Come and take this bag. Give it to Bahrain."
Without any resistance, I walked over and took the bag, pouring out excessive words of gratitude. I did this out of sheer dread, terrified that Mummy Zaliha would find fault with me again and claim I was ungrateful. All the while, they continued to glare at me with deep hostility, as if I were a beggar who had forced myself upon them.
The moment I stepped outside and reached the garbage dump, my heart boiled with an intense, raging fury. I upended the entire bag directly into the trash, feeling a fresh, powerful wave of hatred toward them multiply within my soul. As long as I have breath in my body and life in my veins, this day marks the absolute end of me ever leaving Bahrain in their custody again.
I stood there by the trash dump and let myself cry until my heart was empty. Once I composed myself, I walked back inside. I prepared a sleeping space for Bahrain and helped him to bed, then arranged a comfortable spot for Ammie. She was sitting up, clutching a book in her hands; I couldn't tell whether she was actually reading it or simply staring blankly at the pages.
I gathered all our hospital documents, placing them together along with a large collection of empty medication boxes into a single plastic bag, and tied it securely.
The following morning, by six o'clock sharp, the three of us were fully prepared and stepped out of the house. We walked until we reached the main road adjacent to the Maryam Qur'an School, where we managed to hail a tricycle (keke\ napep). It dropped us off at the motor park, and we boarded a commercial vehicle heading directly to Sokoto.
Psychiatric Hospital Kware, Illela Road, Sokoto State, Nigeria.
Upon our arrival, we headed straight to the psychiatry unit. We walked directly toward an office on the left side, which bore the sign "Dr. Bashir Sani – Consultant Psychiatrist" in large bold letters. After being granted permission, we stepped inside.
Dr. Bashir was someone we had become incredibly close to over time. Years ago, before I even understood the devastating reality of what mental illness truly meant, we had been coming to this clinic. Eventually, through sheer hardship and the complete absence of any supportive guardian, I grew up quickly and came to understand the exact nature of my mother's affliction.
I greeted him with profound respect, and Bahrain did the same. He warmly invited us to take our seats. I carefully assisted Ammie into the designated patient chair, and Bahrain and I sat on the adjoining chairs lined up against the wall.
With his usual warm and welcoming expression, the doctor looked at Ammie and said, "Hajiya Mulaifa, good afternoon."
She remained completely silent, her gaze cast strictly downward as if she were deeply analyzing something hidden on the floor. He tried again, saying, "Madam Mulaifa, good afternoon..."
Still, she offered absolutely no response. He tried every clinical method at his disposal to engage her, but she refused to even look in his direction, completely detached from the reality that he was speaking to her.
The tears I had been desperately fighting to hold back finally broke free. With a heavy, broken spirit, I looked at Dr. Bashir and cried, "Doctor! Ammie's condition has severely deteriorated; everything has completely fallen apart over the past few days. Initially, we felt such immense relief and peace of mind seeing her return to her normal routine. She was looking after herself, sitting down to chat with us, observing her prayers perfectly, and engaging in all her usual acts of worship. But now, everything has relapsed completely, as if the illness just struck her for the very first time!"
He nodded heavily, his face filled with deep sorrow as he carefully evaluated her behavior. He explained, "As I warned you in the past, Beenafah, psychiatric medication requires strict, unyielding consistency. It cannot be taken haphazardly. Skipping doses or allowing gaps to occur—such as taking it for a month or two, running out, and then waiting an entire month before buying the next batch—is catastrophic, particularly for an illness of your mother's nature."
"To be completely honest with you, given the excellent therapeutic path we had established for her, had there been absolute consistency, she would have been completely cured by now. As I told you from the very beginning, her specific condition is highly treatable and reversible if she receives the proper, uninterrupted medication alongside specialized care. These long lapses cause the disease to bounce back with a vengeance, a phenomenon we call a relapse. When this happens, the patient can plunge back into the exact psychotic state they experienced initially, or worse, enter a phase that is far more severe and dangerous. Furthermore, these sudden interruptions cause the body to experience severe withdrawal symptoms, which manifest as high fevers, intense headaches, severe panic attacks, and acute insomnia."
Wiping away the tears that refused to stop flowing, I shook my head in profound bitterness and said, "I swear to you, Doctor! If I possessed any financial power or means, my mother would never be in this horrific state today. If there were any way I could physically take this illness upon myself just so she could be free of it, I would do it in a heartbeat. The agony she is enduring is simply too much for her to bear..."
Looking at me with genuine surprise, Dr. Bashir asked, "But I was under the impression that your family possessed the financial stability and means to afford her care, given how grandly it was initiated. Why are you speaking this way now?"
A lump of raw emotion rose in my throat, choking my voice as I replied, "This world has dealt me a hand of shock and cruelty that I still haven't fully recovered from, Doctor..."
"Where is your father, Alhaji Mudassir Wazeer?"
I let out a hollow, bitter smile that carried far more pain than any weep, and said, "He is the very man who has shocked me beyond anyone else in this world, Doctor. I will not hide the truth from you, because one only shares the raw reality of death with a true companion in grief. Yesterday, the total amount he threw at us was a mere eighty thousand naira! He expects that paltry sum to cover our transportation costs to this facility and back, as well as the purchase of her entire month's medication..."
I slipped off the chair, sinking to my knees on the floor. Clasping my hands together in a desperate plea, my voice cracked completely as I wept, "Right now, we are in a desperate, critical state of need. We have absolutely no one and nothing in this world. These two boys and I have no guardian, no protection, and no support save for Allah. I cannot survive watching my mother waste away in this agony; I love her fiercely, and I love my little brother. For the sake of the Almighty God, please help us in any way you can, just as Allah has blessed and elevated you. Even if it means seeking external charitable assistance on our behalf, please, for the love of God, rescue my mother from this living hell!"
Deeply moved, his face softened with profound empathy. He nodded slowly and asked, "Where are your mother's biological relatives and extended family, then?"
Shaking my head as a fresh wave of deep sorrow washed over me, I replied, "Please forgive me, Doctor... but I cannot reveal anything to you regarding my mother's side of the family."
He remained silent for a long moment, lost in deep thought as if weighing his words. Finally, he let out a long, heavy sigh, looking at each of us one by one with immense compassion. He said, "Very well. By the grace of Allah, I will do absolutely everything within my power to assist you, Beenafah. May the Almighty grant her full healing and ensure our efforts are successful."
Overwhelmed with joy, I poured out endless words of gratitude from the very depths of my soul. This encounter deeply reinforced a profound truth in my mind: good, compassionate people will never completely vanish from this earth, even though the cruel and heartless seem to outnumber them.
He called for two nurses, who promptly arrived carrying her medical case folder. After filling out all the necessary clinical directives and documentation, he instructed them to wheel her to the inpatient ward for immediate admission and comprehensive diagnostic testing.
Original Summary
Narrative Context
The text is an excerpt from a Hausa drama novel titled Ganin Ido, authored by Ameena Ibrahim (Oum-Ameer) under the auspices of the Adabi Writer's Association. The story takes place in the high-income neighborhood of G.R.A. in Gusau, Zamfara State, before transitioning to a specialized medical institution in Kware, Sokoto State, Nigeria.
Plot Outline
- The Caregiver's Burden: The protagonist, Beenafah, navigates a nightmarish routine caring for her severely mentally ill mother, Ammie, and her school-aged younger brother, Bahrain. Ammie experiences violent psychotic episodes, self-harm, and profound catatonia, requiring expensive psychiatric medication and consistent clinical supervision.
- Domestic Hostility & Financial Abandonment: Beenafah seeks financial assistance from her father (or paternal guardian), Alhaji Mudassir Wazeer, and his hostile co-wife, Mummy Zaliha. Despite their visible opulence, they treat Beenafah with profound contempt, insult her mother's lineage, and provide an intentionally inadequate allowance (\text{N}80,000), which cannot cover both the specialized medication (\text{N}65,000) and regional transit costs (\text{N}30,000).
- The Emotional Breaking Point: After discovering that Ammie has violently shattered a window and severely lacerated her hand, Beenafah realizes she can no longer safely leave Bahrain in the custody of her abusive stepfamily. She rejects their superficial handouts, packs their belongings, and uses their remaining resources to flee via public transport to a neighboring state for medical intervention.
- Clinical Intervention: At the Psychiatric Hospital Kware in Sokoto, Beenafah meets with their long-term consultant, Dr. Bashir Sani. The doctor explains that Ammie's aggressive relapse and severe withdrawal symptoms (fever, panic) are the direct result of the irregular medication schedule caused by their financial instability. Overwhelmed, Beenafah drops to her knees, confesses their absolute destitution, and begs for humanitarian/medical asylum. Moved by her desperation, Dr. Bashir overrides standard protocols to admit Ammie into the inpatient ward while promising to personally spearhead charitable relief for the family.
