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LAGOS, 25TH OF DHUL-QI'DAH
It was a Tuesday in the month of Dhul-Qi'dah. As usual, the city of Lagos was packed with gridlocked traffic, leaving absolutely no breathing room. This was especially true because it was that time of day when everyone was trying to get home to beat the darkness of the night and find some rest. Workers had closed for the day, eager to reach home and relax their shoulders, while traders had locked up their shops, leaving the rest of business for tomorrow, by God’s grace. It was exactly around six o'clock in the evening.
It was at this precise time that Rukayyah arrived in the city of Lagos by train, which had carried her all the way from Yola. They had spent at least two full days on the train, so Rukayyah was utterly exhausted. She looked pale and worn out, just like any traveler whose appearance had been weathered by the grueling fatigue of a train journey.
She was a tall Fulani girl, beautifully proportioned, with an elegant, long face that exuded dignity and modesty. Allah had blessed her with stunning, pure white eyes. The ultimate secret to Rukayyah Usman Jalingo’s beauty, however, lay in her thick, pitch-black eyebrows, neatly drawn like the slender silhouette of a crescent moon that had barely emerged two days prior.
Rukayyah loved makeup and dressing up. Thus, despite the fatigue weighing her down and her sunken eyes, a closer look revealed the radiant beauty of her skin and the smooth pink lipstick that coated her slender lips, perfectly matching the dark pink Ghalilah brocade (shadda) she was wearing. Her outfit was a Senegalese-style grand gown (babbar riga) that flowed down to the ankles over a matching wrap, complemented by a small, light pink shawl draped over her shoulders, which was brighter than the shade of her dress. Her right arm carried a large black Chinese-made Yue Jin handbag, which perfectly matched the low-heeled black shoes on her feet.
Because she wore the shawl loosely over her shoulders, her smooth, silky black hair peeked out from beneath her headtie, held together by a massive pink ribbon. Just by looking at Rukayyah, you could tell she did not come from an ordinary home; meaning, she was sophisticated, enlightened, and possessed striking, clear white eyes.
She walked out of the rail station with a calm, measured stride, rolling her medium-sized trolley suitcase toward where she spotted commercial taxis waiting for passengers looking for a private drop (charter).
Before she could even reach them, a driver approached and took her luggage, asking where she was heading. With a serious face devoid of any excitement, she replied, "BGC, Road 2, G134."
Within twenty minutes, they arrived at the gates of a massive house. The house featured a colossal gate made entirely of pure white iron, the kind popularly nicknamed "Mahdi-push-it" (Mahdi-ka-ture). She opened the car door and stepped out. The driver also got out, opened the boot, and pulled out her suitcase. She counted out an amount of money she was certain exceeded whatever he would ask for and handed it to him. The Yoruba driver accepted it with both hands, trembling slightly with gratitude, showering her with endless prayers as if he would never stop.
Paying him no further attention, she walked up to the gate and knocked with her slender fingers, which were adorned with three gold rings.
The security guard on duty peered out. Recognizing Rukayyah, he opened the gate without wasting words. Yohan, a young boy working in the house who was busy watering the plants, rushed over, took the suitcase from her hand, and warmly welcomed her.
The moment she stepped into the compound, a sense of peace and coolness washed over her heart. It was the pleasant Lagos weather—misty, cool, and filled with the fragrance of the flowers and plants in the yard—that brought her this profound joy. At last, she had escaped the unwanted marriage. She felt as though a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Specifically, she had escaped her strict father, and her old lover, Aliyu. In fact, she felt free from their chaotic, crowded family house altogether, located in Jalingo, Taraba State.
She walked slowly, swaying with a mixture of exhaustion and hunger, heading toward the main house. Expensive luxury cars—the kind that truly defined wealth—were parked under a five-car garage canopy in the yard, each belonging to a different member of the family.
Fragrant, colorful flowers that brought joy to the soul lined the yard. The entire compound was carpeted with soft green grass from the entrance all the way to the narrow doorway leading inside, which Rukayyah and Yohan followed toward the main wing of the house.
She offered her Islamic greeting (Salam) as she entered the grand living room, her slender voice carrying the weight of extreme fatigue. Rabi, the housemaid who was wiping down the dining table, responded. She turned around with a bright smile, exclaiming:
“Welcome to the holidaymaker!”
Rukayyah replied, “Listen to this annoying woman. What holiday? We’ve thrown away the mango seed entirely; are we finally free from the flies?”
Rabi asked, "Don't tell me you’ve finished school already?"
Stepping up the stairs slowly, Rukayyah replied, “You just want gossip.”
Rabi let out a melodious, joyful ululation—*"Ayyururiiiiii..."*—sounding just like a traditional praise-singer. She said, "So the wedding is finally here! I’m going to celebrate, dress to the nines, and show off! But it’s with the one named after Alhaji, right? Because I can never forget the grand gift he gave me the very first time I met him. To this day, no one has ever given me even half of what he gave."
Rukayyah felt as if Rabi had pierced her straight through the heart. Consequently, she didn't turn back, let alone reply. She kept walking silently... then she scoffed, continuing up the stairs, and muttered, "No, it's with Malam Audu." (Referring to Rabi's deceased husband).
Rabi shook her head in the bittersweet sorrow of remembering her loved one and said, "Dear God! Leave the servant of Allah alone in his final resting place. Let him keep waiting for me until I join him. It's Abdullahi and Rabi; Rabi is his Hurun-In (maiden of paradise). So, you better find your own man quickly, girl, before night catches up with you. Rabi and Audu are now a matter of memories and longing..."
Rukayyah reached the top floor laughing at Rabi, though her heart was full of pity. She herself was a witness to the intense love the couple shared since she was a child. Audu had passed away years ago, after twenty years of marriage without a child. Back then, he was the head driver of the house.
Hajiya Umaimah was about fifty years old, but if you weren't told, you would think she was no older than forty. This was due to her beautiful physique and the comfortable, luxurious life she lived. She was the sole wife in this massive mansion. She had just finished her Maghrib prayer but had not yet risen from her prayer mat. As was her custom, she would remain seated performing supplications (lazumi) with her long, one-thousand-bead rosary until the Isha prayer was called.
Despite her advancing years, one look at her revealed a beautiful, pure-bred Fulani woman. She had enjoyed her youth, navigated the challenges of marriage, and was now living a life of incomparable comfort. She was deeply religious and a true mother figure in every sense.
Slowly, Rukayyah crept up to her and lay down, resting her head on Hajiya's lap after tossing her handbag onto a chair as if she were a three-year-old child. She groaned:
"Oh my God, I am very, very tired."
Hajiya had not expected to see her at this time. Shifting her weight, she reached out and stroked Rukayyah's head. Joy and surprise at this unexpected visit were written clearly across her mature, beautiful face. She said:
“Rukayyah! Subhanallah!! Who did you travel with?”
Rukayyah raised her index finger, signaling she was alone. “Just me, Hajiya. I came by train.”
Hajiya raised her hands in shock, calling upon God, and said, “Does Usman know he let you travel all this way by yourself? Why didn't you tell me over the phone so I could send a driver or one of your older brothers to fetch you? Don't ever repeat this recklessness, do you hear me? Lagos is not Jalingo, especially now with these religious and ethnic clashes.”
Rukayyah replied in a pampered tone, on the verge of tears, “Hajiya, I didn't even plan the trip myself.”
Hajiya asked, “What happened? Is it still this issue regarding the one named after Alhaji that's being dragged out like a blind man eating eggs?”
Rukayyah’s eyes welled up with tears, waiting for the slightest excuse to spill over. She said, "That's it, Hajiya. Let me perform the prayers I missed and eat something, then I will tell you everything."
Hajiya called out to Rabi, who came rushing over, saying, "I was in the kitchen preparing food for our guest."
Hajiya smiled appreciatively and said, “Wonderful. I forgot I didn't even need to ask you. Please tidy up her bedroom and serve her favorite dish (faten doya—yam porridge).”
Rabi replied, “Wallahi, it’s like I knew she was coming. Earlier, when I swept the living room, I decided to sweep her room too, so it is fully arranged.”
Hajiya said, “Thank you, Rabi. God bless you.” By then, Rukayyah had already gone into the restroom.
Because Hajiya knew Rukayyah so well—perhaps even better than her own biological mother did—a single glance was enough to confirm that the girl was carrying an immense burden of distress. Rukayyah, usually full of life, humor, and energy, had become completely deflated, looking like a woman in mourning. Therefore, before Rukayyah finished her prayers, Hajiya had already played out various scenarios in her mind regarding what could be troubling her enough to make her flee all the way from Jalingo to Lagos on a whim.
To her knowledge, Rukayyah's wedding was fast approaching. In fact, Hajiya was planning to travel to Jalingo the following week to deliver her contribution to Rukayyah’s father—a set of furniture she had specially ordered from China. Even though Rukayyah had recently started acting cold toward the impending marriage, it hadn't stopped her parents and loved ones from continuing their wedding preparations.
Rabi finished setting up the meal on a floor mat and left. Hajiya did not use the dining table due to chronic leg pain she had battled for years. Despite trying countless medications, she had grown exhausted. Her husband had taken her to various countries around the world seeking a cure; the pain would subside for a few months, only to return. It was a stubborn, incurable ailment that Allah had tested her with, yet she remained forever grateful to Him.
Rukayyah held Hajiya's hand, helping her up, and they sat comfortably together on the floor mat. Rukayyah pulled a ceramic bowl filled with catfish pepper soup, carefully deboning the fish and placing the pieces into Hajiya's plate as they chatted briefly between bites.
When they finished, Rabi cleared the dishes, and they moved to the living room, sinking into the ultra-soft black leather sofas that lined the room. Rukayyah picked up the remote and changed the channel from MBC3 to CNN, where the world news was broadcasting the oppression and devastation inflicted by Israeli forces on Muslims in the Gaza strip.
Looking at her, it was obvious she was deeply troubled. She was a frank, straightforward girl who didn't know how to hide her feelings. She was usually cheerful and never held a grudge, though she often displayed a childish, naive innocence that made it clear she was a pampered firstborn child. Despite this, Rukayyah was highly sensible, deeply calm, and exceptionally respectful to her elders.
Hajiya studied Rukayyah quietly for a long time, unnoticed by the girl whose mind was drifting elsewhere. She noted the drastic changes that had occurred in the girl within just three months of not seeing her.
She had grown thin and slightly darker. Her long nose seemed sharper, making her large eyes look deep-set, and her entire body seemed drained of energy. Usually, Rukayyah was a restless spirit who could rarely sit still to watch television or read; she would normally busy herself cleaning her surroundings first. She loved housework, especially cooking. Whenever she visited, Rabi would take a break from cooking for Hajiya and Alhaji because Rukayyah would take over completely, wiping away the slightest speck of dust. Yet today, she hadn't even taken a bath upon arrival as she usually did. Even her usual playful banter with Rabi had ceased; when Rabi teased her, she didn't engage. Normally, Hajiya would have to step in to separate them.
Hajiya finished her silent evaluation of Rukayyah, took a deep breath, and prayed in her heart, "May Allah let us hear good news." Out loud, in a soft, comforting voice, she said:
"What is the matter, Daddy's Rukayyah? I am listening."
Rukayyah let out a heavy sigh, took a deep breath, and said, "Wallahi, Hajiya, it's about Aliyu. Right now, Daddy doesn't even know I left. Mama and I planned this escape together."
Hajiya's phone, sitting nearby, rang with an Islamic azan ringtone, signaling an incoming call. She reached out, picked it up, smiled, and said:
"Speak of the devil, here is Mama. I know she hasn't been able to swallow her food, waiting to hear that you arrived safely."
She placed the phone to her ear and said, "Salamu alaikum." She turned to look at Rukayyah, laughing, and said, "Rukayyah, the troublemaker, is right here. She arrived safely." They spoke briefly before hanging up.
“Amina was asking how you arrived. She said her mind hadn't been at peace since you left, and she later realized how foolish it was to let you travel to a city like Lagos all by yourself.”
Rukayyah smiled and said, “That’s typical Mama. Wallahi, I would travel as far as China just to escape marrying Aliyu...”
In utter shock, Hajiya exclaimed, “Why on earth? What is this, Rukayyah? What went wrong between you and your Aliyu?”
Pouting and scowling, she said, “That was before, Hajiya. But now, I despise him. I don’t even want to see his face. Please stop calling him my Aliyu, lest the angels say amen to it...”
Hajiya burst into laughter. She pulled Rukayyah close and said, "Daddy's Rukayyah, you are pure trouble! Didn't you bring him to us yourself while we were just minding our business? You kept singing his praises until we accepted him. We even accepted his bride price and set a wedding date. Don't make us look like fools now. Or is Usman right that you are simply too dramatic and overly picky?"
Rukayyah began to huff, slowly pulling away from Hajiya to curl up in a corner. She alone knew how much her heart was burning. Two minutes later, tears began to stream rapidly down her soft cheeks. Her entire face flushed red, as expected of a very fair woman.
Panicked, Hajiya struggled to her feet and moved closer to her, drawing Rukayyah's head to her chest. Rukayyah let out hot, shaky breaths against Hajiya’s chest until her heart finally calmed down. Hajiya said softly:
“Rukayyah!”
Rukayyah raised her bloodshot eyes to look at her but didn't answer. Hajiya pointed to herself and asked:
“Who am I to you?”
Choking back tears, she replied, “My Hajiya!”
Hajiya said, "If you truly believe I am your Hajiya, and that you have no one closer to you besides the mother who gave birth to you, then tell me your grievance regarding this marriage to Aliyu. If your reasons are valid, you know me—I swear I will not let Usman force you into a marriage you don't want, as long as I have breath in me!"
Rukayyah wiped away her tears with both hands, reassured by Hajiya's promise. In a soft, steady voice, she began to explain.
"Ever since I returned home on the day of our graduation party (candy), Daddy insisted that I tell Aliyu to bring his family forward for marriage. Daddy had long promised that the moment I finished school, he would marry me off. He refused to let me further my education, claiming I am too restless, stubborn, and hyperactive.
He often told Mama that if he allowed me to go to a higher institution, he wouldn't be able to control me anymore. But it is only now that I have discovered things about Aliyu that I never knew before. Or rather, he lied to me, hid the truth, and deceived me. Wallahi, Hajiya, I absolutely loathe a LIAR, and that is exactly what Aliyu is.
You know I have told you repeatedly, Hajiya, that I will never marry a MARRIED MAN. I can never forget the hardship we went through when Daddy married Anty Jummai. It affected me, Mama, and even Daddy himself, as you well know. It forced us to live for ten years without our father, and if it weren't for your intervention, I don't know what kind of misery we would have faced. Wallahi, even in the afterlife, I pray Allah never tests me with a co-wife."
She paused, swallowing hard through extreme bitterness, as old wounds buried deep within her heart resurfaced. Hajiya did not interrupt her; understanding her pain, she simply offered a quiet smile. After gathering herself, Rukayyah continued.
"When I first met Aliyu, I was on holiday in Gombe at the house of Anty Asi, Mama's younger sister. I took an instant liking to him for several reasons, the main one being that he was a native of GOMBE. I have a deep affection and respect for anyone from that city, simply because they were the ones who shielded my mother and me when our father's world turned against us!
At the beginning, I asked him directly if he had a wife. Aliyu wasn't a young boy even then; he is at least older than Nafisah's older brother. He swore to me by Allah that I was the very first woman he had ever courted for marriage.
Based on that, I let my guard down, fell in love with him, and eventually introduced him to you all. He also told me he worked at the Bank of the North, completely playing me for a fool.
Granted, he has plenty of money and dresses elegantly, but wealth wasn't my priority. I simply loved him sincerely, believing I would be the first and only woman to enter his home. That was my sole dream in life: to live alone without a co-wife, to marry a man who belongs to me alone, and to build a life founded on trust, integrity, mutual love, and respect from youth to old age—just like you and Nafisah's father. A peaceful life free of drama, disrespect, and rooted entirely in everlasting love for the sake of Allah."
Hajiya smiled, and Rukayyah continued.
"Then, out of nowhere, during this past school term, he came to visit me alongside his younger sister, Rufaida, who happens to be my age mate. I have a roommate named Nanah, who is also from Gombe. The moment Nanah saw Rufaida, they embraced joyfully, excited to see each other. After they left, I asked Nanah how she knew Rufaida.
Wallahi, Hajiya, she casually blurted out that Rufaida's older brother, Aliyu, is married to her mother's younger sister, Aunty Aysha! She said they usually meet whenever they visit her for holidays.
She added that Anty Aysha has three children with Aliyu, and that Aliyu's shop in the Gombe main market is right next to her older brother's shop, as they are very close friends.
This meant Aliyu is a trader, not a banker at the Bank of the North as he claimed! Wallahi, Hajiya, at that moment, I refused to believe it. I never imagined a mature, grown man like Aliyu could stoop so low as to manufacture such a massive lie just to get married.
What was he lacking that he had to resort to lies to win a wife? Why lie to me about a banking job? What do I care about a banking career? Did he take me for a gold digger or the daughter of paupers? I told Nanah I didn't believe her and that she was lying. No way! Not my Aliyu.
Seeing how frantic I became, Nanah asked why I was so upset. I swallowed my pride and told her Aliyu was my fiancé and had claimed to be unmarried.
Nanah said, 'If you don't believe me, on the day we go to pick up our practical materials, I promise to take you directly to Aliyu's wife's house.'
For the next few days, I couldn't sleep. Nanah, driven by a desire to defend her aunt's honor against a potential co-wife, insisted on taking me.
On the day of the practicals, I lied that I was going to pick up my things from my Aunt Asi's house, so I was allowed to join Nanah in their family car.
All the way from Bajoga to Gombe, my mind was a blur. I was terrified of what I might find, praying that Nanah's words wouldn't be true.
The house was located in the Commercial Area. Nanah rang the doorbell, and a fair-skinned, short woman, typical of the Fulani from Kumo, opened the door. One look at her, and I could see an undeniable resemblance to Nanah.
With heavy steps, I forced myself into the living room. The very first thing that caught my eye was a massive frame of Aliyu and this woman feeding each other cake at their wedding dinner. My vision went blurry. We sat on the sofas while she warmly welcomed the girls from Bajoga.
She went into the kitchen to bring us water and juice. At that moment, two children walked in from school. One look at them was enough to confirm they were Aliyu's children, from head to toe. There was also a third child crawling on the floor.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of Aliyu's car outside, and my stomach tied itself in knots. My throat went completely dry, and I hung my head, unable to look up.
From the front door, he called out, 'Darling, I’m back!' From the kitchen, she replied, 'Welcome, Daddy, I'll be right there.'
He walked into the living room but didn't recognize me initially because my head was bowed. Embarrassed by our presence, he quickly lowered his arms and said, 'Oh, Nanah, is that you guys?'
His wife emerged carrying a tray with boxed juice, cups, and Ragolis bottled water. Before setting it down, she gave him a passionate kiss on the cheek, put the tray down, and comfortably sat right next to him on the armrest of his chair.
When I saw Nanah lean forward to greet him, I followed suit. I slid down from the sofa, kept my eyes fixed tightly on him, and muttered, 'Good afternoon.'
He turned sharply to look at me, and I stared right back at him with piercing eyes. Without saying another word, I stood up and walked out. He ran after me, begging me to stop and listen to him. But wallahi, Hajiya, at that exact moment, I felt nothing but absolute disgust for him. All the love I once had vanished completely. For God's sake, who needs a liar?"
Story Summary
The story follows Rukayyah Usman Jalingo, a beautiful, young, and pampered Fulani girl from Jalingo, Taraba State, who secretly flees her home via a grueling two-day train journey to Lagos. She arrives at the luxurious mansion of her affluent aunt, Hajiya Umaimah, to escape an impending arranged marriage orchestrated by her strict father, Usman.
Rukayyah’s father refuses to let her pursue higher education due to her strong-willed, hyperactive nature and insists she marry her fiancé, Aliyu. Although Aliyu was widely accepted by the family and a wedding date was set, Rukayyah discovers a devastating web of lies. Aliyu had claimed to be an unmarried banker from Gombe. However, through a school roommate, Rukayyah catches him red-handed in his real life: he is actually a market trader who is already married with three children.
Deeply traumatized by her own childhood experience when her father took a second wife—which fractured her family for a decade—Rukayyah vows never to be a co-wife. She seeks refuge with Hajiya Umaimah, who protects her and promises to prevent the forced marriage.
Character Descriptions
1. Rukayyah Usman Jalingo
- Physical Appearance: A tall, elegant, fair-skinned Fulani girl with a striking long face, pure white eyes, and distinctively thick, crescent-shaped black eyebrows. Even when exhausted, her natural beauty stands out.
- Personality: Sophisticated, fashionable, and well-educated, yet heavily pampered as a firstborn child. She is deeply respectful, energetic, and loves domestic chores like cooking and cleaning. However, she is also strong-willed, fiercely independent, and uncompromising when it comes to honesty.
Role: The protagonist fleeing psychological trauma and deception.
2. Hajiya Umaimah
- Physical Appearance: A stunning, pure-bred Fulani woman around 50 years old who looks much younger (under 40) due to her wealth and comfortable lifestyle.
- Personality: Deeply religious, exceptionally patient, wealthy, and highly compassionate. She acts as an ideal mother figure, offering emotional stability and logic. She suffers from a chronic, incurable leg ailment but remains deeply grateful to God.
Role: Rukayyah’s maternal aunt, confidante, and protector in Lagos.
3. Aliyu
- Personality: Materially wealthy, sophisticated in dress, but highly deceptive, manipulative, and insecure.
Role: Rukayyah’s fiancé and the antagonist. He weaves a fraudulent persona (claiming to be a bachelor and a corporate banker) to win Rukayyah over, only to be exposed as a married market trader with three children.
4. Rabi
- Personality: Joyful, dramatic, vocal, and deeply loyal. She speaks her mind and acts like a traditional praise-singer, bringing comic relief to the household. She is a widow who deeply loved her late husband, Audu.
Role: The long-serving housemaid at the Lagos mansion.
Analytical Overview
Literary Themes
- Deception vs. Truth: The core conflict centers on Aliyu's manufactured identity. His lies about his profession (banking vs. trading) and marital status highlight how structural deceit is sometimes used to secure marriages under false pretenses.
- The Trauma of Polygamy: The narrative heavily analyzes the psychological impact of polygamy on children. Rukayyah’s absolute refusal to marry a married man stems from a decade of emotional and financial abandonment after her father took a second wife.
Female Solidarity and Agency: The story highlights strong female networks. Rukayyah’s mother helps her escape; her roommate exposes the deceptive fiancé out of loyalty to her aunt; and Hajiya Umaimah steps in as a powerful shield against patriarchal pressure.
Cultural & Setting Context
- The Geopolitical Contrast: The contrast between Jalingo/Gombe (Northern Nigeria) and Lagos (Southwestern Nigeria) serves as a metaphor for confinement vs. freedom. Jalingo represents traditional constraint and parental control, while Lagos represents an escape, modernity, and a fresh start.
Socio-Economic Class: The vivid descriptions of luxury—the Chinese imported furniture, the Yue Jin handbag, the massive white iron gate ("Mahdi-ka-ture"), the five-car garage, and private train travels—showcase an elite Northern Nigerian subclass balancing modern luxury with traditional values.
Structural & Narrative Pace
The author successfully utilizes a slow-burn mystery technique. The narrative starts with a detailed description of Lagos traffic and Rukayyah's physical appearance, slowly narrowing down to her deep internal sadness. The tension peaks during the flashback scene, transitioning smoothly from a peaceful domestic setting in Lagos into a dramatic emotional confrontation in Gombe. The dialogue is authentic, employing culturally rich Hausa idioms and expressions that elevate the dramatic tone of the story.
