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Step 40
She put on a pair of tight, form-fitting black trousers along with a vibrant red top. Pulling her long hair back, she secured it neatly with a black ribbon, then lavishly applied her collection of high-end perfumes and body sprays. Walking over to the bed, she picked up her smartphone to check her notifications. She found nearly ten missed calls from her father, a few from her beloved Khalil, and two from her mother, Hajiya Sauda.
Sitting on the edge of her mattress, she dialed her father's number. He answered almost immediately, greeting her warmly, "Hello, my dear mother. Is everything alright?"
In her characteristic slow, soft, and deeply pampered tone—a voice that carried a distinct air of deliberate sophistication and charm—she whined, "Dad, I’m just calling back because I saw your missed calls."
He replied, "My dear, I had already left the house before you woke up. Are you feeling perfectly fine?"
"Yes, Dad, I'm okay," she replied. "Uh... by the way, Dad, who on earth was that making a racket with the call to prayer in the middle of the night, completely ruining my sleep?"
He explained, "Ah, that is your new private tutor."
Mimi's heart dropped instantly with a heavy thud. She countered sharply, "Dad! Is he seriously going to disrupt our established household routine the moment he arrives? What exactly is his motive for doing that?"
"It’s nothing malicious, Mimi," he reassured her gently. "You know how dedicated Islamic scholars are to the mosque. Thanks to him, I actually managed to perform my early morning (Fajr) prayers exactly on time today. In fact, even our neighbors came over to join us, and we prayed together as a congregation."
She scoffed, "Oh, for heaven's sake, Dad! Does this mean our private mansion is now turning into a public gathering square for random crowds?"
He coaxed her, "Do not distress yourself, my dear; that is simply the beautiful community spirit of Islam. I truly hope you will humble yourself and cooperate so you can receive proper religious education from your new tutor. You can utilize the guest living room for your lessons, or would you prefer your personal private living room?"
She snapped, "Absolutely not, Dad! Let him restrict himself strictly to the outer guest reception room. I don't want him anywhere near your main living room with those unrefined, provincial feet of his."
Alhaji Bashir yielded, "Alright, if you say so. Since Naima is currently at home, she will commence her lessons first. When Ahmad and the others return from their secular schools in the afternoon, the tutor can attend to them."
"Fine, Dad," she murmured. "Let me hang up and call Hajiya back; I noticed she tried to reach me."
"Alright," he agreed. "We just concluded a conversation ourselves. Extend my warmest regards to her."
With a sudden wave of anxiety, Mimi dialed her mother's line. Hajiya Sauda answered in a calm, measured voice, offering the standard Islamic greeting. Mimi returned it and immediately asked, "Where did you leave your phone?"
Hajiya explained, "I was asleep. I just woke up and took my bath, which was when I noticed your missed call."
Hajiya added, "I mistakenly thought you had already gone down for your morning lessons."
Mimi replied, "Hajiya, I didn't even know the man had arrived until Dad just mentioned it to me. I'm about to have my breakfast right now."
Hajiya advised her firmly, "Dedicate your mind fully to your studies, Mimi, so you can truly understand how to worship Allah, your Creator."
The moment they concluded their call, a call from Khalil flashed across her screen. She deliberately let it ring until it was on the verge of disconnecting before she finally picked up—a calculated tactic she routinely used to maintain the upper hand. She answered, "Hello, dear. What's up?"
He replied, "Nothing serious, I just really needed to hear your beautiful voice. Did you just wake up?"
"Mhm," she hummed. "How are your holidays going?"
He sighed, "They are going well. But by God, I am so desperate to come visit your family home this time around. I am plagued by this constant, terrifying fear that I might somehow lose you."
"Don't worry, dear," she reassured him smoothly. "I've told you repeatedly that we were custom-made for each other. I can feel it deep within my soul."
He replied, "My lovely, I haven't quite found the courage to dream that far ahead yet. I feel we need to officially take this matter to our elders."
She let out a soft, dismissive laugh. "You know very well that your father will never grant you permission to marry at this stage of your life. On the flip side, if my dad spots you around me, he might instantly try to force me into an immediate marriage, which would only create a massive crisis for us."
He conceded, "I understand your point. I just don't want to suffer any more hurdles in securing your hand in marriage, considering how long and hard I had to fight just to win your affection in the first place."
Using her most captivating tone, she laughed softly. "Oh, dear, stop worrying about the past. Let me go have my breakfast now."
"Alright, sweetheart. I'll catch you later online," he said.
"Sure," she replied.
Swaying her hips with a slow, delicate stride—as if she were pitying the very ground she stepped upon—she began descending the grand staircase from her private penthouse suite. She ruled the entire upper floor of the mansion entirely alone, possessing a massive private lounge and three distinct bedrooms: one served as her master bedroom, the second was her study equipped with state-of-the-art computers and learning materials, while the third room remained locked, despite being fully furnished with luxury fittings.
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Momi Nafisa (Alhaji Bashir's second wife) was lounging in the main living room, watching a movie on a massive flat-screen television mounted securely on the wall. Turning around as she heard footsteps, she asked, "Ah, Mimi, you’re finally down?"
Mimi looked at her and replied, "Yes, Momi. Good morning. I hope you slept well?"
"I slept very well," Nafisa replied. "Your father kept calling your line earlier, but you hadn't come down yet."
Contorting her face into a deeply annoyed scowl, Mimi grumbled, "It’s all because of that individual shouting the call to prayer in the middle of the night. He completely ruined my sleep."
Momi Nafisa countered, "Well, that is your new tutor. I observed that your father was highly impressed and pleased with his actions."
"Yes, I gathered as much from the phone conversation I just had with him," Mimi muttered dismissively.
She walked over to the breakfast island, mixed herself a hot cup of tea, and began sipping it slowly. Looking over at her stepmother, she asked, "Where is Naima?"
Nafisa answered, "She is in her bedroom."
Mimi picked up her phone which was resting on the counter and dialed Naima's number. The moment the call connected, she demanded imperiously, "Sis, come down to the living room right now."
Within moments, Naima emerged from her room, dressed in a short-sleeved top and tight, form-fitting blue jeans. Her head was similarly bare of any traditional headscarf, and she had gathered her hair back with a blue ribbon.
Walking up, she said, "I'm here, Sis."
Mimi raised her striking white eyes and looked at Naima. Whenever the two sisters interacted, they preferred speaking almost exclusively in English. Mimi instructed, "Go to the kitchen and check if Folina has finished grilling my fish."
Naima suggested eagerly, "Oh, Sis, let's just drive out to a proper pastry store and get some snacks instead!"
Mimi shot her a fierce, silencing glare. "Just do exactly what I instructed you to do!"
Naima instantly raised her hands in total submission, repeating nervously, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
Folina, the domestic cook, hurried over, elegantly setting up a platter of perfectly grilled fish accompanied by toasted bread specifically prepared for Mimi. As Mimi finished eating, she turned to Naima and said, "I want that tutor who arrived yesterday to be brought to me immediately. The problem is I don't know how to summon him since you obviously can't go fetch him yourself. Go look outside; if you spot your personal driver or any of the estate staff, instruct them to call him in."
Naima complied readily, "Alright, Sis."
Outside the main house, when the domestic staff member, Hamisu, informed Ismail (the tutor) that he was being summoned into the inner chambers, Ismail replied calmly, "We must perform our voluntary prayers first, as I am about to make the call to prayer." After completing their prayers, Ismail turned to Hamisu and requested, "Please lead the way into the main house."
Arriving at the grand veranda leading to the primary living room, they pressed a small security intercom button, and within a few moments, the door swung open.
Naima stood at the doorway, casting a highly condescending look toward them—the exact type of haughty look that children of the ultra-wealthy routinely weaponize against domestic workers and subordinates. She asked sharply, "Which one of you is the tutor?"
Hamisu pointed respectfully toward Ismail, who stood with an air of absolute dignity. He was dressed in a simple, high-quality fabric (Yadi); his traditional cap perfectly complemented his outfit, and his trousers were neatly tailored to stop above the ankles, in strict adherence to the prophetic tradition (Ahlus Sunnah).
Naima scanned him from head to toe with a critical eye before uttering flatly, "Wait here."
About two minutes later, she returned and stated, "Sis says you can come inside."
Ismail stepped into a jaw-droppingly luxurious, sprawling living room. The opulence and architectural design of the space completely transcended anything Ismail had ever imagined, and the crisp, freezing air from the central air conditioning units blasted from every single corner.
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Naima turned around, noticing him standing still in awe, and ordered, "Follow me."
He proceeded to follow her deeper into the mansion, his heart silently uttering fervent prayers, beseeching Almighty Allah to shield him from any spiritual corruption or evil hidden within the walls of this estate, and to grant him whatever blessings it held.
They passed through a heavy double door into a moderately sized, yet equally opulent and masterfully designed private lounge. Naima turned and said, "Wait for her here."
Nearly five minutes stretched by before Mimi finally sauntered into the lounge. She walked past him and sat down without offering a single word of Islamic greeting (Sallama). The utter absence of basic Islamic etiquette burned deep into Ismail's soul, causing him to deliberately look away and ignore her presence entirely.
Mimi sat down on a plush sofa, completely absorbed in her smartphone. For over five consecutive minutes, she ignored the tutor completely, engrossed in text-chatting with her boyfriend, Khalil. She was arrogantly typing out a live update to Khalil about the tutor's perceived audacity. She texted: “Imagine the nerve of this guy! He’s supposed to be surviving on my father's charity, yet he expects me to be the one to fawn over him and wait on his time.”
Khalil texted back: “You know how incredibly arrogant poor people can be when they get a small opportunity.”
Mimi finally lifted her eyes from her screen, looking condescendingly at Ismail, who had opened his personal pocket Quran and was quietly reciting the sacred verses to himself. She remarked aloud with thick sarcasm, "Hmph. A beggar seeking charity has absolutely no right to put on arrogant airs."
Ismail calmly closed his Quran, looked up, and locked eyes with her. "Before we discuss anything regarding your curriculum, I am obligated to offer you some foundational counsel," he began with a firm, unyielding voice. "First, you must wear a proper, modest hijab to cover your body. Second, you must learn the basic manners of offering an Islamic greeting whenever you walk into the presence of other people. Third, let me correct your delusion: I did not come to this house seeking your family's charity. I came here to offer you salvation and assistance through religious knowledge. Therefore, open your text right now so we can commence your lessons from the foundational Arabic alphabet (Huruful Hijaiyyah)."
Mimi flew into a rage, snapping, "You have absolute nerve to claim you came here to help me! You possess absolutely nothing of material value in this world. Furthermore, I will never offer you an Islamic greeting, and I will absolutely never cover my body for you. If you are ignorant of your true place in this house, let me explicitly state it to you right now: I deliberately ordered the staff to bring you into this private lounge solely to humiliate you and to show you exactly how low and worthless you are compared to us!"
Ismail asked with absolute composure, "And what exactly is my crime against you to warrant such hostility?"
She snarled, "You are the first human being in my entire life who has ever dared to challenge me, look me straight in the eye, and speak back to me with such audacity. And I intend to make sure you are the absolute last person to ever try it. That is your crime!"
Ismail looked at her calmly and asked, "Are we going to conduct your religious lessons now, or not?"
She barked, "I just told you I will never learn from you!"
Without a word, Ismail stood up, neatly gathered his teaching materials, and packed his books. Mimi yelled after him, "I did not dismiss you yet!" Ignoring her completely, he turned on his heel and walked out of the lounge, leaving her sitting entirely alone.
Mimi stared at his departing figure, her mind reeling in absolute shock and bewilderment. What on earth gave this man such immense, unshakable confidence? How could he show absolutely zero fear or intimidation toward her, unlike every other person she encountered? Did he have any inkling of who she truly was? Did he have any idea who her father was?
To understand her background, one must know that Mimi’s father was none other than Alhaji Bashir, a native of the Masari lineage from the Kafur Local Government Area of Katsina State. His late mother was a native of Dabai, and she had given birth to twelve children.
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Out of those twelve children, only five survived into adulthood, while seven had passed away. Their mother died just as Bashir was completing his secondary education. He had three elder sisters, followed by one younger brother named Shafi'u. His elder sisters, Rakiya and Basira, were both married and living in Malumfashi, while Saratu resided in Kafur. Following their mother's demise, their father, Mallam Aliyu, remarried.
Unfortunately, his new stepmother turned out to be an incredibly selfish, malicious woman driven purely by her own greedy desires. Her toxic behavior made life unbearable, prompting Bashir to permanently leave the village of Masari and move into the main metropolis of Katsina to forge his own destiny, rather than spending his life helping his father with substance farming alongside his younger brother, Shafi'u.
In the city, Bashir engaged in a myriad of grueling menial jobs, starting as a commercial bus conductor before working as a marketplace laborer. Eventually, he joined forces with two close friends, Isa Mani and Kabiru Na'allah. The three of them rented a single market stall and entered the livestock and cattle trade. In the beginning, Bashir worked purely on commission—taking livestock on credit, selling them, and pocketing the minor profit margin—until he gradually built up enough personal capital to buy his own herd.
Slowly but surely, their livestock enterprise flourished. Periodically, Bashir would travel back to Masari to visit his extended family and his father, always bearing rich gifts and financial support.
Meanwhile, his younger brother Shafi'u had already married, and his wife had given birth to their first child. Consequently, his father and elder sisters constantly pressured Bashir to settle down and marry. During one of his visits, his father went as far as presenting the daughters of his paternal uncles, urging him to select one as a bride. Bashir politely declined, explaining that he had no interest in marrying within the immediate family. He promised that the moment he encountered a woman who truly captured his heart, he would marry immediately, but for the time being, his sole focus was building his financial empire.
On a particular Friday, Isa Mani intercepted him as Bashir was hurrying to the mosque for congregational prayers. Isa said, "Bashir, there is a prime herd of cattle being put up for urgent sale over at a Fulani nomadic settlement (Ruga) in Mashi."
Bashir hesitated, "All the way in Mashi? Honestly, I doubt I can make that trip today."
Isa Mani pushed, "You will make an incredible profit, my friend! I just returned from a journey yesterday; had I possessed the liquid capital, I would have bought them all myself. Please, let's just go right after the Friday prayers." He explained that the village clan head (Ardo) was desperate to raise immediate funds to complete his payments for the holy pilgrimage to Mecca.
Bashir replied, "My mind is entirely focused on the prayers right now, and I'm highly reluctant to travel to Mashi." Isa insisted, "Let's perform our Friday prayers together right now, and immediately after the 2:00 PM prayers, we can drive straight down to the settlement." They later met up with Kabiru Na'allah at the mosque, and all three partners set out for Mashi.
Step 44
Upon arriving at the nomadic Fulani settlement, they entered the cattle enclosures to inspect the livestock. The village head showed them the herd, and intense negotiations commenced. After reaching a mutually beneficial price, Bashir pledged to return with the physical cash the following morning, as his funds were currently held in his bank account.
As they were exchanging their final goodbyes, Bashir's eyes suddenly locked onto two young, slender Fulani girls who were just returning from the local market after selling fresh milk. He stared intensely at one of them; her delicate, radiant, and smooth features struck him so deeply that he stood frozen, his eyes tracking her until she completely vanished from sight.
His intense gazing did not escape the notice of Isa Mani. Once they walked away from the enclosure, Isa teased, "Bashir, you were staring at that girl as if your soul wanted to leave your body! Don't tell me you've gone and fallen in love with a nomadic village girl?"
Bashir replied defensively, "Is it a crime to admire beauty?"
Isa laughed heartily, "No, it's not a crime, but it's absolutely hilarious! Out of all the sophisticated, elegant young women in Katsina city, you choose to lose your mind over a tiny, unrefined village girl from a nomadic settlement?"
Kabiru Na'allah chimed in with a warning, "Furthermore, you should know that these traditional Fulani nomads are fiercely insular; they absolutely detest marrying their daughters off to outsiders (Bare)."
Bashir replied seriously, "Just pray for me. If she is destined to be my wife by divine decree, they will give her hand to me. Because honestly, I have just looked upon the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with." His partners simply burst into a bout of amused laughter.
The encounter completely consumed Bashir's mind. He spent the entire night unable to sleep, his thoughts entirely haunted by the beautiful Fulani girl. He became incredibly impatient for morning to arrive so they could deliver the money for the cattle. By 9:00 AM sharp, he was already at the bank withdrawing the cash, and they immediately hit the road toward Mashi.
Upon arrival, Bashir's singular, burning desire was to catch another glimpse of the girl who had completely disrupted his peace. Even as they handed over the cash to the herders and began loading the cattle onto their trucks, his eyes scanned the settlement frantically, but she was nowhere to be seen. Defeated, he walked toward the truck to board, but just as he was about to step in, he spotted her from a distance. She was busy churning fresh milk inside a traditional wooden container (Kuttu) to extract local butter. Disregarding the truck, he abruptly turned and marched straight toward her.
He offered a polite greeting. Startled by his sudden presence, she looked up in shock, completely caught off guard. However, seeing his pleasant expression, she relaxed and returned his greeting with a shy, beautiful smile.
Bashir asked, "Hello, young lady. What is your name?"
She looked at him timorously, murmured, "My name?" and quickly averted her gaze, nervously returning to her milk churning.
From a distance, Isa Mani yelled out to him, "Bashir! Come on, let's get moving!"
But Bashir felt with absolute certainty that if he climbed into that truck and left the settlement right now, he would be throwing away his destiny and would lose her forever. Bashir was a man of action; whenever he encountered a problem or a desire, he tackled it immediately with aggressive focus—especially when financial resources could solve it, given that his business was now highly lucrative. He turned back, walked over to the elders, and requested an immediate audience with Ardo (the clan head), who had just returned from securing the cash.
Kabiru walked over to him, trying to pull him away.
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"Come on, let's go for now," Kabiru urged. "We can always come back another day."
Bashir snapped back firmly, "Absolutely not. You know my character—the moment I set my heart on something, I will deploy every resource at my disposal to attain it immediately. If you two are in an immense hurry, go ahead without me. I will find my own way back."
Kabiru recognized the fierce determination and slight anger in Bashir's voice and backed down with a smile. He signaled Isa Mani to join them, and the three partners stood waiting outside for Ardo to emerge from his chambers.
Bashir turned to his friends and remarked, "You two are happily married and living in your own homes, while you left me behind as a bachelor. Of course it's easy for you to laugh at my desperation."
Despite the partners bracing themselves for a harsh, hostile reception from the deeply traditional clan head—expecting a rigid refusal to give a Fulani daughter to an outsider—the exact opposite occurred. Ardo was a man of profound Islamic knowledge and wisdom; he listened to Bashir intently, read his pure intentions, and explained that Bashir was actually in immense luck. He revealed that the girl had previously been betrothed within the clan, but by divine decree, her fiancé had tragically passed away two months prior. Ardo added that if Bashir truly desired her, he must first win her personal consent; if she accepted his courtship, there would be absolutely zero opposition from the family's side.
Two days later, Bashir made a grand return to the nomadic settlement, dressed in his finest attire and with pockets bursting with cash. Isa Mani had advised him to purchase an expensive glistening necklace and matching earrings as courtship gifts, noting that nomadic girls harbored a deep fondness for bright, glittering jewelry. Upon arrival, Ardo was absent, but his eldest son, Jabiru, welcomed him. After exchanging warm greetings, Jabiru explained that Ardo had traveled to the city to finalize his arrangements for the upcoming Hajj pilgrimage.
Bashir presented Jabiru with a generous cash gift and expressed his desire to speak with "Bengel"—the affectionate Fulani name he had overheard Ardo use for the girl during his previous visit.
Jabiru smiled and said, "Oh! You mean Sauda? Her actual name is Saudatu, but Ardo exclusively calls her Bengel. Thank you for the generosity; let me go summon her immediately, as she and her sister are about to head out to the local market to sell milk."
As Bashir waited expectantly, Saudatu approached him. She was dressed in a vibrant green traditional wax print (Atamfa) paired with a shimmering, translucent white veil. Although her face carried a shy, serious expression, Bashir’s heart erupted with uncontained, immeasurable joy. She sat down at a respectful distance from him and offered her greetings.
Wasting absolutely no time with riddles or hesitation, Bashir spoke plainly, "Saudatu, do you think you could love me?"
Blushing deeply, she instantly buried her face in the edge of her white veil and replied in heavily accented, unrefined Hausa, "Ardo will never marry me off to a man who is not a pure Fulani."
He reassured her quickly, "Do not worry about that, my dear. Ardo is fully aware of my intentions, and he has personally granted me his permission to seek your hand in marriage."
Saudatu was exceptionally young—barely thirteen or fourteen years old—but possessed an ethereal, breathtaking beauty that mirrored that of an Arab princess. She looked up and asked innocently, "If I accept your courtship, what happens next?"
"A grand wedding will happen next!" he declared joyfully, playfully mimicking her soft tone. He recognized the pure, untouched innocence and extreme youth...
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...radiating from the young girl.
She asked in bewilderment, "What do you mean by that? If I accept right now, we just immediately get married?"
He laughed warmly, "Well, what else should we wait for? I will immediately dispatch my elders to formalize the arrangements with your father. I will pay a handsome dowry, fulfill every single traditional marital custom of your clan, and we will be legally wedded."
She stared at him, trying to comprehend the shift. "And what happens after that?"
"I will take you away to live with me in my home," he replied.
"Where is your home?" she inquired.
"In the heart of the city," he answered.
She pressed further, "And what happens after we get there? What am I supposed to do in your city house? Do you also own a massive herd of cattle so I can continue milking them and transporting the milk to your city markets?"
He smiled tenderly, "No, not at all. You won't be doing any heavy labor. Your only duties will be to cook delicious meals for me, and when you bless me with children, you will nurture and raise them for us."
Blushing intensely, she stood up abruptly and said, "I have to leave now."
"Oh, come on, why are you in such a massive rush when we are having such a beautiful conversation?" he pleaded.
She muttered, "Saade is waiting for me; we have to go to the market to sell our milk."
Bashir asked, "Who is Saade?"
She replied, "She is my sister, we share the same mother and father."
He teased, "Should I just marry the both of you together then?"
"I am leaving!" she cried out shyly, completely covering her face with her veil.
Bashir said, "I truly hate the idea of you going out to hawk milk in public markets."
She countered honestly, "But I absolutely love going to the market! It allows me to see the world and experience the bustling city. Why on earth do you dislike it?"
He confessed softly, "Because I am terrified that some other man will see you and steal you away from me." He reached into his pocket and retrieved the glittering necklace and earrings he had bought for her. "Here, this is a special gift for you." She accepted the jewelry, her eyes lighting up with immense, pure joy.
She thanked him profusely. Bashir then pulled out a stack of brand-new, crisp ten-naira notes and handed them to her. Overwhelmed by his immense generosity, she showered him with endless gratitude. He smiled, "I will return this coming Friday."
She nodded warmly, "I will be waiting for your return."
In less than a single month, Bashir had completely captured the heart of the young Fulani girl. The elders intervened, family delegations were exchanged, and a wedding date was officially set—scheduled to take place immediately upon Ardo's return from the Hajj pilgrimage. A double wedding was organized for the two sisters; Saade was married off to a herder in a neighboring Fulani settlement, while Saudatu’s wedding was consummated in the village of Masari, where Bashir's father provided them with a temporary bridal chamber.
After spending one week in the village, Bashir returned to Katsina city. He rented a decent apartment in the Tudun Wada neighborhood and brought his young bride home. He immediately enrolled her in a local Islamic evening school (Islamiyya), having realized she possessed a severe lack of formal religious education. In those early days, Saudatu’s extreme innocence caused immense marital friction; she completely failed to comprehend the intimate dynamics of marriage. She would constantly cry and protest, citing the strict warnings of her maternal aunt (Yadikko), who had warned her never to allow any man to touch her body, fiercely proclaiming, "I am a respectable, chaste girl, not a loose woman!"
Recognizing her naivety, Bashir waited patiently until she had settled into her religious studies and began to mature in understanding. He then privately approached her Islamic school preceptor, explaining their unique marital dilemma. The wise scholar incorporated a mandatory five-minute counseling session at the end of his daily lectures for all students—as many young brides from traditional backgrounds suffered from similar gaps in conjugal and religious understanding. The scholar broke down the rights, obligations, and spiritual sanctity of marriage in meticulous, clear detail.
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Through these counseling sessions, Sauda fully comprehended the reality of her marital obligations. She completely submitted to her husband and tenderly sought his forgiveness for her past resistance. By then, they had been married for ten months. Bashir, profoundly moved by her transformation, pampered her with immense devotion, his love for her expanding so deeply it was as if he worshipped the very ground she walked upon.
Three years rolled by before she finally conceived her first child. She safely delivered a healthy baby boy. In honor of his father, Bashir named the child Aliyu, though they affectionately called him Abbas. Bashir’s love for Sauda reached unprecedented heights, fueled by her absolute obedience, humility, and deep respect. It was during this prosperous period that tragedy struck Sauda’s family; her father, Ardo, passed away. The loss plunged Sauda into profound, agonizing grief that severely took a toll on her health and well-being. She returned to her ancestral settlement and remained there for two weeks, completely consumed by sorrow, until Bashir gently and painstakingly consoled her, eventually convincing her to return to the city.
Following the formal completion of the widowhood mourning period by her mother, the family estate was distributed. Sauda inherited nine cattle and a herd of sheep, as she and her sister were the sole heirs of Ardo's wealth. Bashir approached her with a proposition: he requested to borrow her inherited livestock to sell them, promising to invest the capital into expanding his burgeoning business empire. He pledged that once his commercial ventures stabilized, he would fully replace her cattle or refund the exact monetary value. However, being a dutiful wife, she insisted on consulting her aunt first.
Yadikko advised her, "Give them to your husband, provided you are absolutely certain he is an honorable man who will fulfill his word."
Sauda replied confidently, "He is an honorable man, he will return them to me."
Yadikko nodded, "In that case, go ahead and hand them over." Sauda gathered her entire inheritance and placed it completely into her husband's hands.
Almighty Allah placed an immense, divine blessing upon that capital. Bashir’s business experienced an explosive expansion; he transitioned from a simple trader to opening massive commercial warehouses and wholesale outlets specializing in essential provisions, foodstuffs, and premium traditional fabrics like Brocades (Shadda) and custom textiles. Within a single year, he began embarking on international trade routes, importing goods directly from Cotonou, Togo, and other West African hubs. Before two years had elapsed, his operations expanded globally, and he began frequenting China and Dubai, importing massive shipping containers of merchandise and distributing them to retail merchants across Northern Nigeria.
It was during this era of staggering financial success that Sauda gave birth to their second son, who was named Mukhtar. Upon weaning the child, Bashir sponsored a luxury Hajj pilgrimage for the two of them—marking their first journey to the holy land together. The following year, he fully sponsored his father's pilgrimage as well.
A year later, Bashir established his own manufacturing conglomerate, opening factories that produced plastic wares and high-end mattresses. That same year, Sauda delivered their third son, who was named Abdulkarim. It was at this juncture that Bashir began expressing a desperate, burning desire to father a daughter. He confessed, "Sauda, I haven't told you this before, but ever since you were pregnant with Abbas, my singular dream has been to have a daughter. Every time you conceive, I spend the entire pregnancy praying fervently for a baby girl."
She smiled and replied, "Let us continue to pray, may Allah grant us a blessed daughter. The moment she arrives, I will name her Khadija, after my late mother."
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"May Allah bless us with righteous offspring," he added.
By the time Abdulkarim turned three years old, Sauda had not conceived again. It was during this period that Alhaji Bashir encountered Hajiya Binta while on a business trip in Saudi Arabia. Binta was a wealthy, elegant widow whose late husband had bequeathed an immense fortune to her, though she had never been able to bear any children. Age-wise, she was significantly older than Sauda.
Bashir and Binta embarked on a highly secretive, whirlwind romance. Bashir kept the relationship hidden because he was deeply terrified of breaking Sauda's heart, as he absolutely detested causing her any emotional distress. One night, following the completion of their marital intimacy, he held Sauda's hand tightly, passionately reassuring her that the love he harbored for her occupied a unique, untouchable sanctuary deep within his heart. Sauda was filled with immense bliss whenever he showered her with such romantic declarations. She smiled and replied, "I have always known that, my love, and I believe you completely. You know there is absolutely no one above you in my life, save for my aunt Yadikko."
He smiled tenderly and asked, "You understand that marriage is a matter of divine destiny (Mukaddari) pre-ordained by Allah for every servant, correct?"
Without catching the hidden drift of his question, she replied innocently, "Yes, that is entirely true."
He took a deep breath and confessed, "I am going to take a second wife."
Initially, Sauda laughed it off, assuming it was a playful joke. However, as she listened to his voice turn serious as he meticulously detailed exactly how he met the woman in Saudi Arabia and how far the marriage discussions had already progressed, rage consumed her. She flung his hand away, stood up in a fury, and stormed out to her personal room.
This was her first raw encounter with severe polygamous jealousy (Kishi)—the devastating emotional sickness that plagues corporate wives. A massive, volatile domestic warfare erupted between them, to the point that Sauda fiercely demanded the immediate return of her cattle inheritance money. Wanting to de-escalate the crisis, Bashir refunded her capital in full without a moment's delay. Sauda then took the drastic step of completely boycotting him emotionally and physically. Despite his endless pleading and attempts to pamper her, she completely shut him out. She took her returned capital back to her ancestral village, instructing her elders to purchase real estate, prime lands, and a new herd of cattle for her.
This was the first time in their entire marriage that Bashir was forced to officially report her behavior to her paternal uncles. Her elder uncle (Baffa) personally traveled to the city mansion, delivering a stern reprimand and profound marital counseling to Sauda. After weeping bitterly and releasing her pent-up frustration, she had no choice but to accept her destiny and submit to the reality of polygamy.
The wedding was celebrated, and Bashir brought his new bride, Hajiya Binta, into a massive, luxurious architectural mansion he had custom-built for his expanding family in an elite neighborhood. As time went on and the household settled into its new routine, Saudatu realized through daily actions that her husband still prioritized her above all else. Reassured of her secure position, she let go of her resentment and resolved to co-exist with her co-wife with a clean, peaceful heart.
It was during this period of restored marital harmony that Sauda conceived Mimi. The pregnancy and birth of Mimi coincided with an unprecedented, astronomical surge in Bashir's financial fortunes. On the literal day Mimi was born, Bashir officially commissioned his multi-billion-naira flour milling factory in the commercial city of Kano. When he returned to the hospital and looked upon the beautiful baby girl—who possessed an uncanny, striking resemblance to his ultimate love, her mother Sauda—his joy was so explosive it was as if he wanted to swallow the child whole out of pure infatuation.
He hosted a staggering, historic naming ceremony (Walima), purchasing massive ad spaces to announce her birth across national newspapers, radio stations, and television channels. It was a level of public celebration that Saudatu had never witnessed before, making her feel as though she was a first-time mother all over again.
Step 49
What caused Saudatu the ultimate bewilderment and concern, however, was that Bashir immediately hijacked the care and upbringing of the infant, to the point that he refused to leave the house for business, spending all his hours hovering over the cradle. His extreme obsession quickly began to grate on Sauda's nerves, evolving into deep frustration. He completely neglected his other children and parental duties, focusing his entire existence on his "mother, Mimi." He strictly forbade anyone from allowing the baby to cry; the moment he heard a single whimper from her, he would fly into a furious rage, shouting at the entire household—and unfortunately, the girl grew up to be an absolute crybaby who used tears as a weapon.
Gradually, Mimi began to grow up, and she systematically developed a deeply hostile, malicious, and arrogant attitude toward every single human being in the household—sparing only her father, "Dady." By the time she was a toddler, if Dady was at home, she would completely reject even her own mother, Hajiya Sauda, refusing to let her carry her. Bashir was perfectly willing to abandon critical corporate board meetings or drop life-altering business transactions just to soothe her whenever she threw a spoiled, manipulative tantrum.
Thus, Mimi grew up ensconced in an environment of toxic, boundless overindulgence, volatile defiance, and extreme privilege. Her word was absolute law; whatever she demanded had to be executed instantly. Her elder brothers, Abbas and the others, quickly grew to deeply resent and detest her behavior. It was incredibly jarring for them to witness her commit flagrant, severe offenses that rightfully warranted strict disciplinary canning, only for the father to strictly decree that no one was allowed to cast so much as a stern look in her direction.
When the time arrived to enroll her in school, Bashir selected an ultra-exclusive private academy whose tuition fees dwarfed the combined educational expenses of all his other children put together—an elite institution where only the wealthiest, most arrogant aristocrats of Katsina enrolled their offspring. Sa...
Part 2: Structural & Stylistic Description
This segment transitions from the localized family drama of the opening scenes into a expansive historical background narrative, utilizing a structural technique common in Hausa realism known as Tarihin Shira (the comprehensive family chronicle).
1. Narrative Shift and Temporal Pacing
The text skillfully shifts timelines. It begins with high-velocity, real-time dialogue showcasing Mimi’s toxicity and her explosive first clash with the highly principled tutor, Ismail. Then, the author abruptly drops the anchor of real-time action at the end of Step 42 to embark on a sweeping, multi-decade biographical flashback detailing Alhaji Bashir’s rise from a impoverished bus conductor to a billionaire industrialist.
2. Linguistic Contrast as Characterization
The author uses linguistic preferences to establish a clear cultural divide:
- The Language of Elitism: Mimi and Naima's reliance on English, combined with their bare hair and tight jeans, visually and audibly detaches them from their environment. It highlights their psychological alienation from traditional Hausa-Islamic values.
The Language of Tradition: In sharp contrast, the flashback sections utilize rich, agrarian, and trade-centric Hausa vocabulary (e.g., Ruga, Ardo, Kuttu, Tatsar Nono). This grounds the text in classic Northern Nigerian cultural heritage, highlighting the tragic irony that Mimi despises the very provincial lifestyle that birthed her family's wealth.
Part 3: Analytical Breakdown
1. The Clash of Spiritual vs. Material Authority
The explosive confrontation between Ismail and Mimi in Step 42 serves as the philosophical core of the chapter:
- The Deconstruction of Class: Mimi attempts to utilize her class privilege as a weapon, explicitly stating she brought Ismail to her lounge to humiliate him (Tozarta ka) and establish his inferiority. She views human interactions as strictly transactional and dictated by wealth.
Spiritual Superiority: Ismail completely neutralizes her material leverage by asserting his authority as a custodian of religious knowledge. By ignoring her presence, closing his eyes to read the Quran, and walking out on her terms, he flips the power dynamic. He frames her not as a powerful elite, but as an ignorant soul in desperate need of spiritual rescue (Taimako).
2. The Irony of Generational Upward Mobility
The detailed backstory of Alhaji Bashir uncovers a profound generational irony that directly explains the family's current decay:
- The Root of Favoritism: Alhaji Bashir fell desperately in love with a young, pure, traditional village Fulani girl (Saudatu) who wore humble Atamfa and hawked milk. Yet, his toxic obsession with the daughter of that union (Mimi) has led him to fiercely defend Mimi’s rejection of that exact same heritage. He goes as far as insulting his other children as "provincial villagers" (Kauyawa) to validate Mimi's westernized arrogance.
The Psychology of Overcompensation: Bashir’s extreme indulgence of Mimi is rooted in his own history of severe poverty and deprivation. His psychological trauma of working as a marketplace laborer drives his unhealthy obsession to shield his favorite child from any form of discomfort or discipline, ultimately turning her into a behavioral monster.
3. Polygamous Fracture and the Seed of Discord
The text provides a masterclass in how systemic favoritism actively demolishes the foundations of a polygamous household:
- The author carefully notes that Sauda originally overcame her jealousy (Kishi) and resolved to live in absolute harmony with her co-wife, Hajiya Binta. However, it was Bashir’s subsequent structural injustice—hijacking Mimi’s upbringing, overfunding her education, and enforcing a absolute immunity from discipline—that systematically re-introduced bitterness into the household.
- By showing that the elder brothers (Abba and others) grew up harboring a justified, burning hatred for her, the narrative explicitly sets up a future inheritance and familial war, proving Hajiya Sauda’s warnings that Bashir is blinding himself to the absolute destruction of his own legacy.
