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MAKWABTAKA (Neighbourliness)
Chapter 1
Among the row of tall skyscrapers situated along Maharajalela Road in Kuala Lumpur, the capital city of Malaysia.
At around eight o'clock on a Monday morning, a cool morning breeze blew from the forest reserve bordering their residential area. The blowing wind perfectly balanced the weather, mitigating the usual humidity. Instantly, the residents found a sense of joy and relaxation on this fine morning.
Eye-catching, luxury cars cruised down the road, while a vast crowd of pedestrians hurried along on foot. Truly, God's creations are diverse—different lands, different environments, and different types of people.
The local women wore blouses and skirts made of material resembling atamfa (African wax prints), paired with short, chest-length hijabs. Others wore blouses and jeans paired with either a hijab or a large headscarf. The trendy young girls wore short shorts that stopped at their thighs along with tank tops. The men wore sarongs paired with shirts, or trousers and shirts, topped with caps resembling Pakistani caps in black or various other colors. Most of them were short in stature, fair-skinned, with short noses and deep, almond-shaped eyes. They had long, incredibly soft, black hair. Almost all of them were Muslims, with only a few practicing other religions. However, they did not strictly implement Islamic Sharia law; everyone enjoyed life as they pleased. There were also dark-skinned Indians whose ancestors were brought over as slaves, but who have now become citizens and practice Hinduism. Their currency is called the Ringgit, and it is highly valued; when compared to the Naira, it is even stronger than the Saudi Riyal.
Umaimah Bello was a tall, elegant young woman whose age did not exceed twenty-five. She was dark-skinned, an African woman, but her beauty far surpassed that of many fair-skinned women. She had a very luminous complexion—even among fair people, not all could outshine her radiance—complemented by a well-shaped nose, beautiful eyes, a moderate, graceful mouth, and long, soft hair. As for her physique, it was a rare build for a woman to possess. Umaimah was tall (but not gangly) and slender, yet not gaunt.
She stood on the balcony of her apartment, located on the 19th floor, looking down and inhaling the sweet air of the city. One could see without asking that she was at peace, judging by the bright glow covering her face. She held a porcelain cup filled with freshly squeezed orange juice. Whenever she leaned over to look at the street, she would take a sip of the cold juice.
She observed the passersby one by one, noting how they walked calmly and happily. This was a sharp contrast to how her fellow citizens back in Nigeria walked—everyone there hurried along frantically, as if being chased, some walking while mentally calculating grocery budgets due to the hardships they endured. Pity washed over her until tears welled up in her eyes, especially when she remembered her relatives in the rural areas, the nomadic Fulani cattle herders.
She said aloud, "Oh Allah, bring aid to my country, Nigeria, so that we too can achieve development like the people of Malaysia."
Raising her eyes to look at the apartment building facing hers, she caught sight of that stubborn man who always stared at her; he too was standing on his balcony. She had already felt in her bones that she was being watched, as was his habit.
She rolled her eyes at him, hissed loudly, and retreated into her apartment, deeply annoyed. She was particularly vexed because he had seen her dressed only in a flimsy, knee-length green nightgown with her head uncovered. He smiled, preparing to greet her, but she rushed inside. Once in her living room, she parted the curtain to peek at the balcony and saw he was gone. This confirmed that he had only come out because of her, and once she went inside, he left too. She vowed to deal with him ruthlessly if he continued to pester her and restrict her freedom on her own property.
He was dark-skinned, but from his appearance, he was not Nigerian. Whichever country he belonged to, he was remarkably handsome and well-built. He was very tall, slightly broad, with a clear complexion, a prominent nose, and striking, piercing eyes. He possessed a frequent smile that revealed white teeth neatly arranged in a well-proportioned mouth. It was evident that he was highly hygienic and incredibly stylish. From his hair down to his beard, his neatness was always apparent as they consistently gleamed. The fragrance of his perfume could be smelled all the way from her own balcony.
She checked the clock; it was a quarter to eight. She had a lecture at nine, so she rushed into the shower. In the blink of an eye, she finished getting ready and emerged fully dressed in a long-sleeved pink blouse, black jeans, and pink closed-toe shoes, completed with a short black chest-length hijab, typical of Malaysian style. Slinging her small laptop bag over her shoulder, she locked her door and left.
She encountered many people in the elevator (Malaysians, Chinese, Indians, etc.), but she didn't look at them, let alone smile, because she had no desire to socialize with her NEIGHBOURS. Reaching the ground floor, she stepped out of the lift and walked straight toward the exit gate. To her surprise, she bumped into that same stubbornly staring man whose apartment directly faced hers on the 19th floor. Their buildings were separate, but they shared a single exit gate since it was the same estate complex.
Instantly, she tightened her expression and quickened her pace because she saw him starting to give her that smile of his. He intended to greet her, but she wanted none of it. She hurried past him at an incredible speed and vanished from his sight. Only after looking back and seeing no sign of him did she slow down and continue walking calmly.
As she climbed the stairs to cross the pedestrian bridge to the other side—since in developed countries, people do not cross the motorways directly but use bridges—she suddenly felt utterly exhausted due to the steep climb. Unexpectedly, she heard a soft voice beside her in English, greeting her and asking how she was doing.
She turned around quickly and saw her man—her neighbor. She was shocked to see him because she thought she had outrun him, unless he had taken a shortcut through a side street, because when she had checked behind her earlier, she hadn't seen anyone following her.
Speaking in English, he rained three consecutive questions upon her, but she didn't answer a single one. He began to wonder if she didn't understand English at all. He then switched to a broken, simplified English format so that even a beginner could understand.
He asked, "Are you from Sudan? Libya? Egypt? Ethiopia? Or Mali?"
She glared at him, turned her face away, and kept walking. He still followed her, matching her frantic pace.
"What is your name?"
He knew she must understand this basic phrase. In response, he received another sharp glare. She looked him up and down and, in sheer frustration, muttered in Hausa, "Maye kawai, sai nacin tsiya!" (Just a wizard/creep, with terrible persistence!)
He smiled and said, "Your name is Maye? Wow, nice name." He mistakenly thought she said her name was Maye. He followed her, babbling away in English, and with every sentence, he repeated the name "MAYE."
Umaimah’s frustration intensified, and she felt completely helpless against him. The last thing he said to her was, "My name is Abdul-Sabur."
When he saw that she was genuinely furious, he finally left her alone. She proceeded toward her school. There was no doubt she was studying at FTMS GLOBAL COLLEGE, as he saw her head toward that campus. If she was a college student, how could she claim not to understand English? It was clear she simply had no intention of answering him—a very plausible conclusion.
She kept her head down as she walked, never looking up or glancing back. She didn't stop until she reached her classroom, where she found a seat and sat down. Hard sooner had she sat down than the lecturer entered the room and began teaching their subject: Software Engineering.
The next morning around ten o'clock, Umaimah set out for school again, dressed in a black abaya. She was in a hurry because she had a test at eleven. Today as well, at the main gate, she ran into her man, Abdul-Sabur, who was also heading out. He was dressed in a suit. She had to look closely to recognize him because he looked different and even more handsome.
He smiled at her, offered an Islamic greeting (Salam), and followed it by mentioning the name he assumed was hers: "MAYE."
Instantly, she felt her mood sour. She glared at him and passed by without answering. He wondered why a young Muslim woman could be so cold-hearted that she wouldn't even return a Salam. It wasn't just him she treated this way; by all indications, she did the same to the rest of the NEIGHBOURS, as he noticed how she walked past angrily without even looking at them.
When he saw Dr. Faduwa pass by her without a greeting, he knew the situation was beyond Dr. Faduwa's control. Perhaps the doctor had tried once, saw no warmth, and decided to leave her alone. Otherwise, he knew how much Dr. Faduwa loved people; she was always cheerful and would strike up a conversation whether you noticed her or not.
He stopped to greet Dr. Faduwa, and then the two of them, along with a third companion, walked together toward the main road. Umaimah walked ahead of them while the two walked behind, chatting away in English.
Dr. Faduwa was an Egyptian Arab. God had crafted her beautifully; even among Arabs, one would have to search hard to find someone as beautiful as Faduwa. She wasn't tall and was slightly plump but perfectly proportioned, with a long nose, large eyes, and hair so long and silky it brushed her thighs, despite her constantly trimming it. She was highly fashionable, dressing respectably in her Arabic attire. One look at her would convince you she was a doctor, as her profession perfectly matched her elegant demeanor.
Chapter 2
Umaimah climbed the steps and crossed the pedestrian bridge, while the two of them stood by the road waiting for a taxi. Abdul-Sabur was heading to his school, Inti College in the Subang Jaya neighborhood, while she was at Sunway University. Therefore, they would share a single vehicle; after dropping her off, the taxi would proceed with him.
Before long, they hailed a taxi, opened the doors, and both sat in the back. After stating their destinations to the driver, he started the meter, which began calculating their fare. There was no need for long haggling; as you traveled, you could see exactly how much you were spending. The longer the distance, the higher the fare.
Dr. Faduwa looked at Engr. Abdul-Sabur and said, "That girl is so young yet so full of pride. She doesn't greet people, nor does she respond when greeted. I thought she ignored us because we are fair-skinned, but now I see she won't even respond to you, a fellow dark-skinned person. I believe it's better to maintain neighborly greetings because of life's uncertainties, like death or illness. She lives all alone—no mother, no father, no husband. A NEIGHBOUR is the first person to offer help, especially since we are fellow Muslims. What do you think, Abdul? Why don't you try speaking your native language to her, maybe she'll understand you."
He offered a forced smile and said, "Who told you she speaks my language? We are not from the same country. Did you assume all dark-skinned people understand one another's languages? There's nothing I can do except pray that Allah guides her to understand."
From there, they changed the topic, as they were not prone to backbiting like the gossip prevalent in our society, where people constantly slander the absent. When they arrived at Dr. Faduwa's school, Sunway University, she got down. She offered to pay her share, but Abdul-Sabur told her not to worry, saying he would cover the entire fare. They said their goodbyes, wishing each other well. She informed him that she wouldn't return home until tomorrow due to some laboratory experiments they had to conduct.
The driver accelerated and drove straight to Inti Subang Jaya, where the meter read 35 Ringgit (equivalent to about 1,700 Naira at the time). He pulled out the money, paid, and entered the college, where he was pursuing his Master's degree.
Nigerians flooded every university in Malaysia, especially the private universities, unlike the public ones—though even if you peeked into the public ones, you would find them in large numbers. In some universities, if you looked around, you would swear you were in Abuja because of the sheer population of Nigerians. Hausas and Igbos (inyamurai) were the majority, and as expected, trouble was bound to arise.
When security agencies, namely the Police and Immigration, realized that not all of them were actual students—that many had used fraudulent means to obtain student visas but weren't studying—they began conducting raids day and night. To them, both the innocent and the guilty were targeted; their intention was that if they arrested a genuine student, their school would come and bail them out, whereas those who weren't studying were unknown to any institution, leaving no one to secure their release.
Consequently, prison life became their lot, indefinitely. This is because Malaysia is not like Saudi Arabia, where if illegal immigrants are arrested, they are put on a free flight back to their country, only for them to save up money, return, get caught again, and be flown home for free. The Malaysian authorities do not operate that way; they will not spend a single cent of their own money to deport you. Unless your relatives come to take you away, you will remain there forever.
Most, if not all, of the Hausas studying in that country did not have this problem. Anyone you saw was there purely for education, sponsored either by their parents or their state government. The issue was predominantly found among other non-Hausa ethnic groups; they were the ones who entered the country and simply stayed without studying.
Jobs were unavailable, and there was no manual labor they could perform to earn a living. Some found car-washing jobs, while others turned to a dangerous trade: drug trafficking. If they succeeded, they made a fortune; if things went wrong, the penalty was execution without reprieve.
These specific non-Hausa tribes were the ones who frequented nightclubs from nightfall until dawn, doing nothing but drinking alcohol, chasing women, playing music, and dancing. When they got heavily intoxicated, fights would break out, and bottles would be smashed in violent altercations. Unless security forces spotted them, they wouldn't disperse. The Malaysian government grew exhausted and resentful of Nigerians, so they began rounding them up to rid the country of miscreants. Though not everyone was bad—there were good students who focused entirely on their studies.
At night, Immigration forces launched raids on the residential complexes where these criminal elements gathered. They arrested them indiscriminately. Out of sheer panic and the frenzy to escape, some individuals would lose their senses and jump from high floors of skyscrapers—the fifth or seventh floor. Without a doubt, they would shatter upon impact; some died instantly, some passed away at the hospital, while others were permanently crippled and deformed.
Because of this, they fled their apartments when night fell. Having realized that security agencies raided at night, they would hide in parking lots or inside the forest until dawn. They would then return to their apartments to sleep. Once dusk approached, they would flee again, only returning the next day. Even on the streets, they weren't safe; they were arrested during the day. Even if you showed your passport with a valid visa, they wouldn't let you go until they verified it directly with your school authorities to confirm whether they knew you or not. Upon arresting you, they would ask for your school's name and contact them. May Allah protect us, guide us, and grant our leaders the ability to fix our country, so we can stop this restless journey to developed nations and escape the humiliation and degradation we are subjected to. Amen.
This wave of arrests had not reached Umaimah, but she constantly heard news about it at school. She was fortunate to live in an area populated mostly by locals; in the entire estate complex, she and Abdul-Sabur were the only black residents, and she was the only Nigerian.
A sense of bitter frustration and intense patriotism washed over her. She felt like abandoning her studies and returning home to her country, even if poverty killed her there. She found herself hating all fair-skinned people, especially Malaysians. Among Malaysians, she most detested the security personnel who harassed her compatriots. On the other hand, she recognized that it wasn't the fault of the Malaysians, but rather the fault of her own Nigerian leaders who had ruined the nation and looted the vast wealth the country possessed.
Alone in her apartment, her mind was filled with anxious thoughts. She pouted as if arguing with someone, hissing and sighing heavily more than a hundred times within an hour. Sitting at the dining table in her living room, she tried to study using her laptop, but she couldn't comprehend anything. By all indications, life had become miserable for her. It was clearly no minor problem that had driven her away from her home country to migrate to this incredibly distant land. It was obvious she wasn't enjoying her life, especially given the discrimination and cold treatment shown toward her compatriots. Truly, if not for the metaphorical storm that had chased her away from home, she would have abandoned her studies and returned to Nigeria long ago.
She spoke out loud, "What am I to do with my life? Where do I turn? I have no one, I care for no one, and no one cares for me."
She held her head as hot, painful tears streamed down her cheeks.
She thought to herself, By all indications, one day they will just come and carry my corpse out of this apartment because of the depression I am wallowing in. She jumped up suddenly, as if jolted by an electric shock. She hurried into her bedroom and went straight to the bathroom to perform ablutions, as the call to Maghrib prayer was echoing.
In front of her bed, she spread her prayer mat and offered her prayers calmly. After completing the obligatory prayer, she performed several voluntary (nafilah) prayers, begging Allah to alleviate the hardships plaguing her life. She prayed for Allah to restore joy to her heart because she was living in such distress that it felt as though her heart might fail.
Fortunately, a heavy downpour began to rain cats and dogs outside—perfectly aligning with the sacred hour when Allah accepts the prayers of His servants.
Days turned into weeks, and Umaimah Bello had now spent three months in Malaysia. They had progressed far into their academic calendar, having started in early September, and December was almost over. Wherever you turned, crowds of people—especially Westerners—flooding the city to celebrate Christmas met your eyes.
Three days before Christmas, Umaimah prepared herself in the evening to go grocery shopping since her food supplies were completely depleted. She knew that once the Christmas celebrations went into full swing, the major supermarkets and malls would be overcrowded.
She dressed in a ready-made purple skirt and blouse combo, wrapped a small black shawl over her head, wore slightly pointed black heels, and slung her black handbag over her arm. A cool breeze was blowing since a recent rainfall had just ceased. She went straight to the train station to catch the elevated Monorail. This train travels high above the ground on a narrow elevated track, allowing passengers inside to view the people and roads far below. The train had a few seats, but it was designed mostly for standing passengers, equipped with metal handrails and hanging straps to hold onto. The train was driverless, controlled entirely by a computer, and it never reversed—it only moved forward.
(Author's Note to Readers)
I hope you are enjoying the book. Honestly, everyone should contribute by leaving a comment. I want to post two chapters a day, but that can only happen if I receive enough comments to motivate me...
Chapter 3
She filled two massive shopping bags to the brim with groceries. Consequently, she decided to take a taxi that would drop her right at her doorstep; it would be much easier than taking the train, where she would suffer hauling the heavy bags up and down station stairs.
She stood by the road and hailed a taxi without wasting time, putting herself and all her shopping inside. She informed the driver of her destination, and he turned on the meter as they drove off. When they reached her neighborhood, she navigated him right to her estate gate. She paid him exactly 10 Ringgit, grabbed her shopping bags, and stepped out while the taxi driver drove away.
As if out of nowhere, she heard a voice that instantly threatened to shatter the happiness she had brought back from BB Plaza.
She heard the word "MAYE" called out. She turned around furiously to see Abdul-Sabur approaching her, his face beaming with joy. She felt a strong urge to slap him, but instead, she hissed and turned away quickly, even as the heavy shopping bags weighed her down.
In English, he said, "Maye, let me help you with one bag, because I can see they are too heavy for you."
She did not answer him and kept walking. When he reached out his hand to take a bag, she barked at him.
Today, too, she spoke to him in Hausa. "Kai! Ka kyale ni, dole ne?" (Hey! Leave me alone, is it by force?!)
Even though he did not understand her language, he saw the raw anger on her face and knew she was scolding him. Therefore, he let go of her bag and stopped dead in his tracks, watching her as she climbed onto the veranda, dragged her bags along, stepped into the elevator, and went upstairs.
The security guards sitting nearby watched him, clearly pitying him because of the harsh rejection she had dealt him. He walked back to his apartment feeling dejected, his mind plagued with thoughts about Umaimah. He resolved that for the rest of his life, he would never acknowledge her again.
As soon as Umaimah entered her apartment, she shut all her windows and doors. She switched off the lights in the bedrooms, living room, and corridor, leaving only the kitchen light on. Only the air conditioner and the television remained running. Showering, praying, eating, studying, sleeping, and watching TV...
2. Story Summary
"MAKWABTAKA" follows the life of Umaimah Bello, a 25-year-old Nigerian student studying Software Engineering at FTMS Global College in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
- The Conflict: Umaimah is deeply unhappy, homesick, and traumatized by unnamed past events in Nigeria. She channels her inner grief into severe isolation and xenophobia, aggressively ignoring her neighbors. Her primary target is Abdul-Sabur, a handsome, polite African postgraduate student living in the building directly facing hers.
- The Misunderstanding: Abdul-Sabur continuously tries to be neighborly. When Umaimah snaps at him in Hausa, calling him a "Maye" (wizard/creep), he mishears it as an English introduction and believes her name is actually "Maye." He continuously calls her this, driving her frustration higher.
- The Socio-Political Backdrop: The story explores the severe struggles of the Nigerian diaspora in Malaysia, highlighting the targeted immigration raids, systemic corruption back home that forces youth to leave, and the divide between law-abiding students and those involved in illegal activities.
The Turning Point: Despite a friendly Egyptian neighbor (Dr. Faduwa) pointing out that keeping boundaries is dangerous when living alone abroad, Umaimah pushes her isolation to the extreme. After a final confrontation where Abdul-Sabur tries to help her carry heavy groceries, she screams at him, leading him to vow never to speak to her again. The excerpt ends with Umaimah locking herself in complete darkness, choosing total isolation.
3. Character Descriptions
Umaimah Bello
- Appearance: A 25-year-old dark-skinned African woman of exceptional beauty. She is tall, slender, and possesses a radiant complexion, a well-proportioned nose, beautiful eyes, and long, soft hair.
- Personality: Highly defensive, deeply patriotic yet bitter, antisocial, and emotionally volatile. She suffers from severe anxiety or depression caused by her past in Nigeria. She values her privacy to a fault and refuses to blend into Malaysian society or accept help from fellow Muslims.
Status: Software Engineering student at FTMS Global College.
Abdul-Sabur
- Appearance: A very tall, well-built, dark-skinned African man (non-Nigerian). He is exceptionally handsome, fair-complexioned (fari sol in Hausa context denotes a lighter or clear glowing skin tone), possesses white teeth, a well-groomed, shiny beard, and always smells of high-end perfume.
- Personality: Persistent, cheerful, patient, highly polite, and strictly law-abiding. He embodies true Islamic and communal neighborly values.
Status: Masters degree student at Inti College, Subang Jaya.
Dr. Faduwa
- Appearance: An Egyptian Arab woman of unmatched beauty. She is petite, slightly plump but well-proportioned, with a long nose, massive eyes, and long, silky hair that reaches her thighs. She dresses elegantly in traditional Arab attire.
- Personality: Gregarious, kind-hearted, perceptive, and deeply communal. She believes strongly in the Islamic philosophy of looking out for one's neighbors.
Status: Academic/Doctor affiliated with Sunway University.
4. Literary & Cultural Analytics
I. The Theme of Isolationism vs. Communalism
The core underlying conflict of the story relies on a clash of social philosophies.
- Traditional African/Islamic Communitarianism: Represented by Abdul-Sabur and Dr. Faduwa, who argue that a single woman living thousands of miles away from home must rely on her neighbors in times of sickness or death ("halin mutuwa ko ciwo").
Modern Trauma-Induced Individualism: Represented by Umaimah. Her immediate reaction to lock her doors, turn off the lights, and exist in a silo with only her AC and TV reflects a modern psychological retreat from a world she perceives as hostile.
II. Linguistic Humor and Dramatic Irony
The author brilliantly uses the language barrier to create dramatic irony.
- When Umaimah uses the Hausa insult "Maye" (which means a wizard, witch, or colloquially a persistent stalker/creep), Abdul-Sabur's phonetic interpretation of it as a beautiful Westernized name ("Maye") creates a recurring comic relief.
This miscommunication deepens the plot: it gives Abdul-Sabur a reason to keep approaching her, while giving Umaimah what she perceives as logical proof that he is deliberately mocking her.
III. Realistic Diaspora Critique & Geopolitics
The text transitions from a fictional romance/drama into a raw, sociological critique of the Nigerian diaspora in Southeast Asia during the 2000s/2010s. The author accurately depicts:
- The Reputation Crisis: How the illicit actions of a few individuals (drug trafficking, visa scams) destroy the collective reputation of Nigerians abroad.
- The Ethnic Contrast: The author makes an explicit internal cultural observation, noting that the Hausa diaspora in Malaysia mostly consists of legitimate, state-sponsored students, while accusing other demographics of arriving without academic intent and engaging in nightclub brawls.
- The Immigration Terror: The vivid description of illegal migrants jumping out of high-rise skyscrapers to their deaths during Malaysian immigration raids adds a gritty, realistic undercurrent to the story. It justifies Umaimah’s internal conflict—she hates the Malaysian police for their brutality, yet blames Nigerian politicians for ruining the homeland and forcing its youth to flee.
