Keltoumah Book 1 Complele Sumayya Abdulkadir Takori

Description

By Sumayya Abdulqadir Takori

Page 1

January, 1996

A beautiful, modern single-story house stood in the heart of the prestigious Asokoro neighborhood in the federal capital territory, Abuja. It was not excessively large, but the architectural ingenuity invested in its construction was exemplary. Designed entirely as a sprawling bungalow (flat house), the main structure sat perfectly at the center of the plot. It was enveloped by a lush canopy of climbing flowers that arched over its roof. The roof itself was a deep brown, reminiscent of contemporary foreign designs. Matching the roof, the exterior walls were painted in a sophisticated blend of cream and brown.
Off to the right side of the compound, a detached block of guest rooms had been built. The master of the house had designed these specifically to comfortably accommodate his relatives whenever they traveled down from Kanon Dabo (Kano). The entire compound was beautified by an array of colorful flowers—some tall, some short—which filled the air with a cool, refreshing fragrance and added a stunning visual appeal to the courtyard. Below, a pristine grass carpet blanketed the ground, thick, soft, and cool, bringing an immediate sense of peace and joy to anyone walking through.
Upon entering the main gate, the security guard's lodge sat immediately to the right. Moving slightly further inside, a massive carport sheltered a fleet of vehicles. The cars sat lined up, polished and gleaming, wrapped securely in protective tarpaulins. They were neatly arranged under the canopy so that not a single car brushed against another. Each was a different make and model—the exact kind of high-end automobiles that defined luxury and status for the elite of that era.
This splendid estate belonged to Professor Dr. Hamza Dakata, who held the highly influential position of Permanent Secretary in the Presidency during that very year, 1996.
Inside, the matriarch of the house, Hajiya Maryam Hamza Dakata, was seated in one of the plush, oversized armchairs that adorned the living room. Because of the room's vast size, it easily accommodated three separate, fully furnished seating arrangements without any one section crowding the other. Each corner of the living room featured a unique set of furniture, complete with a matching carpet beneath it. The heavy curtains draping the windows were elegantly striped, incorporating the distinct colors of every furniture set in the room.
Looking at Hajiya Maryam, one would be struck by her radiant beauty and impeccable sense of style. No one looking at her would ever guess she was a mother to the four boys gathered around her, whom she was currently helping with their school homework. A single glance at the children was enough to gauge the immense comfort and luxury they enjoyed. They were all well-nourished and robust, appearing older than their biological years.
The eldest son, who answered to the name Abdul’azeez, was thirteen years old. His younger brothers affectionately called him "Yaya Azeez." Following him was Isma’el, whom his younger siblings called "Ishma," aged nine. Next was Usman, who was seven years old, born just a short time after Isma'el. Hajiya Maryam had experienced a long gap in childbearing after Usman before finally giving birth to her youngest son, Haleem, a lively three-year-old who was not yet old enough for school.
From time to time, Hajiya Maryam glanced up at the wall clock, then looked back down to guide Azeez through his homework. It was obvious from her demeanor that she was waiting for something; she expected her husband to walk through the door at any moment. He usually arrived home long before the Maghrib prayer unless held back by an urgent official matter. Even on the rare occasions he was delayed, he would always call to inform her. Today, however, there was only silence.
Usman eventually voiced the very anxiety scratching at her mind.
"Mammah, where did Daddy go that he isn't back yet? It’s almost past eight o'clock."
Hajiya Maryam let out a soft sigh. "Don't worry, boys. Let me try to reach him on the phone. Perhaps he got caught up with some late paperwork."
She began dialing his number on her mobile phone—the heavy, bulky type commonly referred to as a "brick phone" at the time, reserved only for the ultra-wealthy. She pressed it to her ear, but the line rang out completely without Daddy answering. She tried up to ten times, but there was no response. Suppressing her rising panic, she looked at her sons, who were all staring back at her as if trying to read their father's whereabouts in her eyes. Finding herself at a loss for words, a heavy silence fell over the room.
Just then, the living room door handle turned and someone walked in. The boys instantly snapped their attention to the door, assuming it was Daddy. Instead, it was Jamila, their domestic maid.
She entered respectfully and knelt down before her mistress.
"Mammah, dinner is ready. I have set everything on the dining table."
Mammah sighed softly. "Alright, thank you for your hard work, Jamila. We are waiting for Daddy to arrive before we eat."
Jamila remained kneeling, her head bowed low, making no move to get up. Mammah immediately noticed that the girl had something on her mind.
With a tone of gentle concern, she asked, "Is something the matter, Jamila?"
Jamila shifted slightly, her posture deeply respectful and her eyes fixed on the floor.
"I came to bid you farewell, ma. Tomorrow, I must return to my village."
Hajiya Maryam’s heart sank. She genuinely enjoyed having Jamila around; the girl was sensible, remarkably clean, and deeply respectful. Over the years, Maryam had employed various maids from different towns, but none had ever brought her as much satisfaction and peace of mind as Jamila. Jamila had been with them for three years, having been brought from Kura village shortly after Haleem was born. Throughout those years, she had never done a single thing to upset her employers. Their relationship had been defined by absolute compliance, kindness, and mutual generosity.
Regaining her composure, Maryam asked, "Is everything alright at home? As far as I know, it isn't time for your home visit yet. Didn't you just return a month ago?"
Overcome with a deep, visible shyness, Jamila explained, "Please forgive me, Mammah (using the name she always heard the children call her). I am not leaving because I want to. You have been wonderful to me—righteous people who respect human dignity and treat others with honor, no matter how humble their status. During my recent visit home, I met a suitor. We found ourselves compatible, and our parents have successfully concluded marriage discussions. I promised my parents that I would return after one month for the wedding. I’ve been wanting to tell you ever since I got back, but shyness held me back until now, when the time has finally come."
Hajiya Maryam felt a wave of bittersweet emotion. No matter how much she valued Jamila’s service, she would never stand in the way of a young woman's marriage for her own domestic convenience.
In a soft, gentle voice, she said, "I understand, Jamila. I am very happy for you. May Allah bless your union and fill your future with goodness. Wait here for me, I'll be right back."
She stood up and went to her bedroom. From her bag, she pulled out a thick bundle of cash, three high-quality rolls of Dutch wax print (Holland Atamfa), along with matching shawls, shoes, and three handbags. She brought them back and placed them before Jamila.
"Here is your salary for the next three months in advance. And this is my wedding gift to you. May Allah bless your marriage and grant you peace and stability."
Jamila’s eyes welled with tears. She extended both hands to accept the gifts, pouring out heartfelt prayers of gratitude before rising and returning to the staff quarters.
Abdul’Azeez lifted his eyes from his textbook. He had overheard the entire conversation but had kept his head down until Jamila finally left the room.
"Mammah, is she going back to her hometown for good?" he asked.
"Yes, Abdul’Azeez. She is getting married."
Usman chimed in, "So she won't be coming back at all?"
She nodded gently at them. "Yes, that's right."
A look of genuine sadness clouded the boys' faces; they had grown incredibly fond of Jamila. She took excellent care of them and always treated them with deep affection.
Haleem spoke up, "But Mammah, who is going to carry me on their back now?"
She smiled warmly. "Oh, you are much too big to be carried on anyone's back now, Haleem. Don't worry, boys, we will find another maid. We just need to pray that Allah blesses us with someone who has an excellent character just like Jamila."
They all raised their hands in supplication and said, "Ameen."
Isma’el, who had remained quiet the entire time, offered a thoughtful, mature observation.
"But Mammah, who is going to handle the dishes and all the other chores she used to do for you right now?"
She smiled reassuringly. "I will handle them myself for now, Isma’el. Besides, it won't be long before we find someone else..."
Before she could finish her sentence, the familiar sound of Daddy’s car horn echoed through the compound. Instantly, the boys scrambled into a frantic race to the door. Maryam and her children—mother and sons alike—hurried forward, each wanting to be the very first to greet him.
They reached the door just as the driver parked right in front of the grand glass sliding doors that served as the main entrance to the living room. This was his usual entrance, while visitors and others typically used the kitchen side door.
Daddy walked in with a smile so wide it looked as if his face might split with joy. He opened his arms wide, and the entire family—including Maryam—rushed into his embrace. He looked completely radiant, carried by an unparalleled wave of happiness. It was beautiful evidence of the profound love and deep bond that unified this family.
They walked further into the living room with Daddy lifting little Haleem in his arms. Isma’el and Usman immediately began bombarding him with questions about where he had been and why he was so late. Abdul’aziz, who was naturally quiet and reserved, didn't say much, so his father reached out, grasped his hand, and pulled him down to sit beside him on the sofa.
"Come on, Babban Yaya (Big Brother). Who upset my boy? Why do you look so gloomy?"
Abdul’aziz leaned his head against his father’s chest, his voice laced with worry.
"Daddy, you stayed out so late and we were all incredibly worried. You know we care about you so much."
Caressing the boy’s soft hair with a warm smile, he said, "Whenever you experience this kind of silence from me, know that it brings glad tidings. However, I will not reveal the grand surprise I have brought home until we have all eaten dinner and filled our stomachs. I don't want the excitement to spoil your appetite." He stood up, still holding the hand of Abdul’aziz—his eldest and deeply cherished son.
The family moved to the dining table, where they enjoyed their meal in peaceful, happy contentment. Once finished, they made their declarations of gratitude to Allah (Alhamdulillah) and returned to the living room sofas.
Daddy looked at each of them, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"We have been locked in meetings with the President since morning. The Ambassador to Saudi Arabia has officially retired, and by the special grace of Allah, I have been appointed to take his seat. So, start packing your bags, family. In just two short weeks, we are relocating permanently to the city of Jeddah!"
Usman and Isma’el instantly erupted into cheers, jumping up and down with excitement. Remarkably, Abdul’aziz did not join in. Instead, a look of profound distress washed over his face.
Noticing this, Daddy pulled the boy closer to his side. "What is it, Azeez? Why aren't you celebrating?"
The boy frowned slightly, speaking in a quiet, deliberate tone. "Daddy, I love Nigeria. I don't want to leave it for any other country. I want to grow up here, live here, get my education here, and support my country in the future. Whenever people attain success, the first thing they do is run away from Nigeria. I want to be exempted from those who do that."
His father stared at him in utter amazement. He could barely believe that a thirteen-year-old boy was speaking with such profound patriotism. He knew his son well enough to recognize that these words came from the very depths of his heart. As a man who deeply respected his children's personal perspectives, he focused entirely on addressing the boy's concerns.
"You cannot effectively help our nation, Abdul’azeez, without first gaining an education, exposing yourself to the wider world, and learning from nations that have already structured and advanced themselves. Furthermore, moving to Saudi Arabia is an immense spiritual blessing, Azeez. You will be living right on the doorstep of the House of Allah (the Kaaba), where you can go and pray for anything your heart desires. You will have access to exceptional Islamic schools unlike any we have here. You will enjoy blessed food and absolute peace of mind. The benefits are endless, and besides, we aren't staying there forever. It is an assignment for a specific, calculated duration. So, ease your heart, okay? Let’s go and build a beautiful new life together," he urged, gently patting the boy's shoulders.
To his surprise, Abdul’azeez looked up and countered, "Daddy, I am perfectly happy with my life here. I love my school (The Regent School). I don't want to leave it or my friends behind. Since I am already a boarding student, I can simply stay back here and fly out to visit you in Saudi Arabia whenever we go on break at the end of every school term."
Hajiya Maryam, who had been listening quietly up until now, finally intervened. "Abdul’aziz, you are being far too stubborn. Your father has explained everything beautifully, yet you refuse to accept it. Why?"
"I understand, Mammah. Everything Daddy said is absolutely true. There is no land as blessed as Saudi Arabia. But I love my country, Nigeria, and this is where I want to live my life."
Both parents stared at him, completely dumbfounded by his resolve. Daddy softened his voice, asking, "Can you really cope with living so far away from us, Abdul’azeez?"
"I can, Daddy. I told you, I will spend every vacation with you in Saudi Arabia or go to Kano. I just want to live and study here in Nigeria."
His father nodded slowly, choosing to honor the boy's fierce independence. "Very well then, Abdul’azeez. Since this is your choice, we accept it."
Only then did a bright, relieved smile finally break across Abdul’azeez's face.
As the week progressed, Hajiya Maryam threw herself into preparing for their relocation to Jeddah. Her only lingering stress was their lack of domestic help. Jamila had departed the morning after their conversation. Maryam had deeply wished that Jamila could accompany them on this blessed journey, which would have transformed the girl's life as well. But marriage had taken her away, making any future employment impossible.
While resting in her living room, she called her close friend living in Abuja, Hajiya Halima. Halima’s husband was a high-ranking Controller of Customs, and she was the one who had originally sourced Jamila for Maryam. Maryam informed her of the urgent need for a replacement maid to accompany them to Saudi Arabia, following her husband's ambassadorial appointment.
Hajiya Halima congratulated her warmly. She noted that there wasn't enough time to travel to the village to source a new girl from scratch. However, she mentioned that a girl named Habiba had just been brought to her own house the previous day. She proposed that Maryam take Habiba, while she took her time to find another maid for herself later. She told Maryam to send her driver to pick the girl up immediately. Overwhelmed with gratitude, Hajiya Maryam thanked her friend profusely, bid her farewell, and stated that her driver was already on his way.
Alkasim, Hajiya's driver, arrived at Halima's residence and picked up Habiba. She was a beautiful young woman, though clearly mature—appearing to be around twenty-nine years old. Hajiya Maryam took an immediate liking to her, as she radiated cleanliness and vibrant energy. From her very first day, Habiba amazed Hajiya Maryam by working with the relentless efficiency of a generator.
When Maryam informed her about the relocation to Saudi Arabia and asked if she needed to visit her hometown to inform her family and bid them farewell, Habiba bluntly replied that she had no one left in the world. She added that she had even forgotten the name of her home village, concluding that she had absolutely no problem traveling with them, even if it meant going as far as China.
Ordinarily, Hajiya Maryam should have probed deeper into such an unusual background story. However, because she was entirely desperate to secure domestic help before their imminent departure, she didn't delve into the matter. She simply assumed that some deep domestic heartbreak or family dispute had driven the girl away from home. She immediately arranged for Habiba's passport to be processed, and Daddy collected it alongside the family's travel documents.
Dr. Hamza was generally wary of the stream of maids his wife frequently brought into the house. Maryam would always pacify him by explaining that the domestic chores of their massive household were simply too overwhelming for her to manage alone. However, these maids never prepared the food he ate; Maryam always handled her husband's cooking personally.
Hajiya Maryam was absolutely thrilled to have Habiba around. It seemed they were perfectly compatible, as Habiba possessed all of Jamila’s excellent qualities and even surpassed her in speed and efficiency.

Page 2

THEIR ORIGINS

The household of the late Malam Abdullahi Dakata was an iconic and highly respected landmark in the Dakata quarters of Kano State. It was widely regarded as an exemplary family estate because Malam Abdullahi had successfully educated all his sons and daughters, providing them with both profound Islamic knowledge and advanced Western education.
Until the day he departed this world, Malam Abdullahi’s primary business was the importation and wholesale of high-grade fabrics and shadda materials, which he brought in directly from Cotonou and stocked in his massive textile boutique at the famous Kantin Kwari market. Through this thriving business, he single-handedly provided for his large family, instilling in them excellent moral discipline and an enviable level of education that had now become the pride of the entire community. Malam Abdullahi passed away long before his children rose to their current positions of immense power and influence. Thus, he never lived to see the grand fruits of his educational investments.
All his children were born of the same mother, the late Inna Rabi. He left behind four children: three sons and one daughter. The eldest son of Malam Abdullahi was Atiku, whom the family affectionately addressed as Baffa Atiku. Following him was their sister, Adda Hafsatu, then Abdulkarim Dakata, and the youngest of the siblings, Idris Abdullahi Dakata. Allah took the life of their mother, Inna Rabi, when Idris was twenty-five years old.
Baffa Atiku, as the eldest patriarch of Malam Abdullahi’s lineage, was the biological father of Dr. Hamza, whom he had with his wife, Inna Ramatu. They were advanced in years, though they couldn't be described as elderly. Dr. Hamza was their only child.
The next brother after Baffa Atiku was Abdulkarim Dakata, who was currently a distinguished Senator representing the Kano Central senatorial district, residing in Abuja with his family.
Adda Hafsatu, the second child of Malam Abdullahi, was the biological mother of Hajiya Maryam. Hajiya Maryam was her eldest daughter, followed by four younger sisters: Anty Luba, Anty Furairah, Anty Mariya, and Aunty Murja. The youngest of Adda Hafsatu’s children was Ibrahima, who was currently pursuing his first degree in Economics at the prestigious Ahmadu Bello University. Lubabatu, Furairah, Mariya, and Murja had all been married off immediately after completing their secondary school education, and they all lived in Kano with their respective families.
The youngest son of the family, Idris Dakata, was a medical student at the University of Maiduguri. He had not yet taken a wife and was fondly called "Uncle Idris" by both the youth and elders of this blessed lineage.
Adda Hafsatu, Hajiya Maryam’s mother, had served as a dedicated civil servant for thirty long years. Now retired and widowed, she lived permanently in the family house, dedicating her days to her children and grandchildren, as her husband, Alhaji Hassan, had passed away many years prior.
This meant that Hajiya Maryam and Dr. Hamza were first cousins—the daughter of the sister and the son of the brother. They had grown up in the exact same household, receiving the same disciplined upbringing. Their subsequent marriage was not an arranged family union; Hamza had openly declared his love for Maryam ever since she was a little girl. Interestingly, with the sole exception of Hamza and Maryam, no one else within the extended family engaged in cousin marriage; every other member sourced their life partners from outside the lineage.
The two were wedded before Maryam even completed her first university degree, while Hamza was working as a young lecturer at Bayero University, Kano. He attained the rank of Professor at a remarkably young age due to his brilliant research, extensive writing, and numerous publications in his specialized field of Political Science. He went on to hold three successive high-ranking government appointments within the Federal Government before Allah elevated him to the position of Permanent Secretary in the Presidency. The role had been offered to him directly by a childhood friend of his late father. Following this appointment, he packed up his household and relocated to Abuja with his family.
The Dakata family home became even more famous in the neighborhood due to the high-ranking positions of its eldest son and grandson: Permanent Secretary Hamza and the prominent politician Senator Abdulkarim. Day and night, whenever these two men visited Kano, they poured immense, life-changing financial aid and philanthropy into their neighborhood and its surroundings.
Currently, the grand old estate of the late Malam Abdullahi was occupied by his eldest son, Baffa Atiku, and his wife, Hajiya Ramatu (Dr. Hamza’s parents). Uncle Idris also kept his residential quarters on the second floor of the traditional entryway block (soro), staying there whenever he came home for university breaks.
Furthermore, after the late Alhaji Hassan's estate was sold and the inheritance was distributed among Hajiya Maryam and her siblings, their mother, Adda Hafsatu, chose to return to this family house. She renovated the rooms that belonged to their late mother, Inna Rabi, and settled down comfortably alongside her brother, Baffa Atiku, and his wife, Ramatu, living in absolute harmony.
There were no young children left living under their direct care except for Adda’s youngest son, Ibrahim, who had just started university. Even so, the rooms of Adda Hafsatu and Inna Ramatu were never empty of children, because the children of Luba, Mariya, Furairah, and Murja constantly flocked to the house over weekends and school holidays. Adda Hafsatu accorded Inna Ramatu the highest level of respect, fully recognizing her dual status as her elder brother’s wife and her sister-in-law. Yet, on many days, they completely forgot their formal in-law status and interacted purely as close friends, focusing on their mutual well-being and doting on their numerous grandchildren. Inna Ramatu carried her matriarchal status with profound grace, defining her interactions with generosity and kindness. As a result, peace, love, emotional stability, and abundant wealth characterized the household of the late Abdullahi Dakata.
Their successful children provided them with every luxury imaginable, completely taking over the financial maintenance of their parents' lives. Dr. Hamza personally shouldered the educational funding for both Uncle Idris and Ibrahim, as he was known to be far more open-handed and financially generous than his cousin, Senator Abdulkarim.
All preparations for Ambassador Hamza Atiku Dakata and his family’s relocation to Saudi Arabia were finally completed. The following day, they traveled down to Kano to bid farewell to their extended family. The ancestral home erupted into an energetic celebration upon their arrival.
It happened to be a Sunday, so Luba and the other sisters had already gathered at the house with their children, keeping up with their weekly family routine. Uncle Idris had also traveled down from Maiduguri, as he was currently undergoing his medical housemanship at the Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital.
The only family members missing from the gathering were those of Senator Abdulkarim, who remained in Abuja. Truth be told, there was a palpable rift on his side of the family. As is common in large families, friction and coldness often manifest, and Senator Abdulkarim had simply not been fortunate in his choice of a wife. His wife, Anty Zuwaira, intensely disliked him interacting with or spending his wealth on his relatives, nor did she want the family leaning on his success. It was a rare sight to ever see them in Kano; the Senator typically limited his contact to phone calls or sending emissaries, a reality that every member of the extended family had quietly come to accept.
His children were completely estranged from their paternal relatives, interacting exclusively with their mother’s side of the family, as she was the daughter of another highly influential figure in Abuja. She maintained a casual social relationship with Hajiya Maryam, primarily because Maryam’s husband held a matching, if not superior, elite status in government. While a loose friendship existed between Zuwaira's three sons—Farhan, Ramadhan, and Sha’aban—and Maryam’s boys, they remained entirely cut off from the rest of the extended family in Kano.
The Dakata family compound was beautifully alive, packed with Malam Abdullahi’s descendants—men, women, and children alike. Adda Hafsatu and the household domestic staff bustled back and forth between the large kitchen and the central courtyard, preparing a massive afternoon feast. The glorious news of Dr. Hamza’s ambassadorial appointment had reached the family long before his arrival.
The family members sat comfortably in the grand main living room of the late patriarch, exchanging warm pleasantries and engaging in happy family chatter. Dr. Hamza turned his attention to his youngest uncle, Idris (the youngest brother of Baffa Atiku), inquiring about the current stage of his medical career. Idris happily informed him that he was currently completing his housemanship program right here in Kano. Hamza then turned his attention back to Luba and the sisters...