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English Translation
Innaji clicked her tongue in annoyance before standing up and returning the honey jar to its spot. Feeling completely drained and heavy-hearted, she looked at Aabidah, who was wailing deeply, and asked:
"So now, what are you going to do about what the sorcerer said—that you should draw this boy Maheer close to you?"
Angrily, Aabidah snapped:
"Innaji, why do you sometimes speak without thinking? What do I care about some Maheer right now? An elephant's footprints overshadow a camel's footprints, Innaji. Right now, my biggest worry in the world is finding out where Khadijatou is. I want to hunt her down myself before Aabii finds her. I want to put her away for good so everyone can finally have peace. This time, I won't make any mistakes in ensuring she never returns to our lives ever again."
Jauharah pulled back the curtain and stared at Aabidah. Startled, Aabidah turned her gaze toward the sound. Their eyes locked: Jauharah was heavily intoxicated, her eyes half-closed and fluttering as if she were fighting sleep. Aabidah let out a harsh hiss and looked at Innaji, demanding:
"When did this girl return home from her endless wandering?"
Innaji threw her hands up, curling her lips in disgust.
"She came back just as you see her now, because she didn't sleep in this house. As for her and that good-for-nothing companion of hers, you can never tell when they come in or when they go out. Hey you! When did you return to this house?"
Moving with the unsteady, swaying gait of a drunkard, Jauharah made her way to the nearest chair and collapsed onto it, blinking sluggishly. In a voice raspy like that of an old woman who smoked cigarettes, she slurred:
"Mine just dropped me off and left. Big Sister, I heard you talking about that miserable owl. Where is she? Let me send some people to secretly take care of her for you! You know how much joy you bring me, so I must return the favor to help a friend in need."
Aabidah let out a long, exasperated hiss before replying:
"Is this the kind of help I can benefit from, Jauharah? God curse the life you've dragged yourself into. You haven't even saved yourself, let alone help me. I've wasted my money on you for nothing, wasted my time and energy on you, and in the end, you've both turned out completely useless. Get up and get out of here before I take out all this frustration inside me on you."
Jauharah puckered her lips, stood up swaying unsteadily, and retreated into her room, slamming the door shut. Aabidah hissed again, clutching her head and continuing to weep—tears that somehow offered her a momentary sense of release with every drop that fell. She stayed at her family home past midday that day out of sheer terror of returning to Aabid's house and having him bring up Khadijatou's name again. Her heart couldn't bear hearing the name of her ultimate enemy spoken by the man she loved more than anyone else in the world. With every tick of the clock, Aabidah's heart skipped a beat. She could neither eat nor drink due to anxiety and dread. Meanwhile, Innaji had Laure prepare a rich, nourishing meal of chicken and rice, which she ate to her heart's content and washed down with a cold soda. Seeing how indifferently Innaji was feasting without a single care for the crisis Aabidah was drowning in, Aabidah snatched up her car keys, threw her shawl over her shoulders, and slipped her feet into her shoes, storming out of the house without even a word of farewell.
She drove straight to the home of her friend and partner in malice, Hajiya Zaitunah. Right from the gate, the watchman could tell Hajiya Aabidah was not in her right mind by the reckless way she was driving. Hastily killing the engine, she stepped out and entered Hajiya Zaitunah's house. She found the Hajiya sitting with her children in the living room watching television. The children cast a single glance at Aabidah and immediately looked away, continuing their show. They were thoroughly spoiled and entitled children who didn't bother greeting anyone unless they felt like it. Noticing Aabidah's distressed state, Hajiya Zaitunah—who was eight years older than Aabidah—stood up and followed her to her bedroom. The moment they stepped inside, Aabidah collapsed onto the edge of the bed and burst into tears. With deep concern, Hajiya Zaitunah rubbed Aabidah's back and asked:
"My friend, what is wrong that you're crying like this? What happened to your Aabii? I hope it's not a divorce..."
"May God forbid Aabid ever divorcing me! Death is the only thing that will ever part us—either he buries me, or I bury him. My friend, a massive problem has resurfaced—something we dug a deep hole for and buried a long time ago. And now, it has popped back up when we least expected it."
Hajiya Zaitunah's eyes widened in horror. She clapped a hand to her chest and gasped:
"Don't tell me that witch has come back into your lives?!"
"Why do you never speak words of good omen? As long as the sorcerer is alive, I refuse to believe Khadijatou can ever return to our lives."
"Then what is there to shake you up so badly if you know she won't return? Or are you starting to face the same kind of trouble I'm dealing with?"
Aabidah let out a heavy sigh, wiping away the mucus threatening to run down her nose using a tissue from the bedside table. With a heavy heart, she narrated everything happening to her. Hajiya Zaitunah uttered invocations of shock and declared:
"Well, this news of yours is practically equivalent to Khadijatou walking right back into your lives, Aabidah. It's something we already knew, but we overlooked it—magic stays embedded in a person's life over time unless it is broken or the victim dies. And knowing Khadijatou, she is stubborn and relentlessly headstrong. Don't forget all the traps we set for her in the past, yet the girl managed to slip through every single one. So, my advice to you is simple: go back to the sorcerer, have him repeat the spells cast before, and I promise to scour Kano city and its surroundings to help you find a fresh spot to bury the charms just like we did last time."
Tears streamed down Aabidah's face yet again. Her voice trembling, she said:
"None of these calculations are possible according to the sorcerer. In fact, we parted ways on bitter terms—look right here, this is where he grabbed me and slammed me against the wall until the skin peeled off."
"By all appearances, his hands are losing their potency indeed, which is why our affairs are falling apart. Now, I want you to get ready; the day after tomorrow, I will take you to a new sorcerer I heard about through Zinariya's circle. I need to renew my own work too, because lately, I can't make sense of my Dad's behavior..."
The bedroom door was suddenly shoved open with a crash. A formidable, stern-looking man strode in, stopping at the threshold and glaring at them with fury radiating from his eyes. He raised a finger, pointing at Aabidah, who froze in terror as she watched Hajiya Zaitunah's body tremble. Aabida recognized the man instantly—he was the same worker they used to boss around and send to fetch drinking water in the past. Seeing him breathing heavily like a caged lion, all the blood drained from her face. She scrambled up, slung her bag over her shoulder, and fled the room. Rushing straight to her car, she flung herself inside and let out a huge sigh of relief as if she had just escaped a marathon. The moment she started the engine, the watchman threw the gate wide open, and she sped out into the street. All the way back, she could think of nothing except the shocking transformation she had witnessed in Hajiya Zaitunah's household. Instantly, fear and anxiety multiplied within her chest. With a trembling voice, she muttered:
"What on earth is happening to our lives? I must find a solution for myself right now, because I will never allow Aabii to regain his senses the way Hajiya Zee's husband regained his!"
Arriving home, she leaned heavily on her car horn. The watchman scrambled to drop his food, flung open the gate, and greeted her. Aabidah paid him no mind, parked her car, and stared at Aabid's vehicle, which was parked at a haphazard, aggressive angle. With a sinking heart and creeping dread, she slipped into the house, terrified of what she might encounter inside. As she pushed open the ground-floor parlor door, she found things as she had left them—except for Aabid's shoes abandoned right in the middle of the room, looking as though they had been tossed there on purpose. Slowly, she walked up the stairs directly to her room, washed up, and applied meticulous makeup while slipping into the skimpy nightwear that Aabid used to go crazy for. She slipped into his room: the main lights were off, save for a dim glowing bulb, and playing softly from his phone was a Quranic recitation that hadn't been listened to or read in that house for years.
He was lying on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling with bloodshot, reddened eyes. What tormented him most was a chaotic tangle of racing thoughts, a scrambled mind, a splitting headache, and a persistent, suffocating sense of dread. The familiar scent of Aabidah's perfume caused him to close his eyes, letting tears pool and spill over the edges, trickling down to soak into his ears. Without bothering to wipe them away, he shifted his red eyes to stare at Aabidah's face as she sat beside him, struck completely dumb by terror over what might happen next. She felt like a total stranger in her own skin.
Aabid reached a hand out to her with a look of lingering care. Seeing this, she immediately lunged forward, burying herself in his arms and breaking down in wracking sobs. He let out a deep, heavy sigh and began stroking her back soothingly. No matter how hard he tried to open his mouth and speak to her, the words refused to come. Exhausted, Aabidah eventually drifted into a troubled sleep filled with haunting nightmares—she prayed desperately to wake up and open her eyes just to make them stop, but alas, the realm of terrifying dreams held her completely captive.
Thus, life inside Aabid's house transformed into a realm of stifling silence, fear, anxiety, and distress. He completely lost his smiles and abandoned all the routines he used to perform for her. He stopped going to his office; most times when calls came in from work, he would let them ring out until they disconnected. Knowing that the spell she had cast on him was slowly wearing off from his body, she didn't dare raise her voice at him or scold him, let alone task him with any errands. Even when he played Quranic recitations, she sat there helpless, forced to listen.
Aabidah would struggle to cook meals that neither of them touched, eventually dumping them on the watchman—who would pick out the meat to eat and feed the rest to the neighbor's dog. Two days later, Aabid woke up feeling like a completely renewed man. A sharp wave of longing for his mother and sister overtook his heart. He dressed meticulously in a crisp, expensive gezna wrapper and matching flowing robe (babban riga), topped with a brand-new cap and luxury shoes that befitted his station. The moment Aabidah saw him dressed like this, panic seized her. Employing all her charm and seduction, she pressed against him, trying to figure out where he was heading, but Aabid remained completely silent and unresponsive. Whining petulantly, Aabidah rested her head against his chest and said:
"Aabii, what wrong have I committed in this house that you've stopped talking to me, stopped treating me like your legal wife? Every day we go to sleep and wake up without anything passing between us. When I cook for you, you just tell me to throw it away and order food from outside. Have you stopped loving me, Aabii?"
She finished her words with a fresh flood of tears and bitter anguish. Aabid drew a long, deep breath, exhaled slowly, and gently guided her to sit on the sofa. He lifted her chin, wiped away her tears, and then spoke with hesitation, as if afraid of his own words:
"Even I don't know what has been wrong with me these past few days, Baby... most times, my chest, my head, and my heart feel so heavy... Aabidah, I feel deep inside that I've lost something terribly important in my life. My instincts tell me there is something I want, something waiting for me, or... I just don't know what is happening to me. Please bear with me through all these changes you're seeing in me. By God's grace, everything will return to exactly how it was in the beginning."
"By God's grace, nothing will return to the way it was in the beginning—!"
Aabidah blurted out in a panicked slip of the tongue. Aabid snapped his head around to look at her in utter astonishment. Quickly covering up her blunder, she began manufacturing distractions to pull his attention away, but to her utter failure, Aabid simply bypassed her and walked out of the room. She clutched her head, let out a soft cry of anguish, slapped her own cheek, and whispered:
"By all means, if the sorcerer doesn't find a quick solution to this mess of mine, I am going to lose my mind from stress."
Aabid.
He spent a long time turning Aabidah's words over in his mind, but he failed to comprehend what her slip of the tongue had meant. Driving through streets and neighborhoods lost in thought, he finally arrived in front of his family's old family home. Upon arrival, he noticed that the house had been freshly repainted, and fresh landscaping and flower beds had been planted in the open patches. A smile crossed his face because he was certain nobody else would undertake such work except Maheer. A sudden, overwhelming wave of longing for Maheer washed over him; it felt as though he had gone years without seeing him. He marched straight up to the gate with the intention of walking right in. However, the sight of a man dressed in a military uniform made him stop short, eyeing the guard for an explanation. The soldier stared right back at Aabid and barked:
"Hey! Where do you think you're going, trying to walk in here without permission?"
Aabid flashed the soldier a hostile, defiant glare and snapped:
"It's my father's house, why do I need your permission to walk into it? Who are you anyway?"
The soldier chuckled, realizing Aabid had no idea the house had been sold. In a brief, matter-of-fact tone, he informed him that the property had been sold to his boss, and they had moved in just that very week. Aabid's jaw dropped in shock, unable to process who could have possibly sold their ancestral family home without his consent. Retreating a few steps, he pulled out his phone and dialed Maheer's number. It rang for a long time before cutting off unanswered. Undeterred, Aabid dialed again. Finally, growing exasperated with Aabid's persistence, Maheer picked up the phone and yelled angrily:
"For God's sake, what kind of annoying calls are you bombarding me with, Aabid?!"
Quickly pulling the phone away from his ear to stare at the screen before placing it back, Aabid demanded:
"Maheer, it's me, Aabid."
"So what if it's Aabid?!"
Flabbergasted by Maheer's complete shift in attitude, Aabid blurted out:
"Oh, I get it now! So you're the one who instigated Mahreen into selling our ancestral family home behind my back, right? How could you betray the bonds of brotherhood between us, Maheer?"
Burning with fury, Maheer fired back:
"Excuse me? What do you mean by claiming I instigated Mahreen into selling your family home? Oh! Oh, is this the angle you're playing now, Aabid? Have you completely forgotten all the insults, cruelty, and degradation you put everyone through? Aabid, where on earth are you right now, anyway?"
"I am standing right at the door of my old family home—the one you sneaked around and sold behind my back! Let me tell you, Maheer, I will never let this betrayal go unpunished!"
Without waiting for a reply, Aabid disconnected the call, jumped back into his car, and sped off toward his house with his blood boiling with rage.
As for Maheer, he sat in silence for a long time, pondering the bizarre exchange with Aabid, before dropping to his knees in prostration to thank Allah and offer his deepest praises to God. Without a second thought for the gathering darkness of night, Maheer eagerly packed and left his home filled with a profound sense of anticipation.
MUGUWAR MACE (The Wicked Woman) By: HAMIDAH SANUSI AHMAD HAERMEEEBRAERH ✨✍️
FLASHBACK: THE PRIDE OF THE JOURNEY...
Kura Local Government Area in Kano State, located about 35 kilometers south of Kano city, is one of the premier agricultural and rice-processing hubs in Kano State and Nigeria as a whole. Rice farming thrives across nearly every corner of the district. Kura town serves as the grand center for agricultural commerce and rice-milling industries (such as Golden Grains Agro-processing Co. LTD).
Almighty Allah has blessed Kura with abundant water resources—particularly from the Kano River, which supports both dry-season and rainy-season farming—along with fertile soils ideal for rice and food crop cultivation. The people of Kura grew up witnessing their parents and grandparents heavily invested in farming and trading agricultural produce within Kano, across other Nigerian states, and even internationally.
Musa Abdulwahab Musa Kura, better known as Aabid, was one of those fortunate individuals born into the lineage of dedicated farmers in this abundantly blessed land of Kura. Aabid's grandfather, Malam Musa, was a native of Kura who grew up driven by hard work, agricultural expertise, and livestock rearing. Because of this, the townspeople held him in high esteem, constantly consulting him for major government agricultural projects so the community could benefit from his wisdom.
The primary reason Malam Musa never became counted among the ultra-wealthy of Kura and its surroundings was simply destiny. Indeed, only destiny could prevent a man as knowledgeable and hardworking as Malam Musa from rising to immense wealth. Often, after returning from the farm exhausted and empty-handed, he would sit in deep contemplation, chin in hands, pondering his fate. His devoted wife, Atine, would bring him his meal and drinking water; seeing no meat or rich sauce in the bowl, he would smile and say:
"You see, Atine, Allah's plans and wisdom are completely different from those of His creation. Every living soul you see in this world has their provision fully written down even while in their mother's womb. That is why you will see someone born into a life of ease, knowing nothing of hardship or struggling through heat, rain, and cold, yet they are blessed with vast wealth and endless avenues of income. Another person you will see striving frantically day and night as if willing to sacrifice their life just to survive, yet they spend the entire day without earning a single penny. And yet another goes out daily, putting their body and life at risk through grueling labor just to scrape together enough to feed for that single day."
Whenever Malam Musa uttered these reflections, Atine would smile and reply:
"Your words are as solid as rock, Malam, because we ourselves are prime examples of how Allah provides for whoever He wills. Since I am also tireless in my own daily grind, yet here we are, day in and day out."
Thus, Malam Musa and Atine lived through scarcity and poverty until they welcomed their firstborn child. As the seventh day—the naming ceremony—approached, Malam Musa sat by his doorstep at early dawn weeping, heartbroken over lacking the money to buy a ram for his only son's naming ceremony. Atine's maternal aunt and confidante, Gwaggo Kande, found him sitting there shedding tears after she returned from fetching bathwater for Atine from the outdoor bathhouse. Full of sympathy, she sat down a short distance from him and said:
"Malam Musa, you must exercise patience in your heart, for whatever exists belongs solely to Allah. You are neither the first person to struggle to afford a naming ceremony for a firstborn, nor will you be the last."
He wiped his tears, blew his congested nose, and answered:
"Gwaggo Kande, it is not that I am questioning Allah's decree. I simply wonder why livestock rearing has never blessed me the way it has blessed my fellow farmers and relatives, who all own flourishing herds. For God's sake, if I had livestock right now, would I be reduced to this humiliating situation?"
Gwaggo Kande shook her head and replied:
"Not at all, Malam Musa. But I want you to remember that whatever befalls a servant happens with Allah's divine knowledge. Be patient and thank Allah that He has granted you life and the health to strive—even if you haven't accumulated wealth, you still go out and earn enough to feed yourself and your family."
"True, but Gwaggo, look at the people I advise on farming and livestock management—even those I personally mentor on agricultural strategies to achieve prosperity—they have all grown wealthy and beyond the struggles of their households. Here I am, unable to afford even the meal for my firstborn son's naming day, let alone an animal to slaughter."
Slowly, Gwaggo Kande stood up, brushed down her wrapper, and said:
"As for that, Atine and I have already discussed it. Today itself, her inherited ewe—which has been kept and multiplied at the family compound—will be brought to her. As for the offspring, some sheep and goats will be set aside to continue breeding for her. And I personally promise to provide the food items for the naming feast. So calm your mind and stop torturing yourself with worries that will only bring you illness."
Malam Musa knelt down in deep gratitude, bowing before Gwaggo Kande as if to prostrate in thanks. Atine stepped out wrapped in a cloth with another tied over her head, arriving just in time to witness this. Seeing her, Malam Musa hurried over and showered her with gratitude for shielding his dignity. She merely smiled at him and walked toward the bathhouse.
That same day, Malam Musa gathered whatever grain he had left, took it to the market to sell, and returned with ingredients for soup, three sets of baby clothes, and a brand-new headscarf, necklace, and coral earrings for Atine. Overjoyed, Atine showered him with prayers, asking Allah to multiply his wealth and bless their son, Abdulwahab.
Following Abdulwahab's naming ceremony, Atine and Malam Musa continued raising their son with immense care, affection, and parental love. Malam Musa redoubled his efforts to secure a prosperous life for his family. By the grace of Allah, his fortunes finally began to open up: he started accumulating livestock and breeding them at home just as he had always dreamed. Gradually, Malam Musa began acquiring and expanding tracts of land. By the time Abdulwahab turned eight years old, he enrolled him in Western education after seeing local children attending school. However, unlike...
Comprehensive Summary
This continuation of "Muguwar Mace" exposes the crumbling psychological walls of Aabidah’s manipulation and traces the deep historical roots of Aabid’s family background.
- Aabidah's Desperation: Back at home, Aabidah reels from the realization that her sorcerer's influence is failing, mirroring the psychological recovery of Hajiya Zaitunah's husband. Terrified that Aabid is slipping away from her control, she desperately attempts to seduce and placate him when he suddenly emerges dressed like a new man, radiating clarity and longing for his family.
- Aabid's Awakening: Aabid experiences a spontaneous mental clearing, lifting the heavy fog of manipulation. Driven by sudden warmth and nostalgia, he visits his ancestral family home, only to discover it has been sold. Enraged, he confronts Maheer over the phone, accusing him of orchestrating the sale behind his back—igniting a fierce defense from Maheer, who turns to prayer in gratitude.
- The Flashback Origins: The narrative transitions into a rich historical flashback set in Kura Local Government Area, Kano State. It introduces Aabid's grandfather, Malam Musa—a brilliant, hardworking, yet persistently poor farmer and agricultural consultant. Through Malam Musa and his wife Atine, the text explores themes of divine destiny (qadr), generational resilience, and the quiet dignity of honest labor, contrasting the humble beginnings of the family with the later accumulation of wealth.
Detailed Narrative Description
- The Psychology of Paranoia: Aabidah's panic highlights the fragility of manufactured control. Her reliance on occult shortcuts ("sorcerers" and "charms") contrasts sharply with the natural, organic healing of Aabid's mind as the spell fades.
- The Irony of Confrontation: Aabid’s misplaced fury toward Maheer over the house sale highlights how deeply his memory and perception were warped by manipulation. While he blames Maheer for betrayal, the reader knows the family was forced into desperate straits due to the wreckage caused by Aabid's toxic marriage to Aabida.
- The Cultural Anchoring of Kura: The extended flashback grounds the novel in authentic agrarian realism. By detailing the geography, the Kano River irrigation, and the rice-milling economy of Kura, the author provides sociological depth, showing that Aabid comes from a lineage of earthy, grounded dignity—making his current moral and emotional collapse all the more tragic.
Advanced Analytical Breakdown
1. Thematic Analysis
- The Fragility of Occult Control: Aabidah’s frantic reliance on sorcery underscores a core moral theme in Northern Nigerian literature: supernatural manipulations are temporary and ultimately destined to crumble when confronted with human conscience and divine grace.
- Destiny vs. Human Effort: The philosophical dialogue between Malam Musa and Atine regarding wealth, poverty, and divine apportionment (Arziƙi) adds a layer of theological fatalism. It suggests that true nobility lies in perseverance and contentment rather than material abundance.
- Misdirected Blame: Aabid’s anger at Maheer represents psychological projection. Incapable of facing his own role in his family's ruin, he redirects his frustration outward, blaming the very brother-in-law who stepped in to keep the family afloat.
2. Literary and Stylistic Devices
- Temporal Shifting (The Flashback): The transition from the high-stress, tense domestic thriller of the present to the warm, rustic, generational storytelling of Kura provides a necessary narrative breath, contextualizing who Aabid's family truly was before corruption and toxicity took root.
- Contrast in Domestic Spaces: Aabidah’s tense, sterile, anxiety-ridden mansion stands in stark contrast to the cooperative, poverty-touched but loving household of Malam Musa and Atine, emphasizing how love and integrity outweigh physical luxury.
