Kwanan Gida Compeleted Book

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KWANAN GIDA BOOK COMPELETE 

The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed as he stood directly in front of me, staring straight into my eyes. I couldn't meet his gaze; I lowered my head, my heart pounding violently against my chest. He raised his hand, gently lifting my chin, and said, "Swear by the greatness of Allah who created you in this world that you did not attempt to abort this pregnancy, Amina."

I remained silent, saying nothing. By this time, my legs had begun to tremble out of fear and intense anxiety, because I could not sense any peace or acceptance of fate coming from him.

He stood up and went to perform ablution. As I sat watching him, he opened a drawer, took out the Holy Quran (the sixty Hizb edition), and returned to sit beside me, saying, "I can swear to you by Allah that you are not speaking the truth, Amina, and the doctor's explanation was the absolute truth."

I replied, "What is so grave that it requires swearing on the Quran? You know better than anyone that such a thing is a huge risk, and the Quran is not a plaything."

"I did not bring out the Quran to play with it, Amina. By Allah, the One and Only, you attempted to abort my child. I want you to get up, go perform ablution just as I did, take the Quran, place it on your head, and swear by Allah. If you do that, I swear I will trust you one hundred percent."

"I will perform ablution, but I have no right to embrace or hold the Quran because I am not in a state of purity. Even if I were, I wouldn't take such a reckless risk, honestly."

He stared at me for a long time before uttering, "Alright then, since you won't answer me, why did you conceal the existence of this pregnancy from me without telling me?"

I stayed silent, gazing slightly at my fingernails before saying, "There was no strong reason. I only delayed telling you so that when you came to town, you would see it with your own eyes. Besides, Anti Yagana told me that keeping it secret for a bit was a mistake. Please, for God's sake, forgive me."

"It's not forgiveness I'm asking of you, Amina; I told you to tell me the truth. As long as it is just the two of us in this room, if you argue with me, I will report what you did to your sister and also tell my mother."

I stared at him with a troubled expression and said, "I told you the truth, and if you refuse to believe it, do you want me to lie to you? Why on earth would I want to abort the pregnancy? It wasn't conceived out of wedlock."

He suddenly jumped to his feet in a fit of rage! "You did illegitimate things to it the moment you tried to abort it for me! May Allah judge between us, and I will never forgive you, Amina."

He spoke with his entire body shaking and his eyes glowing bright red.

I jumped to my feet as well, with a defensive posture, and retorted, "What do you mean by 'May Allah judge between us'? That's it—whenever fate happens, it must be blamed on me! I am a Muslim woman; I know what religion teaches. Even a pregnancy conceived through unlawful means is forbidden to abort, let alone one conceived through a lawful marriage. I see no reason why you people keep trying to pin a crime on me..." Before I could finish, he struck a heavy blow across my cheek, sending me stumbling downward in a violent rush—an incident that had never happened between us before. Even as a joke, he had never attempted to lay a hand on me with the intent to hit me.

With his body shaking, he muttered, "The crime has been pinned on you because you have no faith and no purity of heart, Amina. I have long known that you are capable of doing worse things to me since you never live with me with a sincere heart. Do not think that your current vulnerable state will stop me from venting my frustration. The thing I sought through water and air, through dry season and rainy season—I finally obtained it, and you went and aborted two of them, Amina! Innalillahi wa'ina ilaihi raji'un!"

He concluded his speech by calling upon the name of Allah, before collapsing heavily onto the bed, covering his face entirely with the palms of his hands, repeating Innalillahi wa'ina ilaihi raji'un! in a loud voice.

Witnessing the state he had fallen into filled me with wicked dread, for as long as I had known him, I had never seen him in such a state of panic and distress. True, he had been deeply grieved at the time of baby Nana's death, but I felt this matter had disoriented him far more than that one did. My body felt drained of energy; with no chance of seeking his forgiveness, I took the path to exit the room, as I had no idea what kind of turmoil my staying would spark. My greatest fear and intense worry was that he might leak the news, for he held the stronger argument and evidence. After all, I was the one who had tied my own hands by failing to tell him I was pregnant in the first place. If I tried to justify myself by saying I wanted to abort it out of fear of having another child with sickle cell anemia, not everyone would understand me. Many people would simply assume that because I already had children, I had attempted an abortion out of sheer callousness. Yet, if anyone sat down and examined the matter fairly, they would grasp what I meant. This alone was my defense, even if the matter blew open—though I was certain he held a stronger case, since those who single out Allah in pure monotheism would view my action as extreme recklessness, given that since the dawn of time, parents and ancestors have married and given birth safely without all these modern, foreign complications.

I walked straight to my room and lay down, as I could not bear to stay in the lounge. My mind was entirely blank, my body felt weak, and the dizziness had not completely left me.

Anti Yagana came into the room and found me curled up under a blanket. At that moment, I was crying silently, but I quickly shut my eyes and wiped away my tears covertly so she wouldn't notice anything. She didn't suspect a thing, as she stood by the doorway asking if my body was still aching. I told her no, that I was just resting. She turned as if to leave, saying she would go bring me some food to eat and medicine to take.

With great difficulty, I managed to swallow five morsels of food, and that was only because she insisted. She made sure I took my medication strictly as directed before she finally left the room.

It was only after the Isha' prayer that Hajja and the others departed, after coming to bid me farewell and telling me they would return during the coming week to check on me again.

Lying on my bed, we exchanged kind farewells. The genuine concern they showed for me warmed my heart deeply, though deep down inside I felt a mild dread: if they ever found out what I had done, how on earth would I face them?

Ever since I stepped out of his room, we hadn't crossed paths again until the next morning when Anti Yagana insisted that I cut down on resting and come sit on a couch in the lounge. She said it would help strengthen me, because if I spent too much time lying down, laziness and body aches would consume me.

Therefore, I took a bath, dressed up, and came out to the lounge. I found them watching television, along with Baba Tabawa. I looked for a seat and sat down with a distracted mind, wondering whether he had calmed down or what state he was in.

Yusura brought me the breakfast they had prepared, but I couldn't eat anything because my mouth still tasted completely bitter. Baba Tabawa reheated yesterday's leftover tuwo. It wasn't much, since Hajja had taken some away, but it was enough for me, and to my own surprise, I ate quite a bit. At that moment, I felt my physical strength improve... With a hesitant tone, I asked Anti Yagana if the master of the house had come down, since they had been in the lounge since morning. She replied that he had come down, they had greeted each other, and he had gone out. However, he didn't stay out long before going back upstairs and hadn't come down since.

I checked the clock hanging in the lounge: it was eleven-thirty. To keep her from suspecting any friction, I stood up, saying I was going upstairs to greet him. I walked straight toward the stairs with a heavy burden of dread in my chest.

I simply pushed open the door to his room—it wasn't locked. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in a cream-colored shadda with fine embroidery on the front of the tunic. His cap was placed to the side, but his regular optical glasses were still on his face. He was speaking on the phone when I entered the room. I found a spot beside him and sat down, but throughout, I couldn't bring myself to look at him due to the intense distress weighing on me.

Hearing him mention the name Maryam drew me into contemplation, and shortly after, I realized he was speaking with Hajiya Maryam, the wife of his late friend who had passed away some days prior. They spent a long time discussing matters concerning the deceased. The nature of their conversation confirmed to me that they were discussing how to distribute his estate, since his mother was still alive and he had siblings. Naturally, his mother had to inherit from him even if his siblings did not, because there were two males among his children.

After they ended the call, he looked at me with a neutral expression—neither warm nor cold—and said nothing, simply returning to tapping on his phone and holding it to his ear. I sat there listening as he called Hauwa on the phone. They spoke with care, though I couldn't catch what Hauwa was saying because he spoke in a low murmur; whenever she spoke, he would ask her to repeat what she said because her voice came out so softly. I turned my head away, sensing that he didn't want me listening to their conversation. Then I heard him tell her that from here he would travel straight to Bauchi by evening, so she should expect his arrival since he was making the trip by car.

My body went slightly cold hearing the way he cajoled and comforted her, complete with sympathetic and self-sacrificing words. I grew suspicious upon hearing this, realizing that my presence in the room had likely prompted it. I felt deeply angry, but I managed to suppress it, because right now, anger was a luxury I couldn't afford. Given the undeniable fact that I bore the heaviest share of blame in this situation, I had to find a way to make peace and try to defuse the tension to prevent the matter from blowing wide open, even if I hadn't explicitly confessed everything to him face-to-face.

He placed the phone beside him when they finished, picked up his wristwatch from the top of the drawer, strapped it on, and still said nothing to me. Summoning my courage, I asked, "Good morning, Baba?"

With his attention focused on what he was doing, he replied, "I'm fine. How are you holding up?"

I fell silent, stealing sideways glances at him. Skairaju knocked lightly on the door before receiving permission to enter. He pushed it open gently, stopped at a respectful distance, and asked, "Sir, are you done?"

He stood up with his cap in his hand, adjusting it, and said, "Yes, I'm done. Come take these," he said, pointing to his laptop resting inside its small bag.

Quickly, Skairaju did as he was told, opened the door, and left the room. As he was trying to place the cap on his head, he said, "I am leaving, Amina. But before that, I am going to Bauchi to see Hauwa. I hope you have no issues?"

I stood up with feeble energy and replied, "I have no issues, Baba, but I want us to talk about what happened. I felt like you didn't accept the decree of fate. Please, don't leave with bitterness against me in your heart."

He looked at me intently—a look he hadn't given me once since I entered the room.

"Did you carry out Dr. Iliyasu's supposition or not? That is the only answer I want to hear from you."

I stayed silent, looking at him while he stared straight into my eyes. We remained like that for a short while before I finally pulled my gaze away from his, my heart fluttering nervously. I could not see an ounce of mercy in his eyes.

"Your silence and the way signs of guilt showed all over you have made it clear to me that Dr. Iliyas did not lie to you. Therefore, all I can say is that I leave you to Allah."

With those words, he headed toward the door to leave. Moving with immense speed, I intercepted him, my eyes welling up with painful tears, and blurted out, "Saying 'I leave you to Allah' is not fair! Execute whatever punishment you deem fit for me since you refuse to accept fate, but for goodness' sake, stop pitting Allah against me!"

"He alone will deal with you, Amina, because you have proven to the world that you are incorrigible, that you think you are above everyone else—including your own father. As long as I have a right over you, I will never stop asking Allah to recompense me!"

He reached out his hand to open the door to leave, but I blocked his path a second time, speaking with courage: "The Almighty is not a human being like everyone else; people sin against Him, they repent, and He forgives them. By the permission of Allah, all the evil and calamity you are invoking against me will not befall me, because the One who created me knows what is in my heart far better than you do! I told you the truth, didn't I? That's the end of it—the power to judge, punish, or take a life is not in your hands! I made a mistake, absolutely. When I realized I was pregnant, I tried to get rid of it, just as Dr. Iliyas told you. When I realized it didn't abort, I simply accepted it, left the matter to Allah, and begged Him for forgiveness for the moment I transgressed against Him, and I am certain He has forgiven me. That is all I can tell you, because in this world, no one is infallible. I am apologizing to you; this will never happen again."

He stared at me for a long time with an expression of shock and wonder. As for me, I felt nothing, realizing that keeping secrets was pointless—it was better to simply tell him the absolute truth since he already knew my underlying motive.

"This will never happen again." He uttered these words before hurriedly pulling open the door and stepping out with great speed.

I stood pondering his words for a long time, sinking into deep anxiety and thought, because he had spoken in riddles. Ultimately, the verdict pointed toward divorce, and I was fully prepared to accept that outcome from him.

In the evening, as we sat in the lounge, Anti Yagana spoke with our father on the phone, immediately informing him that I had been feeling unwell for the past few days, which was why we hadn't been able to visit since the day he was discharged from the hospital. I told her to tell him I had recovered, so he wouldn't panic upon hearing I was sick.

Despite her telling him that, the very day after, they came to visit me alongside Baba Sule. They spent a long time at the house discussing Hadiza's predicament, because everyone had already resigned themselves to fate; during the first preliminary court hearing, no leniency was visible in the judge's demeanor. She was currently being held in prison while waiting for the trial to conclude and sentence to be passed. Shortly after they left, Gwaggo Hamusu brought her over, and she spent the whole day with me until nightfall. Only after the Isha' prayer did he leave his shop, come pick her up on a motorcycle, and take her home.

Once I had fully recovered, I told Sahura what had happened to me, though I didn't tell her I was the one behind the attempt. She sympathized deeply with me, saying that Allah simply hadn't destined those children to live, and that she had gone through similar agony when her twins were miscarried. She promised to come check on me on her day off work.

Well, time marched on smoothly; it had now been three weeks since the incident, but a bitter enmity had formed between me and the master of the house. On the surface, he took the matter hard—I understand that no one would feel happy having such a thing done to them—but he ought to have exercised patience and accepted my repentance since I realized what I did was wrong. I called him nearly seven times after his departure and sent text messages, but eventually, he blocked my number, and whenever I called any of his lines, they were busy. At first, I didn't mind, because I figured whatever anger he felt would fade after a while, he would calm down and accept my repentance, and I would be more careful in the future. I was genuinely relieved that he had kept the matter under wraps without telling anyone; that was pretty much his nature—he was a deeply private person, especially concerning matters of this sort.

Despite the creeping anxiety beginning to surround me, I made sure Anti Yagana didn't suspect a thing, right up until she packed up and left after attending the court hearing where the next session was expected to yield the final verdict.

Following Anti Yagana's departure, Hadiza's mother came to me in a frantic state, weeping uncontrollably. She had wasted away and looked haggard, begging me to help secure a lawyer for Hadiza because every single government-appointed lawyer had refused to take the case. Seeing this, everyone assumed that at the next hearing, Hadiza would learn her fate.

I didn't know what to do with her, because, seeing as I was alive and watching, I could not support falsehood. Hadiza had confessed with her own mouth that she played a direct role, and witnesses had testified. Why on earth would I just go out and hire a lawyer for her out of sheer blind sentiment? She wept bitterly, describing the ordeal Alhajiji was going through—he was also in police detention in Jos, being tortured, while his father and paternal half-siblings had washed their hands of the matter, and Hadiza herself faced a sentence of life imprisonment.

I couldn't find the right words to console her, knowing full well that God alone understood the searing pain in her heart.

I didn't lead her on with false hopes that I would do what she asked. Instead, I comforted her with soothing words and continually emphasized that she should leave the matter in Allah's hands, intensify her prayers, and the Almighty would surely bring her relief.

As she was leaving, I gave her thirty thousand naira and instructed Ayuba to drive her all the way home, because she hadn't even touched the food I ordered brought for her—I had just poured it into a polythene bag for her to take along.

Today marks exactly two months since his departure. At first, I had sworn I wouldn't call him anymore, but today, right from daybreak, I woke up with an overwhelming sense of longing and desire. I sat pondering what had triggered this state, seeing as I had been actively avoiding consuming or drinking anything that would agitate my mind with no man around. Yet today, I woke up with intense yearning and a craving to hear something from him.

I dialed his lines; they were busy. He still hadn't unblocked me. I checked his WhatsApp and saw that he had last been online three days ago.

I sent him a complete formal Islamic greeting along with a prayer that Allah make him answer whenever he opened and saw my message.

I kept checking his WhatsApp constantly; for nine whole days, my message remained unread. But today, I saw indications that he had viewed my greeting, yet he didn't say a word and simply went offline again.

So I sent him another greeting once more, praying fervently that Allah would make him speak.

He didn't view it until the next morning, and even then, he didn't reply to me.

In short, I sent him over five greetings; he opened them and saw them, but not a single one did he acknowledge.

My spirit was terribly bruised. This ugly habit of his of holding grudges used to upset me deeply. I understood that he harbored resentment in his heart and rarely accepted an apology right away.

So I simply brushed him off entirely, stepping out of his orbit, even though the thoughts of him and missing him still bothered me somewhat. Yet, I forced myself to suppress it to salvage whatever shred of dignity I had left.

Slowly, the days continued to roll by, and the months stretched further. There was no reconciliation between us, because he refused to let go of what had happened and held a deep, unyielding grudge against me. Today marks five months—I am counting—and we are fast approaching half a year of total silence, with no good marital care or attention. I began thinking about seeking a way out for myself, because it is proper to know where I stand. If the marriage is over, he should release me with a divorce rather than leaving me hanging; I don't even know what my future holds.

One Monday, around nine in the morning, I went out to our family house regarding Hadiza's case. She had been sentenced to hanging, but the judge ruled that she would spend three years doing rigorous prison labor before the sentence is executed.

Ever since the ruling, Hadiza's mother had lost her mind completely—her behavior resembled that of a mentally unstable person. Because of this, our father asked me to help take her to Dawanau Psychiatric Hospital so they could evaluate her mental state, as he no longer viewed her as sane.

Examinations showed she had no organic illness, but severe grief and excessive brooding had driven her to the verge of a psychological breakdown—depression was taking root. They prescribed medication, though not of the psychiatric asylum type. We brought her back home, and I spent time comforting her, encouraging her, and sharing life lessons. She wept profusely, apologizing and saying that the consequences of her wrongdoings against us and our mother were haunting her, and begged us for God's sake to forgive her. I told her there was no spiritual debt to carry, urging her simply to view it as a trial from God.

It was past the Isha' prayer when I returned home. I met Baba Tabawa and Yusura watching the story of Prophet Yusuf on MBC Drama. I stood briefly in the lounge, chatting with them before going in to take a bath and hurriedly perform ablution. I prayed Isha' in my room and asked Yusura to bring me food, because emotional turmoil had robbed me of my appetite for proper meals, even though Saminu's mother had filled a bowl with rice, stew, salad, and meat. However, seeing the condition Hadiza's mother was in filled me with dread and profound regret over life—it turned out the popular adage that "spiritual retribution is generational karma" was indeed true, especially as Hadiza had confessed her deeds with her own mouth.

I ate a hearty meal until I was full, and Yusura came, cleared away the plates, and left. Only then did I find the peace of mind to check my phone calmly. I went through everything step-by-step, browsing the WhatsApp status section quietly. Suddenly, I saw that he had posted a status update. My hands trembled as I opened it in utter astonishment, because since we had saved each other's numbers, I had never once seen him post a status.

It was a wedding invitation card bearing his name: Alhaj̣i Tajudden Ibrahimu Dambatta and Hajiya...

Description

This narrative excerpt centers on Amina, a married woman navigating deep marital turmoil, personal guilt, and familial crisis. The story explores the devastating fallout of a secret conflict between Amina and her husband, Alhaji Tajudden Ibrahimu Dambatta, following a suspected abortion attempt driven by Amina's fear of medical complications (sickle cell). Tajudden's unrelenting resentment and emotional withdrawal isolate Amina, while parallel subplots involve legal and psychological tragedies surrounding a relative named Hadiza. The excerpt captures themes of domestic tension, emotional alienation, moral culpability, and the inescapable consequences of secrecy, culminating in a shocking discovery on social media that signals the apparent collapse of Amina's marriage.

Analytics

• Protagonist Character Arc: Amina transitions from a position of defensive secrecy and emotional vulnerability to a state of forced resilience and stoic acceptance. Her initial reluctance to communicate openly cascades into a permanent fracture in her marriage.
• Antagonistic Dynamic: Tajudden represents rigid moral judgment and unyielding unforgiveness. His refusal to accept Amina's repentance, coupled with his emotional abandonment and eventual digital exclusion, highlights a breakdown in communication and empathy.
• Symbolism & Motifs:
  • The Quran: Utilized as an ultimate test of truth and spiritual validation, highlighting the heavy intersection of religious obligation and domestic disputes in cultural settings.
  • The Status Update: Serves as a modern digital motif for sudden, crushing emotional closure and betrayal.
• Thematic Exploration: Interrogates the weight of societal expectations, the stigma surrounding medical decisions, the ripple effects of trauma (e.g., Hadiza's trial and her mother's depression), and the inevitability of moral retribution (alhaki).

Summary

Amina faces severe backlash from her husband, Tajudden, who accuses her of attempting to abort their pregnancy based on a doctor's assessment. Despite Amina's explanations, apologies, and admissions of error, Tajudden refuses to forgive her, harboring deep bitterness and eventually cutting off all direct communication. While managing her crumbling marriage, Amina assists her family through the tragic aftermath of Hadiza's criminal conviction and the subsequent mental breakdown of Hadiza's mother. Months pass with total silence from Tajudden, leaving Amina in a state of suspended animation. The narrative reaches a poignant climax when Amina, after five months of estrangement, views Tajudden's WhatsApp status for the first time, revealing a wedding invitation bearing his name alongside another woman.

Comments

• Narrative Pace & Depth: The author effectively utilizes domestic realism to ground high-stakes emotional drama. The psychological weight of silence and social isolation is palpable throughout Amina's daily routines.
• Character Realism: Neither character is painted as purely saintly or villainous. Amina's defensive lapses and initial concealment are contrasted with Tajudden's emotional rigidity and harsh punitive measures, making their conflict complex and relatable.
• Subplot Integration: The parallel tragedy of Hadiza and her mother reinforces the overarching motif of accountability and the psychological toll of past actions (alhaki).

Conclusions

Amina's marriage has effectively reached its terminal point. The narrative illustrates that unaddressed grievances, a lack of forgiveness, and prolonged emotional abandonment inevitably destroy domestic foundations. Tajudden's silent remarriage announcement serves as the definitive legal and emotional severance of their union, forcing Amina to confront the reality of her choices and step into an uncertain future.

Keywords

• Domestic Drama
• Marital Estrangement
• Emotional Resilience
• Religious Oaths
• Psychological Trauma
• Cultural Fiction
• Relationship Dynamics

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