Maradams Book 1 Compelet Aysha Bagudu

Description

GOVERNMENT GIRLS UNITY COLLEGE KACHAKO
The bustling courtyard of the Government Girls Unity College in Kachako was filled with a massive crowd, mostly its students, alongside parents who had come to pick up their daughters for the third-semester holiday.
Off to one side of the school compound, you could spot a young lady standing with her arms folded across her chest, dressed in clean, perfectly ironed school uniform that fit her well. She stared fixedly at the courtyard, like someone tasked with counting the moving crowd. Her pretty face bore not a single trace of a smile.
Even though she was barely fifteen years old, one could easily tell the natural beauty, poise, and stature God had blessed her with.
She was of medium height, with an elongated face and a complexion neither too fair nor too dark—you couldn't call her black, nor could you call her outright fair. She had large eyes whose true size was hidden unless she opened them wide whenever she chose. The fullness of her eyebrows alone hinted at a thick head of hair. God had graced her with two dimples on her left and right cheeks that appeared whenever she parted her lips to speak, whether she smiled or not.
She adjusted her posture, her eyes welling up with tears—though they hadn't quite spilled over, a single glance was enough to tell. She was anxious and deeply impatient; her sole desire was to be home. She longed to see the people in her life who held a special place in her heart. Even though she had lost a major pillar and foundation in her life, she still had those who could serve as a shield, if not a direct replacement.
What increased her eagerness and desire to leave the school early like the other students was the fact that her fellow student and close friend had returned home earlier than the designated closing day due to an emergency that forced her departure. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been overly bothered by the delay.
"Fatima Sa'id Dabo, Fatima Sa'id Dabo!" She heard her name being called loudly from behind. Calmly, she turned around to look at the caller—it was one of her classmates, Ladifa Hamza. She kept her gaze fixed on her until Ladifa reached her side.
"You've been picked up! Your family's people have been looking for you for a while."
Surprised, Fatima shifted her gaze back to the courtyard, expecting to see the car that had come to pick her up. She didn't say anything, just started walking to leave the area. Ladifa followed closely behind, teasing her about her lack of energy and how she had become so gloomy ever since Munira left for home without her.
She stopped abruptly when she got close to the car said to have come for her. Pure shock was written all over her face. This wasn't one of their family cars! Everyone in their household knew this car, and everyone knew who owned it. When did he arrive? How on earth did he agree to release this car to pick her up? Was he the one driving? She shook her head quickly—no, it couldn't be him. Even in a dream, she knew he would never come to pick up any of them.
The opening of the car door made her focus entirely on the vehicle. A young man stepped out, his age estimated to be around twenty-five or twenty-six.
"Or are you not ready to go home?" he raised his voice slightly, his eyes fixed on her. His expression was completely neutral—neither welcoming nor cold.
She shook her head, wanting to ask him in sign language who he was and who had sent them, but before she could, the rear door opened as well. Another young lady stepped out—someone who looked to be around the same age as Fatima, her face beaming with smiles as she looked at Zahra standing there.
"Surprise, right?" the young girl said, bursting into laughter. Without planning to, a soft, quiet chuckle escaped Zahra's lips as well, bringing out the dimples on her cheeks. As if energized, she walked toward the car; seeing Hafsat inside confirmed that her suspicions were wrong.
"I swear you guys shocked me! First, I thought they would send someone from Uncle Gwammaja's house, which is why I sat waiting for the family car. Second, I see you guys here. How did this happen...?" Hafsat laughed and said, "Get inside and hear the story... Besides, I vowed that even if the car was made of gold, I was getting in!"
"Witch... did you even get in?" Zahra asked, laughing.
"You chatterboxes... are you going to help her carry the rest of her bags and get in, or are we going to wait until the time he allotted us expires and we don't leave?" said the other young man in the driver's seat, dressed in a modern shadda outfit.
Zahra peeked through the window at him and burst into laughter, saying, "Oh, congratulations, Ya Musty! Today you've really scored. Look at how fine the car is—it looks just like yours! Are you sure you won't take a detour, go for a quick spin, and come back?"
He let out a smile that bordered on a laugh as well, saying, "Just leave it... Only because I know he is very strict about the time he gave us! I swear today I would have driven this car to my heart's content... Look at how the girls of this school are staring at me..."
"They don't know it's not yours, Baba," Zahra said, bursting into laughter and slipping into the back seat.
As he started the engine after everyone closed their doors, he said, "I'll make your night into day since I tracked you down and came to pick you up in this magnificent car!"
She tilted her head, adopting a pitiful look. "Haba, Ya Musty! Things aren't that bad between us. Don't make our relatives laugh at us."
"Laugh at what?" asked the other young man sitting on the opposite side, leaning back comfortably against the car seat.
"You hear him?" Zahra said, making a face.
"Leave him alone, it's all rivalry. No one is going to see us in broad daylight," Mustapha said, throwing a sideways glance at Shamsu sitting beside him. Shamsu didn't answer further; he just twisted his face and muttered, "Whatever, let those who wait see."
This kind of minor bickering was nothing new to them; they were already used to it. It stemmed simply from their mutual understanding and familiarity, despite coming from different mothers.
Once they hit the main road properly, Zahra adjusted her sitting position and looked at Hafsat. "So how did this even happen?"
Hafsat laughed before replying, "I swear, Ya Hajja is the one who insisted he let someone come pick you up. When he refused, she told him she would call Mas'ud to send his own car since Mas'ud listens to her. Only when he heard that did he finally agree... Zahra even had a hand in it."
Zahra curled her lip, turning her gaze toward the window. She looked at the street briefly before turning back to Hafsat. "You'd think he was doing me a favor, like the car had to be begged for! I swear, if Ya Hajja hadn't forced him, he wouldn't have done it... That's not even the point. I came back from holiday happy, looking forward to peace of mind and enjoying my romance with Hafiz. With his arrival, I know everything will be ruined, I swear! No more peace. People even come courting him right at home, and he displays his own romance shamelessly for everyone to see. But as for us, he ties our hands behind our backs for no good reason—especially when he knows the rules of this house better than anyone! Nowadays, if you even buy candy, eyes are on you to bring the person you want to marry. If you don't have one, it's a test. But when he stands around talking to people, it blocks the flow of water, haba!" She finished her rant with a sharp hiss.
Hafsat laughed harder, while Shamsu turned his head to look at her. "Little girl, seriously, you're going to burn yourself before you even boil."
She threw a playful glare at his way. "Then we'll just sit here and let you guys fry us! You guys make the most noise whenever we don't settle down with a husband..."
"What's wrong with that? We'll just give you out as charity at Mallam Ayuba's mosque," Shamsu said mischievously, bursting into laughter, which made Mustapha laugh as well. Zahra puckered her lips. "God forbid, perish the thought, move past that, please!"
They continued their journey with such banter, she asking Hafsat about things that happened while she was away and those she left behind. Shamsu, refusing to let up with the teasing, said again, "Asking questions like a blind man who just regained his sight, like someone just released from prison!"
She melted her face into a pout—it seemed she had a natural habit of acting childish and spoiled, something she wasn't even consciously aware of, as it was simply part of her nature.
"So, Ya Shamsu, please what's the difference? Everyone else was left to come and go as they please, but I was sent to boarding school because of the advice this same man gave—and of course, they agreed with him!"
"Well, what can be done except patience? You know him. When he digs his heels in about something... though it's rare that you won't eventually see the benefit of it."
Zahra stuck out her lower lip, grumbling, "You're just secretly taking his side."
"Not at all. It's you who complains too much about his ways, even though we're all used to his behavior."
"Whatever," she said, cutting the conversation short because she didn't want it to drag on. Instead, she brought up a new topic with Hafsat.
After a journey of roughly an hour and some minutes, they arrived at the Gadon Kaya neighborhood in the heart of Kano city. They stopped in front of a massive house with tall, wide perimeter walls—a glance from the outside told you that it wasn't just one, two, or three people living inside.
You would confirm this the moment the gates opened and their car drove in. The compound was divided into various distinct sections—at least four or five separate living quarters, each functioning as an independent household.
As if waiting, even before the car came to a complete stop, Zahra unlatched the door and bolted out like a young child, running toward one of the buildings in the center of the courtyard—a modest single-story building on the right.
They all stared after her, shaking their heads in amusement. Even though they already knew, it was no secret that Zahra's behavior was always unique—she possessed a childish, restless energy that defied her years.
She hurried to push her way into the old woman's quarters, her sole desire being to reach her. She had missed her terribly, as there was a deep bond of affection between them—unlike any other grandchild and the old woman, except for Zahra.
A lovely elderly woman stood in front of the refrigerator, trying to pull something out while talking to a young lady seated on one of the parlor chairs, wearing a blue-black sleeved hijab. A single glance told you that age was catching up with her, yet her love for neatness and style adorned her old age wonderfully. You could still spot traces of red henna on her feet that hadn't completely faded, and her neatly kept hair under her headscarf was full of gray, yet thoroughly clean and tidy. She hadn't noticed Zahra entering the parlor until the sound of her voice filled the entire room.
"Hajja!" she cried out in pure joy, rushing toward her. Before Hajja could turn around, Zahra had already reached her, grabbing her from behind in a tight hug as she bounced slightly.
"Schoolgirl... welcome, welcome!" Hajja said, her face expanding into a wide smile that mirrored the happiness in her heart and signified the deep love between them.
"I miss you, my Hajja!" Zahra said, laughing happily.
"Ah, change your language! I don't understand this modern slang of yours. Now, your Yaya just finished and went out."
Zahra laughed, releasing the old woman. However, the sound of a soft chuckle from nearby caught her attention and stopped what she was about to say. She turned around to look toward that section of the room.
Almost simultaneously, they exchanged smiles.
"Tell me this is your co-wife, Hajja... Anty Takwara, good afternoon," she said, walking over to where the young lady was seated. The young lady's face broadened with a smile as she looked at Zahra, adjusting her hijab against her body and looking back at her.
"Good afternoon, Takwara... how is school?"
"Alhamdulillah... today we finally got our freedom!"
"Indeed, home is sweet!" With that, she turned her attention back to Ya Hajja, who had settled into a seat.
"My Hajja... what have you prepared for me?" she asked in her usual spoiled tone.
"Whatever my Takwara wants," Hajja replied, laughing.
Zahra let out a small jump of joy and threw herself onto the sofa. "May God preserve my Hajja for me!"
"Oh yes, before you hatch another piece of mischief of yours!"
Zahra quickly pretended to be offended, rolling her eyes playfully before turning back to Hajja. "Haba, Hajja... I hope you didn't say that in front of the 'opposition'! If you did, they'll make fun of me—especially O'o," she said, stealing a sideways glance.
Zahra knew very well who she meant. She smiled, holding back her laughter while shaking her head. Known for her easygoing, gentle, and quiet nature, she disliked taking matters too harshly.
"Inna Wuro... Inna Wuro, the troublemaker," she called her by the nickname she was mostly known by in the house. Inna Wuro turned to look at Zahra. "Yes, I know you understand... because I know you don't like his faults being pointed out," she said, pouting again like someone who had been insulted. This forced Zahra into a reluctant laugh, shaking her head out of shyness and respect for Ya Hajja sitting right there.
"Such a seeker of trouble! If he hears you and punishes you, you'll start crying about something else. Did you even go into the house to greet people, or did you come straight here looking for trouble...?"
Before Zahra could answer Hajja, the noise of the other girls in the house approaching the parlor interrupted them.
"Aha! Allahumma salli ala, here comes the trouble. Now you'll all gather and give me no peace—though the only relief is that your tormentor is in town!"
"I swear, Hajja, you need to ban him from coming whenever I come home for holiday! Honestly, he stops me from relaxing. The only one-month holiday I get, I end up spending it unhappily!"
Hajja grabbed her cheeks in shock, staring at her. She couldn't understand what kind of character Zahra had. The rising noise of the girls reached the doorway, so she turned her head away in silence until they burst into the parlor carrying Zahra's two travel bags, which she had left in the courtyard out of sheer excitement.
Five beautiful young ladies, dressed identically in uniforms that resembled Islamic school attire (Abayas/Kaftans), trooped in. Four of them were fair-complexioned, unlike Zahra's skin tone, while only one shared a similar complexion to Zahra. All of them looked to be around fifteen or sixteen years old. Yet, whoever you looked at among them, at first glance you could tell they didn't measure up to Zahra in beauty and physique—not that any of them were ugly; each had her own charm, but Zahra stood out brilliantly among them.
They let out cries of joy upon seeing each other, each scrambling for a seat.
"I am so glad you're back, I swear! You came back early," Salma, one of the girls, said.
Yusra, one of the fair girls, shot her a glare. "Eheen, you're in big trouble!"
"What about you? Are you in nine troubles?" Salma retorted, returning Yusra's glare with a near-laugh.
"Look, forget her! Tell me how it went..."
"Let's close the curtains first because of the busybodies..."
"Look, get up and give me space before I call your Yaya!" Hajja commanded, knowing their character all too well. She knew their gossip always revolved around their boyfriends, which was why she chased them off. She used to fight and get angry over it, but eventually, she gave up, resigned to letting Allah's will play out. Now, it didn't even bother her—it had become second nature. There was only one person whose presence commanded immediate peace because all of them were terrified of him and feared his disciplinary actions.
"If you're going to Mama's place, Ya Zahra, please tell her I'll come in shortly to explain the errand," Yusra said, looking at Zahra, who had stood up with her phone in hand, smiling.
"She's not going there," Hafsat, who had just walked in, piped up.
"Even you, the moment you saw her stand up smiling, you knew where the story was heading," Hafsat added, making a face.
With a mixture of shyness and reluctance, Zahra muttered, "As if you spoke right into his ear," and quickly hurried away, while Hafsat chased her out with pleas of "I take back what I said, forgive me!" bursting into laughter.
"I really wonder how romance works between Yaya and Ya Zahra..."
"Ahto! That is how God's decrees work. You guys look at it through a crooked lens because your mentalities differ. Every single servant has a unique temperament, and God ordains how someone can live and cope with another."
Zahra stood up abruptly, putting her school hijab back on since she hadn't taken it off yet. "Let me go inside before you guys finish your lecture," she said, because she genuinely disliked Hajja's long analyses. She felt that Hajja's job was always to defend him and whitewash his image in their eyes, even though they already knew his personality inside out. Every single one of them knew it, so she saw no need for anyone to struggle to defend or polish his character among them.
Just as Hajja was about to say something, she stopped, simply watching Zahra walk out of the parlor unbothered. As she reached the door, Zahra paused.
"Please, Hajja, my phone! Ever since I came back, I haven't felt right. I'm sure Nuruddeen is looking for me right now, knowing today is our return day."
Hajja flicked a light reprimand her way. "Your head! I was just lecturing you, and you stood up and left me sitting here, and now you want me to go fetch your phone for you? If you care, you know where it lives—go get it yourself!"
Zahra laughed merrily. She and Hajja were used to this—teasing each other, having fun. Despite their deep bond, whenever it came to certain topics, they clashed. Hajja always insisted on trying to make her get along with him, while Zahra felt that was the one thing in her life that would never be possible. Everything about their worlds clashed. Even before she fully understood her own mind, she realized their paths were fundamentally opposed, which birthed everything happening now.
She headed straight for Hajja's bedroom. Just as she was about to reach it, she diverted her steps toward the kitchen, where she caught the aroma of food wafting out.
Gently, she pushed the door open, widening her eyes to see who was in the kitchen. As usual, it was Gaje—Hajja's one and only maid who had been with her for a long time. The sound of her footsteps made Gaje turn around from the stove, her face beaming with a wide smile as she fully turned to face her.
"Ah, so you're on your way, Inna Wuro... welcome, mistress of my heart!"
Zahra smiled, because she and Gaje were very close. The way Hajja cherished Gaje was the same way Gaje cherished Zahra.
"Hello, Inna Gaje, are you all doing well?"
"We are doing great, Alhamdulillah, Inna Wuro. How is school?"
"We thank God," Zahra said, looking for a spot to sit near some covered bowls. She reached out, about to lift the lid, and asked, "What has been prepared for us that smells so good?"
"Open them and see, they are all yours! Hajja said they should be made for you."
Slowly, she lifted the lids one by one to inspect them. She felt genuinely happy, and it showed on her face. This wasn't the first time she had witnessed her grandmother's special love for her. She didn't know why she stood out among all the grandchildren—was it because she shared her name? Or because she was the only complete orphan among Hajja's horde of grandchildren?
Pushing those thoughts aside, she dipped her fingers in and scooped a portion of the food into her mouth. After tasting everything, she licked her fingers, saying, "So this old woman actually loves me this much! Let me go inside the house to greet people, Inna Gaje, and I'll be right back," she said, hurrying out without waiting for Gaje's reply.
She stopped by Hajja's room first to pick up her phone and charger, went to her own room within Hajja's quarters to plug it in to charge, and then stepped back out.
(Footer credits/payment instructions omitted for storytelling flow)
The parlor was now empty; everyone had dispersed except for Hajja, who sat organizing the pages of a Dala'ilu (religious text) collection that had gotten mixed up, as her old age hadn't stopped her from studying religious books.
Zahra hugged her from behind. "So you're still kicking, you tough old woman! Let me go and return, I'll come back for my gifts. May God have mercy on your late husband!" With that, she turned back inside...

## Summary

This chapter introduces Fatima Sa'id Dabo (Zahra), a spirited fifteen-year-old student leaving Government Girls Unity College in Kachako at the end of the third-semester exams. Eager to return home to peace and romance, her excitement is abruptly dampened when she discovers she has been picked up by a strict family vehicle—signaling the heavy, overbearing presence of a dominant male figure in her family (her guardian/nemesis, Yaya).
Upon arriving at the sprawling ancestral compound in Gadon Kaya, Kano, Zahra reunites with her beloved grandmother (Hajja), her peers (Hafsat, Yusra, Salma), and the household staff (Gaje). The chapter vividly portrays Zahra's playful, somewhat spoiled yet deeply affectionate personality, her rebellious tension against her guardian's strict rules, and the close-knit, bustling dynamics of a traditional northern Nigerian extended family.

Description Table

 Analytics & Insights

• Character Archetype (Zahra): Zahra represents the classic archetype of a cherished, protected, yet rebellious adolescent. Her internal conflict highlights a clash between youthful independence (wanting freedom and romance with Hafiz/Nuruddeen) and traditional domestic control (her strict male guardian).
• Setting & Atmosphere: The transition from the chaotic, crowded school departure grounds to the structured, multi-unit traditional compound in Gadon Kaya establishes a distinct sense of cultural authenticity and domestic hierarchy.
• The Antagonistic Presence: Even before he physically appears on the page, the unnamed "Yaya" casts a long shadow over the household and Zahra's mood, serving as the central catalyst for conflict and tension in her life.