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MUMMUNAN ZATO BOOK COMPELET 2
This excerpt intensifies the psychological and socio-economic chess match surrounding Aliyu Shamaki’s hidden identity and his deepening obsession with Rabi'atu (Baby). The plot progresses significantly along two parallel tracks: the quickening pace of their humble courtship and the escalating alarm of Shamaki’s powerful mother, Hajiya.
- The Exposure at Work: Shamaki's lovesickness becomes so obvious at his plaza that his apprentices easily trap him with a romantic song by Hausa singer Hamisu Breaker, confirming his vulnerability.
- The Humble Bargain: During their second date, Shamaki maneuvers through his self-imposed facade of a "lowly watchman." He agrees to fast-track their wedding to coincide with Baby’s Quranic graduation (Walimar Sauka) in five weeks. He promises to pay a 50,000\text{ Naira} dowry token and quietly financially sponsors her graduation expenses behind a veil of faux simplicity.
- The Spiritual Counter-Attack: Hajiya notices that her son is completely losing his mind—even shouting "Baby" when her maid Azima speaks to him. Fearing that Shamaki has been spiritually manipulated or that this intense love will weaken her absolute authority over him, Hajiya launches a covert spiritual audit. She contacts her personal Mallam to run a metaphysical background check on "Baby Amira."
The Mother-In-Law Test: In a late-night phone call, Shamaki subjects Baby to a high-stakes test: Would she live with his mother? Baby gives a masterfully traditional, submissive response, revealing that his first marriage collapsed because his ex-wife refused to submit to the Matriarch.
2. Character Descriptions & Profiles
Aliyu Shamaki (The Love-Struck Tycoon)
- Traits: Deeply romantic, boundary-blurring, and internally split. He struggles to remember his poor watchman persona, nearly buying luxury gifts from his own factories before settling on basic fruit.
Vulnerability: He is emotionally dependent on external validation. He begs Baby to explicitly say "Aliyu, I love you." He values his mother but is willing to bend realities to integrate Baby into his life.
Rabi'atu / Amira / "Baby" (The Intuitive Finalist)
- Traits: Remarkably emotionally intelligent despite her youth. She displays an instinctive knack for traditional Hausa respectability (Kissa).
Strategy: By enthusiastically embracing the prospect of living with her future mother-in-law, she unwittingly passes Shamaki’s ultimate test. However, she shows long-term agency by demanding to go to nursing school after marriage—a request Shamaki notably evades.
Hajiya (The Strategic Guard)
- Traits: Ruthlessly protective, calculating, and authoritative. She values a dynamic where the woman loves her son more than he loves the woman, ensuring her son maintains control (and she maintains her grip on him).
Actions: She leverages class-privilege by calling his shop managers to track his eating habits and employs spiritual warfare to investigate the girl’s lineage.
3. Narrative & Literary Analytics
Key Themes & Motifs
- Hamisu Breaker & Contemporary Pop Culture: The inclusion of Hamisu Breaker (a real-life iconic Hausa romantic singer) anchors the book firmly in modern Kannywood/Hausa youth culture, highlighting how digital music acts as a catalyst for emotional expression in conservative spaces.
- The Gendered Trap of the Mother-In-Law (Uwar Miji): In Hausa society, the relationship between a bride and her mother-in-law is a frequent battlefield. The text explicitly references generational trauma; Baby's mother recalls the deep-seated hatred she endured from her own late mother-in-law. Yet, she advises Baby to tolerate anything, emphasizing resilience as a survival tool.
The Flaw in Deception: Shamaki’s wealth repeatedly threatens to breach his "poor man" disguise. Buying 5,000\text{ Naira} worth of fruit in 2026 was a massive amount for a humble watchman, immediately triggering his prospective father-in-law’s suspicions of bribery or modern corruption.
4. English Translation
Part 1: The Lovesick Tycoon
He was thoroughly astonished at himself by how desperately he wanted night to fall. The constant, faraway smile on his face whenever he grew quiet prompted his market apprentices to gossip that the boss had fallen hopelessly in love. When Shamaki tried to deny it, one of his apprentices named Dahiru challenged the others, saying he would test the boss to prove it.
Dahiru turned on a popular romantic song by Hamisu Breaker. He went and sat right outside the office door, pretending to go about his business. Inside the office, Shamaki’s heart tightened as he listened to the singer’s deep philosophy on the nature of love. Unable to help himself, he called out to Dahiru.
Dahiru answered and walked in respectfully. "Yes, Alhaji?"
"Can you boys not go a day without listening to music?" Shamaki asked, trying to sound casual. "Though, this particular track sounds quite beautiful and meaningful. Who sang it? Transfer it to my other phone so I can analyze the lyrics properly."
Dahiru took the phone, walked back out to the other apprentices, and they all burst into laughter as he shared the news. Shamaki spent the rest of the day completely consumed by the song.
By evening, he summoned his personal driver, Malam Bala, and instructed him to wash the car because he would be going out after the night Isha prayer. Shamaki began calculating his moves; he planned to stop by his luxury outlet, Zeena Store, to pick up imported sweets, and then pass by Zeena Factory to curate a custom package of gourmet snacks for her.
But wait! Who exactly are you visiting, and what is your supposed financial standing in her eyes? his conscience suddenly interrogated him.
He let out a heavy sigh, realizing his mistake. Should I just go look for dates or garden eggs instead? He hissed quietly under his breath and blurted out loud, "I'll just buy bananas and oranges!"
Hassan, who was in the office writing out a commercial receipt, looked up. "Should I have someone fetch them for you, Alhaji?"
Shamaki glanced at Hassan, startled. "What did I just say?"
"I heard you talking about buying bananas and oranges," Hassan replied.
Shamaki hissed lightly. "Oh, yes. I was thinking of having them brought here, but never mind. I'll just buy them myself when I head out."
Part 2: The Deceptive Veil & The Second Date
As for me, I was fully dressed and ready long before the Isha prayer. I wasn’t going to perform the ritual prayers due to my monthly cycle, so I sat waiting anxiously for his arrival. My heart was pounding frantically as I imagined how our conversation would go. I kept lecturing myself on how to carefully select my words when speaking to him, reminding myself not to use the ordinary voice I used with everyone else, so I could enchant him further. I felt completely satisfied with this strategy, fully accepting that he was a uniquely special man.
Meanwhile, Shamaki went through great distress trying to find clothes in his wardrobe that would make him look like a common poor man. He finally settled on a white fabric, but even though it looked plain and lightweight, it was deceptively high-grade and incredibly expensive—only a true connoisseur of textiles could recognize its value. He dumped his four luxury smartphones onto his bed. He picked up his cheap, basic feature phone into which he had inserted his new SIM card, leaving his luxury wristwatch and silver rings behind. He then headed to Hajiya’s wing of the mansion.
She scrutinized his appearance intensely before accepting his greetings. He said, "I am heading out to see Rabi'atu, just as I informed you the day before yesterday."
"I understand," Hajiya stated regally. "Go, and may Allah grant you success. Extend my regards to her. Furthermore, ensure you secure her heart completely today, for I can clearly see you are profoundly infatuated with her. May Allah bless both of you."
"Amen," he replied, standing up and exiting quickly.
She watched his retreating figure, murmuring aloud to herself: "This is a real problem. He is far too deeply ensnared. I heavily prefer a dynamic where the woman loves him more than he loves her. I must take action."
Out at the car, Shamaki looked at his driver. "Malam Bala, when you reach the fruit vendors, look for the premium orange sellers." When they arrived, he completely lost track of how much a regular person would spend on fruit. He handed a bill to his driver. "Malam Bala, take five thousand naira and have them split the purchase into two separate bags."
When the vendor brought the fruit, Shamaki saw the sheer volume and realized it was far too much for a poor watchman to bring. "Malam Bala, keep one half for yourself," he instructed. They drove just past the entrance of our neighborhood alley before he exited the vehicle. "Go on," Shamaki told his driver. "I will call you in two hours." Clutching the two large bags of fruit, he walked into the dark alleyway.
Part 3: The Humble Courtship & High Stakes
My younger brother Jafar came running into the house, struggling under the weight of the heavy bags of fruit. "Umma! A man outside sent these. He said Yaya Baby should come out."
My stomach instantly did a violent flip. I grabbed a plastic water pitcher to rush to the restroom. Umma stopped me sharply. "Hold on! What is wrong with you? You’ve been sitting here doing nothing all evening, and the exact moment he arrives, you suddenly have to run to the bathroom?"
I cried, "Umma, by Allah, the moment Jafar spoke, my stomach just turned!" I dashed inside.
I could hear my sister Jamila hissing and grumbling outside. "Great, now you're going to meet him smelling like the restroom?"
When I emerged, I liberally reapplied my perfume and walked out. Jamila had already spread out the woven mat and placed a sachet of pure water out for him.
I greeted him with deep respect, inquiring about Hajiya and his daughters. He replied, "She sends her warmest regards, and everyone is doing wonderfully well."
I looked at the massive bags of fruit. "Why did you go through all this stressful expense for us? Seriously, you shouldn’t burden yourself like this given your financial situation; you don't need to bring me gifts."
"Do not worry," he said smoothly, almost forgetting his role. "I have the means to do this. Now, tell me the story of my love. I am desperate for us to start reciprocating our feelings, because I am starting to act like a complete fool, unable to endure being away from my thoughts of you."
I lowered my gaze. "Even though I am completely new to love, I have realized that you are truly special to me. Throughout all my daily movements, you are constantly in my heart. Try as I might, I cannot find a single flaw in you. My heart keeps telling me to make excuses for your past and accept you as my husband. I am entirely satisfied with what my heart has decided; I accept to be your wife. Once I am in your home, you can teach me how to love you properly." I finished my speech and instinctively closed my eyes in bashfulness.
"Alhamdulillah!" Shamaki exclaimed joyfully. "This very feeling you are experiencing is the definition of love, Baby! Now, let us discuss our marriage. How soon should we become husband and wife?"
"Well, that is a discussion you must have with Baba," I replied.
He took a breath. "Has a specific date been set for your Quranic graduation ceremony?"
"Yes, they have even printed the invitations for the VIP guests and distributed them last week. Our family’s local invitations are being handed out this week. Insha Allah, I will give you one. I truly hope you will come to watch us recite."
He leaned in. "Actually, I am thinking we should just combine our wedding with your graduation day..."
"What?!" I interrupted him, dropping my voice to an intense whisper. "Our graduation is in exactly five weeks! How can a wedding be organized in that time?"
He exhaled calmly. "What kind of organization are you referring to?"
I cast my eyes downward. "When will you bring the formal bride-price and dowry for the date to be officially set? And what about the bridal hope-chest (lefe)? My parents still have to worry about buying my room furniture and the catering for the wedding. You see, all of these require time and planning."
"You are entirely right," he conceded smoothly. "But I will set aside some money from my savings. Within this very week, I will send fifty thousand naira as the formal marriage token. Furthermore, I am certain you would marry me even without a bridal chest, wouldn't you?"
"In my heart, I would absolutely do that, Yaya," I confessed honestly. "But the real issue is my parents. They absolutely do not have the financial means to furnish an entire bridal room in a single month. Right now, they are straining every resource just to ensure they don't face social embarrassment during my upcoming graduation ceremony."
He asked, "What exactly do you need for the graduation?"
"It’s just a modest luncheon here at the house," I explained. "He asked, 'How much will it cost you?'"
I cut him off immediately. "No, absolutely not. I will not place that financial burden on your shoulders. Do not spoil me like that; let me get used to your actual financial reality. Teach me how we will survive together through times of abundance and times of scarcity."
He raised a hand to silence me. "Look, stop right there and listen to me. I have the means for this, which is why I am offering. You didn't beg me for it. Just tell me how much will suffice, or I will take the money meant for our wedding and spend it on this graduation myself."
I panicked. "Umma will scold me! This is only your second time visiting me, and..."
"And what?" he pressed.
I mumbled, "Fine... it's three thousand naira."
"Alright, I will give you that. What else?" he asked.
"That's all," I said.
He smiled knowingly. "What about the graduation uniform fabric, the matching hijabs, the customized refreshments, and the commemorative calendars? You know, I have undergone a Quranic graduation myself in the past, so I know exactly how the expenses work."
I smiled. "Baba and Umma have already purchased all of those for me."
"Excellent. I will bring the three thousand naira the day after tomorrow. Now, let’s return to our main topic: I have your permission to send my family emissaries with the marriage money this week, correct?"
"Let me inform Umma and Baba first," I replied.
He urged, "Please, the moment you walk inside, let them know. I will call you tonight, no matter how late, to hear if they have approved."
"Alright, that's fine," I said. "But I also want to ask a favor of you."
He focused his absolute attention on me. "Speak quickly. If it is within my power, consider it granted."
"I want to continue my education after marriage, even if it’s just at a nursing school."
He fell entirely silent for a long moment before answering evasively, "I cannot make you a promise on that right now due to certain variables, but let us shelve that discussion for the future."
"Alright, that's fine," I murmured.
He mimicked my shy tone playfully. "Thank you, my Baby." I threw my hands up, covering my blushing face. "Alright, let me head out," he said.
I looked around the dark street. "I noticed you didn't bring your bicycle tonight?"
"Ah, the tire got a puncture earlier on my way back from the market," he lied seamlessly.
"Oh, may Allah protect you on your walk."
"Amen," he replied. We said our goodbyes, our hearts completely filled with mutual infatuation and love.
Part 4: The Domestic Gathering & The Mother’s Panic
When I walked back inside, I found Baba grumbling loudly, suspecting that I had explicitly demanded oranges from Aliyu. "Modern girls simply cannot be trusted around suitors," he muttered.
I sat down near him. "Baba, by Allah, I didn't ask him for a single thing! You don't even know what we actually discussed. He even tried to force me to tell him our graduation expenses so he could pay for it, but I strictly refused, which actually upset him."
Umma intervened, "Father of Baby, I told you before—not even Jamila would resort to begging, let alone Baby. Though you can't completely vouch for this modern generation, you know the core character of your own child."
Baba smiled, placated. "May Allah bless all of you, including you, their mother, for this wonderful upbringing. May Allah reward the young man abundantly and have mercy on his ancestors."
We all chanted, "Amen."
Baba continued, "Go ahead and slice the fruit so everyone gets a portion. Save a substantial amount to be sent over to your aunt's house; we must not consume all of this luxury fruit by ourselves."
While Jamila happily set about slicing the fruit, I sat in stunned silence, completely terrified of how to break the next part of his message to my parents. Umma looked at me, noticing my distress. "What's wrong? Your father already understands that you didn't beg for the fruit."
"It's not that, Umma," I stammered. "He said he wants to bring the formal marriage money this very week. And... if you both agree, he wants the wedding to be held concurrently with my graduation ceremony in five weeks..."
Umma suddenly choked violently on the banana she was eating. I sprang up in a panic, rushing to fetch her a cup of water while patting her back. Baba jumped up quickly as well, helping her relax. Once she regained her breath and calmed down, she spoke firmly: "Absolutely not. We will not be rushed into this. A thorough background check must be conducted first. Furthermore, we absolutely do not have the financial capacity to host a wedding in a mere month."
Baba urged, "Stop talking for a moment, you just choked. Calm down first." Once she settled, Baba reasoned, "If such a swift arrangement is possible, I would be the happiest man alive to see Baby married off on the very day of her holy graduation. However, the financial demands are massive, especially with your upcoming delivery expected any day now."
Umma countered, "The childbirth expenses are minor, and I don't plan on hosting an extravagant naming ceremony anyway. May Allah deliver me safely. My only concern is the rush."
Baba said, "From our very first conversation, the man made it clear he came strictly for immediate marriage. Remember, he has been married before, so it's natural he wants to settle down quickly. I think the best course of action is to accept the formal marriage token first, and then we can negotiate a realistic timeline."
Umma relented. "Very well then. Inform him of our stance when he visits next."
I lowered my head, blushing. "He told me to inform him over the phone. He said he will call your line the moment he gets home tonight."
"Alright," Baba said. "You may inform him then." I took Umma's phone and went into our bedroom, waiting anxiously for his call until sleep eventually overtook me.
Part 5: The Shadow of the Matriarch
Meanwhile, Shamaki was growing incredibly impatient. He quickly dismissed the community members who usually crowded around him after the Isha prayer to present their financial grievances. He handed out small cash assistance to some and referred the more complex cases to his philanthropic organization, The Zeena Foundation. He was desperate to get inside; since yesterday, he had been anxious to hear how Baby’s parents reacted to his proposal, but because it had grown too late the previous night, he had delayed the call until tonight.
He turned to Malam Sabitu, the Chief Imam of the mosque attached to his mansion. "Malam, tomorrow I will issue a medical referral card for that sick man. Have him take it to Zeena Hospital; my administrators will handle all the medical bills."
"Thank you, Alhaji! May Allah increase your wealth, we are immensely grateful," the Imam prayed.
Anxious to leave, Shamaki replied, "It's nothing, Malam. Please excuse me to the rest of the congregation; I have an urgent matter to attend to inside."
"Of course, Insha Allah. May the Almighty protect your affairs," the Imam said.
Shamaki wanted to bypass everything and go straight to his bedroom, but protocol dictated he must enter Hajiya’s quarters first. She was seated, engaged in her nightly invocations, while Azima waited patiently by her side to massage her feet with medicated ointment. He sat down, waiting his turn, his mind completely drifting away to thoughts of Baby. In just one month, she would be living in his mansion. He would give her a life of unimaginable luxury; he would transform her into his absolute queen...
"Yaya Shamaki!"
Azima’s loud voice suddenly shattered his trance. He startled violently, looking around wildly, blurting out, "Baby, is everything okay?!"
The moment the words left his mouth, he snapped back to reality. He froze as he looked at Hajiya, whose piercing gaze was locked dead onto him. He stammered, "Good evening, Hajiya."
She didn't even acknowledge his greeting. Instead, she looked at the maid. "Azima, leave us and return later." She then turned her intense focus entirely onto him. "Aliyu."
She pronounced his full name. His eyes widened in sheer terror, and his posture straightened instantly. "Yes, Hajiya!" he answered, his voice trembling with fear. He knew with absolute certainty that whenever his mother addressed him directly by his real name, he had pushed her patience to the absolute limit.
She took a slow, heavy breath. "Tell me exactly what is consuming your mind."
He stammered, "It’s nothing major, Hajiya... I promised to call that girl last night, but I failed to fulfill the promise, so I was just thinking about it."
She pointed an accusing finger at him. "So, is that why you rushed into the house so early tonight, completely abandoning the poor community members who rely on your assistance? You walked right past them just to sink into a swamp of daydreaming in my presence? Tell me, Aliyu, if I decide to withdraw my blessing and approval of this girl right now, what exactly will you do?"
His heart dropped violently into his stomach. He cried out desperately, "I know you would never do that to me, Hajiya!"
Hajiya’s eyes widened in profound astonishment. She had fully expected him to give his usual submissive response: "Whatever you decree is best, Hajiya." Instead, his desperate defiance shocked her.
She closed her eyes, deeply troubled by the extent of his infatuation. After a long silence, she spoke coldly, "Very well. I see that tonight, we cannot even share a dinner together, let alone review our business ledgers or calculations. Stand up, leave my sight, and go make your phone call."
He knew she was cutting him down with sharp sarcasm. Trying to salvage the situation, he pleaded, "We can do the calculations right now, Hajiya! Truly, it’s just that my stomach feels incredibly bloated tonight, which is why I can't eat."
She remained dead silent. In reality, her own appetite had completely vanished due to distress over his behavior. She reached over, picked up her phone, and dialed Hassan, his head store manager.
Hassan answered with immense respect. "Good evening, Hajiya."
"I am calling to inquire about Shamaki's status today," she stated directly. "When his lunch was delivered to the market, did he eat?"
Hassan replied, "No, Hajiya. He barely touched the food. He only consumed a massive amount of fresh fruit today."
"I see. Thank you," she said, disconnecting the line. She turned her cold gaze back onto Shamaki. "Get up and go to your quarters. We will speak in the morning. Right now, I do not believe your mind is capable of comprehending a single word I say to you."
"Please, Hajiya, do not upset yourself," he begged. "By Allah, the situation is not what you think it is."
She simply pointed toward the exit of her wing. "Go and make your call."
Defeated and thoroughly demoralized, he stood up slowly. He bowed deeply. "May we wake up in peace, Hajiya. May Allah calm your heart."
"May Allah bless you," she uttered, looking away.
As he walked away, her heart burned with deep resentment. In the past, if she had dismissed Shamaki like this, he would never have left. He would have remained on his knees, begging for her forgiveness, perhaps even shedding tears until her anger melted away. He would have forced himself to eat the dinner even if he weren't hungry, and they would have balanced the business accounts exactly as they always did. This girl was changing him.
Hajiya realized she had to take drastic preventative measures before this situation spiraled completely out of her control. She leaned back against her cushions, picked up a secure, private phone, and dialed a number.
Her personal spiritual advisor—the Mallam who performed continuous prayers of protection and spiritual fortification for her family empire—answered the call. After exchanging formal greetings, Hajiya lowered her voice. "Malam, a significant crisis is brewing within my household. My son, Shamaki, has fallen so profoundly in love with a certain girl that he is acting like a complete fool. His behavior is genuinely terrifying me. I need you to conduct a deep spiritual audit immediately. Find out if this girl has used any love potions or charms on him! Furthermore, I want to know if there is any true divine blessing or prosperity for our family in this union."
The Mallam replied smoothly, "Insha Allah, Hajiya, you will receive the full spiritual results by tomorrow. We will investigate this thoroughly. Do you happen to have the girl's name?"
Hajiya paused for a moment. "Hold on." She disconnected the line and immediately dialed Shamaki’s phone.
Shamaki was just preparing for bed, rushing to finally call his beloved, when his phone rang with his mother's caller ID. His heart pounded with dread as he answered quickly. "Yes, Hajiya?"
"What is the full name of the girl you are pursuing?" she demanded coldly.
He answered rapidly, "They call her Baby, Amira, or Rabi'atu—she goes by all three names, Hajiya."
She hung up the phone instantly without another word. Once the bizarre call ended, Shamaki settled into the center of his massive bed, his feet dangling off the edge, and dialed Baby's mother's phone number.
Part 6: The Late-Night Call & The Ultimate Test
As for me, I was thoroughly exhausted from worrying about why Yaya Aliyu hadn't called. A part of me wanted to take the initiative and dial his number, but my pride and caution held me back. I had been unable to eat all day, and I spent my evening crying out to Allah in prayer, begging that if there was any impending obstacle to this marriage, the Almighty should remove it. By now, I had absolute confirmation within myself that I was deeply in love with Aliyu.
By the time we retired to our room, the absolute silence from Umma's phone convinced me that he had simply changed his mind about me.
Suddenly, the iconic Nokia ringtone shattered the midnight silence. I sat up instantly, straining my ears to see if Umma would wake up and call for me. The call timed out and cut off. I sprang out of bed and rushed into her room just as the phone began blaring the ringtone a second time. I offered a quiet greeting at the door, but received no response; Umma was fast asleep, the phone was plugged into the wall charger, and Baba had not yet returned to the room. I quickly grabbed the phone and ran back to our bedroom. The call disconnected right before I could slide the button to answer. I frantically tried to dial the code to check my balance, but his call flashed onto the screen again, cutting off my attempt. I threw myself onto our thin, worn mattress, pressed the phone tightly to my ear, and answered with a breathless greeting.
He answered, asking immediately, "Did I wake you from sleep, Baby?"
I lied softly, "Yes, I was just starting to drift off."
"Please forgive me, my Baby," he said heavily. "A mountain of urgent matters completely consumed my time tonight, preventing me from calling when I promised."
I let out a long, relieved sigh. "Honestly, Yaya, your silence completely terrified me. I spent the entire day in deep distress, wondering if something terrible had happened to you. At one point, I wanted to call you, but my heart warned me that you might be in the middle of an urgent family matter or busy at work. I finally went to bed wrapped in those worries."
"Alhamdulillah!" Shamaki exclaimed, his voice filled with profound joy. "Now I have absolute, undeniable proof that you love me, Baby! I am overjoyed. By Allah, I beg you never to hide your true feelings from me, whether they are joyous or painful. I want to hear everything, do you hear me, Baby?"
I blushed in the dark. "Yes, Yaya. I will always tell you."
"Now, tell me," he urged, "how did the discussion go with Umma and Baba?"
"They have fully accepted for you to bring the formal marriage token," I revealed. "But just as I warned you, they will absolutely not agree to host the wedding in five weeks alongside my graduation. The timeline is simply too tight for their circumstances. Besides, our Islamic teachers always say that reckless haste is a tool of the devil; it is much better to take things slowly."
He sighed deeply down the line. "What you say is entirely true, Rabi'atu. But I need you to understand something from my perspective: I have tasted marriage before, I know its beautiful companionship, and I am in dire need of it right now. I cannot endure a long, drawn-out courtship. Since you are willing to make a sacrifice regarding the luxury bridal chest, why can't I make a parallel sacrifice regarding the room furniture? Can we not bypass these societal expectations for my sake?"
I replied hesitantly, "Of course we can do it for your sake, Yaya. But you must understand how malicious people can be. The neighborhood will erupt in vicious gossip, claiming my parents couldn't even afford to purchase basic furniture for their daughter's marriage. As for the bridal chest, we can always make an excuse to the public that it's being kept in storage."
He let out a rich, booming laugh. "And as for the bed, we can just tell them the carpenter hasn't finished building it yet!" he joked, his spirit completely lifted.
I smiled. "If Umma and Baba can be convinced to agree to that, I have absolutely no problem with it. After all, you are the one I want, not the furniture. This very mattress I am lying on right now is barely thicker than a standard straw mat."
He let out a joyful laugh that suddenly made me incredibly shy. "Listen to me," he said warmly. "I possess a massive, luxurious mattress, and my Hajiya owns every cooking pot and kitchen utensil imaginable. Therefore, the only thing I genuinely require in my home is my wife."
A wave of intense euphoria coursed through my entire body the moment he referred to me as his wife. O Allah, allow this to manifest, I prayed fervently in the silence of my mind.
"Amen, my Babyna," he responded smoothly.
I gasped. "Wait! I only said that prayer silently in my mind!"
He chuckled softly. "Well, I answered it silently in my heart, and you somehow heard me too! You see, we are truly a special couple. Our ears possess the unique ability to listen to what our hearts are speaking. We must truly thank Allah for this connection. By the way, Baby, let me ask you an incredibly important question."
I closed my eyes, my voice dropping to a sleepy whisper as fatigue began to creep back over me. "Ask me anything you wish, Yaya."
"Would you be able to live in the same household with your mother-in-law?"
Instantly, all the sleep vanished from my eyes, and I snapped wide awake. My raw, human instinct wanted to shout "No!" because I grew up watching Umma suffer immensely from the bitter hatred of Baba's extended family. She had recounted horrific stories of how the abuse began with Baba’s mother before the old woman passed away.
"You've gone completely silent, Baby," he noted, his voice suddenly growing tense and anxious.
I soft-shoed my response, adopting a deeply endearing, submissive tone. "I was just completely startled by the question, Yaya, and I am trying to analyze why you would even ask it. Why on earth would you ask me if I can live with the very mother who gave birth to you? Yaya, if the intense affection I feel for you in my heart is true love, then how could your mother possibly fail to become my mother as well? Furthermore, if anyone else were to ask me if I could live with my own mother, wouldn't it be entirely natural for me to be surprised and want to know their hidden motive?"
Silence fell over the line. Shamaki was completely stunned, his mind entirely blown and overwhelmed by her masterful display of traditional respect and maturity.
When he finally found his voice, he spoke with immense emotion. "Please forgive me, my Babyna. I ask because I know many modern women actively run away from living with a mother-in-law. To be honest, that was the foundational crisis that destroyed my very first marriage with Meema's mother. But I didn't ask this because of any hidden negative motive, I swear."
I offered a subtle, knowing smile in the dark. I realized I was finally beginning to map out his deep vulnerabilities, and understanding his emotional triggers wouldn't be difficult at all.
He interrupted my thoughts, his voice ecstatic. "You have completely aced the absolute biggest test I had prepared for you! Because of this, I will officially send my marriage emissaries to your house this coming Sunday. And as for me, I will personally visit you the day after tomorrow to bring your three thousand naira for the graduation expenses."
"Didn't you tell me yesterday that you were coming tomorrow?" I cut in playfully. "Besides, the money isn't my priority at all. I faced a massive scolding from my father over the oranges you brought yesterday because he suspected I had begged you for them. My only true delight is simply sitting and conversing with you; I just want to see you face-to-face."
He gasped. "Alhamdulillah! I have truly won the lottery with you, Baby! By Allah, you are deeply in love with me. Baby, for the sake of Allah, please just say the words out loud. Say 'Aliyu, I love you!' Please, just say it so I can hear it."
I buried my burning face deep into my worn pillow. "Oh, my goodness, Yaya! Please have mercy on me. I will definitely say it to you... but absolutely not right now."
"Oh, come on, my Babyna, just say it," he pleaded, adopting a whiny, spoiled tone.
Suddenly, I heard the heavy clearing of my father's throat outside the door. I hadn't even heard his footsteps approaching. I knew he was coming to do his usual nightly check on us.
"Yaya, Baba has just walked into the corridor!" I whispered frantically. "We will have to continue tomorrow, please understand!" I instantly cut the call and lay perfectly still, feigning deep sleep. My father tapped the door gently, stepped inside, and flashed his small light. He offered a quiet prayer, blowing the spiritual blessings toward the east, west, south, and north corners of our bedroom before pulling the door shut and exiting.
Part 7: The Calm Before the Storm
The following morning, Hajiya accepted Shamaki’s morning greetings with an icy, detached composure, acting as if nothing unusual had transpired the night before. They sat down together to review the financial ledgers and business accounts that they were supposed to have calculated previous evening.
Shamaki completely relaxed his guard, eating a hearty breakfast. Even though he could clearly deduce that she was only maintaining this calm exterior so he would relax after his perceived missteps from the night before, he was immensely grateful for the peace. He desperately wanted her to ask him something—anything—regarding Baby, so he could use the opportunity to inform her that he intended to officially send the marriage emissaries within the week.
However, Hajiya completely and deliberately avoided the topic. She refused to utter a single word about his love life, maintaining a strategic silence until evening. For while she was desperately anxious to know the status of his relationship, she had resolved that she would not make a single move until she received the explicit spiritual report from her Mallam.
Just then, Meema and his other daughters came running into the room. They all rushed straight toward Hajiya, kneeling down politely to greet her. She stroked their heads gently, showering them with her customary maternal blessings, before the girls turned around and ran into the arms of their father, who eagerly embraced them...
