CHAPTER 1
1199 Words
By the Grace of God!
It was late in the afternoon.
The sun was slowly fading into the western horizon, its golden light growing weaker by the second. Evening was approaching, and the darkness of dusk was already beginning to creep across the land, waiting patiently for the last rays of sunlight to disappear.
Deep inside the forest stood countless trees—tall, straight and densely packed together. Wild grasses and plants of different kinds grew beneath them, covering the earth like a thick green carpet.
To a stranger, the forest might have looked beautiful.
Perhaps it would even have been an interesting place for tourists to visit.
But anyone who knew what the forest concealed would never call it beautiful.
To them, it was a place of terror.
A place of fear.
A place where danger could be hiding behind every tree.
And on this particular evening, someone was running through it.
She was running for her life.
Her bare feet struck the rough ground repeatedly as she stumbled through the darkness. She had no shoes, no veil, and no protection from the branches and thorns that scratched against her body.
Yet she kept running.
She held something tightly against her chest.
From a distance, it was impossible to tell what she was carrying. Whatever it was, however, she treated it as though her life depended on protecting it.
Her lips were dry and cracked, almost like a stone that had not seen a drop of rain in years.
Her breathing was becoming heavier.
Her eyes barely seemed to recognize where she was going.
Still, she refused to stop.
Then—
BAM!
She suddenly collided with something.
She did not even have enough strength or awareness to identify what it was.
The impact sent her crashing to the ground.
A painful cry escaped her lips.
Blood immediately began trickling from the back of her head.
But even after falling, she did not immediately let go of what she had been carrying.
Then the thing in her arms began to cry.
A loud, frightened cry.
It was a newborn baby.
The baby's umbilical cord had not even fallen off yet.
His tiny body was still covered in dried remnants of childbirth, making it obvious that he had probably been born at least two days earlier.
Yet it seemed as though no one had even washed him.
The woman slowly raised herself from the ground.
Her body trembled.
She looked down at the baby in her arms.
For a moment, she simply stared at him.
Then she pulled him closer to her chest.
She was exhausted.
Terrified.
And whatever had brought her into that forest, it was clear that she was running away from something far more frightening than the darkness surrounding her.
***
Kano City.
Dorayi Tinga.
It was around four o'clock on a Thursday afternoon.
In one of the narrow streets stood a modest family house.
The entire neighborhood was filled with small houses packed closely together. The roads were rough and uneven, with no proper drainage system and no carefully planned streets.
Each house seemed to face whichever direction its owner had chosen.
Some compounds were neatly maintained.
Others were not.
The houses were so close together that some almost looked as though they had been built on top of one another.
It was clearly a neighborhood where ordinary people lived.
In front of one of those houses sat a middle-aged woman.
She held a traditional hand fan in one hand and was fanning herself while preparing food.
Beside her was a metal plate containing maize flour for tuwo.
She suddenly called out angrily.
"Are you waiting for the firewood to completely burn out before you go on the errand I sent you?"
A young girl stepped out from a small room behind her.
She was holding her hijab with one hand while wiping tears from her face with the other.
The woman looked at her.
"What are you crying about?"
The girl immediately began complaining.
"It was Huzaifa. He—"
"Be quiet!"
The woman cut her off sharply.
"You people only know how to argue as if you're trying to tear each other's stomachs open. If I forbid you from going wherever he is, would you listen?"
She reached for some money and handed it to the girl.
"Take this to Laure's house. Tell her to give you sixty naira worth of kuka, forty naira worth of dawadawa, and one hundred naira worth of palm oil. Bring me the change. I need to hurry and prepare this soup before Maghrib."
The girl frowned.
"Again? We're having kuka soup today? Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un."
The woman stared at her in disbelief.
"If I cook the kuka and you don't want to eat it, that's your business. Now take the money and leave before I throw you out myself!"
The girl reluctantly bent down and picked up the money.
She put on her hijab and headed toward the gate.
Deep inside, she almost wished there would be nothing to eat that evening.
Anything would be better than that tuwo and kuka soup.
The woman shouted after her.
"And don't you dare stop to play with those children on the road!"
The girl did not answer.
She simply walked away, looking around as she went.
Her name was Rumaisa.
But everyone who knew her called her Ruma.
Before going to Laure's house, she stopped at her friend Habiba's house.
Habiba's mother was sitting in the compound while someone braided her hair.
Ruma greeted her respectfully and asked for Habiba.
A moment later, Habiba came out smiling.
"Ruma, where are you going?"
Ruma lowered her voice.
"Please, Habiba. Can you lend me Sani's bicycle tire? Mama sent me on an errand, and I want to hurry there and come back."
Habiba stared at her.
"Ruma, you know how valuable that tire is to Sani. What if you lose it? Both of us will be in serious trouble."
"I swear I won't lose it. Please lend it to me. I just want to get there quickly and return."
Habiba sighed.
She led Ruma toward a small storage area.
After looking around, she reached above the chicken cage and pulled out the tire.
She handed it to Ruma.
"Please be careful with it. Don't let anything happen to it."
Ruma smiled.
"Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it. Sani was the one who left this tire here anyway. Now you'll see how quickly I can move with it."
Habiba laughed.
"Fine. Just hurry before he comes back."
Ruma grabbed the tire and took off.
She rolled it through the narrow streets, moving so quickly that anyone watching her might have mistaken her for a boy.
She did not stop until she reached Laure's house.
She bought everything Mama had requested.
But on her way home, she spotted some children from her Qur'anic school playing at the entrance of Hanne the akara seller's house.
She stopped.
She looked at them.
Then she forgot Mama's warning completely.
Ruma put the shopping bag, the change, and the borrowed tire down.
And joined the game.
That was the beginning of her trouble.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD