Amina was sitting on a very worn-out mattress, as flat as if it had been stepped on like bread—there was no need to even mention the state of her bed. Beside her was a bowl containing the remains of smelly, stale tuwo with kuka soup, clearly something that had been there since yesterday; she hadn’t taken the bowl out.
She was crying uncontrollably, as if her soul was about to leave her body.
When Inna entered the room to check on her—wondering why her spoiled daughter hadn’t come out today or gone to work—Amina froze in shock, seeing her as if she were an angel.
This was something only her spoiled child could do; otherwise, how could someone sit alone crying without a clear reason?
Inna exclaimed loudly, as if she had caught a cleric with a prostitute, and said, “What am I seeing like this, Amina? Are you sick? Who touched my tuwo? Why are you crying?”
It was then Amina lifted her head and began to speak through heavy sobs: “Inna, please forgive me. Please beg my younger sister Deejah to forgive me too. I’m sorry for listening to bad advice. I’ve stopped beating her, and… and I won’t spill her food again. Wallahi, I won’t snatch her snacks anymore. I promise—even her ₦50, I’ll repay it. All the disrespect I used to show, Allah, I’ve stopped, I swear I’ve stopped.”
She burst into louder tears.
Inna stared at her in disbelief. “So today Amina is asking for forgiveness and even calling her sister Deejah? Truly, something strange is happening.”
She then said, “Alright, my spoiled child, calm down and tell me—what happened?”
Amina replied, “Inna, I had a dream. I dreamt that I got Lassa fever and that I died!”
Inna said, “Look at this one. It’s only someone extremely dirty that dreams like this. When last did you bathe?”
“Do you think you’re doing yourself any good?”
Amina cried harder and said, “It’s just five days!”
Inna replied, “Don’t you even feel ashamed to say it? That’s not Lassa fever—even Ebola would catch you.”
Amina cried again, sniffing loudly. “Inna, is it that you don’t love me? Besides, even though I don’t bathe, I still change my pants.”
Inna snapped, “Shut that mouth of yours before you embarrass me in front of the neighbors. You’ve already filled this place with bad breath. Get up and brush your teeth and take a bath.”
Amina screamed, crying and wailing loudly.
Inna then calmed her down, telling her that dreams aren’t real. Eventually, she relaxed. Inna told her to go and bathe and eat, because she was writing her final exam that day, and next term they would start WAEC. So she finally prepared herself.
As she was about to leave, she said, “Inna, do you remember that ₦100 I once lent you?”
Inna asked, “When?”
She replied, “That time when we started exams.”
Inna said, “I remember. Didn’t I give it back?”
Amina replied, “Yes, but not fully.”
Inna said, “Haba, my child, how much have I given you within that period?”
Amina shouted, “Ohhh! So the money you gave me wasn’t for Allah’s sake? God forbid—wallahi, you must give me that money.”
Inna said, “Queen of trouble. You’re going out looking rough like this.” She reached into her wrapper and handed her a crumpled ₦200 note. “Take this, but bring back my change—this is my only money.”
Inna said this even though she knew it would be hard for Amina to return any change.
Amina frowned before collecting it and said, “I need money, and you know I won’t accept this old note.”
She hugged Inna tightly, pretending to be affectionate, then left, saying she’d return later. She stopped by her friend Zaliha’s house on her way to school.
During break time, she jumped over the school fence and went to the market to buy bread. She gave all the money as charity to almajiri children, praying that Allah would continue to protect her parents.
(Even though Amina was rude and sharp-tongued to anyone who offended her, she was extremely compassionate toward her parents. Her dirtiness was connected to this—she believed that as long as her soap and perfume weren’t finished, her parents wouldn’t have to spend money buying new ones. That was why she bathed only twice a week, no matter how much Inna complained.)
Amina Yusuf was an 18–19-year-old girl, very fair-skinned, with a well-shaped nose, an attractive figure, average height, sexy eyes, and beautiful hair.
Her father, Malam Yusuf—popularly known as “Baban Kowa”—was a carpenter. He wasn’t strong physically, but he lived modestly and honorably. He was highly respected in the neighborhood by both adults and children.
He was originally a Fulani from Taraba who lost all his relatives in a fire at the age of 18. He struggled on his own until he was 25, then moved to Kano, where he met Falmata, known as Inna, a Kanuri woman from Borno who made makeup and incense. They later married and moved to Kaduna, settling in Malali.
There, Inna gave birth to their first son, Abubakar, who was now doing his project at ABU. He supported himself to reduce the burden on his parents and helped them whenever he could.
After that, Inna didn’t give birth again until eight years later, when she had Amina—very stubborn, outspoken, rude, yet timid in the face of trouble. Despite everything, she held firmly to her religion, even if it didn’t show clearly.
Later, Inna gave birth to Khadijah, the last child, who was 12 years old.
That’s all for now.
Follow to hear more about Minal’s youthful life.
26th April, 2019
Love you all
Mzz Untichlobanty ❤️
KURUCIYAR MINAL
By Miss Untichlobanty
Chapter 2
After Some Time, After Minal’s Exams
Morning
Minal was holding her result slip when Miftahu (Hannatu’s younger brother—we’ll meet him in Chapter 8) said mockingly that even educated people had started collecting results and hoped she hadn’t repeated a class. Minal punched his mouth and said, “It’s nothing—some people’s school is just a waste of time.”
At that moment, Sani (Bilkisu’s brother—also to appear in Chapter 8) slapped Minal. She turned and insulted him, calling him a disaster. Before he could react, Minal attacked him, and the other children joined in, throwing dirt at him.
Evening
Children ran joyfully shouting, “Baban Kowa! Our father!” As usual, he never went anywhere without snacks. He brought out plenty of ligidi (candy) from his pocket and gave them. They thanked him happily. One girl asked him to tell them a story, and he replied, “I’ll tell you the story of the spider and the thief.”
Lado spread a sack for him as usual, and the children sat down. The old man began telling them a story…
Some young men were sitting somewhere smoking cigarettes when one of their phones rang. He checked the time—it was 4:00 p.m. He quickly put out his cigarette and said, “It’s time the old man usually passes.”
They laughed. One said, “No wonder—he’s probably telling stories to children again.”
They agreed but added that the old man always disturbed them, reminding them of what one of the girls’ fathers had done earlier.
Just then, Baban Kowa appeared. They quickly brushed themselves off and popped candy into their mouths to hide the smell of cigarettes.
They moved toward him with fake enthusiasm, smiling as if innocent. He approached them too, smiling—this was the first time he hadn’t caught them smoking.
But as they came closer, he smelled it. His cheerful face changed instantly.
He said angrily, “Look at you—shining like respectable people. Won’t you ever talk sense into yourselves? I truly thought you had changed, but clearly not.”
“Don’t you know this habit brings pain to your parents? Or do you want the world to destroy them? You nodded your heads just now—do you think I don’t understand?”
They shook their heads and apologized, promising to stop.
He smiled sadly, knowing such promises were usually broken before being fulfilled.
He said, “May Allah give you the strength to quit. You’re ruining your lives. Don’t you know whatever you do in your youth will follow you into adulthood? Or do you want to tell your children one day that you used to smoke weed?”
They shook their heads again.
“If your children smoked, how would you feel?”
They replied together, “We wouldn’t be happy.”
He said, “Even if you don’t know, know this—drug abuse causes madness, kidney and heart failure, and can easily kill. Is this how you want to meet Allah? Do you think there’ll be no consequences? Whether educated or not—Allah guide us all.”
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Amina was sitting on a very worn-out mattress, as flat as if it had been stepped on like bread—there was no need to even mention the state of her bed. Beside her was a bowl containing the remains of smelly, stale tuwo with kuka soup, clearly something that had been there since yesterday; she hadn’t taken the bowl out.
She was crying uncontrollably, as if her soul was about to leave her body.
When Inna entered the room to check on her—wondering why her spoiled daughter hadn’t come out today or gone to work—Amina froze in shock, seeing her as if she were an angel.
This was something only her spoiled child could do; otherwise, how could someone sit alone crying without a clear reason?
Inna exclaimed loudly, as if she had caught a cleric with a prostitute, and said, “What am I seeing like this, Amina? Are you sick? Who touched my tuwo? Why are you crying?”
It was then Amina lifted her head and began to speak through heavy sobs: “Inna, please forgive me. Please beg my younger sister Deejah to forgive me too. I’m sorry for listening to bad advice. I’ve stopped beating her, and… and I won’t spill her food again. Wallahi, I won’t snatch her snacks anymore. I promise—even her ₦50, I’ll repay it. All the disrespect I used to show, Allah, I’ve stopped, I swear I’ve stopped.”
She burst into louder tears.
Inna stared at her in disbelief. “So today Amina is asking for forgiveness and even calling her sister Deejah? Truly, something strange is happening.”
She then said, “Alright, my spoiled child, calm down and tell me—what happened?”
Amina replied, “Inna, I had a dream. I dreamt that I got Lassa fever and that I died!”
Inna said, “Look at this one. It’s only someone extremely dirty that dreams like this. When last did you bathe?”
“Do you think you’re doing yourself any good?”
Amina cried harder and said, “It’s just five days!”
Inna replied, “Don’t you even feel ashamed to say it? That’s not Lassa fever—even Ebola would catch you.”
Amina cried again, sniffing loudly. “Inna, is it that you don’t love me? Besides, even though I don’t bathe, I still change my pants.”
Inna snapped, “Shut that mouth of yours before you embarrass me in front of the neighbors. You’ve already filled this place with bad breath. Get up and brush your teeth and take a bath.”
Amina screamed, crying and wailing loudly.
Inna then calmed her down, telling her that dreams aren’t real. Eventually, she relaxed. Inna told her to go and bathe and eat, because she was writing her final exam that day, and next term they would start WAEC. So she finally prepared herself.
As she was about to leave, she said, “Inna, do you remember that ₦100 I once lent you?”
Inna asked, “When?”
She replied, “That time when we started exams.”
Inna said, “I remember. Didn’t I give it back?”
Amina replied, “Yes, but not fully.”
Inna said, “Haba, my child, how much have I given you within that period?”
Amina shouted, “Ohhh! So the money you gave me wasn’t for Allah’s sake? God forbid—wallahi, you must give me that money.”
Inna said, “Queen of trouble. You’re going out looking rough like this.” She reached into her wrapper and handed her a crumpled ₦200 note. “Take this, but bring back my change—this is my only money.”
Inna said this even though she knew it would be hard for Amina to return any change.
Amina frowned before collecting it and said, “I need money, and you know I won’t accept this old note.”
She hugged Inna tightly, pretending to be affectionate, then left, saying she’d return later. She stopped by her friend Zaliha’s house on her way to school.
During break time, she jumped over the school fence and went to the market to buy bread. She gave all the money as charity to almajiri children, praying that Allah would continue to protect her parents.
(Even though Amina was rude and sharp-tongued to anyone who offended her, she was extremely compassionate toward her parents. Her dirtiness was connected to this—she believed that as long as her soap and perfume weren’t finished, her parents wouldn’t have to spend money buying new ones. That was why she bathed only twice a week, no matter how much Inna complained.)
Amina Yusuf was an 18–19-year-old girl, very fair-skinned, with a well-shaped nose, an attractive figure, average height, sexy eyes, and beautiful hair.
Her father, Malam Yusuf—popularly known as “Baban Kowa”—was a carpenter. He wasn’t strong physically, but he lived modestly and honorably. He was highly respected in the neighborhood by both adults and children.
He was originally a Fulani from Taraba who lost all his relatives in a fire at the age of 18. He struggled on his own until he was 25, then moved to Kano, where he met Falmata, known as Inna, a Kanuri woman from Borno who made makeup and incense. They later married and moved to Kaduna, settling in Malali.
There, Inna gave birth to their first son, Abubakar, who was now doing his project at ABU. He supported himself to reduce the burden on his parents and helped them whenever he could.
After that, Inna didn’t give birth again until eight years later, when she had Amina—very stubborn, outspoken, rude, yet timid in the face of trouble. Despite everything, she held firmly to her religion, even if it didn’t show clearly.
Later, Inna gave birth to Khadijah, the last child, who was 12 years old.
That’s all for now.
Follow to hear more about Minal’s youthful life.
26th April, 2019
Love you all
Mzz Untichlobanty ❤️
KURUCIYAR MINAL
By Miss Untichlobanty
Chapter 2
After Some Time, After Minal’s Exams
Morning
Minal was holding her result slip when Miftahu (Hannatu’s younger brother—we’ll meet him in Chapter 8) said mockingly that even educated people had started collecting results and hoped she hadn’t repeated a class. Minal punched his mouth and said, “It’s nothing—some people’s school is just a waste of time.”
At that moment, Sani (Bilkisu’s brother—also to appear in Chapter 8) slapped Minal. She turned and insulted him, calling him a disaster. Before he could react, Minal attacked him, and the other children joined in, throwing dirt at him.
Evening
Children ran joyfully shouting, “Baban Kowa! Our father!” As usual, he never went anywhere without snacks. He brought out plenty of ligidi (candy) from his pocket and gave them. They thanked him happily. One girl asked him to tell them a story, and he replied, “I’ll tell you the story of the spider and the thief.”
Lado spread a sack for him as usual, and the children sat down. The old man began telling them a story…
Some young men were sitting somewhere smoking cigarettes when one of their phones rang. He checked the time—it was 4:00 p.m. He quickly put out his cigarette and said, “It’s time the old man usually passes.”
They laughed. One said, “No wonder—he’s probably telling stories to children again.”
They agreed but added that the old man always disturbed them, reminding them of what one of the girls’ fathers had done earlier.
Just then, Baban Kowa appeared. They quickly brushed themselves off and popped candy into their mouths to hide the smell of cigarettes.
They moved toward him with fake enthusiasm, smiling as if innocent. He approached them too, smiling—this was the first time he hadn’t caught them smoking.
But as they came closer, he smelled it. His cheerful face changed instantly.
He said angrily, “Look at you—shining like respectable people. Won’t you ever talk sense into yourselves? I truly thought you had changed, but clearly not.”
“Don’t you know this habit brings pain to your parents? Or do you want the world to destroy them? You nodded your heads just now—do you think I don’t understand?”
They shook their heads and apologized, promising to stop.
He smiled sadly, knowing such promises were usually broken before being fulfilled.
He said, “May Allah give you the strength to quit. You’re ruining your lives. Don’t you know whatever you do in your youth will follow you into adulthood? Or do you want to tell your children one day that you used to smoke weed?”
They shook their heads again.
“If your children smoked, how would you feel?”
They replied together, “We wouldn’t be happy.”
He said, “Even if you don’t know, know this—drug abuse causes madness, kidney and heart failure, and can easily kill. Is this how you want to meet Allah? Do you think there’ll be no consequences? Whether educated or not—Allah guide us all.”