Ikraam and Mami’s Encounter
In a hurry, almost stumbling, she ran close to a large grocery store inside the market — everywhere was full of fruits. Unfortunately, while rushing, after she had finished paying for her fruits and hung her handbag, she carried her big nylon bags and walked away. But the little girl didn’t give up — she ran after her, shouting,
“Aunty! Aunty!”
The woman turned quickly, and unfortunately, one of her bags slipped from her hand, spilling its contents — wrist bangles, necklaces, and shoes. The girl quickly dropped the firewood she was holding, knelt down and said,
“Ahh, you didn’t hold the bag properly!”
Then she began picking the items up and putting them back into the bag until she was done. Afterward, she carried the bag on her head and said,
“Let me help you carry it, Aunty.”
The woman, who wasn’t her mother but could melt with affection for her, smiled and said,
“Leave it, my dear girl.”
The girl frowned slightly, saying,
“No, Aunty, I must help you.”
The woman smiled again, dropped one of her bags, opened her small purse, brought out ?500, and handed it to her.
“Here you go, young girl, just go on your way.”
The girl looked like she was about to cry.
“I swear, I must help you,” she said.
The woman laughed, finally giving in.
“All right, let’s go, my daughter.”
They walked together, but the girl’s eyes kept glued to the bag of fruits in the woman’s hand — that was the real reason she wanted to help.
When they got to the roadside after leaving the main market, the woman kept thanking her. The girl lowered the fruits from her head and asked,
“What’s your name, my daughter?”
“My name is Rabi’atu, but my parents and neighbors call me Ikraam,” the girl replied. “Mom said my uncle Lado insisted they name me Rabi’a after his late sister, who died and won’t return. But Mom wanted me named after her own mother. I don’t even like that Uncle Lado — he’s wicked. He hates my mom, my dad, and even me. His wife Shatu is evil too. Whenever Mom sends me to her house, she slaps me before I get home. And their daughter—”
The woman burst into laughter and cut her off,
“Ah, Ikraam! I just asked for your name!”
Ikraam pouted, “But I told you! My name is Rabi’a, but everyone calls me Ikraam. My teacher in school calls me Rabi’a, she says in school we should use our real names. And one day, one girl in my class—”
The woman laughed harder, smiling at her, “All right, I’ve heard you, Ikraam. Now go home, don’t let them start looking for you.”
Ikraam frowned playfully, twisting her skirt, “Aunty, but you didn’t give me the banana I saw in that bag.”
The woman chuckled, “Oh, I didn’t know you wanted some, Ikraam.”
She opened another bag, picked out bananas and apples, and handed them to her. Ikraam smiled brightly, showing her white teeth.
“Aunty, but you didn’t tell me your name,” she said.
The woman turned, smiling.
“My name is Hajiya Amina, but people call me Mami.”
Ikraam beamed, “Then I’ll call you Mami too!”
The woman laughed gently. “Yes, my daughter.”
She handed the fruit bag to her and asked,
“So what did you come to the market for, Ikraam?”
Just as Ikraam was about to reply, the woman’s phone rang. She took it from her purse, answered, and said,
“Hello, sorry, come back a bit — I can see your car now, I didn’t notice when you passed.”
Then she ended the call, turned to Ikraam, and said,
“All right, my daughter, go home now. May Allah bless you.”
Ikraam said, “But you haven’t left either, should I help you stop a taxi?”
The woman smiled, patting her head.
“Someone’s coming to pick me up now, my dear.”
Before she finished, a fine car parked right in front of them.
Ikraam’s eyes widened, “Wow! You’re going to ride in that car?”
Before Mami could say a word, the driver’s door opened. A young man stepped out, saying,
“Sorry, Mami, you’ve been waiting, right? There was a traffic jam.”
Mami smiled, “Oh no, I just got out of the market now.”
He bent down to pick up Mami’s bags, but Ikraam quickly held one tightly, looking suspiciously at him.
“Aunty, who’s that?”
The young man lifted his head to look at her, but she kept her eyes on Mami, waiting for an answer.
Mami laughed.
“That’s my son.”
Ikraam gasped, covering her mouth,
“Ahh! That tall boy is your son?”
Mami laughed even harder while the young man looked at her from head to toe.
She wore an old, faded wrapper and blouse, but her cleanliness made it look fresh. A black scarf tilted stylishly on her head and bathroom slippers on her feet. The young man shook his head, looked away, took the bags, opened the car trunk, and loaded them.
When he turned to tell Mami to get in, he accidentally bumped into Ikraam behind him.
“Ouch! Can’t you see, boy?” she complained, rubbing her forehead.
He was about to speak when she said,
“Move aside, I just want to peep inside your car.”
He stepped away, and she poked her head inside, then pulled it out laughing,
“Wow! My uncle Bala’s car isn’t like this — his seats are all torn and smelly. But this one smells nice like perfume!”
Mami laughed as she got into the car.
“Go home now, Ikraam,” she said.
Ikraam ran off, but Mami called her back. When she returned, Mami took out ?1,000, smiled, and said,
“Here, take this and go home, okay?”
Ikraam grinned widely, nodded, and ran off happily.
Ikraam Returns Home
Mami watched her go, shaking her head with a smile.
“Let’s go, my son,” she said.
The young man put his phone back in his pocket, started the car, and as he reversed, he asked,
“Mami, where did you find that girl?”
Mami replied, “Honestly, she just followed me from inside the market. I don’t even know her.”
He said nothing more, focusing on his driving.
Around 5 p.m., Ikraam got home, still holding the item her mother sent her to buy. She stopped at their entrance, lifted the curtain covering the door slightly, and peeped into the compound. Her eyes met Ammi, who was squatting beside the fire, turning the meal on the stove.
Ammi shouted,
“You dare peek at me like that? Today, only God can save you from me!”
Ikraam screamed and ran out, fell to the ground, and started rolling and crying,
“Oh my God! Oh my God!”
She kept rolling and kicking her legs. The man who sold firewood at the end of their street watched her and shouted angrily,
“Are you crazy? After behaving well for days, you’ve started again?”
Ikraam jumped up and ran faster, knowing he could come after her and beat her. She reached Altine’s house and fell to the ground again, still crying and rolling.
Altine’s mother came out and said,
“So you’ve started your madness again, Ikraam? Go back home, you little troublemaker!”
Just then, Baba Mai Nama (the meat seller) passed by carrying his tray of meat.
“What happened, Rabi?” he asked.
Through her tears, she said,
“Ammi beat me.”
He held her hand gently, “Ahh, Aisha again? Why did she beat you this time?”
Altine’s mother said,
“I swear, Baba, nobody touched her. It’s just Ikraam’s mischief. It’s been two days since she last caused drama in the street.”
Baba shook his head, still holding her hand as they walked to her house.
“You have to be patient with children,” he said. “This one is an innocent little angel — what does she even know?”
He knocked at the door, calling greetings. Ammi came out with her veil on,
“Good evening, Baba.”
He didn’t respond to the greeting, “Aisha, why did you beat this girl like that?”
Ammi sighed, “Wallahi, Baba, I didn’t. I sent her to the market since 2 p.m. She just came back now! When I scolded her, she ran off screaming.”
Baba said, “Well, Rabi is just a child — be patient with her.”
Ammi nodded, “Thank you, Baba.”
He turned to Ikraam, “Go inside, and learn to obey your mother.”
Ikraam nodded, wiping her tears, and slipped past Ammi into the house, knowing her mother wouldn’t hit her again in front of Baba.
Ammi thanked him again and went back inside.
She found Ikraam sitting by the stove, tossing new firewood into the fire, filling the house with smoke.
“Ammi, guess what,” Ikraam started, “today I met a very nice woman. She gave me—”
“Get away from here before I beat you with that firewood!” Ammi snapped.
Ikraam pouted, got up, and went into her room. She took out the ?1,000 Mami had given her and wondered where to hide it so Ammi wouldn’t find it. She spotted a small hole near the window and tucked it in.
Then she came out and said,
“Didn’t you say I should stay with you when you’re cooking?”
Ammi ignored her. Ikraam sat on a small chair, watching the pot boil. When Ammi wasn’t looking, she threw random things into the fire just for fun, filling the place with more smoke.
Ammi finally chased her away angrily. Ikraam sat by her room door, tears forming again.
When Ammi finished cooking and went into the kitchen, she came out and said,
“Go and bathe before it gets dark.”
Ikraam stood up, removed her clothes, and hung them on the line. Ammi turned and shouted,
“Oh, my goodness! Ikraam! Didn’t I tell you not to strip naked before getting into the bathroom?”
