Tantiriya Agidan Yari Book 3 Complete Hausa Novel
The next morning, Khadija (Mero) attempted to force her way out of the room, determined to break through. As she moved, she heard faint sobbing from the corner of the room. Today, she heard someone nearby, startled to hear them consoling him. He said, “The woman I was supposed to marry is the one who died and ruined me.” Mero’s eyes widened, her hands clutching her chest. “So he has another woman to marry? She died? May God hear my prayer if I ever return—may He fill us with faith!” The crying sounded like a woman mourning love. “Why else would I need money? You’ve endured so little hardship. A poor man is used to all kinds of fate.” She lost patience and shouted, “Let the fire burn her too?!” Those in the room thought it was a ghost; fear gripped them, for in their lifetimes, they’d never heard someone speak from behind a wall—let alone a woman.
The young man raised his voice, “Yes, let the fire burn her too!” Mero retorted, “Lower your voice—is this nonsense...?” Exhausted, he repeated forcefully, “Let the fire burn her!” Mero snapped, “May God grant her martyrdom!” The men stood and left, refusing to engage further.
Khadija continued, “Are you done crying? Useless man!” She ignored him and kept pounding the wall. Today, she finally broke through a crack wide enough for two fingers. One eye pressed against the gap, she peered out the window and realized—this was the VIP section of the prison.
Maman Wahida was now in prison, though she once lived lavishly, focusing on her public image. Her family often visited; she faced no issues in VIP, where well-mannered inmates avoided trouble. If you weren’t in VIP, you had no privileges or protection.
Mero didn’t know Maman Wahida was Mima’s sister. She resembled her mother, sparking confusion. Today, impatient, she approached Wahida’s resting area. Mero greeted her, wearing an old lace dress and skirt—a hand-me-down from Azima, who hadn’t worn pants in days. Mero said, “Good day.” Maman Wahida barely glanced up. “Khadija Shekeke? Did you come to greet me or demand I greet you?” Khadija replied, “I snatched the greeting first. Anyway, you look like *Mummy Spark*.” Quickly, Wahida stared at her. “Where did you see my sister? We share the same mother and father!” Khadija said, “With Mima, Rafeeq, Misam… I don’t know the others.”
Maman Wahida said, “Sit.” Khadija continued, “If you’ve heard about your siblings, I have no money—I’ve been scrubbing floors at *Mummy Spark’s* house. Today, Spark came to me.”
Maman Wahida asked, “Spark came to *you*?” Mero said, “He has no issue giving me money and such. But as his ‘sister,’ he can’t visit us. Maybe your behavior deserves prayers! Your sister will come soon; you’ll reunite. *Mummy Spark* will visit this house tomorrow.”
Maman Wahida hissed, “Our father killed you! Why drag disaster into our family?” Azima emerged, swaying. “Khadija, won’t you let us rest today? Let’s go!” Khadija stood, and Azima passed by. Mero remarked, “Azima, your studies are slow. I see you’re still a religious novice. Do they really perform holy baths like this? I’ve been deluded for years, only learning yesterday!”
Azima laughed. “Khadija is truly ignorant!” Mero shot back, “Even my name is bitter! My parents ruined me—now I’m ‘enlightened’ in prison. Here, I’m educated, living as a city girl!” Azima scoffed, “You’ve returned to being a ‘city girl’? Shameless! You haven’t even started scrubbing floors. For God’s sake, learn and fulfill your prison duties. I’ve seen it: anyone who marries me marries a curse. That’s why I refuse to marry—no one deserves to bind themselves to me!”
