Bongel

Bongel

Maryam Bobi
 Copyright © 2015 Maryam Bobi

ISBN: 978-978-53425-1-2

All rights reserved.

First Published in Nigeria by Parrésia Publishers Ltd.

9, Oluwole Close, Okota, Lagos, Nigeria.
www.parresia.com.ng

No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed,

stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means,
electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying,
recording or otherwise without prior permission in writing to the Publisher.
For information about permission to reproduce selections from
this book, write to origami@parresia.com.ng

National Library of Nigeria Cataloguing-in-Publication Data.

Origami Books
An Imprint of Parrésia Publishers Ltd.
9, Oluwole Close, Okota, Lagos, Nigeria.
www.parresia.com.ng

Printed and Bound in Nigeria by Parrésia Press

 My emeralds: Ummul-khair and Jawahir
and
For Rabi’atu-Badawiyya, I never got to meet you
but your thoughts never left me.
 Acknowledgements

All praise and thanks to the Almighty Allah, for his numerous
blessings.
My unreserved gratitude to the Niger State Book and
other Intellectual Resources Development Agency (NS-
BIREDA), for deeming it fit to have Bongel published.
Thank you Hajiya Ladidi, my first teacher, and Alhaji
Shuaib Aliyu Bobi for not bethrothing me at the age of thirteen
but investing your income in my future, for a family like no
other.
B.M. Dzukogi, thank you for these words “you can be a
writer”, it sure was the trigger little Maryam needed.
Ahmed Maiwada, you always believed Bongel is a tale that
needs to be told, thank you for not giving up.
Awwalu Abdullahi Sakiwa, for always being there, your
cover illustration speaks volumes.
To Saddiq and Halima, my two push buttons, who

vii
never got tired of bringing out the best in me, you two are
exceptional musketeers!
Doc Tea, Yerima, Paul, Terfa, Hamza, Abel, Abdul k,
Awwal Abdul, Jeedz, Ramat, Sarat, Zee, thank you for the
gift of friendship.
Thank you Unoma Azuah, Uchenna Ekweremadu, Nur-
d-din Busari and Richard Ali for accomodating me in your
tight schedules and taking a look at my manuscript, your
suggestions I will forever appreciate.
Finally, to all those I haven’t mentioned, I appreciate you
more than pen can write. Useko Miyetti!

viii
 Prologue

Bongel’s hijab flapped about in the cool evening breeze and

though the rain had stopped, the sky was still swollen with
dark clouds. She became anxious. While it was still pouring
outside, Abdul had phoned to say he was on his way to see her.
Another downpour might discourage him from waiting. The
rain had caught her at the faculty library where she had gone
to research a term paper. As she headed back to the hostel,
she kept to the shoulder of the tarred road, leaping over
puddles now and then. She frowned each time a raindrop hit
her forehead, blown from the leaves of the boulevard trees. It
baffled her to think it was already five in the evening because
she had not eaten any solid food all day.
As soon as she took the short bend into the walkway
that led to the hostel, she sighted Abdul’s car at the parking
lot close to her hostel block. What started as a twitch at the
corners of her lips formed a soft smile that spread over her

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 Maryam Bobi

face. He was leaning on the car, his back against the door,
fiddling with his phone. But then, her smile vanished with
the same speed it had come and her heartbeat accelerated as
every step she took brought her closer to him. She felt the
cold breeze permeate her pores to her marrows; it seemed to
be seeping to her very soul. Slowing down her pace, she took
deep breaths to calm herself. He seemed to have heard her
light footsteps because at that point, he looked up, saw her,
and beamed a huge smile. His smile always melted her heart,
like butter off the back of a warm spoon.
“Mai kyau!” he breathed, slipping the mobile phone into
the breast pocket of his richly embroidered jumper. “I was
just about calling your phone to let you know I am out here.”
If Abdul was a hypnotist, then he was the chief of them
all. With those two words, “Mai Kyau,” he always dismantled
her defenses. Mai kyau: The pretty one. Bongel couldn’t tell
if the charm with which he uttered those words came from
the Baritone voice he used or the crystal-clear smile that
accompanied the utterance.
“Al haya’u minal iman ko,” he mumbled as she shuffled up
to his side and flashed her large eyes at him. She scanned his
tall frame in one sweep and she immediately felt overwhelmed
by him. Bongel had the urge to cover her face with her palms
but thinking it would appear childish, she looked down and

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 Bongel

began to fiddle with one of the braided knots hanging loose

from the edge of her hijab. She let out a faint gasp when he
reached out and took her hands into his, giving her palms a
warm squeeze.
“Marry me,” he blurted, his eyes imploring. “I want to
be able to hold you without you recoiling, or giving me a
disapproving look that reminds me that it’s haram, something
wrong.” He placed her hands on his chest to make her feel the
pounding of his heart.
“Wait,” she cried, freeing her palms from his gentle grip.
“It is not yet time for that. I must get done with my schooling
first. Until then,” she shook her head, “I can’t face my father.”
Abdul stared at her for an entire minute, numb with
frustration. “Mai kyau,” he said with hesitation when he finally
found his voice. “Why don’t you just tell me about it? This
thing you are holding between us and against me. Don’t you
believe me when I say my cord has become entwined with
yours and shall forever remain so till death do us part?”
“That is not the issue,” she said in a whisper, wringing her
hands at the incomprehensibility of her situation. How could
she get him to understand that she had been through a lot
lately? Why didn’t he understand that her past wasn’t a pool
she would happily dive into? Why couldn’t he just trust her
and let things go at her own pace?

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 M a r y am B o b i

“Please,” she said with a sigh, trying hard not to break into
a sob. “Let us not begin to strip the chicken off her feathers.
Not tonight. Please.”
Abdul shuffled closer and covered her shivering shoulder
in an embrace. “Let me in, Mai kyau,” he whispered into her
ears. “We are in it together. In anything it is. I am on your
side. Never forget that. Allah has brought us together for this
reason.”
What woman’s legs would not wobble with Abdul’s lips so
close to her ear, pouring those words into her and beclouding
her reason? Who was the woman that would not breathe out a
sigh and begin to throw her arms around him? Just when she
feared that she would not be able to resist any longer if she
remained glued to him a second more, Bongel tore away from
his embrace, pushing him away.
She caught the flicker of rage in his eyes and wished there
was another way to make him understand. Standing out there
in the mosquito-infested open air was only worsening the
situation. Abdul slapped the back of his neck, to get rid of
a mosquito. Perhaps he would have been less enraged if he
thought he had crushed the naughty insect. She imagined his
fair skin turning red and wished she could make his anger go
away.
“You want to be left in peace, eh? Alright then!” He said

xii
 Bongel

and yanked the car door open, flung his body inside and
slammed the door so hard it reverberated a hundred times
inside Bongel’s head. His turning on the ignition, reversing
and zooming off seemed to have happened in the same second.
Bongel followed the car with tear-filled eyes, hoping Abdul
would get home in one piece. As she headed to her hostel,
she blinked and the tears flowed free. Though she knew his
frustration was getting to a crescendo, she never thought such
a day was going to arrive so soon.
Nightfall seemed to have taken the world by surprise.
A lazy thunder rumbled, hidden somewhere under the dark
cloud. Bongel didn’t mind if the undecided rain made up its
mind and came crashing through dawn.

xiii
 Chapter One

Bongel opened her eyes again to the racing blades of the

ceiling fan. She had been trying hard to fall asleep. She still
felt dizzy and hungry and wished she had the appetite to eat
something. Anything. Each time she blinked, she didn’t bother
about the rivulet of tears that rolled down her cheeks to her
earlobes and into the fibre-stuffed pillow. She turned over
and noticed that Kauthar was still sitting up with her chin on
her palms. Kauthar, who didn’t know that her roommate was
still awake all this while, rushed to her bedside and hugged
her. When the words failed to come, Bongel parted her lips
and dissolved in tears and sobs. After a few silent moments,
Bongel looked up and stared at the red wall clock. Kauthar
followed her stare.
“It’s past eight already!” Kauthar screamed. She jumped
off the bed and made for the door. “You better get into a
better shape by the time I return from lectures. We’ll talk
about everything when I get back.”
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 Maryam Bobi

Fifteen minutes later, Bongel found the strength to gather

herself and shuffle to the door. She opened it and took in a
generous amount of fresh air before shutting it behind her.
She leaned back on the door and took in every detail of her
environment. Virtually all the other doors in the block were
shut, except for one or two. And she could only sight very few
of her hostel mates loitering about the verandahs and lawn
of the courtyard. The rest must have either gone to class or
taken a ride into town.
She found the sun exceptionally bright for such a time
of the day and was torn between the desire to stroll to the
foot of the Melina tree at the middle of the courtyard to be
warmed by shafts of sunlight pouring through the canopy of
leaves or to remain at the door and savour the tweets and coos
that played around her. Kauthar’s words continued to replay
in her head. “We’ll talk when I get back!”
Bongel still shuddered at the prospect of flipping through
the dog-eared pages of her past with Kauthar or anyone else.
She had a strong conviction that the time was not ripe for
that. She sighed and tried to look up at the sky but gave up
when the sun’s brightness nearly blinded her. Bongel could
tell from experience that it was the kind of sun indicating
there would soon be a rainfall. She scanned the sky without
trying to look directly at the sun, spotted dabs of cloud. She

2
 Bongel

was so sure they were rain clouds – nimbus cloud, as she had
learnt to call them from a Geography class.
Bongel always thought that she had an abnormal childhood
even though it had been interesting growing up in Rugar
Bobi, a small Fulani settlement. It had also been tough for
her as the only child at home. She had no brothers and all her
sisters were married even before she turned thirteen. This
was a reality that left her forlorn much of the time. It had
been out of the desire to beat this mood that she had several
times accompanied Modibbo, her father’s herdsman, covering
miles on foot to herd the cattle. They sometimes ventured as
far as the banks of the great river. It was from Modibbo that
she got her first lessons on clouds, weather, and the cultures
and traditions of the Fulanis.
In no time, just as she had thought, those few splotches
of nimbus clouds multiplied and spread across the sky and
blanketed a greater part of the sun. She caught herself smiling
as she caught sight of other students scampering like a swarm
of disturbed ants as they gathered their clothes from the lines.
It always felt good to be right.
The smile didn’t last long on her face. She couldn’t help
but occasionally wander in her mind, painful as it always was.
Just as there were so many things she wished hadn’t happened,
there were so many others she hoped hadn’t changed. If she

3
 Maryam Bobi

was that innocent girl again, back in Rugar Bobi, she would
run about the valley with Juma, her childhood friend. And
now that it rained, she would sing and dance in the rain.
Bongel could clearly hear one of the songs in her head; just
as she could see Modibbo chasing her and Juma homewards.
Allah kawo ruwa mu sha mamale
Bama tsoron likita balle Dan sanda
With another sigh, she faced the direction of the room.
Their room was approximately 9m square in size. It had two
iron beds at opposite ends of a narrow aisle that led to the
bathroom and the kitchenette. The fragrance of the incense
Kauthar customarily burnt after subhi prayers still hung
strongly in the air. Bongel had once joked that the scent had
already soaked into the curtains and walls of the room to last
a lifetime. Soon as she entered the room, she slumped onto
Kauthar’s neatly laid bed, tracing the ornate patterns on the
bedspread with her slim fingertips. From there, she looked
over to her own bed at the other end of the room. Sometimes,
Kauthar shared the bed with her, worn and old as it was.
“It’s softer,” Kauthar would claim, pouting.
Not too far away from the edge of the bed, she could spot
the splotch of oil stain on her own bedspread. It was the result
of a physical, playful brawl they had over a piece of meat some
days back.

4
 Bongel

“If only I wasn’t this restless!” Bongel said under her

breath.
She pushed herself up and walked down the aisle to the
kitchenette. On the kerosene stove was a small pot of the
noodles Kauthar cooked the previous night. Bongel picked
a clean fork and twirled it around the pot until the fork
gathered enough strands of the noodles, then she lifted it to
her mouth. It was cold but was still very delicious. She was
about sending up the second forkful when she remembered
she had not brushed her teeth.
At the bathroom, she was greeted by a mixed odour of
disinfectants and deodorants. They assailed her nostrils the
instant she flung the door open. As she moved to the side wall
to study her pale face in the mirror, she found herself inhaling
as much of the fragrance as she could take in and smiled at the
girl staring back at her in the mirror.
Just like that, Bongel felt refreshed; sweet smells always
left her feeling better. Being stark naked in this small bright
room of white tiled walls and floors always fascinated her.
On automatic, she would pause by the mirror to examine
her body. First, she would turn her head this way and that,
stroking her spot-free cheeks, trying hard not to dissolve
into a smile. Next, she would feel her upper chest, the valley
between her breasts and her nipples, only stopping when she

5
 Maryam Bobi

feared she was beginning to cross the boundary of proper

behaviour. She also made out time for her stomach where she
enjoyed stroking the smooth hairs encroaching from below
her navel. She ran her fingers over the base of her neck. It
had emaciated alarmingly within a mere two days. Even her
face seemed to have lost its radiance, her eyes had taken a
dull glow from weeping. She just hoped she wasn’t getting ill.
She worked up some saliva which she spread over her tongue,
making sure they touched the taste buds. She couldn’t say she
sensed outright bitterness, which would have suggested fever.
She opened the small windows slightly and noticed it
was now raining heavily outside. She turned on the shower
and swayed in a dance under the lukewarm strings of water,
humming her favourite rain song. She had secured the
apartment’s door as she always did anytime she was alone and
wanted to take a shower. When she was done, she reached for
the pink towel, mopped her body before tying it around her
slim body. She picked her body lotion from the small table
between her bed and the window, then sat on the bed. Bongel
was not ignorant of her skin, how it glowed easily like polished
gold when the lotion is applied to it. She still recalled with
pride how her dazzling skin thrilled the boys in Rugar Bobi,
even when all she used to apply was shea-butter.
A violent thunderclap shook the entire hostel block,

6
 Bongel

almost frightening Bongel’s spirit out of her body. She was

reminded that she was no longer the girl she used to be. She
was no longer that little girl who roamed the plains with her
father’s cattle and looked even the harshest weather in the
eye. Back then, it would have amused her if she was told that
someday mere thunder would scare her. Now, she was afraid
of everything. She was afraid of saying what she ought to say
when she ought to say it. She was afraid of the future. She was
more afraid of the past.
She dressed in a pair of blue jeans trousers and a red polo
shirt, her most comfortable mode of dressing within the
hostel building. She stood in front of the wall mirror hanging
between the door and the window.
Back in the days when she played the shepherdess, Bongel
had had to traverse hills and rivers, encouraged by the company
of the cattle. But all that now seemed like a world long buried
under the sea, as if her teenage had been a dream from which
she had long woken up. In the new world she found herself,
she seemed to be in a journey all alone, standing helpless at
the foot of a hill that continued to grow – a giant mountain
that might become impossible to traverse.
This feeling of helplessness sapped her of all strength,
forcing her to the bed where she lay down and let the tears
flow again.

7
 Chapter Two

Bongel woke up to find Kauthar standing by the bed smiling

down at her, displaying her prize rows of even white teeth and
the one gold canine. She acquired the gold tooth cap during
her last trip to Mecca. Kauthar knew how to intimidate both
sexes with her height and beauty until they felt inferior. But,
to Bongel, she would always remain the sweetest girl.
“I’m sure the sleep must have helped you a lot, Roomie,”
Kauthar said.
“Really?” Bongel replied with the start of a smile. “I hope
it has.”
She sat up and made some space for her friend who
lowered her graceful body beside hers.
“I called Abdul,” Kauthar mumbled, keeping a straight
face whilst watching Bongel from the corner of her eyes.
“Why? When?”
“What is really going on between you two?” Kauthar

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 Maryam Bobi

asked, her face suddenly serious, turning to face her friend.

“Until today, I can’t remember Abdul ever ignoring my calls,
or not calling back sometime later. I demand you talk right
now. In fact, I insist on it.”
“I told you already, Roomie,” she replied, sighing. “It’s
nothing...”
“Don’t give me that crap,” Kauthar said, hissing in a
dramatic manner. “Both of you act as if I am an outsider. You
shut me out, even though I was there from the very start. I
don’t care to know what the two of you do in the dark. All I
am saying is, I am not too blind to see that all is not well. And
I demand to know what the problem is.” She took Bongel’s
hand and gave the gold-ringed fingers a gentle squeeze. “I am
a part of it. We are in this together. Please, talk to me.”
Silence. Bongel sighed again. Where should she start?
Images flew around in her mind. She would love to arrange
them orderly, to create a coherent panorama. But where
should she start? She felt her eyes start to steam and though
she was soon blinking incessantly, she didn’t want to break
down in tears. She was tired of being an object of pity. Just
when she feared the tears would roll down, she lowered her
body slowly until her back reached the mattress, then turned
her teary face away.
Kauthar nodded slowly and got up from the bed. “Okay,”
she said with resignation in her voice. “I get it.”
10
 Bongel

“It’s not like that,” Bongel said, feeling bad already.

“I will be going home for the weekend,” Kauthar mumbled.
“Need to see my mom for something.”
Although Bongel heaved a sigh of relief that her friend had
not pressed on, she wished she could ask her not to go, not
to leave her alone. These days, Bongel could hardly imagine
life without Kauthar. They had become like Siamese twins.
Bongel still remembered the first time they met when she
was queuing under the scorching sun in front of the Bursar’s
office. Students had been asked to submit copies of their
credentials, and the queue was long. Just when it was Bongel’s
turn to step forward to the window through which the Bursar
attended to students, Kauthar had appeared by her side and
asked Bongel to let her submit hers first.
“Please, my mother has been rushed to the hospital and
my brother is here to take me home.”
Bongel couldn’t refuse her.
A few days later, as Bongel rushed to class for the first
lecture, she found herself walking side by side Kauthar.
Kauthar smiled and thanked her for the other day. They ended
up sitting beside each other in the lecture hall. This became
their routine: Sitting beside each other in class. Whoever got
to class first reserved a seat for the other. Later, they started
hanging out at the Sultan cafeteria for lunch breaks – Kauthar
always insisting on paying for the snacks and soft drinks. That
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 Maryam Bobi

was how they went on until it became common knowledge

that to find one of them, you must first look for the other.
The peak of it came when Kauthar decided to move in with
Bongel on campus instead of coming from home as she used
to.
Though Bongel didn’t ask for it, Kauthar improved her
standard of living by ensuring they didn’t lack essential
household supplies. In addition, any weekend she went
shopping or visited her home, which was barely two hours’
drive from the school, she would buy things for Bongel. It was
only a matter of time before Bongel started accompanying her
home on some weekends, and during these outings, she met
Kauthar’s family. They received her well and soon it got too
difficult to convince people they weren’t related by blood.
Kauthar had always told stories about an elder brother
studying in the UK. Whenever he uploaded a new photo on
Facebook or Instagram, Kauthar would show it to her until
Bongel got to know what Abdul looked like so well she could
pick him out from a crowd. One day, as they were lying side
by side on Kauthar’s bed, pretending to read while actually
chatting, the latter’s phone rang. When she ended the call, she
excitedly informed Bongel that her brother had just flown
into the country. “We’ll go and see him!” Kauthar had clapped.
“Tomorrow evening!”

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 Bongel

Though Bongel had fielded all the excuses she could come
up with, Kauthar insisted they went home the following day.
Being a shy girl, Bongel had always discouraged contact with
the opposite sex. She didn’t understand why Kauthar would
always tell her brother things about her whenever he called.
“I’ve found you a wife,” Kauthar had told him once. “My
roommate on campus,” she had added even as Bongel scowled
and poked her. It was plain to Bongel that Kauthar was doing
everything to pair her and her brother.
But, just three hours later, Kauthar’s phone rang again.
It was Abdul and he informed her he was by the parking lot
quite close to the girls’ hostel. They rushed out and found
him sitting on the bonnet of a silver-colored Toyota Camry;
his eyes, like a movie star’s, hidden behind sunshades. On
sighting his kid sister, Abdul smiled and spread his arms for
Kauthar to run into. Bongel didn’t miss the pointed nose
and well-kept beard peculiar to Fulani men. She found him
well built enough to pass for a model any day. Their show
of familial affection impressed Bongel, who did not have a
brother. She stood aside while Kauthar, still in her brother’s
arms, introduced them. Abdul had taken off his glasses before
extending a hand to Bongel. Instead of taking the offered
hand, she had curtsied.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she said politely,

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 Maryam Bobi

smiling, feeling entrapped by his tender, bold eyes. They

seemed to have grown fangs and plunged into her heart.
“Sis,” he said, turning to Kauthar, “you had presented
me a picture that in no way comes close to reality. She is
beyond pretty. She is gorgeous.” He had shaken his head as if
mesmerized. Bongel covered her face with both hands.
“I am taking you home for the weekend,” he had said,
nodding to Kauthar. He turned and smiled at Bongel. “And
you, are coming with us.”
“I can’t,” Bongel had wailed, her normal pitch having
deserted her. “I’ll be meeting with my project supervisor
later today.”
At that, Kauthar continued from where her brother
stopped. She tried to persuade Bongel but she stood her
ground and this greatly upset Kauthar. As she was packing up
some clothes, it had been clear she was unhappy with Bongel.
She showed this displeasure by refusing to hug Bongel or even
say goodbye before she left.
All weekend, Bongel replayed her brief meeting with
Abdul in her head. She went over the details of his face and
body and only called herself to order when she feared that she
was beginning to veer away from virtue. The fact that Kauthar
didn’t return till late Sunday evening made matters worse for
Bongel. She grew anxious and forlorn by the hour.

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 Bongel

“Ummee was not happy you refused to come with us,”

Kauthar informed her shortly after Abdul dropped her. “And
she says to tell you so.”
“Why did you tell your mother I refused to come?” Bongel
had asked. “You know I was lagging behind on my project and
needed to meet with my supervisor.You should have just told
her the truth.”
Bongel laid back on her bed and watched Kauthar unpack
her luggage, then Kauthar flung a cellophane bag onto her
bed.
“From Abdul,” she said, “cloth and chocolates.”
Bongel would have rejected them outright if she didn’t
fear she would upset Kauthar even more.
It took several weekend trips to Kauthar’s home for
Bongel to admit that she had feelings for Abdul. He would
take them in his car to different places around the town and
buy them things, then drive them back to school on Sunday
evening. Though he didn’t talk to her about love, his actions
said it all. Even the deaf and the blind would have sensed it.
Their first body contact had been on one of such Sunday
nights. Kauthar had gone on with their bags to the hostel and
just as Bongel was about to step out of the car, Abdul’s hand
fell on her hand, instantly sending frissons all over her body.
Bongel didn’t imagine that an adult man’s palm could feel so

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 Maryam Bobi

soft. Even when she knew she was shivering, she couldn’t look
away from his tender eyes. They seemed to have magnetized
hers. “Good night, Mai Kyau,” he had whispered.
That was the first day he called her “Beauty,”which
eventually became his pet name for her. Her face had been so
close to his that she could perceive his minted breathe. She
felt so emotionally drained she lacked the strength to say a
word. All she was able to do was nod. Later, at midnight, he
called her up for a long chat.
Bongel just couldn’t ward off Abdul the way she had been
doing to all the other men who approached her. And she
couldn’t say why exactly.
“I’m happy you’re beginning to accept and reciprocate
his love,” Kauthar had said, grinning at her roommate one
morning. “He’s a man any decent girl would want for a
husband.”
“I love him as an elder brother,” Bongel replied in a voice
that failed to convince herself. “And I’m sure he loves me just
as a kid sister, nothing more.”
“Rubbish,” Kauthar had hissed. “Keep telling yourself lies.
You and I know he loves you. And the fact that he is your best
friend’s brother doesn’t in any way impinge upon anything.
Instead, it places him above other contenders.”
From the start, it had been plain enough that Kauthar’s
position reflected that of the entire family. Besides, Kauthar’s
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 Bongel

mother had already started referring to Bongel as her daughter.

However, Bongel’s only worry remained Abdul’s persistent
plea to be taken to visit her parents so that their marriage
process could be initiated. Bongel knew that, sooner or later,
she would have to do some explaining to Abdul if she really
wanted him to marry her. But it was the courage to open up
her past that she couldn’t summon.

Bongel returned to the hostel from class at almost 9 p.m. It

was Monday and she had stayed behind at the insistence of her
course mates to lead a tutorial session. Bongel kept sneaking
out during the review class in order to call Kauthar’s phone.
Kauthar wouldn’t pick up. She had gone to check the hostel
several times but Kauthar was not there either. She dropped
her notebooks on the bed and then took off her lab coat.
The whole place was just as she had left it in the morning.
Did it mean Kauthar had not yet come back from home? She
had never felt more bored and displaced. Even some of her
course mates had noticed her absent-mindedness and showed
concern. Kauthar’s absence seemed to aggravate the situation.
What was happening to the world? Bongel wondered. Why
were unpleasant things befalling her these days?
She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she did not hear
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 Maryam Bobi

the muffled sounds from the toilet until Kauthar stepped out
and slammed the door behind her. For a moment, Bongel
thought she was seeing the apparition of Lot’s frozen wife.
Kauthar must have brought this new shower cap from home,
she thought, and the dark blue towel draped from the chest
to her thighs.
“Hey!” Bongel shouted and then sat with a smile. “What’s
up?”
Kauthar barely responded. If those cold eyes didn’t belong
to her best friend, Bongel would have sworn those pair of eyes
bore hatred for her.
“What’s up?” Bongel said again.
“You!” Kauthar hissed through clenched teeth. “I thought
you were real. How long did you think it would go on before
someone found out?”
“Erm,” Bongel said, adjusting her weight on the bed,
confusion written clear on her face. “What are you talking
about?”
“How could you lie to me?” Kauthar moaned. “I trusted
you, Bongel! I took you like a sister! I loved you! How could
you lie to me?”
“Lie to you? My God!” Bongel left the bed and took steps
towards Kauthar who was standing arms akimbo, who had
stamped her foot with every question.

18
 Bongel

“What’s all this about?” Bongel asked when she got to her
and made to take her hand, but Kauthar pushed it away.
“I can’t believe I fell for your false pretence, your holier-
than-thou demeanour, which made me hook you up with my
elder brother, with the hope that you and I would be sisters
forever! Who would think that the so-portrayed footpath was
a highway through which everybody has walked through? And
if it had not been for Allah’s revelation, you would have gone
on to dishonour my family by serving my dear brother a left-
over dish!”
It happened in a split second, even before she could think.
Bongel never believed that anything could make her lift a
finger to her dear friend, but she gave Kauthar a resounding
slap. She knew she would never forgive herself for that rash
action.
“Look what you made me do!” she cried with tear-filled
eyes. “What are you saying? What is the meaning of all this?”
She turned back to sit at the edge of her bed and bury her face
in her palms. Kauthar stood at the spot for a minute more,
with her hand at her cheek. Then she too shuffled to the edge
of her own bed and faced her roommate.
“Abdul now knows the truth,” Kauthar said calmly. “How
did you think none of us would ever find out? We found your
home. We saw your mother!”

19
 Maryam Bobi

“What?” Bongel panted, looking out from the shield of

her hands. “What did she tell you?”
“Everything. Your failed marriage, after your husband
discovered the pregnancy was not his. Your mother told us
everything.”
“My mother told you all that?” Bongel said, intoning each
word. Then she looked straight at Kauthar and slowly rose to
her feet. “Where did you find my mother?”
“That is irrelevant, Bongel, and you know it.”
“My father divorced her because—”
“Because she raised a harlot!” Kauthar cut in.
Bongel’s lips parted for words to pour out, but her throat
had turned so hot that it burnt the words into numbness. So,
she gave Kauthar a long sad smile. Perhaps the time had come
to step out of the dark, more so now that her stepmother had
fed her friends nothing but lies.
Kauthar slipped into bed and turned to the wall to sleep,
without saying goodnight. That was the first time in months
they would be sleeping in separate beds. For Bongel, that
spoke volumes.
The world grew so quiet Bongel wondered if it was still
out there. But soon enough, she felt too tired to bother. She
slumped on her bed and did not bother shutting her eyes.
Sleep was a long way from her.Within seconds, like fireworks,

20
 Bongel

a million thoughts and images randomly exploded in her

head. Her heart weighed heavier than Zuma Rock. There was
confusion. There was fear. There was guilt too.
She didn’t feel that she had committed any offence,
though. After all, technically, she had neither lied to Abdul
nor to Kauthar. She didn’t feel that she owed anybody any
apologies for her past either. At worst, all she was guilty of
was the withholding of personal information. But there was
really nothing more she would have gladly done than explain
things to the two people who had come to matter so much to
her – Kauthar and Abdul.Yet, what if they didn’t believe her,
no matter how hard she tried? What if they didn’t even give
her the chance to try? It was this last question that worried
her the most.
Tired of rolling over the bed like a barrel tossed about by
a hundred waves, Bongel sat up and supported her back to the
wall then pulled the pillow to her chest. She had accepted the
fact that sleep might never come her way that night. She had
never imagined things would get to this. She had tried to buy
more time but she felt the time to step out and unveil herself
was now. That is, if she hadn’t waited too long already.
She was sure Abdul would not pick her call. The best
option would be to write him a letter. She was going to either
mail it to his office, or arrange with someone to hand-deliver

21
 Maryam Bobi

it to him. As for Kauthar, she would let her be for this night
and make another try the following day.
With this resolve, she reached for one of the notebooks
lying on the other end of the bed and opened to a fresh page.
She placed it on the pillow and began to scribble her story.

22
 Chapter Three

Bongel had stared wide-eyed at the mirror. Her mouth had

fallen open in shock; all the while, she hoped the face staring
back at her was false. How could she explain the pair of
sunken eyes and salient cheekbones? The image had so shaken
her that she had rushed to the bathroom for a cold bath. But
even now, standing by the mirror with her basket of make-
up, she still found her reflection in variance with what she
expected to see. She turned around again to look at Kauthar’s
empty bed. Bongel couldn’t tell when her roommate had
woken up and left the room. She had been so emotionally
drained by the time she lay down to sleep that she had woken
up far later than usual. Until this morning, before the bust up
of the night before, it had always been that the first to wake
up would wake up the other. But Kauthar seemed to have
performed her morning prayers, taken her bath and cooked
a pack of Indomie noodles for herself before leaving for her
7 a.m. lecture.
23
 Maryam Bobi

As she stepped into the lecture theatre, Bongel couldn’t

help feeling all eyes had turned scorching, angry gazes at her.
The over two hundred pairs of eyes seemed to be drilling
holes into her body. Something told her Kauthar, whom she
couldn’t spot at their favourite corner, might have spread
news to the whole students in the hall such that all she could
feel were eyes of mockery and spite hidden beneath smiling
faces. The sight of a large space crowded by students in lab
coats always made her think of a herd of cattle scattered
across a meadow. In one quick scan, her eyes tracked down
Kauthar. She was sitting in one of the upper rows flanked by
new friends. They seemed engrossed in an interesting chatter.
Sure that Kauthar had not reserved a space for her, she cast
about for one.
For the next hour, all the talk of the lecturer sounded
like Greek language to Bongel. Only God knew that she
was not present in that hall in mind, though her body was
there. Although Kauthar was blowing this whole thing out
of proportion, Bongel resolved to pursue peace with her.
She would swallow her pride and, if need be, kiss her heels.
Over time, Kauthar had become more than a course mate
and roommate. They had become sisters, which was all the
more reason she couldn’t understand Kauthar’s attitude to
the situation. As for Abdul, she hoped with time, he would

24
 Bongel

cool off enough to see the absurdity in the conclusion he and

his sister had arrived at. She hoped that by the time he got her
letter, everything would be fine again. But first, she would
reconcile with Kauthar. This strategy pleased Bongel so much
she found herself smiling for the first time that morning.
The instant the lecturer stepped out to take a phone call,
which he swore was too important to be ignored, she sneaked
through the packed row to Kauthar’s side and sat on an empty
chair. But Bongel was not prepared for Kauthar’s reaction.
She didn’t see it coming. Kauthar hurriedly packed her books
and left for another empty space at the lower rungs. This snub
hit her like a heavy slap on the face and, at that moment, she
felt as if the hall booed her. She wanted to scream at Kauthar,
ask her why she was being childish. But Bongel held her
peace, resolving to play the fool, to exploit every window
of opportunity that opened up, until she achieved what she
wanted.
Once the lecturer announced that his class was over and
left the hall, Kauthar sailed away with a pack of students.
Bongel could swear her roommate was doing everything to
make her feel bad. With the throng pushing their way out of
the lone exit of the lecture theatre, Bongel didn’t feel in a
hurry to get up and leave. She was drenched and weighed
down by self-pity, even though she was trying hard to beat

25
 Maryam Bobi

the storm. The events of the day had left her so weak that she
could not ward off one of her old admirers, whom she had
grown tired of warning to stop stalking her. Besides, his offer
to walk her to the hostel would do her good.
She was in bed, Kauthar’s bed, for a short nap with the
hope that Kauthar would come in and find her there. But
when she’d waited an hour, she realized that tactic would
not work; she decided to prepare lunch for the both of
them. Perhaps that would break the ice. She forced a few
spoons down before giving up, leaving the rest for whenever
Kauthar came back. She went back to Kauthar’s bed with the
notebook in which she had scribbled points from the day’s
lectures, but concluded, after minutes of futile attempts, that
she couldn’t understand anything she had written. She shoved
the notebook aside and sat up.
It hadn’t ever occurred to Bongel that loneliness was such
a devastating thing. She was badly in need of someone to talk
to but didn’t feel like going out to any of the dozen girls in the
hostel block. She wanted her friends. She wanted Kauthar. She
wanted Abdul. She picked up her phone and scrolled through
the contact list until she got to MY KNIGHT, and punched
the SEND button. But she terminated the call shortly before
it would have started to ring. She was afraid he would not pick
up, realizing that would have dealt her a bigger emotional blow

26
 Bongel

from which she might not recover for the rest of the day. But
the feeling to communicate with Abdul in any way remained
so strong that she crossed over to her own bed and pulled out
the notebook from under her pillow to revisit what she wrote
the previous night.
My Dear Abdul,
I am so hurting and distracted right now that I begin to fear
already it may affect my performance this semester. And Kauthar
keeps worsening my situation. She is treating me like a leper, because
of my “unpardonable sin…”
Yes, Bongel has been pregnant before, out of a
LEGITIMATE affair. Her father had married her out at twelve
to a very wealthy man whom she did not even know, much
less love. But she lost her baby, contrary to what Kauthar
thinks. And if Bongel had the power to kill, it should be that
man who stole her innocence...
The door flung open and the laughter of Kauthar and her
friends poured into the room, before they did. Bongel shut
the notebook and pretended to be busy reading something
else. This would be the first time any of them would be
bringing people back to the room, it amazed Bongel how
much Kauthar could change in so short a time. The two girls
waved at Bongel and went over to sit on Kauthar’s bed.
“Let me make a quick brunch for us,” Kauther yawned.
“I’m starving.”
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 Maryam Bobi

“There’s some food in the second pot,” Bongel said to

Kauthar, who went on washing the bigger pot as if she hadn’t
heard. Bongel was going to re-echo the information when the
visitors whispered and giggled to themselves, an act that jarred
her, even though there was no evidence their snickering was
targeted at her. Bongel lay back on her bed, blinking rapidly
to ensure a single tear didn’t drop from her eyes and seal her
humiliation.What would be the next move, Bongel wondered,
now that her friend had become unpredictable? Would she
have to move away? What was the worst case scenario?
By the time Bongel woke up from the short sleep she
drifted into, the intruders had all left the room. They didn’t
fail to leave a trail of rice grains all over the carpet. Just then,
a thought crossed her mind, which she chased away with the
same speed it had crept in. Could it be that one of the two
girls was the replacement Kauthar had found for Abdul?

28
 Chapter Four

As always, there was the urge to take off her hijab once she
reached the hilltop. She loved to feel the air sweep across her
face and through her hair. It made her imagine herself falling
from a cliff, a thought that did not make her cringe – it wasn’t
falling down, for Bongel, it was the sense of flying. She always
came to the top of the hill for the peace she found there, and
for the beautiful landscape it exposed to her.
Unlike other times, this evening, Bongel had not brought
a book and a cup of ice cream. And she had not come with
Kauthar. Bongel sat on one of the small rocks dotting the
hilltop and watched over the entire campus seeing students
loitering about the Administration Block housing both the
Library and the Student Affairs Division. It was the first
building one encountered in the El-Khamar School for
Medical Science. This campus of white and lilac buildings, of
giant Melina trees standing at strategic locations, of well-kept

29
 Maryam Bobi

lawns and flowers, of concrete benches and slabs that marked

walkways, had been the world to Bongel in the past six years
as a student.
There seemed to be more people than usual at the sports
field behind the Admin Block, dressed for the activities they
were participating in.
In her absent-mindedness, Bongel lost sense of the passage
of time until she heard the Muezzin calling for the evening
prayers from the campus mosque. She hurried down and
headed towards her room for her prayers. Bongel never liked
passing by the area everyone knew as Lovers’ Spot because
she would always encounter scenes that she found assaulting.
In one of the dark corners, Bongel caught the silhouette of a
girl, in a tight mini-skirt. She was sitting on the lap of a middle
aged man who was croaking as if he was being tickled in the
armpit. As she hurried to go past that area, a black baby Jeep
pulled over a little ways ahead of her. Bongel stopped short,
her breath trapped in her throat. In an instant, her heartbeat
fastened. She thought it was Abdul and that he had come to
show her his new car and call off the cold war between them.
But when she eventually got her legs to move towards the
car, the window lowered and a stranger peeped out to beam
a funny smile at her.
“Pretty babe,” the young man gushed. “Will you have a
drink with me?”
30
 Bongel

Bongel’s limbs seemed to grow wings as she hurried away.

She moved from the broad road to a narrow path only to be
stalked by another stranger who caught up with her and tried
to force her into a conversation. Though Bongel flashed him a
hostile glance to deter him, the man, dressed in a tight T-shirt
and sagging Jeans trousers, kept up his pace, spewing out lines
he must have picked up from song lyrics. Some of his words
almost made her want to relax her mean look into a smile.
His hands remained inside his trouser pockets. Seeming
unperturbed by his potbelly which was threatening to burst
through his shirt, he went on until it dawned on him that
she was not going to “cooperate;” then, he slowed down and
eventually vanished.
At dusk, once the lights were turned on, the hostel always
took a different look. Bongel’s peace of mind seemed to
have disappeared for good. Her pace fell to feet-dragging as
thoughts of Kauthar once again overwhelmed her. She didn’t
know what to expect inside the room as she raised a hand to
open the door. What guaranteed the door would even open
when she turned the knob? Relief only returned after she
stepped into the room and discovered she was the only one
around. But then, she resumed worrying, because it was odd
that Kauthar was not indoors at that time of the day. Kauthar
was always in by 6 p.m. for prayers, dinner, studies, and
relaxation.
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 Maryam Bobi

After saying her compulsory prayers, Bongel sat on

her sallaya and prayed that Allah might help her to find the
strength to stand the test that had befallen her. She also prayed
that Allah would ensure Kauthar’s safety wherever she was,
and protect her from going astray. Besides the quietness of the
room, the prayers refreshed Bongel’s strength and mood. She
stretched out a bit on the bed.

On the way home, Bongel kept playing with the three-ply

thread around her finger, practicing the new knot Modibbo
had taught her. If she had the choice, she would stay on with
him until forever, rolling on the meadows with the calves
or sitting by the riverbank to watch the sportive fingerlings.
It was only when she came within sight of home that she
recalled her parents’ argument the previous night. Her steps
grew more timid. Since she marked her twelfth birthday, she
had suffered bouts of anxiety, bearing in mind her father’s
habit of marrying out his daughters once they got to that age.
The terrifying prospect of not ever getting to complete her
education before becoming betrothed dented Bongel’s self-
esteem. She kept her eyes to the ground, bypassing people
without knowing it, unless they called out to her.

32
 Bongel

“Bongel!” Juma, her best friend, shouted, as she walked

past their house. “Bongel!”
“I’m sorry,” Bongel started, afraid already that her friend
would reprimand her. “I was deep in thought. I didn’t realize
I had walked past your house.”
“Good news,” Juma panted, having a hard time deciding
between a smile and a full laugh. “Our admission letters have
arrived from Tegina!” she continued, thrusting an envelope
into Bongel’s hand. “Federal Government Girl’s Secondary
School, here we come!” She clapped and leapt into the air
while Bongel remained dazed for the next minute, staring at
the envelope in her hand. Before she knew it, she too had let
out a long scream and leapt into the air. But the instant her
eyes fell on her home a few houses down the road, the passion
dissipated like vapour, just as abruptly as it had begun.
“What?” Juma asked, alarmed by Bongel’s sad face.
“Cheer up, girl! We’ll be together. We’ll share the same desk,
the same hostel and everything. We won’t miss this place, you
know. And on holidays,” she went on as she spotted a faint
smile flush Bongel’s cheeks, “the entire settlement will watch
us, two big girls, returning with our portmanteaux!”
“I am afraid,” Bongel whimpered finally. “My father...”
Then she confided in her best friend about how she heard her
father the previous night insisting he must give her out to one
Alhaji Tanko.
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 Maryam Bobi

“But have you shared this concern with the Headmistress?

She could talk him into changing his mind.”
“You don’t know my father,” Bongel laughed bitterly. “If
my mother cannot convince him on anything, nobody can.
You should have heard them argue last night.”
But in the next few minutes, Juma was able to convince
her to see their primary school Headmistress. “Let us try, at
least,” Juma persisted.
Just as dark clouds began to gather across the sky, Bongel
rushed home, ready for a showdown. A bamboo fence secured
the compound which held four mud huts. The largest one
served as the parlour. The smallest was the kitchen. While
she and her mother shared one of the bedrooms, her father
used the second one. The big mango tree in the middle of
the compound gave shade to the courtyard, and the goats and
cattle used the open field behind the house.
“Mama,” Bongel greeted her mother, who was in the
kitchen preparing dinner. “Mi warti!”
“Welcome, Lastborn,” the woman sitting on a wooden
stool in the semi-dark kitchen mumbled. She was smallish
with a slight frame; but for the protruding hips on either side
of her, Jummai could be mistaken for a child instead of the
mother of several young women. “Thanks to Allah that you
are back safely. I know you’re tired,” she pleaded, pushing

34
 Bongel

forward a calabash of corn flour. “But you’ll have to help me

sieve this. I’ve been working myself harder than a donkey
since morning. I wish the rain would let me finish this meal
first,” she sighed and looked up at the thatched roof which
leaked when it rained. “And it’s getting dark very fast. In a few
minutes’ time now, your father would be home.”
Bongel, who knew she didn’t have a choice, sat on a low
wooden stool and began to work. At intervals, a rumble
would roll out across the sky. Strong gusts of wind swept
through the settlement into the kitchen, blowing some of
the flour away and washing dust into the calabash. When she
told her mother about the admission letter, the woman raised
her hands towards heaven and thanked Allah in a shrill cry.
This made Bongel entertain the thought that the situation
might not be as bad as she feared. As Jummai bent over to
push the firewood in, the yellow tongues of fire licking the
black buttock of the pot fell on her face and Bongel saw the
glow of pride on her mother’s face smouldering along with
the flames. However, the young girl wasn’t so naive as to miss
the anxiety beneath those sparkles.
“Lastborn,” Jummai observed. “You don’t appear as
excited as you should be. What’s the matter?”
Though Bongel realised her mother was doing everything
to make her happy, she found the question absurd. And she

35
 Maryam Bobi

wasn’t impressed that her mother still considered her too

young to know what was happening in the house. Why was it
that nobody ever cared about what she wanted anyway? How
could her father just negotiate her off as if she was one of the
cattle? Was it her fault she wasn’t born a boy?
“Of all my children,” Jummai complained, “you are the
most difficult to discern.”
“Mother,” Bongel replied miserably with tear-filled eyes,
“I want to go to school.”
“Is that not what I’m talking about?” Jummai asked her,
sprinkling the corn flour into the pot of boiling water.
“I overheard your argument with Baba last night,” Bongel
said.
Her mother froze for a second, only resumed stirring the
food when she sensed it was burning. Jummai kept mum until
several minutes later, after she had brought down the pot of
tuwo from the fire. She sat straight and gave Bongel a long
intense gaze.
“Leave that headache for me,” she said, nodding. “Your
father is a difficult man. But let me deal with it.You shall go to
college, Lastborn! You shall go and study and wipe these tears
from my eyes. You shall rid me of this poverty and hardship,
which would only get worse as I grow older.”

36
 Chapter Five

Bongel wouldn’t have known that her father had come

home that night if she had not heard him greet her mother.
The sounds of raindrops falling on the roof, coupled with
peals of the thunder every two minutes, drowned out most
sounds.
“Amin alaikassalam,” Jummai answered aloud from the
kitchen. “We must please him first before we bring up your
matter tonight,” Jummai whispered, smiling at Bongel with
mischief in her eyes, then went out to meet her husband in
his room. He was hanging the rain-soaked shirt on one of the
nails hammered into the mud wall for that purpose. Bongel
presently joined them to greet her father, then she went and
sat cross-legged on the second mat in the room. It was kept
there for her and her mother. Sitting on the other mat across
the room, his back resting on the wall, the tall man asked to
know how things had gone in his absence.

37
 Maryam Bobi

Jummai knew her husband well and phrased her response

with that knowledge. Mallam Buba was a man who craved
wealth as a desert craves water. He would do anything to
expand his herd of cattle and nothing brought the smile to
his face like when one of his daughters’ suitors promised to
deliver more cows to his herd. First, Jummai told him about his
visitors. Then, she informed him of the cow that had littered
in the afternoon. Then, while he was still smiling from ear to
ear and mumbling prayers of thanksgiving to Allah, she added
the news of their daughter making them proud by passing
the entrance examination and being offered admission into
the prestigious Federal Government Girls’ College. That was
the brief moment Bongel’s eyes moved away from the bowl
of tuwo before her to flash her father a glance. But even in
the brevity of that glance, she saw the light leave her father’s
eyes and a mean look take its place. Her eyes returned to
the food beside her thighs. In his long silence, she choked
with suspense until she feared her heart would burst. That
instant, Bongel wished she was invisible. She wished she could
just vanish into thin air. She wished she was deaf. She would
rather not hear him talk; she was sure he would not be saying
sweet things about her. However, she preferred to hear it all
firsthand than to be briefed later by her mother. Besides, it
would be rude of her to just get up and leave the room at this

38
 Bongel

point. Bongel always felt that her father misunderstood her.

She never stopped thinking that he saw her as a spoilt child,
that her mother treated her like an egg.
“Your lastborn is brilliant,” he grunted, and Bongel didn’t
miss the sarcasm and irritation in his voice. “She is the talk
of her former Headmistress and the entire primary school.
But I hope you haven’t forgotten my stand on this matter.
I, Mallam Buba, am an honourable man. I am a man of my
word. Everybody knows that, even the praise singers. A man
does not learn to be left-handed in his old age. If for nothing,
the admission letter should prove to both our friends and foes
that our daughter is a brilliant girl, and to Alhaji Tanko that he
is marrying a valuable girl.”
“But she wants to go to college,” Jummai cut in. “She
wants to study and—”
“Nonsense!” Buba thundered. “Look, even if I were the
type that allows my female children to go to college, Bongel
will not go all the way to Tegina. Allah will not allow me to
permit that!”
“My husband—”
“What is wrong with you, Jummai? Why are you teaching
your daughter bad manners? In her very eyes, you are arguing
with your husband? As far as I am concerned, this is an already
concluded matter. In a matter of weeks, Bongel will be in her
husband’s house.”
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 Maryam Bobi

“The times are changing, my husband. Many people of

our stock are now sending their children out to get Western
education. Since none of our other children went to school,
in that they didn’t show much interest or promise, would it
not be unfair to deprive Lastborn the opportunity to do so?
Besides, the government is saying that every girl has the right
to education. In addition, there is a special programme for
nomadic children. They talk about all these on radio.”
Bongel felt all the hairs on her body stand. She also felt
blood flow all over her face. As far as she was concerned,
there was no better way the argument could have been put.
Her mother, indeed, was an intelligent woman. Only Allah
knew what she could have been if she had had formal Western
education.
“Hold it, woman!” Buba flared out again, pointing an
angry finger at his wife. “What government are you telling
me about? Was it government that put her in your womb?
Was it government that fed her and took care of her all these
years? Don’t you know that if it were left for government, we
wouldn’t have had Bongel? Was it not the same government
that has been drumming it into our ears that we should have
fewer and fewer children? I do not wish to discuss this matter
with you anymore. She’ll get married, like her other sisters.
She’ll go to her husband’s house, where she will serve Allah
and earn for herself a place in paradise.”
40
 Bongel

“But I will like you to hear me out—” Jummai started in

a calm voice. But her husband shouted her down.
“Don’t provoke me!” he sprang to his feet. “I have already
spoken!”
Shortly after, Buba stormed out of the room. Jummai
shuffled into the kitchen to put things away. Bongel lowered
her head and cried aloud, hoping that her tears would speak
better than her mother’s words. But it took her minutes to
realize that her father’s was a heart of stone. She rose and
made for her sleeping mat in her mother’s bedroom. If her
father had heard her in her anguish, he didn’t show any signs
of care or concern.
That night, it rained and thundered as if heaven was
empathising with her. In her night prayers, she reported her
father to Allah and prayed that the Alhaji Tanko, to whom she
would be given out, should read her mind and call off the
marriage, or better yet go to sleep that night and not wake
up in the morning. Bongel cried so much that it frightened
her the following morning when she discovered how soaked
her pillow was. Because she didn’t fall asleep on time, she
woke up very late, after her mother had already finished the
domestic chores and had also prepared pap. The new day
was bright and smelt so pleasantly, as a result of the heavy
downpour, that Bongel almost forgot her woes. She dragged
herself to the kitchen to say good morning to her mother, but
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 Maryam Bobi

Jummai avoided her eyes and pretended to be busier than she

actually was.
“I prayed for you, Lastborn,” Jummai said wistfully. “I
prayed that you wake up feeling better and stronger than last
night. There is hope yet. If Allah wills it, there will be a way
out.”
Bongel could only nod in response. Jummai’s shaky,
emotion-laden voice would have made Bongel break down
again, if not that she had resolved to stay strong on that day.
She had no doubt her mother was suffering just as she was.
“You didn’t eat much last night,” Jummai recalled,
scooping cupfuls of pap into a calabash. “Therefore, I expect
you to take more this morning. You need to stay strong. You
must remain strong and well, if you want to make me happy.”
Bongel found the aroma of the bean cakes, kosai, irresistible
but after a few bites, she found she lacked appetite for food.
Her mother drew her stool closer. Jummai kept bringing up
small talk to brighten her daughter’s mood. It was not difficult
for Bongel to convince her mother later that morning to let
her visit her old school and see the Headmistress.
“Your father can be a stubborn ass that needs a cane to
comply,” Jummai whispered. “I hope the Headmistress comes
over with a good cane gotten from the Kanya tree!”
Bongel laughed, as if she had been tickled. Then she ran
to Juma’s house to get her to accompany her to their school.
42
 Bongel

Bobi Central Primary School stood at the centre of the

village, close to the Village Head’s compound. It was fenced
with bamboo and had an inner border of flowers which were
watered daily by the pupils. The six classrooms were in a lone
block built in a U shape. The other block adjacent the class
building was the Administration Block. That was where the
Headmistress’s office and the Staff Room were located. As
the two marched towards the Administrative Block, nostalgia
flooded Bongel’s mind. She found it almost unbelievable that
it had taken six whole years to move from the first classroom
to the sixth. She looked at younger pupils playing in front of
their classrooms and recalled what it felt like.
“Good morning, Seniors,” the pupils that knew them
saluted along the way and Bongel took the chance to ask them
if the Headmistress was in.While Juma waited for her outside
the office, Bongel went in.
“What can I do for you?” The Headmistress smiled. “I
believe you have gotten your admission letter?”
The Headmistress didn’t pass for what one might term
beautiful, but she smiled a lot as if to make up for her lack of
beauty. Anytime she was privileged to visit the Headmistress’
office, the way the lady reclined and swung in her swivel chair
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 Maryam Bobi

struck Bongel. It always reinforced Bongel’s desire to go to

school and become a very important woman in society. Just
as she expected, the headmistress sympathized with her. She
promised to see her father as soon as it was possible.
For a long time after Bongel left the Headmistress’ office,
she could hardly contain her excitement. But by evening, it
had grown into a fever. Her anxiety over her father’s reaction
when he found out she had reported him to an outsider was
overwhelming. In that condition, she couldn’t accompany her
mother to the market as she usually did since she passed out
from school. The day seemed to drag itself like a snail, until
later in the evening when Juma came over to be with her and
await the Headmistress’ arrival.
Eventually, the bedroom became so uncomfortable they
moved out to sit under the mango tree in front of the house. It
was within an earshot of the zaure where her father normally
received his guests. Against her calculation, her father came
in from his farm earlier than usual. He stretched himself out
on a raffia mat, listening to the Hausa BBC with his transistor
radio while waiting for both her mother and his animals to
return home. If she had known, she would have given the
Headmistress an earlier time. Bongel wished she had some
powers to rush the Headmistress from wherever she was
down to her father’s presence.

44
 Chapter Six

It was a few minutes past six and Juma had since left. Just
when she had given up and was about to march back to
the room, she spotted the Headmistress riding her Ladies’
motorcycle towards the house. She shot a glance at her father;
he was still stretched out on the mat with his face stern as
always. His goatee moved up and down with his lower jaw
as he crushed yet another lobe of kolanut – there was always
one in his mouth. Without wasting much time with Bongel,
who rushed to welcome her immediately she alighted from
her motorcycle and busied herself trying to balance it, the
Headmistress made straight for Mallam Buba in the zaure, her
mass of a body forcing Bongel to feel sorry for her father who
would soon be on the Headmistress’ receiving end.
Bongel stayed under the tree for as long as curiosity and
impatience could keep her there. She could still hear the faint
voice of the newscaster and the static that kept disrupting

45
 Maryam Bobi

transmission. Those were indications that the real talk hadn’t

started. At most, she deduced, they were still exchanging
pleasantries. But when she couldn’t stand it any longer, she
crept to an earshot distance beside the zaure and crouched
behind the dwarf wall. She was sure not to miss a word at that
location.
After some more trivial talks about the weather and
local events, the Headmistress paused for a while and Bongel
smiled, imagining the lady was only loading her rifle before
firing at the bull’s eye. “Something came to my notice,” she
finally began, “which I have reasons to doubt.”
Again, the Headmistress impressed Bongel. She spoke
gently but with authority and confidence, unlike her mother
who would barely look her father in the face. Bongel was sure
only education could arm a woman so, a conviction that left
her the more resolved to go to school.
“I know you as a wise man; you’re an intelligent and
reasonable man. I am sure you are not unaware of your
daughter’s brilliant mind and promising prospect. All of us
at school, the teachers and I, were glad that a new generation
led by your daughter is shooting up in Bobi. The time is long
overdue for our children, especially the girls, to rise up and
match their counterparts from the other parts. So, you can
imagine my level of doubt and shock when I heard you intend

46
 Bongel

to pull her out from school into marriage. But since it will be
unfair to pass verdict without hearing from both sides, I said
I must come and see you. Although I have no doubt that it is
not true. Let us say I am here for formality’s sake, just to hear
it from you to confirm the falsity of that information.”
The pause that followed seemed like eternity. Knowing
her father, Bongel was sure he was dumbstruck to be spoken
to in that manner by a woman. When he finally cleared his
voice, Bongel’s heart jumped.
“First,” he began, “I will love to know how you accessed
that information. I know you are a school woman. I didn’t
know you’re also a diviner. So, was it my wife?”
“But, is it true?” The Headmistress asked, unperturbed by
the cool anger in his voice. “Is it true? This is an anomaly the
government is trying to correct—”
“You still haven’t answered my question. How did you get
to know about my family matter? Which foolish member of
my family has talked to you?”
“I am trying to be reasonable here,” the Headmistress laid
it on him. “I expect the same from you. Everybody knows
you don’t have a good reputation on this matter. Your name
has already reached the authorities as one of those that
perpetuate girl-child marriage, thereby denying them their
right to education. So, I suggest you don’t become more

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 Maryam Bobi

concerned about your ego than the position of constituted

authority right now.”
“My name has reached what office?” He flared up and
Bongel almost ran away from her hiding place. “What nonsense
authorities are you blabbing about? Have they come around
today to see if she has eaten? Has anybody from the so-called
authorities ever brought her any cloths since she was born?
Don’t come here and tell me what I do with or to my family.
What even gave you the audacity to come to my house and
talk to me this way? Or are you an agent of the authorities?”
“I only came to ask you to allow Bongel to proceed to
college. Disregarding this request might not turn out well for
you.”
“Well,” Mallam Buba turned up the volume of his radio.
“I have decided to ignore your provocative action. I don’t
think I should bandy words with you, either, since Bongel is
even now legally married. The dowry had been paid. There is
nothing you can do about that. If her husband decides that she
should go to college, fine. That said, I think we have come to
the end of this meeting. But I promise you, I shall fish out that
traitor in my house.”
Bongel thought that the Headmistress was finished and
was leaving their home, so she rushed back to her former
position under the tree. Nightfall seemed to be creeping in

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 Bongel

earlier than she had expected. She found the world so cold
and empty. If only her mother or Juma was here, she thought.
The thought of being sent to the home of a full grown man
whom she didn’t know was too much for Bongel. She couldn’t
even work up a mental picture of herself as a married woman
– a full housewife.
A few minutes later, the Headmistress was yet to drive out
on her motorcycle, so Bongel returned to her eavesdropping
position. At first, it was difficult for her to understand the
new voice she heard conversing with her father. That voice
lacked strength and authority. She didn’t think it a good
sign that the Headmistress had resorted to entreaties. Even
though Bongel couldn’t see the debaters, she imagined the
Headmistress was down on her knees, or even lying prostrate
on the ground. And she imagined her father standing tall
with his arms crossed over his chest with a triumphant grin.
Until that moment, Bongel had nursed some hope. But it just
dawned on her that no one could defeat her father.
“The other time I said you’re a brilliant and wise man,” the
Headmistress was saying, “I guess you thought I was flattering
you. But no. See how you just arranged the whole thing in
such a way that no harm would befall you, by pushing her
to Alhaji Tanko, who is very rich and influential even among
government circles. But I beg you to consider the big picture.

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 Maryam Bobi

Imagine what could happen if Bongel, who takes after your

intelligence, goes on to college and beyond. Imagine the
good it would do your family and the community at large.
I beg you to reconsider. Just the other day, Farida, Mallam
Tanimu’s wife, died because he wouldn’t permit her to visit
the hospital, where a male doctor would examine her even
when there were no female doctors at hand. It is only when
people like Bongel go to school that such ugly incidences could
be averted. The other regions have advanced very far ahead
of us. They don’t deny their children the right to education
based on gender. Apart from that, Bongel is even too young
for marriage.”
“Nonsense!” her father hissed. “Some of her elder sisters
were all married at the age of ten. Bongel is twelve already. I
married their mother when she was nine. She is still alive and
healthy. She has even seen some of her children’s children and
will live to be a great grandmother, if Allah wills it.”
The long pause that followed indicated to Bongel that the
debate had come to an end. Again, her father had knocked his
opponent into a coma. Bongel felt so completely drained of
energy and will that she could not even tiptoe away from her
place of hiding. She knew it would only aggravate her father’s
anger if she was discovered, so she managed to crawl to the
foot of the mango tree by the entrance of the compound. She

50
 Bongel

was so blinded by tears that nearby lamps appeared like a

blurry splotch of yellow. Due to her disturbed state of mind,
she did not hear the Headmistress come out, until she placed
her hand gently on her head, stroking her.
“My daughter,” she sighed. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.
Your father proves more stubborn than I had anticipated. I
even tried to threaten him, all to no avail.”
“Bongel!” Her father called out from the entrance of the
zaure. “What are you still doing outside by this time?”
Buba stayed on at the zaure, mumbling to himself all
the while, seething with anger and impatience as he waited
for Jummai to return. Jummai finally came in when he was
observing his magrib prayer. By then, Bongel was inside the
bedroom, down with a headache.
“The matter has been finalized already,” Buba was screaming
as he headed towards his wife’s bedroom. “It doesn’t matter
what lawyer you hire, do you hear?” He pointed at her face.
“Who has offended you?” The stunned, open-mouthed
woman asked him. “What is the matter, my husband?”
“You could even ask me that, eh? You hypocrite! Pretend
as if you don’t know, after you sent your advocate to come
here and insult my intelligence.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jummai
shrugged, baring her clean palms. “I am innocent of your

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 Maryam Bobi

accusations, I swear.”
“If it wasn’t you,” he fumed, “then who sent that old fool
of a Headmistress to come and sermonize to me? Why did
you have to wait until she has left before you returned?”
“Today is the Mariga Market Day,” she explained in a calm
voice. “You know what that market can be like.”
“You mean to tell me that an angel appeared to Bongel’s
former Headmistress and revealed to her the happenings
in my household, eh? For her to come here threatening me
with the government agencies! In my own house! How much
shame do you intend to bring upon me, woman?” He barked,
standing over her like a hungry lion, as if he was about to
devour her.
Bongel’s heart was beating to a breaking point. She saw
her father’s arms shaking with anger. She sensed his voice
thickening. And she had never seen her mother shrink like
that before. She would never forgive herself if she let things
deteriorate until her father hit her mother. She sprang up and
dashed to the doorpost.
“It was I!” she screamed and with lightning speed, she
sprang away like a deer. The shoe her father flung at her sped
right past her.

52
 Chapter Seven

The humiliations and pains that ensued were extended to

Jummai. After being fed one side of the story by their son,
even her in-laws began to treat her with disrespect. The worst
happened when her father visited and wouldn’t step into the
zaure much less accept the calabash of cold water she offered
him.
“I don’t have time to waste,” he said with a shrill voice as
he leaned on his staff by the entrance of the zaure. “I don’t
have words to waste either. I only came to beg you to stop
rubbing my name in the mud. You are a Fulani woman. You
better start behaving like one, or I will disown you.”
That night, Jummai cried more than she had done in her
entire life.
For days after the Headmistress’s visit, Bongel too had
troubled nights. She couldn’t sleep, she rolled from one end
of her mother’s bamboo bed to the other.

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 Maryam Bobi

When the long ululation from the compound reached her

in the bedroom, Bongel knew it could only mean that her
family and that of Alhaji Tanko had reached a consensus.
“Two Fridays from today!” A voice shouted. Another voice
with the other party in the courtyard affirmed the date. She
kept indoors to grieve.
“Lastborn,” her mother mumbled as she stepped into the
room and found the wreck that her daughter had become.
Jummai sat beside her and wrapped Bongel in a warm
embrace. She couldn’t hold back the tears that were trickling
down her own cheeks either.
The smell of burning cowhide and burnt fat that reached
her room from the courtyard made her sick. Usually, once a
wedding date was fixed, the family invited friends and well-
wishers to celebrate with them. But Bongel had invited no one,
because she was not celebrating. Rather, she was mourning
the death of her dreams. None of her family members, apart
from her mother, seemed to care about what she wanted.
They didn’t care about how she felt. She found it insulting
that while she was inside the room weeping, others were
outside shouting and singing. As far as they were concerned,
no better thing could have happened to the family than for
it to be linked with the prestigious and wealthy Alhaji Tanko.
Bongel wished she had some special powers to summon a

54
 Bongel

dozen spirits to lash this partying horde until they all died
from being flayed with koboko.
Two days later, her father called for her from the ranch
behind the house. When she got there, she knelt beside him
as was the custom and was surprised to hear him speak in the
kindest tone. He even smiled! She found his whole attitude
strange. He went further to hold her by the arm and draw her
closer until she flushed with embarrassment. The only time
she remembered him being affectionate was when she was
much younger. She avoided his face and looked down even
as she inhaled the cool morning air. It was fresh. The smell
of wet earth and the sight of tender grasses sprouting in the
fields had always appealed to her – anything to distract her
from her father’s unwarranted affection. He held her hand
with a firm grip.
“Look at the cattle,” he said to her. “Do you notice
anything?”
Now that she looked, it seemed the ranch had doubled in
population.
“I notice a lot of strange faces,” she replied.
“Yes Bongel!” he beamed, pointing from the west end of
the ranch to the east. “They are all ours, Bongel. Your dowry
paid in full by your generous husband. Can you now see
that that Headmistress of yours and your mother are naive?

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 Maryam Bobi

The path you and I have chosen is one that has ensured the
continual survival of the family.”
“I don’t want this; you do!” she cried out and yanked her
hand away from his hold. She scampered away from him, no
longer able to stand his insensitivity. “I want to go to school,
just as Juma has done. Her father let her go to school,” she
sobbed, hating everything under the sun at that moment.
And she was feeling dizzy, probably because she hadn’t been
eating well since the whole marriage saga began. As her father
walked closer to her, she didn’t care if he was going to hit or
even behead her. In fact, she would be glad to end it all.
“Lastborn,” he smiled, resting a palm on her shoulder,
“someday, you will understand better.You will look back and
smile at your childishness. My child, selfishness is not our
creed.We are a communal people.You don’t let your personal
ambition jeopardize the family or communal interest. You
want to go to school, the family needs cattle to survive. You
of all persons should still remember the recent challenge we
had. It caused the size of our herd to deplete at an alarming
degree. Rather than being this way, you ought to be proud.
You ought to be grateful to Allah that, through you, the family
has been able to bounce back to its feet. Moreover, this one
is a two-part package. Being Alhaji Tanko’s wife means you
will no longer have to go to the stream to fetch water for
whatever reason.You will have pipe borne water right in your
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 Bongel

bathroom and kitchen.You will have your own personal room

furnished with TV and cushioned chairs and Persian rugs and
many other nice things. You will have boxes of clothes and
jewellery. And I am sure that after you have given Alhaji one
or two sons, he will take you to see the Ka’abbah and the
Mosque of the Prophet in Madinah.You will come back home
wearing gold teeth and trinkets. People will begin to address
you as Hajiya Bongel. Are you not the most favoured of them
all?” He sang this last part, wishing there was a better way
to make her understand. “Which of your other sisters came
close to your state, my dear Bongel?”
As he narrated how proud Bongel had made the family, his
voice was as smooth as if greased with honey. His eyes glowed
with some passionate fire. He seemed so excited Bongel could
almost hear the pulse of his heartbeat. It might have been as
a result of the reflection of the sunlight, or a rush of blood
to his face, but his face glowed as if he just climbed down
from the Mountain of Transfiguration. But it marvelled her to
think that this was the kind of person she had called Father all
her life. What she couldn’t comprehend was whether this was
who he had always been, or if he had gone through changes
of late.
The wedding eve finally rolled around. The compound
was flooded by relatives who had travelled from far and near.
Even Bongel’s elder sisters came with their children. Thick
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 Maryam Bobi

columns of smoke rose to heaven from the numerous fires

on which large pots sat. While the young men were busy
butchering cows, some women went over to the ranch to
milk the cows there. Among the dozen aromas that filled the
air, Bongel’s nose caught that of burning fat.This merged with
the kuka soup which was being prepared for tuwo, the corn
meal was ready. The men sat outside the compound on newly
woven reed mats spread under the mango tree. They sat in
groups according to their ages. Some of them played a game
of cards. Others chatted as they waited for the solemnization
prayers to be said.
Immediately after the morning prayers, there was an
impressive show put up by rough riding bikers. There was the
thundering voice of the Master of Ceremony, which reached
every part of the community. There was an avalanche of
ululations raining from every direction before some of the
women rushed into the room to formally inform Bongel that
she was married. Even though the news was expected, Bongel
couldn’t have been more startled if a thunderbolt had fallen
by her bedside. In those few seconds, she saw a short clip
of her life. Time crawled like an old cripple. She saw herself
become successively pregnant until her form fell apart like a
weather-beaten mud hut.
Though she appeared calm, streaks of tears slid down

58
 Bongel

her cheeks. No sane girl would wish to be married to a man

old enough to be her grandfather, a potbellied, charcoal-
black, wrinkled man whom she did not know much less like.
Meanwhile, her best friend was in college with other girls her
age. Bongel didn’t feel any different from any of her father’s
animals.They were often chased, caught, bound and led to the
slaughter slab, without the right to defend themselves. She
felt as if she had just been killed and these hungry cannibals
were dancing and singing on top of her waiting to savour her
bit by bit.
When the train came knocking to convey her to her future
home, Bongel kicked and rolled on the floor. She attracted
more laughter among the older women who recalled stories
of so and so that had done worse in their own time.
Ayye Bongel! Ayye Bongel!
Bongel ye iye!
Ayye Bongel ta zama mata.
Bongel ye iye!
Da aure yana raka aure;
Bongel ye iye!
Dana biki mun tafi tare.
Bongel ye iye!
Ayye Bongel! Ayye Bongel!
Bongel ye iye...

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 Maryam Bobi

Bongel knew this song by heart. She had sung it at other

girls’ marriage. But hearing it sung in her house, with her
name in it, sounded strange to her.
It was her father’s younger sister, a haggard looking
woman, who led the train, and others followed energetically
with so much vigour that Bongel feared she might snap like
a dry stick. This parting song, more than any other thing that
had happened that day, was what crushed her the most.

When Bongel emerged from sleep, it was the squeak of the

ceiling fan and the sight of blades in their unending pursuit
of one another that greeted her. When she finally sat up, she
noticed Kauthar across the room, fast asleep. By the table
clock at the bedside, it was 3:30 a.m. Bongel wondered if
Kauthar had tried to talk to her when she came in at night.
The cold war was killing her. Bongel would give anything for
things to return as they were before. She was ready to make
peace at all cost. She jumped down from her bed and rushed
to Kauthar’s side and shook her gently.
“Kauthar,” she whispered. “I didn’t hear you come in. I
had been worried about you all evening. Did you speak to me
when you came in and I didn’t reply, Kauthar?” She shook her
some more. “I am sorry, please.”
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 Bongel

“Do you realize what time it is?” Kauthar mumbled when

she came around, avoiding Bongel’s eyes. “Please, let me
sleep. Thank you!”
“I said I’m sorry,” Bongel sighed, lowering herself to her
knees. “You may have decided not to be my friend anymore.
But I will always love and care about you as more than a friend.
And please, if you must make new friends, go for good ones.
Not those wayward girls you have been hanging out with
lately”.
“Wayward girls!” Kauthar bawled. “Did I hear you say
wayward girls?”
She chuckled and sat up to face Bongel. “Alright. Since
you’re advising me about good girls, can you please show me
an example of a ‘good’ girl? I no longer believe in that good
girl trash. I think we’re all green snakes in the grass. But I
prefer those that are honest about themselves compared to
the rotten ones who perfume themselves in lies and deceits.
Bongel, it would seem that you lack the moral authority to
speak on this topic.”
“You know,” Bongel was almost smiling, “it would not do
you any harm to give me a few minutes and hear my own side
of the story. That would be the reasonable thing to do. I think
that having made up your mind, you are afraid that hearing
my own account might cause a shift in your position. And you
don’t seem to want that just yet.”
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 Maryam Bobi

Kauthar started as if pricked with a needle, then she lay

back and turned away, drawing the blanket over her head.
Bongel didn’t know whether to gently pull the blanket off
Kauthar, or to tap her, or to just speak on. She thought of
climbing up to the bed and lying beside her friend, but she
didn’t want to cause Kauthar to raise her voice and attract
others from the nearby rooms. So, she continued to kneel
by the bedside, wondering what next to do, wondering how
much longer she would be willing and able to swallow her
pride and take the insults. After some time, she pushed herself
up and crawled back to her bed to wait for sleep’s revisit.

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 Chapter Eight

Bongel finally fell asleep around 4:00 a.m. so she couldn’t

wake up by six as she had hoped. By the time she opened her
eyes, daylight had flooded the room already. Kauthar wasn’t
there and everywhere was quiet, indicating that virtually all
the other occupants of the hostel block had left for lectures.
After saying her prayers and rushing a bath, it took Bongel
another hour to get ready for class. Just then, Salma, an
acquaintance of hers and a course mate, came by to inform
her Dr. Fahad, who had held a lecture with them earlier, had
noticed her absence and had directed Bongel should see him
in his office later that day.
“Bongel,” Salma called from the doorpost when she was
on her way out. She was smallish; her pointed nose fitted her
small-round face which always had a smile on it adding beauty
to her dimples. She is a medical student too, the same level as
Bongel. The two had met several times during lectures and in

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 Maryam Bobi

the hostel block with Salma wanting to get close but Kauthar
and Bongel were two friends that needed no third.
“It is crystal clear that all is not well. I’ve been observing
you lately. If you ever feel like talking, I would be glad to
listen. I am your friend. Or,” she smiled, “let’s say I like to
think of myself as your friend. Go easy, eh?”
Bongel sat on the edge of her bed for some minutes
wondering why Dr. Fahad should take special notice of her and
even ask Salma to check up on her. He was one of the strict
senior lecturers who frowned at laziness and malpractices.
Many students disliked him for his sternness but he had taken
an interest in Bongel. It may have been because she was always
curious and regularly asked him questions in class.
As she headed out of the room, Bongel hoped things
would go well at the meeting.
“I am sorry that I couldn’t make it to your class this
morning,” she said, wringing her hands, avoiding his gaze. “I
had to write some things deep into the night. I wrote into
the early morning, in fact, and hoping I would wake up early
enough, I decided to take a short nap by 4:00 a.m. It didn’t
turn out that way.”
“Are you sure it has nothing to do with your disagreement
with Kauthar?” Dr. Fahad asked in a fatherly tone. “How
serious is it? Anything I can do?”

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 Bongel

“Ah,” she tried to laugh. “Don’t bother, sir. It’s just one of
those girls’ things. We’re already mending the wall, sir.”
It alarmed her to hear Dr. Fahad ask that. She wished she
could ask him to repeat what he had been told, so that she
would know if it was a fair representation of the facts.
When Dr. Fahad asked if it was her project that had kept
her up that late, Bongel went dumb. She found it difficult to
lie, even when just one word could have settled things. When
Dr. Fahad asked her about her project supervisor, she couldn’t
even recall the last time she met with her supervisor. But he
seemed satisfied when she informed him that she had gone as
far as Chapter Four.
“In short,” Dr. Fahad hissed at the frivolous attitude by
Bongel, “I think I should supervise your project myself. I will
ask your current supervisor to transfer your file to my office
as soon as possible. Don’t even try to do anything about that,”
he added. She was in shock. Her mouth opened to protest,
words failed her.
“Somebody needs to keep a keen eye on you. And I think
I should do that.”

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Bongel had witnessed the slaughter of several domestic

animals. She had watched them kick and spurt blood until they
went still. She had found the sight so sickening that she could
barely stand them. All through the third night, the customary
night for the groom to know his bride, she felt like one of
those unfortunate animals. Only that her own pain was not
from a slit throat, but from a battered under. And where she
felt for the animals that were being slaughtered, nobody stood
by to sympathize with her. It was as if the groom couldn’t wait
for Bongel’s family members who had accompanied her to
his house to leave before he stormed into her bed. Few hours
before that moment, Bongel had heard him boast before his
sycophantic friends in the sitting room about how he would
embark on an unending marathon.
“Alhaji,” one of them had warned, “you know, you’re no
longer that giant killer you used to be in the past. Moreover,
these little girls these days, they are born with extra stamina.
If you try to gallop at your record-breaking speed of the past,
we may be coming to your burial ceremony in the morning.”
“I’m surprised you think so of me,” Alhaji Tanko had
croaked. “Don’t forget that youthfulness is in the heart, not
the body. Now, I begin to think that I have been too gentle
with my other wives, which must be why they have always
won the genders of our children. But this time, I will shock

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you all by killing three birds with one stone. By this time next
year, you’ll all gather here for the naming ceremony of male
triplets,” he had said as his friends cheered him on.
Any other time, the aroma of the suya he had sent to her
room would have enticed her to taste a piece of the meat.
Instead, she kept shooting cold glances at the paper bag on the
bedside stool as though it was a wrap of something odious.
How could she have found an appetite, knowing she was only
being fattened to make a better slaughter?
The moment Alhaji Tanko finally came into her bedroom,
she sat up on the bed and watched in horror as he struggled to
pull off his heavy regalia: The three-piece embroidered attire
customary to rich men like him. She shut her eyes on reflex,
because she had never witnessed an adult male undress, not
even her father. Many seconds later, when she opened her
eyes, he had switched off the light, flooding the room with
thick darkness. Just as he began to mount her bed, she heard
some cracking sounds which must have ensued from his joints.
The room was charged with the million strong perfumes he
had bathed his whole body with.The moment his wrinkly skin
touched her, she felt like shrivelling away into the earth. His
sandpaper palms first found her head before frisking their
ways down to her hips in search of the knot of her wrapper.
When she resisted and tried to push him away, he became

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so furious he tore the wrapper off her body and pinned her
on the bed. Bongel felt her executioner grunting like a pig,
breathing hot tepid air down her face, and burying her in an
envelope of acrid smells. The tearing pain that hit her brain
was worse than any pain she had ever felt in her life. In all her
days of pastoral life, the pain was worse than any thorn that
ever pierced her body in the bush.
At first, it was just one continuous blurry hum, and then
there was a rhythmic set of thuds heard above the hum, her
heart beating to break.The same moment Bongel was opening
her eyes to the darkness around her, another volley pain struck
her, going off like a giant bell. She wanted to hold her head
together for fear it might explode but found she was suddenly
too weak to even move her hands. Her pelvis, abdomen and
thigh muscles were burning and pulsating. At that moment,
rational thoughts became impossible for her. She could not
recall anything at all. She hated that a mass of phlegm blocked
her nostrils; she resorted to breathing through her mouth.
She began to suspect that there might be something blocking
her ears. Eventually, she was able to move her hand to her ear
to check, and she pulled out a small ball of cotton wool from
each ear. She did the same with her nostrils.
Once her eyes adapted to the room, she looked around
and took in everything in one sweep. The blue canopy and

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 Bongel

black columns of the four-poster bed, fourteen-inch TV,

cushions, the double-decker refrigerator, the furniture, and
the red nylon carpet all told her she was in her new bedroom.
The only strange objects were the water basin and the wooden
kitchen stool beside the mat she was lying on. Bongel also
thought it strange that she was lying on the mat and not on
a bed. As the pain between her thighs intensified with every
new second, Bongel jerked her right leg – an act that made
the old woman sitting across from the mat to look up from
her bent position.
“A’uzubillahi!” Inna, Bongel’s aunt exclaimed in fright,
seeking refuge in Allah even as she bolted from her niece’s
side.
“Inna?” Bongel whispered.
“Come and see Allah’s might!” Inna screamed, then rushed
out. “She is alive! Bongel is alive! She’s woken up!”
By the time Bongel raised herself to her hands and knees,
her bedroom was already packed full by mourners who had
been around the house. Just then, Inna rushed back in to help
her niece to the sofa. Bongel, slumped and sprawled across
the sofa, panting.
“Allahu Akbar!”The people, none of whom she recognised,
kept exclaiming. “Alhamdulillah!”
“What happened?” Bongel asked Inna, still at a loss. “Just

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praise Allah,” her aunt said, now weeping. “Just praise Allah.
You were being prepared for funeral prayers. You were dead.
We thought you were dead!”
It took some moments for Bongel to realize how
unfortunate she was. Why did she wake up? She started
sobbing. Having escaped hell, what in this whole world made
her return to this life of misery and terror?
“Where is Mama?” she asked Inna, then broke down when
they told her that her mother had refused to come. She was
not happy about Bongel’s marriage and to make matters
worse, she was shocked by the news of her child’s mysterious
death.
Alhaji Tanko, her father, and several other men, who had
been sitting outside waiting for the women to finish dressing
her for the funeral, began to squeeze their way through the
crowd into the room.
“Make way!” Alhaji bawled. “Make way!”
Once he got close enough and flashed Bongel his set of
kola nut-stained teeth, she passed out again.
Things got worse when exactly two weeks after the
wedding, they left Bobi for Tegina, where Alhaji worked as a
civil-servant. Hell could have been less torturous to Bongel
when she compared it to being forced to live far away from
her mother and her friends, and without the pleasure of
wandering about with the cattle and Modibbo. For months
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 Bongel

she lived an isolated life, slaving for the entire household as

the youngest wife and quenching Alhaji Tanko’s insatiable
sexual urge twice every fortnight. And from the day Alhaji’s
first wife pronounced Bongel pregnant, Alhaji made it a duty
to mount her three times on any day it got to her turn to
host him. He even began to frequent Bongel’s room when
it was the turn of the second youngest wife. It was as if he
was determined to do everything within his physical power to
ensure she came up with a baby boy.
She began to spend her afternoons standing by the table
mirror to gaze at her own eyes. Her mother had always told
her she had the most beautiful eyes in the world, a claim
Modibbo had corroborated several times. As she ran her
fingers down her slim neck, Bongel wondered if that could
still be true. She moved from her neck to her breasts. They
were swollen and firm.
One day, as she was stroking her bulging stomach, she felt
the foetus kick and wriggle like a snake.
“Allahu Akbar!” she mumbled.
It was the strangest sensation she had ever felt. She smiled
and stroked it some more, as a spring of love burst from her
heart for the new life. But once she returned to reality, she
began to shed silent tears. While she was at it, Alhaji stormed
into the room and began to undo his clothes.
“Alhaji Bala said he kept doing it three times every day
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 Maryam Bobi

before he got a son,” he panted like an impatient dog, and

bared his prized set of kola nut-stained teeth.
Bongel didn’t resist in any way. She had learnt that her
fights and struggles would only make her the more helpless.
She only held her breath for as long as she could, inhaling only
when she couldn’t help it, afraid that the odour of stale sweat
and harsh cologne might poison her.
Any other time, she would have wished death would free
her from this union. But today, she found herself wedging his
body with her hands, displacing half of his weight for fear that
he would crush the little life in her womb. And then, he came.
In a minute, he had gathered his weakened bones and muscles
out of the bed and out of the room.
Soon as he left, Bongel pulled out the bucket of water she
had kept under the bed and headed to the general bathroom.
She was consumed by the fear of running into her arch rival
– the second youngest wife. Just as Bongel had feared, Baddo
was standing by her own doorpost at the opposite side of the
courtyard, fuming.
Alhaji’s first wife, Umma, had her room by the left.
Falmata, the second wife, had her own room by the right.
With her gaze fixed to the ground, Bongel shuffled toward
the bathroom with wobbly feet. Although she didn’t see
Baddo’s shadow approach her from behind, Bongel didn’t

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need a prophet to tell her it was the second youngest wife

who always assaulted her whenever Alhaji went out. She was
quick to let go of the bucket and grip one of the iron pillars
around the veranda so that she didn’t stumble and fall over.
Because of acts like these, she sometimes wished Alhaji stayed
on around the house until she took her bath. The other wives
must have heard the sound of the bucket of water reaching the
ground and splashing all over the concrete floor.
“I’ve been warning you,” Umma scolded Baddo, “the
next time you do anything like this, I’ll report you to Alhaji,
especially if the girl is too scared to do so. Can’t you see she
is pregnant? Or how do you think the rest of us felt when you
came in and took all of Alhaji’s attention?”
Bongel wanted to just fall on the oldest wife’s shoulder
and cry. The woman reminded her of her mother in many
ways. But knowing that she was still a co-wife, the same age
as the woman’s fifth daughter, Bongel knew there were limits
to how close she could get.
As she lay on her back gazing at the colourful curtains of
the four-poster in her room, her right hand idly shot up to
stroke her stomach. And as if to signal her of its wellbeing, it
moved again. Alhaji, who was hoping it would be male, had
continued to do everything in his power to that effect.
“What do you know?” He would sneer whenever she tried

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to tell him that having a male child neither depended on the

number of times he did it daily, nor in the degree of thrust,
but according to Allah’s will.
“When were you born?” He would ask her, whenever
she pleaded with him to have mercy on her and pray to Allah
instead. “Do you know how many Ramadan I have fasted?
Besides, I have realized my past mistakes and I’m not ready to
repeat it with you.”
It was another two months before Bongel was due
to travel home to her mother. She was to stay with her in
confinement until she was delivered of her baby. It was a
customary tradition among the Hausa-Fulani people.
Alhaji came around at weekends with gifts for everyone,
though Bongel’s mother always turned down his gifts.
Things went on well at Rugar Bobi. While Jummai prayed
for a safe delivery, Buba and Alhaji Tanko prayed for a male
child, and Bongel would occasionally sneak out to the valley
and riverbank to see Modibbo and the cattle. She had missed
them. Modibbo would join her in most of the folk songs she
raised, or make her laugh to tears by cracking jokes about
pregnant girls. Many times, Bongel wished her father had
given her out to Modibbo. They seemed to share a lot in
common. But her father wanted more cattle, and only Alhaji
Tanko could supply those.

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Jummai had travelled earlier on a Saturday morning to

visit Gwaggo A’i, her younger sister, whose son had broken
a limb while climbing down a mango tree. She had asked
Bongel if she was going to be fine by herself, and Bongel
nodded confidently. As the afternoon crept on, Bongel
cleaned the compound and visited Modibbo at the river side.
In the evening, she cooked dinner for her father and watched
the star-studded sky for some time until sleep forced her to
go to bed early.
A piercing pain woke her that night. Her right hand flew
to her lower abdomen. It twitched as she tried to sit up on
the bamboo bed. She felt the foetus move. Her bladder was
full, and her back ached too. She struggled to the bathroom
several times with the intention of emptying her bladder but
nothing came out. The labor extended throughout the night
till the next morning when her mother returned. Jummai
pleaded with Buba for a long time before he agreed to take
her to the hospital at Mariga. It was about 20 kilometres away.
The pothole-ridden road, the rickety taxi and the reckless
driver didn’t help matters at all. And by the time they got
there, Bongel was already physically exhausted. Her frail body
had to be carried on the stretcher into the hospital building
by a couple of nurses. They rained insults on her mother for
wasting all that time before bringing Bongel to the hospital. It

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 Maryam Bobi

was another couple of hours before she was finally delivered

of a stillborn.
While Bongel cried her life away, the doctor and her
father whispered by the corner of her ward.
“You made a very big mistake,” the doctor said to Buba
with a frown. “Now your daughter is infected with VVF ......”
“What does it do?” The confused father asked. “What does
it mean?”
“Vesico Vaginal Fistula,” the doctor said, hissing. “It is an
abnormal opening or passage between the vagina and the
bladder due to direct pathological communication between
the urinary bladder, where urine is stored, and the vagina. It
has resulted to an uncontrolled leakage of urine in infected
persons. It is seen mostly in young girls but sometimes, it
doesn’t work with age. Even older women could have it.
There have been reported cases among people between the
ages of 10 to 36. Obviously, your daughter doesn’t have a
hard pelvic wall that is essential for childbearing. And as such,
there’s a high tendency for tissues to be destructed due to the
prolonged labour, the type she had. ”
Bongel hoped that the two men were not talking about
her. What she was hearing them say frightened her.
“VVF,” the doctor continued, “leads to urinary
incontinence, which could also lead to urinary tract infection.

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 Bongel

This is the excoriation of the vulva, the injury it causes is shown

on the surface because of abrasion. The good news is that this
VVF can be cured, depending on the extent of damage and
duration of the condition. We could use orthodox surgical
correction.”
“And the baby?” Bongel’s father asked. “Was it a male or
...?
“Male,” the doctor mumbled. He didn’t see the relevance
of that question.
“I knew it,” he almost screamed. “I knew Bongel would do
anything to kill that child. She hated Alhaji!”
“She had prolonged labour,” the doctor began to explain
before being interrupted by an angry Buba.
“Why didn’t she inform me early enough? Why did she
have to wait until the pain had become unbearable? She killed
him and ruined my fortune!”
Buba stormed out without giving Bongel a glance.
Few days later, Jummai visited Bongel at the hospital. She
sat beside her on the hospital bed with two sheets of paper.
Bongel read the two sheets each written in Arabic and Hausa
inscriptions. They were divorce letters; one for her mother
and the other one written by Alhaji Tanko to her. Bongel had
wept because she was sure that her own divorce had triggered
her father to end his marriage with her mother. Bongel was

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 Maryam Bobi

discharged few days after and it was Ardo, her maternal

grandfather, who sold some of his cattle to ensure she had
three surgical operations.
Jummai later resorted to farming and dairy sales until
Bongel was fully recovered and won a scholarship from the
State Government to complete her studies up to the university
level.

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 Chapter Nine

Welcome,” Bongel greeted Kauthar when she entered the

“

room. Kauthar ignored her and started putting her belongings

into a box.
“Kauthar,” Bongel tried again, then she went over to
her roommate’s bedside. “What’s up? What are you doing?”
Bongel had hoped that their relationship wouldn’t degenerate
to the level of antagonism. She had prayed against such a day.
She knew that once Kauthar decided to move out, there was
little or nothing she would be able to do about it. “Where are
you packing to when we’ll be starting exams on Monday?”
Kauthar carried on with gathering her things. If Bongel
was there with her, she didn’t notice. She moved away from
Bongel’s path whenever she came close to her. At a loss for
what else to do Bongel decided to give her a hand but Kauthar
abandoned the box for her, grabbed a carton and continued
gathering her things. At that point, Bongel gave up and sat on

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 Maryam Bobi

her bed. She simply watched Kauthar as she moved about the
room grabbing and tossing items. Bongel couldn’t help the
sad smile on her face. It took Kauthar close to an hour to pack
up all she needed. Then she began carrying the boxes out one
after the other. When Kauthar returned to the room for the
last carton, Bongel sprang to her feet and held unto it. With
tear-filled eyes, she pleaded with Kauthar not to leave. A tug
of war ensued between the two girls, but Bongel gave up after
a while. Something told Bongel that some of Kauthar’s new
friends might be waiting outside the room to help with the
luggage. But when she walked to the window in the room
and peeped out, she was shocked to spot Abdul’s car at the
parking lot outside the hostel.
He was standing beside the open boot. Some of Kauthar’s
items were already in it. He appeared somewhat lean and
pale. When Kauthar approached him, it seemed as if she was
shedding tears. He brought out a handkerchief from his side
pocket and wiped her face. He helped her put the last box in
the boot as Kauthar got into the car. Before he eased himself
into the car, he gazed at her window for a moment. Bongel
released the curtain and ducked, hoping he had not seen her.
It was only then that she fully understood the saying that
one should not put all their eggs in one basket. If she had
shared her affection with multiple friends, she wouldn’t be

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 Bongel

as devastated as she is now. She had always found it difficult

to just go out there and make new friends. But with the pain
it had cost her, Bongel was determined to change things.
First, she would nurse her wound until it healed and then,
she would begin reaching out to people. However, that would
have to come later, she reasoned. For then, she had to channel
all her energy into her studies.
By the time Bongel woke up by 11:00 p.m., the hostel
was already as quiet as a graveyard. Though she knew it was
silly, she caught herself looking towards Kauthar’s bed. For
some odd reason, she was hoping that she would be there.
The cold cloud of gloom schemed to overwhelm her again
but she told herself sternly that she must learn to move on.
Being a first-class potential, Bongel knew she mustn’t allow
her most recent tragedy confound her. Her body was willing
to proceed, but her mind kept sticking to the past. Within
twenty minutes, she had opened four different books none of
which she could concentrate on for more than a few minutes.
She gave up trying and just lay on her back, with both arms
spread apart and prayed for sleep to take her away. As she
looked on at the ceiling, she thought of Abdul. The way he had
gazed for so long at her hostel window only meant he was still
in love with her. Or maybe it meant that he was interested in
her, at least. If that was the case, then why had he kept away
all this time?
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 Maryam Bobi

Her brief life had been plagued by so much pain, so

much heartache and so many disappointments. Bongel was
beginning to understand why some people would rather not
get attached. People could be unreliable, unreasonable and
heartless. She would no longer consider as weird anybody
that told her they didn’t believe in making close friends.
But in all, she had found everything in her mother. No love
could be compared to that of a mother for her child, Bongel
concluded to herself. She thought about how her mother had
always been there for her. The same couldn’t be said of her
father, who had expressly divorced her mother and sold off
half of his cattle to marry a new wife; he was the same father
who did nothing as she lay dying at the hospital.
The phone alarm woke her up at 5:00 a.m. Feeling
stronger, both in body and in soul, Bongel said her morning
prayers and then went ahead to clean up the room. That was
when she realised that Kauthar had actually packed everything,
including the stock of foodstuffs both of them had been using.
All she left behind was a half-empty tea bag box, a bottle of
salt, a can of palm oil and a box of matches. She had also taken
her hotplate and boiling ring. Bongel sighed at the fact that she
would have to return to her old smoky stove, which she had
long ago packed under her bed. She brought it out, dusted it
and set a kettle for tea before going out to the nearby kiosk

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 Bongel

for a loaf of bread. She had barely returned to the room when
she heard a gentle knock on the door. It was the ever-smiling
Salma, all dressed-up and smelling fresh as if she had just
come out of a soap factory.
“I brought you breakfast,” she said, stretching out the
covered china plate to Bongel. She accepted it since it was not
good manners to reject gifts. Besides, if she was really serious
about moving on and making new friends, she ought not to
discourage Salma’s friendly overtures.
“Thanks,” she mumbled and took the plate from her. It
was still warm.
Salma stayed on to watch Bongel eat and to share jokes.
Bongel couldn’t have felt more thankful to Almighty Allah for
bringing her some comfort at such a time.

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 Chapter Ten

Walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Salma to the exam hall

on Monday morning evoked a feeling Bongel had forgotten.
It seemed as if the sun had inched out from under a cloud
after a century. The birds were tweeting and cooing in the
campus trees, and the breeze was cool on her skin. She was
beginning to think the only reason she would wish to have a
chat with Abdul was to set the record straight, definitely not
to plead for him to take her back. And then, perhaps, to pray
he found a virgin for a wife. Apart from Allah, nobody was
indispensable. That was the gem Bongel had found from all
the drama of the last few days.
Both girls had arrived a little early and milled about just
outside the hall, chatting with their friends in the manner of
students the world over. Bongel had manoeuvred Salma so
they stood by a flower bed, leaning against the white walls.
In a few minutes, Bongel spotted Kauthar’s arrival. Abdul

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 Maryam Bobi

had dropped her off and as her former roommate entered the
exam hall, Bongel asked Salma to do her a favour. She brought
out a large brown envelope from her bag.
“Please,” she said. “Could you drop this envelope in
Kauthar’s handbag? Don’t let her see you doing it.”
“I thought you decided to let her be?” Salma replied,
concerned. “Shouldn’t you be shunning all distractions by
now? Why not let sleeping dogs lie?”
“Don’t worry about me, dear friend, I know what I’m
doing. Just help me do it, please!”
Salma smiled at this, very pleased. She waited until after
the examination when students were jostling through the
exit, then she squeezed her way to Kauthar’s side.
Bongel waited until Kauthar entered Abdul’s car before
she opened a message she had saved under the DRAFTS folder
of her mobile phone and sent it to him. “Check Kauthar’s
handbag,” she had written. “A brown envelope.”
Bongel had been itching to send the text message. Her
heart pounded away as if she was about to steal a piece of
meat from the soup pot. It took her a great effort to restrain
herself from punching the SEND button when Kauthar had
not yet stepped into Abdul’s car. When the time was finally
right, a voice in her head began to caution her against that
move but she spurned it.

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 Bongel

Bongel switched off the phone and threw it into her

handbag, smiling satisfactorily.
She began to grow anxious when, thirty minutes after
she had turned the phone back on, she had not gotten any
response. Once her phone rang, she thought it might be Abdul
calling or replying her text message, but it was someone else.
She began to imagine the possible reasons why Abdul had not
replied her. Kauthar might have found the envelope, read it
and destroyed it without Abdul’s knowledge. Abdul might
have just deleted the text message once he saw her number
without bothering to read it. He might just have set the
envelope on fire, a wild thought suggested. Or maybe Abdul
had parted with Kauthar before he got the text message? Or
it could be that Abdul was still perusing the letter? Or maybe
he had actually gotten and read the letter but didn’t think it
worth replying or acknowledging?
As she was putting on the cloth that all the final year
students had chosen to wear, Bongel found it hard to believe
that that Friday would be her last day as a student of El-Khamar
School of Medical Sciences. It seemed like just yesterday that
she enrolled into school. How time flew, she thought. She
glanced at Kauthar’s empty bed and remembered all the plans
they had made for this day.
It was laughter, shouts and tears of joy all over the school

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 Maryam Bobi

once the final year students began streaming out of the exam
halls. Their hopes were high that that was the last paper they
would write as undergraduates. They chased one another
about the school environment, bathing each other with water,
soft drinks, and even wine.
As Bongel walked to the hostel, happy and fulfilled, she
didn’t fail to watch others singing and dancing. The instant
she pushed open the hostel door that led into the courtyard, a
flood of cold water hit her from all directions amidst screams
and laughter from her hostel mates. “Congratulations!” They
cheered. Bongel stood transfixed, but she had a silly smile.
Salma came to the rescue. She dragged her to her room.When
she had changed into dry clothes, she laid her back on the bed
and stared absently at the blades of the ceiling fan until her
mother called her phone to congratulate her and plead with
her once more to visit her father.
Bongel had not visited Bobi since she left there thirteen
years ago. She had forgiven her father after he apologized to
her two years ago, but she didn’t think he deserved hugs and
kisses as though none of the things he did to complicate her
life never happened. There was just no way she could forget.
“I’m coming home later today,” Bongel mumbled into the
phone. “And I might travel to Bobi tomorrow morning.” She
didn’t wait to hear what her mother had to say but heard the

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 Bongel

little sigh of relief her mother had let out before ending the
call.
She had just concluded lunch with Salma when her phone
rang. She stretched out and picked it from the top of the pillow
at the other end of the bed. When she saw it was Abdul, her
heart almost stopped beating. She gasped.
“What?” Salma asked. Bongel’s face had turned gruesome.
“Pick the call!”
Bongel continued to stare at the phone. Its ringtone was
a loud song that always irritated Salma. But then, Bongel
smiled, dropped the phone on the bed and covered it with
her pillow.
“Who is it?” Salma asked.
“Guess.”
“Kauthar?”
“No! You should know that Kauthar wouldn’t call. She is
too proud to do that.”
“Maybe she just found the envelope in her handbag…”
“It’s not her,” Bongel interrupted.
The phone began to ring again.
“Please,” Salma hissed, “you either pick the call or switch
off the phone. I hate it when people don’t pick call. I would
feel bad if I were the caller,” she added.
Bongel delayed as if she had all the time in the world

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 Maryam Bobi

before she took the phone and headed to the toilet. When
she stepped out of the toilet fifteen minutes later, she was
beaming with smiles.
“Who was calling you that you had to lock up yourself in
the toilet as if I would steal the call?”
“Ah,” Bongel laughed, and fell back on the bed beside her
friend. “It’s a special call.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“It was Kauthar’s brother,” she finally said, “Abdul.”
“Bongel!”
“What?”
“Unbelievable!” Salma whistled. “Why did you answer it
then?”
“Weren’t you the one persuading me to pick the call?”
Bongel replied, laughing.
“Yeah,” Salma admitted, “because I didn’t know it was
him. So, what’s up?”
“To tell me he got the letter,” Bongel mumbled, avoiding
Salma’s gaze.
“And?”
“What do you mean ‘and’?” Bongel cackled. “That’s it,
mainly.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well,” Bongel shrugged. “The long and short of it is that

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he would like us to meet, to discuss, as soon as possible. He

said a very long pleeaase.”
“Don’t tell me you intend to meet with him,” Salma eyed
her.
“It might not be too bad an idea,” Bongel shrugged.
“Actually, I don’t think it is. But I don’t intend for the meeting
to be anytime soon. I know better than that.”
“That’s a lame defence,” Salma hissed. “He ought to be
ashamed of himself. With all his education and exposure, he
could still base his judgment on a partial account?”
“But if I don’t show a difference,” Bongel wondered, “how
can I criticize Kauthar and her brother? I must meet him. But
it’s not going to be anytime this week. Besides,” she conceded,
“I do need it. I have prayed earnestly for an opportunity for us
to talk. And Allah just answered my prayers.”
“He means this much to you, eh?” Salma said. “It is funny
how soon you forget. It’s not even up to a month yet that he
caused you so much pain.”
“I shouldn’t blame him, should I? Now, imagine yourself
in his shoes. Imagine discovering otherwise.”
“Even when this ‘otherwise’ is false?”
“How were you to know it’s false?”
“Why should I totally believe a third party’s account, and
not give her the chance to tell her own story?”

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“When I wouldn’t tell you, even though you have

repeatedly requested to know?”
“And Kauthar? What do you say about her, someone that
shared a room with you for years, someone you considered
your twin sister?”
“Yeah,” Bongel nodded. “I was disappointed, though.
But on second thoughts, I think I understand. She loves her
brother dearly. I know that. She was only being protective of
her brother. That is forgivable.”
“What is going on here?” Salma wailed, raising her hands
to heaven, feigning shock and bewilderment. “Have you
become both the convicted and the jury? See how you are
defending him as though he had paid for your services!”
“For my husband,” Bongel smiled, “I would do anything. I
would be anything. Even when it demands I become both jury
and convict.”
The girls laughed for a long minute.
If Bongel could travel to the future, to her wedding
day, she would see the joy in her mother’s face. She would
understand it if those pair of old eyes got glossy with tears of
joy. She would smile watching her mother dance like a drunk.
“Phew!” Bongel exhaled, blowing out all the sorrows and
burdens of her past – her father’s lack of wisdom,AlhajiTanko’s
exploitation, her stay in the hospital. And, of course, the pain

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that hiding these three dark passages of her womanhood had

caused her when she found finally love. Bongel felt feather-
light again, so much she didn’t doubt she could levitate to
the ceiling. The sun was shining outside and some of its rays
seeped in through the open louvers to warm her fingers on
the pillow.
Bongel felt washed back to land by the waves. The storm
had calmed.

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