The sun burned bright in the sky as Yakumbo clutched the small baby in her arms, her eyes filled with concern. She turned to the elderly man standing before her.
"Kawu, must you always leave for the market to sell milk? Can't you see how Aisha is suffering with her newborn? Do you not fear that the cold might harm the baby?"
Kawu sighed, looking at his wife, Aisha, who held their tiny daughter, Nijlah. The child was barely three months old, yet their financial struggles had left them with no choice but to continue their daily hustle.
"Yakumbo, you know that without selling milk, we have nothing to eat. It’s a necessity," Kawu replied, his voice heavy with weariness.
Aisha, despite her exhaustion, stood up, adjusting the baby on her back with a cloth.
"I’m hungry," she muttered, "I haven’t eaten anything since morning. And yet, I have so much milk in my breasts."
Kawu remained silent, understanding her pain but knowing there was nothing he could do.
The journey from their village to the marketplace was long, but they had no other option. Fortunately, they managed to get a ride on a passing vehicle, squeezing in among the passengers. As the driver began collecting fares, Kawu reached into his pocket, his heart sinking as he realized he had only twenty naira.
"Driver, please, I have only twenty naira. Could you help us?"
The driver sneered.
"Do I look like a charity organization? If you can’t pay, get out of my car!"
Before Kawu could argue, tragedy struck.
The sharp screeching of tires filled the air, followed by a deafening crash.
A TRAGIC ACCIDENT
The vehicle had been crushed by an oncoming truck, leaving devastation in its wake. The silence that followed was heavy with grief.
Of all the passengers, only two souls remained alive—Nijlah, the infant girl, and the driver, who had suffered severe injuries.
Rescue workers rushed in, pulling bodies from the wreckage. The news of the accident spread quickly, reaching even the ears of Malam, Yakumbo’s husband. He was listening to the radio when the broadcaster announced the horrifying details.
"A terrible accident has occurred, claiming many lives. Among the victims are a man and a woman, leaving behind an infant survivor…"
Malam’s heart pounded. He ran outside, calling Yakumbo with panic in his voice.
"Yakumbo! Something terrible has happened!"
Yakumbo emerged from the house, wiping her hands.
"Malam, what is it? You look shaken."
"Kawu and Aisha… they are gone."
Yakumbo froze, her entire world shattering in an instant.
The hospital confirmed their worst fears. Kawu and Aisha were dead.
And little Nijlah was now an orphan.
A NEW LIFE FOR NIJLAH
Back home, after the funeral, Yakumbo held Nijlah close to her chest, tears streaming down her face.
"I can’t give her away. She is the last piece of my son. I will raise her myself."
Even when Aisha’s mother, Inna, requested to take Nijlah, Yakumbo refused.
"She stays with me. She is all I have left of them."
From that day forward, Yakumbo dedicated her life to raising Nijlah. She worked tirelessly, doing odd jobs, washing clothes, and even milking cows just to provide milk for the little girl.
Despite the hardships, Nijlah grew into a bright and energetic child. However, the reality of poverty followed her like a shadow.
While other children had small luxuries, Nijlah had nothing.
At the market, she would watch enviously as other children bought treats, knowing she had no money of her own. Often, she would return home crying, clinging to Yakumbo in frustration.
"Why don’t I have money like the other kids?"
Sometimes, Yakumbo would join her in tears.
Malam, burdened with age, was too weak to work, making it even harder for the family to survive. And in their Fulani tradition, girls were often married off young, sometimes as early as thirteen.
Malam had already made up his mind.
"Once Nijlah turns thirteen, she will be married."
A LIFE CHANGING ENCOUNTER
Far away, in the bustling city, Mashkur Hussain was preparing for a journey that would change his life.
"Mummy, please reconsider. I don’t want to take Yasmeen with me to that village. You know how she hates rural life!"
His mother, a sophisticated woman named Mummy, folded her arms.
"Mashkur, you will not go to your National Service without getting married. And if you refuse, forget about going."
Mashkur sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Mummy, I’m not ready for marriage yet. Can’t we postpone it?"
"Nonsense! I have already prepared for the wedding. You will either marry Yasmeen now or forget about your service!"
Mashkur knew arguing was pointless. He had to find a way to escape the pressure of marriage.
ARRIVAL IN THE VILLAGE
When Mashkur arrived at the remote Fulani village for his National Service, he was immediately struck by the stark contrast between city life and this place.
The houses were small and simple, the roads dusty, and cattle roamed freely.
As he settled into his new environment, he and his friends, Nasir and Bello, were invited to a traditional gathering.
It was there that he first saw her—Nijlah.
A small girl with big, expressive eyes and a fiery spirit. She was unlike anyone he had ever met.
During the event, children gathered around their car, drawing pictures on it with sticks and stones. One particular drawing caught Nasir’s attention—a beautifully drawn cow.
"Who did this?" he demanded.
A small voice answered,
"I did."
It was Nijlah.
Nasir laughed. "A little girl like you? Impossible."
But Nijlah stood her ground, confidence radiating from her.
What happened next shocked everyone.
Nasir, irritated by the children’s mischief, lightly smacked Nijlah’s hand.
Her reaction was explosive.
"YAKUMBOOO! HE HIT ME!"
Tears streamed down her face as she ran toward her grandmother.
Mashkur watched the scene unfold, feeling an unfamiliar sensation in his chest.
Was it… guilt? Sympathy? Or something more?
A DECISION THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING
Life in the village continued. Mashkur found himself drawn to Nijlah’s innocence and resilience.
But then, he heard news that shattered him.
Malam had decided to marry off Nijlah.
Mashkur was horrified.
"She’s just a child!"
But in the village, it was normal.
During a community meeting, an elderly man stepped forward.
"I will marry her," he declared.
Mashkur’s heart pounded.
Before he even realized what he was doing, he stood up.
"No. I will marry her."
Gasps filled the room.
Nasir stared at him in shock.
"Mashkur, are you crazy?"
But Mashkur knew he had to do it. If he didn’t, Nijlah would be trapped in a life she didn’t deserve.
The marriage was arranged immediately.
When the news reached his family, chaos erupted.
"You did WHAT?" his mother screamed over the phone.
His older sister, Ladeefah, was furious.
"Mashkur, have you lost your mind? You’re throwing away your future!"
Mashkur sat in silence, the weight of his decision sinking in.
Description
'YAR SADAKA 1
STORY & WRITING BY MOMN SULTAN
A LIFE OF STRUGGLE
The sun burned bright in the sky as Yakumbo clutched the small baby in her arms, her eyes filled with concern. She turned to the elderly man standing before her.
"Kawu, must you always leave for the market to sell milk? Can't you see how Aisha is suffering with her newborn? Do you not fear that the cold might harm the baby?"
Kawu sighed, looking at his wife, Aisha, who held their tiny daughter, Nijlah. The child was barely three months old, yet their financial struggles had left them with no choice but to continue their daily hustle.
"Yakumbo, you know that without selling milk, we have nothing to eat. It’s a necessity," Kawu replied, his voice heavy with weariness.
Aisha, despite her exhaustion, stood up, adjusting the baby on her back with a cloth.
"I’m hungry," she muttered, "I haven’t eaten anything since morning. And yet, I have so much milk in my breasts."
Kawu remained silent, understanding her pain but knowing there was nothing he could do.
The journey from their village to the marketplace was long, but they had no other option. Fortunately, they managed to get a ride on a passing vehicle, squeezing in among the passengers. As the driver began collecting fares, Kawu reached into his pocket, his heart sinking as he realized he had only twenty naira.
"Driver, please, I have only twenty naira. Could you help us?"
The driver sneered.
"Do I look like a charity organization? If you can’t pay, get out of my car!"
Before Kawu could argue, tragedy struck.
The sharp screeching of tires filled the air, followed by a deafening crash.
A TRAGIC ACCIDENT
The vehicle had been crushed by an oncoming truck, leaving devastation in its wake. The silence that followed was heavy with grief.
Of all the passengers, only two souls remained alive—Nijlah, the infant girl, and the driver, who had suffered severe injuries.
Rescue workers rushed in, pulling bodies from the wreckage. The news of the accident spread quickly, reaching even the ears of Malam, Yakumbo’s husband. He was listening to the radio when the broadcaster announced the horrifying details.
"A terrible accident has occurred, claiming many lives. Among the victims are a man and a woman, leaving behind an infant survivor…"
Malam’s heart pounded. He ran outside, calling Yakumbo with panic in his voice.
"Yakumbo! Something terrible has happened!"
Yakumbo emerged from the house, wiping her hands.
"Malam, what is it? You look shaken."
"Kawu and Aisha… they are gone."
Yakumbo froze, her entire world shattering in an instant.
The hospital confirmed their worst fears. Kawu and Aisha were dead.
And little Nijlah was now an orphan.
A NEW LIFE FOR NIJLAH
Back home, after the funeral, Yakumbo held Nijlah close to her chest, tears streaming down her face.
"I can’t give her away. She is the last piece of my son. I will raise her myself."
Even when Aisha’s mother, Inna, requested to take Nijlah, Yakumbo refused.
"She stays with me. She is all I have left of them."
From that day forward, Yakumbo dedicated her life to raising Nijlah. She worked tirelessly, doing odd jobs, washing clothes, and even milking cows just to provide milk for the little girl.
Despite the hardships, Nijlah grew into a bright and energetic child. However, the reality of poverty followed her like a shadow.
While other children had small luxuries, Nijlah had nothing.
At the market, she would watch enviously as other children bought treats, knowing she had no money of her own. Often, she would return home crying, clinging to Yakumbo in frustration.
"Why don’t I have money like the other kids?"
Sometimes, Yakumbo would join her in tears.
Malam, burdened with age, was too weak to work, making it even harder for the family to survive. And in their Fulani tradition, girls were often married off young, sometimes as early as thirteen.
Malam had already made up his mind.
"Once Nijlah turns thirteen, she will be married."
A LIFE CHANGING ENCOUNTER
Far away, in the bustling city, Mashkur Hussain was preparing for a journey that would change his life.
"Mummy, please reconsider. I don’t want to take Yasmeen with me to that village. You know how she hates rural life!"
His mother, a sophisticated woman named Mummy, folded her arms.
"Mashkur, you will not go to your National Service without getting married. And if you refuse, forget about going."
Mashkur sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Mummy, I’m not ready for marriage yet. Can’t we postpone it?"
"Nonsense! I have already prepared for the wedding. You will either marry Yasmeen now or forget about your service!"
Mashkur knew arguing was pointless. He had to find a way to escape the pressure of marriage.
ARRIVAL IN THE VILLAGE
When Mashkur arrived at the remote Fulani village for his National Service, he was immediately struck by the stark contrast between city life and this place.
The houses were small and simple, the roads dusty, and cattle roamed freely.
As he settled into his new environment, he and his friends, Nasir and Bello, were invited to a traditional gathering.
It was there that he first saw her—Nijlah.
A small girl with big, expressive eyes and a fiery spirit. She was unlike anyone he had ever met.
During the event, children gathered around their car, drawing pictures on it with sticks and stones. One particular drawing caught Nasir’s attention—a beautifully drawn cow.
"Who did this?" he demanded.
A small voice answered,
"I did."
It was Nijlah.
Nasir laughed. "A little girl like you? Impossible."
But Nijlah stood her ground, confidence radiating from her.
What happened next shocked everyone.
Nasir, irritated by the children’s mischief, lightly smacked Nijlah’s hand.
Her reaction was explosive.
"YAKUMBOOO! HE HIT ME!"
Tears streamed down her face as she ran toward her grandmother.
Mashkur watched the scene unfold, feeling an unfamiliar sensation in his chest.
Was it… guilt? Sympathy? Or something more?
A DECISION THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING
Life in the village continued. Mashkur found himself drawn to Nijlah’s innocence and resilience.
But then, he heard news that shattered him.
Malam had decided to marry off Nijlah.
Mashkur was horrified.
"She’s just a child!"
But in the village, it was normal.
During a community meeting, an elderly man stepped forward.
"I will marry her," he declared.
Mashkur’s heart pounded.
Before he even realized what he was doing, he stood up.
"No. I will marry her."
Gasps filled the room.
Nasir stared at him in shock.
"Mashkur, are you crazy?"
But Mashkur knew he had to do it. If he didn’t, Nijlah would be trapped in a life she didn’t deserve.
The marriage was arranged immediately.
When the news reached his family, chaos erupted.
"You did WHAT?" his mother screamed over the phone.
His older sister, Ladeefah, was furious.
"Mashkur, have you lost your mind? You’re throwing away your future!"
Mashkur sat in silence, the weight of his decision sinking in.
Had he made a mistake?
Or had he just changed both their lives forever?