Hiding behind one of the trees surrounding the race track, Naseer was dressed in his primary school uniform—a white shirt and green shorts. His entire focus was on the horses racing past, seemingly flying. He could think of nothing else but wishing he were the one on the horse that outpaced the others.

The crowd erupted in cheers, celebrating the rider of the leading horse. Naseer, filled with excitement, ran toward them. He didn't even notice when he dropped his school bag. Pushing through the crowd, he made his way to touch the winning rider. It felt like he had been transported to paradise.

Just as another group of horses was about to race, the crowd shifted back to their places. Naseer found another tree to lean against, his body trembling with excitement, like a boxer preparing for a match.

Suddenly, he felt his ears being grabbed. He turned around in shock and locked eyes with his father. Naseer raised his hands in surrender, unable to speak.

"Are you never going to stop causing me trouble, Naseer? Is this your school?" His father scolded, his large eyes filled with anger. Naseer stared back in silence.

"Come on, let's go to the school. Your body will tell you the consequences since you seem not to listen. Where's your bag?" His father asked. Naseer started looking around. "Oh, so you don't even know where your bag is?" His father smacked the back of his head. "Move! Let's go find your bag, you disobedient child!"

They walked until they found the bag. "Pick it up!" His father ordered. Naseer obeyed, and they continued on to the (L.E.A Primary School) near the Tudun Wada police station in Zaria, where they met the school head.

The headmaster looked at Naseer and said, "Won't you give your father a break, Naseer? What kind of child are you?" Naseer looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The headmaster sternly ordered, "Straighten up and take your hands out of your pockets!" Naseer knelt, fuming with anger, his chest visibly heaving with frustration.

Mr. Balarabe, Naseer's father, said, "I want you to cane him in my presence. If you can't do it, I'll take the cane myself and discipline him."

The headmaster responded, "I'll take care of it right away. Naseer's body will be marked when I'm done."

He pulled out a cane, and Naseer's father forcefully removed the boy's shirt. The headmaster administered twelve strokes, but Naseer didn't flinch or shed a tear. This only added to Mr. Balarabe's frustration. He pulled up a chair and sat down, saying, "I don't know what to do with this boy. He's my only son, but he completely defies me."

The headmaster advised, "All we can do is pray. Today's children only seem to respond to prayer, so keep praying for him. Don't worry; you can leave him with me."