---
They only traveled for 2 hours from Jada to Yola. She dropped off at the market area and found a ride to her sister Zainab’s house — Zainab was married to a barrister. She entered the house with a greeting. Zainab was lying on the carpet watching a movie. They embraced with joy — they had already planned this visit together. Zainab brought her some cold water, which she drank. Then they started chatting, asking about home and how everyone was doing, until Zainab’s husband returned with the kids from school.
The next day… Ruhaimat dressed up in a milk-and-purple lace with a purple hijab. She wasn’t much into makeup — just powder and lip gloss, and her sweet perfume scent. She bade goodbye to Aunt Zee and went to visit her best friend, Sadiya Ahmad, whom she fondly called "my love." She had no closer friend than Sadiya. They were always together in the same hostel at State University. They shared everything except personality — Sadiya was quiet, loved fashion, and hated hijabs passionately.
She entered Sadiya's house and greeted. Sadiya came out, they hugged, and laughed.
“That’s your eye, Ruhi Nah… hmm, you’ve brought me good luck today.”
“Really? My love?”
“Yes! Abba’s daughter came all the way to our house. I’m so lucky, truly.”
“I don’t like nonsense talk.”
“Sorry then, let’s go inside.” They entered their bedroom after greeting Sadiya’s mom.
“So, when will you start your training?”
“Tomorrow, I hope. The supervisor’s coming next week.”
“Hmph, lucky you. May God pair you with someone lenient. As for me, that annoying Mr. Bulus Yakubu is too arrogant and rude — and so ugly!”
Ruhaimat laughed heartily.
“You’re funny, Sadee… Why didn’t you ask the HoD to change your supervisor?”
“You talk like you don’t know how those in our department are — they’re all arrogant and unpleasant.”
“May God make things easy and let us part from them peacefully.”
“Ameen.”
Ruhaimat stayed at Sadiya’s until evening before returning home.
That night, while they were watching TV, her phone rang — it was Grandma Dada. They chatted for a while. Then Aunt Maryam teased Grandma, and Ruhaimat passed the phone to Aunt Zee. After they finished, another call came in from a new number.
She picked it up:
“Hello, Miss Ruhaimat, how are you? Hope you’re fine.”
“I’m good, Alhamdulillah. Sorry, who’s speaking?”
“You’re talking to your admirer.”
She was silent, unsure of what to say.
“Sorry, I got your number without your permission.”
“It’s okay, but sorry — I have someone I’m going to marry.”
“This is Aliyu from Jada.”
“Oh Aliyu, it’s you?”
“Yes, I met Aunt Maryam yesterday. She gave me your number.”
“Okay, thanks for calling. Goodnight.”
“Wait, please listen. I know you said you have someone, but since he hasn’t paid your bride price yet, it doesn’t count.”
She interrupted immediately:
“No, it does count, Aliyu. I can’t betray my lover. Please, goodnight.”
She hung up.
Aunt Zee turned to her in shock.
“So, you’re still stuck on that 'spirit lover' of yours? Are you okay, Ruhaimat? I think I’ll have to talk to Abba — you need deliverance. Maybe a spirit’s possessing you.”
Ruhaimat laughed.
“No, Aunt Zee. Mai sona is not a spirit, he’s real and he’s coming, Insha Allah.”
“Hmm, may God help you,” she replied.
Ruhaimat then called Aunt Maryam:
“Wife of Ustaz, how are you?”
“Aunt Maryam, how could you give my number to someone I don’t like, even after I told you I don’t want him?”
“Shut your mouth! You dare talk to me like that? I’m your elder. Just because someone likes you — is that a crime?”
“Please, Aunt Maryam, don’t give out my number again.”
“I don’t have time for you,” she said and hung up.
Ruhaimat almost cried as she returned to her room. Aunt Zee just watched her, shaking her head.
---
The next morning, Ruhaimat dressed in a long pink dress with black touches, a black hijab, black shoes and bag, and light makeup with perfume. She stepped out. Aunt Zee, mopping the living room, said:
“Wow, Abba’s daughter, looking beautiful!”
“Thank you, Aunt. I’m heading out.”
“Be careful out there. I know you’re calm, but this is no place to joke around — AMZ is full of smart people.”
“No problem, Aunt. I’m there strictly for work.”
“May God help and protect you.”
“Ameen. Thanks.”
She took a tricycle straight to AMZ Company. At the gate, it was clear this wasn’t an ordinary company — security was tight. After showing her ID, she was allowed through. The building was a huge multi-story structure, possibly 30 floors high — impressive. She paused, confused about where to go.
A security guard passed; she approached him politely:
“Excuse me, sir, I have a question.”
He looked her up and down and ignored her. She muttered to herself,
“This world... Just wearing a hijab, and they assume you’re uneducated and poor. Hmm. May God help us.”
Just then, someone from her department called her name — a wave of relief washed over her. He showed her the way to the reporting office. Inside, an official sat spinning in his chair.
“Excuse me.” It took him 5 minutes before saying “Come in.”
He looked at them briefly, then away. Ruhaimat explained herself. He seemed surprised she could speak English — clearly, he had mistaken her for an illiterate village girl. She completed the necessary forms, then he directed her to her designated office.
After the procedures, they began practical training. As they were writing, it was time for Zuhr prayer. While leaving, she met a girl:
“Hi, I’m Ameena.”
“I’m Ruhaimat.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Same here. Is this your first day?”
“Yes, I just reported today.”
“Let’s go pray. There’s a mosque downstairs.”
They left together, chatting.
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