**Bauchi, Dutsen Tenshi**
Dutsen Tenshi is a neighborhood for those with modest means but generous hearts. It is a narrow alley with only four houses, none of which are very well-built. My house, the last one, is the most dilapidated.
A handsome elderly man, likely around forty-eight to fifty years old, tries to enter the house through its wobbly door. It is clear that he is not in good health as he walks slowly with a limp, finally entering the small yard that is so well-swept it doesn't seem like it belongs to the earth. The smell of soil wafts through the air.
He greets in a refined voice and quickly heads towards a small room, hearing sobs coming from within. He calls out her name, "Fatima Bintu, Subhanallah!" He hurriedly puts down the bag in his hand and, with great concern, lifts her head.
A beautiful girl, endowed with exceptional grace and wisdom by the Creator, lifts her radiant face and gazes at her father with her sparkling eyes.
In a soft, melodious voice, she says, "Father, where did you go without me? I was so scared. Please, don't leave me again. I am very afraid of losing you. Let me go and find something for us to eat, please, father. I beg you, don't go out again. I will do whatever is necessary, please." She finishes her plea, clasping her hands together.
He lets out a deep sigh and gently responds.
"Oh, Bintu, who between us should be going out? Have you forgotten that you are a vulnerable girl? Bintu, remember that nothing happens without God's will. Don't let fear consume you. No one can harm you except what God has destined. You are the most beloved to me. Every day, my prayer is that God protects you from all evil and shields you and your mother, wherever she is."
After saying this, he quickly wipes away his tears. Handing her the bag, he says, "Now, get up and prepare some porridge for us. I know you are hungry." He says this with a smile, trying to comfort her. She too smiles, revealing her beauty, her teeth, and her dimples. "Masha Allah!" he exclaims, seeing her get up with a smile.
**Abuja**
A magnificent mansion, reminiscent of those in foreign countries like the US, stands grandly. The interior is so lavish that it feels like a paradise on earth.
A woman rolls around, crying and screaming in distress. About ten people are around her, trying to calm her down, but she seems to be in her own world, saying,
"Oh Jesus, help me bring my son back. I want him to be in my faith. Please, come back to your senses, my son. Help your mother. I have never sent you to school to change your religion. I sent you to understand me, to look after me, but now you have come back with something that is breaking my heart. I cannot bear this."
An elderly man, probably in his fifties, descends the stairs. As he approaches, he signals the others to leave, and they quietly exit one by one.
He sits down in one of the lavish chairs that decorate the living room, giving her a stern look that makes her sit up, even though she continues to sob.
He stares at her for a few seconds before exhaling and speaking.
"Abigail, is this your idea of a solution? Gathering people and creating a scene? Do you think this will change his mind? Have you forgotten who he is? Have you forgotten his nature?" He shakes his head in disappointment, saying, "Abigail, you lack wisdom. Since you seem to have forgotten his nature, let me remind you: he is stubborn. And anyone who makes a sieve knows it will leak water." He pauses, then continues, "Remember his past? The hardships he endured at the hands of his peers? The confusion that led him astray? The pain he caused you every weekend? Abigail, you should remember all of this before thinking your son will see you as his mother."
She looks at him in desperation, her eyes filled with tears, and pleads, "Please, stop saying that he doesn’t see me as his mother."
He looks at her and says, "My advice to you is to try another approach. Anything you do won't change him. Adapt your strategy, maybe this time you’ll succeed."
With that, he stands and goes back upstairs.
She too gets up, feeling weak and anxious, her heart pounding as she walks unsteadily, her vision blurred by tears.
At that very moment, on this Friday afternoon, a day when every devout Muslim prepares for the mosque, some miscreants among the Muslims join hands with the enemies of Islam, defying its teachings.
A loud, piercing voice...
