Even before I reached them, I saw they had burst into laughter, holding their stomachs and clapping. In a fit of anger, I said, "What's this? You’re walking around laughing like mad people."
They paused, and Abasiya said, "Do you think you're something, Na'ima? Now, just because you're senseless and shameless, you want to approach Abba and tell him you want to go to school? Unbelievable."
"Ignore her and her audacity. Does she plan on postponing marriage indefinitely, or what’s her problem?"
I turned away from everything they were saying, only concerned about getting Abba's approval. Among all their remarks, none hurt me like Salma's, who said,
"Aside from your behavior, Bilkisu, what's wrong if she wants to go to school and not get married? Look at Anty Zakiyya; she’s still unmarried. If Na'ima says she won't marry, it's no surprise. It starts from the top and trickles down, and those who follow imitate."
My eyes burned with rage; I had no patience. I couldn’t let it go without a response. I grabbed Salma's hijab collar, pointing my finger at her because I couldn't utter a word. Bilkisu and Abasiya had to pry my hands off her with difficulty. When I finally released her, she started coughing uncontrollably. I glanced at them and headed home without looking back or waiting for them, unlike our usual routine.
I found Baba Karami's second wife, whom we called Hajiya, washing clothes in the courtyard. Nearby, Anty Jummai sat with her legs stretched out, eating her traditional dish, singing loudly, "Women, engage in business; women, engage in business."
I greeted them softly, not sure if they could hear me, and said, "Well done with the housework," as I made my way into my mother's room.
