ME ZANYI DA ITA COMPLETE By Nazeefa Sabo Nashe.txt Nazeefa Sabo Nashe

Early in the morning, she emerged from the Fulani camp in a hut situated at the edge of the settlement, dressed in traditional Fulani attire, her face etched with clear displeasure. As she walked, she mumbled to herself, clearly not wanting to be out. With a calabash of milk on her head, she found her mother sitting in the middle of the courtyard, her hand on her chin, lost in thought. As she was about to pass by, she turned back and stood with a frown, her lips pursed. "Innaji, I'm leaving," she said. Innaji sighed before responding, "When you go, greet Modibbo for me. And while you're out, make sure to keep an eye on people's children and livestock. And don't forget, if any child enters my farm, I will retaliate against his mother." Annoyed, Innaji gave her a stern look. "I'm giving you advice, Shatu, and you're responding with 'I will retaliate'? Go on, may God guide you. I'm telling you to be careful because not everyone in this village is on our side. Today we are here, but tomorrow we might not be. I don't want people to say you're still behaving this way, everyone in this village knows your character, no one speaks of your good qualities, only your bad ones. Shatu, for God's sake, mend your ways so you won't regret it later when I'm gone." Even though she felt remorseful, she didn't stop herself from saying, "But, Innaji, I won't let those kids mock me, calling me 'owl eyes' like their father named me." Innaji struggled to her feet, her pregnancy weighing heavily on her. In a gentle voice, she took Shatu's hand. "Let them talk. They say your eyes are beautiful, masha Allah. If they call you names, just move on. It's about to rain, hurry up and greet Modibbo for me and collect my writing if he's done." Shatu quickly left as if she was about to fly, thinking to herself, "I swear, Innaji, I won't spare them. Any child who enters my farm, I'll teach him a lesson." She walked briskly, singing despite the calabash of milk on her head. Whenever she passed a group of children, they would mock her in whispers, saying, "Owl eyes." She would scowl, memorizing their faces, determined to make them pay. At the top of a hill, she found her paternal grandfather, Modibbo, a renowned scholar in the village. She approached him with great respect, as he was the only person she feared. She squatted beside him, waiting patiently until he finished his prayers before he acknowledged her greeting. "Here," she said, handing him the calabash. "Innaji sends her greetings." Modibbo shook his head as he took the calabash. "I thought you would have spilled it as usual, but today you managed not to. Otherwise, I would have punished you because you don't seem to have any sympathy for your mother." She stood up, her heart racing, wanting to slap him. She despised him and wished he would pass away soon, as he made her life difficult. "I'll deal with you tomorrow," she thought. In the sheep pen, she found Salame, who took the calabash of milk with a smile and said, "How's your mother's health?" "Not improving, only God's intervention can help. This huge pregnancy is too much for her. The only way she'll feel better is if she gives birth. I swear, the day she delivers, I'll thrash the baby." Salame's eyes widened. "Are you serious, Shatu? People say you don't think before you speak, and now it seems true. You would beat a newborn baby?" "Of course, if I don't, then I didn't inherit my mother. She can't even pray standing up because of this mischievous baby. I watched her stomach flip yesterday while she was eating. He's already causing trouble even before being born," Shatu replied. Salame shook her head as she handed back the calabash, just as Modibbo entered, leaning on his staff. "Mother of nonsense, here you are chatting like sparrows. Go give her the writing. May God grant her a safe delivery." "Ameen," Shatu muttered. "I've inherited my grandfather's sharp tongue. Everyone in the village knows it." "What did you say?" Modibbo asked, but she quickly ran off, shouting, "I said, may God grant us safety," knowing full well he had a hearing problem. On her way back, she was eager to encounter the children again, but she didn't see them, which left her feeling unfulfilled. When she arrived home, Innaji took the writing and gestured towards the water pot, indicating she wanted to perform ablution. Shatu picked up the pot and began to make ablution. Despite her attitude, Innaji had made sure to instill religious knowledge in her, although Shatu rarely attended secular school, preferring to sneak into other people's farms to cause trouble. After finishing their prayers, Innaji held her hand gently, her voice soft. "Shatu, I feel like my life is nearing its end, so I must tell you my story in case you need to know when I'm no longer here. Your father has been away for five months now on a trading journey, and I haven't heard from him. I long to see him, but I don't know where he is." Tears welled up in Shatu's eyes; she hated hearing her mother talk about death. She had noticed that recently, it was all Innaji talked about. "Innaji, please stop talking about dying. If you die, it will be the end for me." "You won't be alone, Shatu. God is with you, and you have support as long as Modibbo is alive. And I know your father will return someday. Just pray for our safety and be calm," Innaji replied, hugging her. "My only wish is to see you settled in life." "May God make it so," Shatu said quickly. All evening, she wanted to hear her mother's story, but she was also afraid it would involve talk of death, so she hesitated. In the middle of the night, unable to contain her curiosity, she sat up. "Innaji, you haven't told me your story." Innaji smiled, knowing how much Shatu loved stories. She sat up slowly, leaning against the wall.