As she came out of the room, she began to cry, looking towards the room where her father was lying. She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard her name being called.
“Ummu Salma, be patient. Allah will provide us a way.” Without looking up, she knew it was Yaya Hadiza. Through her tears, she said, “Yaya Hadiza, this situation is so sad. Ten thousand Naira is what stands between us taking Baba home like this.”
Yaya Hadiza took her hand. “Come on, let’s go before Yaya comes out. Let’s see what we can do.”
They stood in the hospital courtyard, away from the hustle and bustle, near the parked cars. They leaned against a car, not caring about the heat radiating from it.
Yaya Hadiza asked, “Salma, how much do you have with you now?” She replied, “All my Awarata capital amounts to ten thousand seven hundred Naira, and you know every day I make about seven hundred or six hundred Naira from it. That’s what we use for food, and if we use it up, how will we afford food, let alone hospital expenses?” Yaya Hadiza sighed and shook her head. “We can’t touch that capital. Let’s wait for Yaya Auwalu to come out and see what he suggests. You know he works at the bakery and only gets paid at the end of the month unless Allah brings him some side job for electrical repairs.”
Salma asked, “Yaya Hadiza, don’t you have any other means?” She replied, “Salma, what else do I have now? Just the bed we sleep on. Even Baban Amira, you know he’s not that strong, he goes out to find work before we can get by.”
Salma saw Yaya Auwalu looking around as if searching for them. She said, “There’s Yaya. I’m sure he’s looking for us.”
Yaya Hadiza called out, “Yaya Auwalu!” He looked in their direction and then approached them.
They continued discussing how to raise the money, but after almost thirty minutes, they had not come to any solution. The conversation was still centered around the money, which they did not have.
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