MIJIN MALAMA BOOK 1 Complete writing by Nimcey Sarauta .txt

<p>His pace was hurried, as though he were running, fueled by how poorly he could see ahead. The wind filled his oversized gown, causing it to billow dramatically.</p><p>Earlier that morning, he had felt a sense of ease and optimism, convinced it was going to be his lucky day. After all, he was heading to seek alms at the residence of the wealthiest man in the state, a man whose riches surpassed even those of other states. But as fate would have it, an event more calamitous than an accident befell him. He wished he'd fallen from his motorbike instead of facing the consequences of his impatience that day.</p><p>As he rounded the corner leading to his house, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Summoning his courage, he continued walking, his eyes scanning the crowd of menacing thugs camped outside his home. They were sprawled under the massive baobab tree at the entrance, smoking and laughing. There were about fifteen of them, each armed with a weapon strapped to their waist or tucked somewhere on their body. Anyone who dared to challenge them would face dire consequences, especially since their operations had the backing of the authorities. Their leader, Zaki Neyo, was the trusted protégé of the infamous Dikko Dilla.</p><p>Some of the men had faces marked with deep scars or tattoos, making them appear even more terrifying. The air was thick with the pungent smell of marijuana and sweat, a stench so strong that anyone from the area knew better than to linger in that part of the neighborhood. It was a place ruled by fear—a domain of Zaki Neyo, where recklessness had no room.</p><p>Hurrying into the compound, his oversized, milk-colored gown, now stained brown, flapped wildly as he moved. He stumbled in his haste, almost falling face-first into the sacks of ground grains spread out by Iya Talatu, his wife, who sold them for a living. The grains were partially made up of kukas (baobab leaves), her best-selling product.</p><p>Iya Talatu was sitting on a mat, counting the money she'd earned from selling fermented millet drinks mixed with jolly juice. She looked up at him with disdain, her voice sharp with irritation.</p><p>“What's the meaning of this? Why are you stomping around like a thief bitten by a scorpion? Do you realize how much loss you'll cause if you spill my grains? Let me remind you—no matter how long you work, you'll never earn enough to pay me back. And don’t think your useless rants will save you. If I make noise, the landlord will only send his thugs to silence me. Now, get out of my sight!”</p><p>Still panting, he removed a pair of sandals hidden under his gown. The sandals were wet from sweat. With eyes that resembled those of an anxious Chinese man, he muttered, “Fate led me to borrow Zaki Neyo's sandals. Didn't you hear? Dahiru said they were worth five thousand naira. I wore them to beg at Dikko Dilla's mansion, only for his rabid dogs to tear them apart. Even the police guarding the house didn’t dare stop the madness.”</p><p>Her face twisted with anger and disbelief as she stared at him, barely able to hold back her frustration. Knowing that arguing further would be futile, she rose to gather her goats and chickens roaming freely in the compound. She knew trouble was brewing—Zaki Neyo’s wrath was not something anyone survived easily.</p><p>While she busied herself with the animals, Nadia, her stepdaughter, emerged from the kitchen, holding a plastic plate she’d been using to fan the fire. Her hands shook as she heard the commotion. She feared her stepfather would vent his frustration on her, as he often did when things went wrong.</p><p>Meanwhile, a young lady strolled into the compound, dressed in a fitted Sheraton-print skirt and blouse worth just over 3,500 naira. Her face was beautifully made up with foundation and red lipstick, her hands clutching a shiny Vivo phone and a small purse. She smelled of rich incense, her demeanor exuding confidence.</p><p>She froze at the sight of the chaos. With a puzzled and slightly fearful expression, she turned to Iya Talatu and asked, “What’s going on? Why are you packing everything up in broad daylight?”</p><p>Before Iya Talatu could respond, she snapped angrily, “Your father’s impatience got him into trouble. He borrowed Zaki Neyo’s sandals, and now they’ve been destroyed by dogs.”</p><p>The young lady glared at her father in frustration. “Why can’t you ever let us have peace in this house? Honestly, if anyone comes to propose to me now, they’d rather face a pack of rabid dogs than deal with the mess you cause!”</p><p>Without waiting for a response, she stormed off, muttering to herself, “I’m going to my aunt’s house. I won’t come back until things calm down.”</p><p>Nadia, who had been silently watching, was forced to pick up the mangled sandals and thread a needle to begin repairing them. Her hands trembled as she worked, knowing that Zaki Neyo would not take kindly to this haphazard repair.</p><p>Her stepfather, oblivious to the tension he caused, carelessly tossed his sweat-soaked gown aside and retreated into the house, ignoring Iya Talatu’s angry mutterings.</p><p>"Keep your feet away from me," she spat. “If this Zaki of yours destroys my livelihood, I swear you’ll pay for it—both from your pockets and your stomach. Don’t think I’ll feed you for a week after this nonsense!”</p><p>He paid her no mind as he grabbed a bucket of water and stepped into the courtyard to wash his feet, all the while muttering under his breath about the misfortunes of his day.</p><p>Nadia, seated in her corner, stitched the sandals with trembling hands, tears streaming down her face. She knew the storm was far from over.</p><p> </p><p> </p>