ZAWARCI BOOK COMPLETE DOCUMENT BY Mrs Sadauki .txt
<p>Habiba quickened her pace and caught up with her sister.</p><p>"Here’s the money, sister," she said.</p><p>Kaltum turned to look at the money and then continued walking.</p><p>"I’m almost done braiding hair for people in this village," she said firmly.</p><p>Habiba shook her head as she moved closer.</p><p>“Don’t get upset, sister. If you’re in business, you have to be patient.”</p><p>“I’m tired of their disrespect and insults. How is it that you have to be humiliated before getting what’s rightfully yours? It’s as if I begged or pleaded for it!”</p><p>"Be patient. Everything passes, and one day, this will all just be a story," Habiba said softly.</p><p>Kaltum didn’t respond but continued walking, swallowing her frustration. She wanted to calm herself before getting home, as she didn’t want to burden her mother with the details of what had happened.</p><p>They headed to Lawandi’s shop, intending to buy corn flour and sugar, but when they arrived, the shop was closed, likely because of the midday heat. It wouldn’t reopen until later in the afternoon.</p><p>Clicking her tongue in irritation, Kaltum said, “Let’s go to Wasila’s house. Her mother sells these things—we can buy them there.”</p><p>They changed direction, heading down a side path to Wasila’s house.</p><p>Wasila was Kaltum’s only true friend in the entire village. Almost everyone knew them as a pair because Kaltum didn’t keep many friends. She was selective about who she let close, which is why Wasila was the only person who could genuinely be called her close friend. While she interacted politely with other girls in the village, her relationship with them didn’t go beyond greetings or basic courtesy. Wasila was the only one she confided in or shared secrets with on certain occasions.</p><p>When they arrived at Wasila’s house, both Kaltum and Habiba greeted the people in the courtyard. The compound consisted of three sections: Wasila’s family’s section and two others belonging to her father’s brothers. Wasila’s mother and one of her aunts were under the cooking shed, removing a pot of food from the fire. With their usual respectful demeanor, Kaltum and Habiba knelt to greet them.</p><p>They responded warmly and asked about their mother.</p><p>"Are you here looking for your friend? You haven’t seen her today, have you?" Wasila’s mother asked with a smile.</p><p>Kaltum returned the smile and replied, “We spoke yesterday, and she said she’d be selling snacks today around the Baure area. She hasn’t come back yet?”</p><p>"Not yet. I’ve been watching for her, but I’m sure she’s on her way," Wasila’s mother said.</p><p>Kaltum handed her the money in her hand.</p><p>“We’d like to buy 50 naira worth of corn flour and 50 naira worth of sugar, please.”</p><p>"Alright," Wasila’s mother said, taking the money and heading to her section of the house.</p><p>Shortly after, Wasila entered the courtyard with a large tray of fried bean cakes (awara) balanced on her head. She had been out selling them, as usual. Her family had never engaged in hawking, and her mother had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in sending her daughters out to sell, even if she had the capital to start a business. She preferred to manage whatever came her way from home, believing that if they were meant to sell, buyers would come to them.</p><p>Many people in the village saw this as pride, especially since most of the girls in the village depended on hawking for their needs, including saving for household items or wedding expenses.</p><p>Kaltum quickly moved to help Wasila lower the tray from her head. Together, they set it on the ground. Wasila stretched her back, grimacing as she said, “It’s exhausting. We struggled a lot today before finding transportation back to the village.”</p><p>Before Kaltum could respond, Wasila’s mother returned with a black plastic bag and handed it to Habiba, who was standing closer. She turned to her daughter and said, “You stubborn child, we were just talking about you.”</p><p>Wasila sat on a mortar near the cooking area and sighed.</p><p>"All I got today was stress, mother. All the transport operators in the area seemed to conspire against me today," she said with a tired laugh.</p><p>Seeing that they had veered into another conversation, Kaltum stood up to leave, her mind preoccupied with the thought of getting home to their mother. She hoped they could quickly mix the flour and drink something warm to ease their hunger.</p><p>"Wasila’s mother, we’ll be leaving now. Wasila, we’ll see you later," Kaltum said as she adjusted her hijab.</p><p>"Wait a moment! Come and have some food. Your friend’s mother has just finished cooking. Besides, I need to discuss something important with you," Wasila’s mother insisted.</p><p>Kaltum shook her head, even though her stomach was growling, the hunger pangs making it twist and tighten. There was nothing they needed more than hot food, but she had been raised to avoid relying on others or succumbing to greed. Their mother had drilled it into them: “If you want to be respected and valued by people, avoid depending on what’s in their hands. Greed is the gateway to all kinds of trouble.”</p><p>"No, thank you. Our mother is waiting for us at home, and I promised her we wouldn’t be long. Don’t worry—we’ll talk when we meet again," Kaltum said, taking Habiba’s hand and leading her toward the exit.</p><p>"Alright, we’ll talk later at the town square. Please don’t refuse to come out tonight like you usually do," Wasila’s mother called after her.</p><p>Kaltum smiled faintly, her dimples appearing on one cheek.</p><p>"If I don’t sleep early, I’ll come out," she replied, walking away as Wasila’s mother continued pleading for her to attend.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
