Description For
TSUTSAR NAMA BOOK COMPLETE
Two days after that incident, my elder brother Musaddiq came to me with news that he had secured an apprenticeship at a car mechanic workshop. Although this wasn’t what I had hoped for – I had always wished we could pursue formal education – I still celebrated with him and wished him well. From that point, Musaddiq started going to the garage. When he told Abba about it, Abba didn’t pay much attention and only said, “May Allah grant you success,” in a dismissive tone.
Meanwhile, Baby and her siblings had started school, while I became the full-time housemaid. Every chore in the house was now solely my responsibility, even tasks I hadn’t previously done. The only help I got was when Hafizzullah returned home and assisted me with a few things. I was constantly exhausted, but that didn’t stop me from preparing for and attending my Islamic studies class. Even if it meant being beaten, I wouldn’t miss it. Often, I would sneak out to class and back, enduring Mom’s scoldings or beatings, but she eventually gave up and ignored me. However, I could only leave after completing all the tasks she assigned. This discipline made me more determined to finish everything quickly so I could go.
In this challenging environment, a year passed after we finished secondary school. I managed to successfully complete my memorization of the Qur’an. Unfortunately, there was no celebration for me except for the little gesture my elder brother did. But I wasn’t bothered. Meanwhile, Baby and her siblings were progressing in their studies, and Musaddiq was busy at the garage, leaving home in the morning and returning in the evening. Initially, Abba didn’t care much about his work or earnings, but later, after Mom suggested that he must be earning since he could afford to make my Qur’anic completion outfit, Abba instructed him to contribute daily groceries.
Although this new obligation pained Musaddiq, especially as he had his personal plans, he didn’t show it outwardly. He started dividing his earnings – half for saving and the other half for groceries.
Then came a significant day that marked a turning point in my life. It was one year and five months after we graduated from secondary school. A former teacher, Malam Saminu, visited Abba with exciting news that I had been awarded a scholarship to further my education. The joy I felt on that day, along with my two supportive siblings, was indescribable. However, Abba, Mom, and Baby openly displayed their displeasure and envy. Initially, Mom dismissed it as a lie, supported by Abba, until Malam Saminu explained that any obstruction to my scholarship could lead to severe consequences, as the government might investigate and penalize anyone found responsible. This explanation forced them to reluctantly allow me to go, and that year, I finally joined Bayero University, Kano (BUK), where Baby and her elder brother Abbas were also studying.
The First Step
This was indeed the first step. It was the beginning of what felt like the opening of a new chapter in my life. At 17 years old, I had entered the university by sheer grace. Even more satisfying was the fact that I got to study the course I had always dreamed of.
During my first year, I came to understand Baby’s situation in school. She had completely abandoned her studies, prioritizing her flirty escapades over her education. She and her group were notorious for mingling with lecturers, often spending time in their offices and, in some cases, even their homes. Sometimes, they would go on outings with them. Education was the least of their priorities, yet their names consistently appeared among the top scorers on the results board.
As for her elder brother Abbas, he remained the same – more focused on campus politics and mingling with wealthy friends than his studies.
I confided in Musaddiq about my observations, but after he cautioned me to stay out of it, I stopped discussing it and focused solely on my studies. It was during my fifth month at the university that I had a notable encounter with Mansoor Khalil Musa, a strikingly handsome and intelligent young man in his third year at BUK.
Mansoor, with his polished fashion sense and flashy car, was the epitome of affluence. His good looks and brilliance made him the object of admiration for many female students, but he paid no attention to any of them. This earned him a reputation as a proud and aloof person. Apart from his two close friends, he had little to no interactions with others, including students senior to him.
Our paths first crossed at the cafeteria. I was having a meal with my only friend, Joy, when he entered with his friends. Despite the murmurs that filled the cafeteria about his arrival, I ignored their entrance and focused on my meal. Moments later, one of his friends arrogantly asked us to leave the table so they could sit. Out of fear, Joy attempted to get up, but I shot her a stern look, silently warning her to stay put. Nervously, she whispered, “Please, Sam Gee, let’s leave. You know how rude these guys can be.”
Ignoring her plea, I brushed off her hand in irritation and firmly said, “If I leave this table, it’s because I’m done eating.” I continued eating without acknowledging them. To my surprise, Mansoor told Joy to remain seated and, without hesitation, pulled out the chair next to mine and sat down. This action stunned everyone in the cafeteria.
Although he was known for being proud, he wasn’t notorious for starting fights. His friends, however, were infamous for their arrogance. They joined him, and after placing their orders, they stayed silent. I didn’t move or look at any of them until I finished eating, adjusted my niqab, and left with Joy.
From that day, things took an unexpected turn. It seemed like every time Joy and I went to the cafeteria, Mansoor and his friends would show up. If we were seated at a table with others, they would make those people leave to sit with us. I never acknowledged them or reacted to their actions, even when they persisted for nearly two weeks.
Then, Mansoor began paying for our meals without saying a word. On the third occasion, I confronted him angrily, telling him to stop. To my surprise, instead of being upset, he smiled and left the cafeteria. Although this annoyed me, I refused to stop going to the cafeteria because of him.
Eventually, we began to develop a rapport. While I initially avoided speaking to him, I soon realized his presence and actions no longer bothered me. This connection marked the start of an unexpected and intriguing chapter in my life.
