HADIZA PART 3

Mustapha Kaori felt a pang of regret as he ended the
phone call from Monsul his friend and contact person
at Sokoto. Monsul had called to inform him that Hadiza
the teenage girl he had spotted four months ago was
getting married in two days time.
Mustapha sat down on his chair and held his head in his
hands. He should have made a move on her right from
the first day.
She had seemed so innocent and so full of life when he
saw her in the group of senior students that attended
his seminar in the village school. His eyes had been
riveted on her. She was a brilliant girl. The question she
had shyly asked him was on the conflict between the
western culture and Islamic culture, and was a tad too
advanced for her age.
He had been impressed and had given her a copy of the
day’s edition of DAILY TIMES Newspaper he had
bought from the vendor at Ariya, the headquarters of
Dan-Gubir local government area.
He had studied her facial features and found that she
was very beautiful and attractive. She looked like the
sort of girl he would like to marry…. He had made
inquiries from her principal about her academic
capacities and was informed that she was the brightest
in her class.
“Hadiza is 17 years old and she is very eager to have a
university education’ Mallam Shehu, the school principal
had informed him.
“Alright, I will check with the NGOs in Kano, there
might be one willing to offer her a university
scholarship. Brilliant girls like her should be encouraged
in all ways possible to advance their education. They are
the hope of the Northern region in breaking the
inglorious cycle of poverty and illiteracy”, he had told
the principal.
The thought lurking at the back of his mind was
marriage. At 32 years of age, he was finally ready to
settle down. He didn’t want any of the city girls who
have been spoilt and corrupted. He wanted a simple
Muslim girl from a good family, but what would people
say if he, Mustapha the girl child education advocate
and human rights activist marry a 17 year old? The
fifteen years gap in their age will set tongues wagging.
He had written so many fiery articles denouncing the
girl child marriage practice in Northern Nigeria. He
would be denounced as a hypocrite by the Lagos media
who have grudgingly come to acknowledge him as one
of the leading lights in human rights advocacy in the
country.
He had risen from the poverty and climbed to the top
of his career. The only son of a cattle herdsman, he
had run away from home at the age of 14 as a
stowaway on a truck conveying cattle to the East.
After two days on the road, the truck had broken
down in Lagos and he managed to escape undetected.
Life as a homeless boy on the streets of Lagos had
been very harsh and challenging but he adjusted to the
hardship. He did menial jobs including shoe shinning and
bricklaying to keep body and soul together and to save
money for his education. The little savings accumulated
and he enrolled in an evening school, working by day
and schooling in the evening. He had books and taught
himself the Arabic language. Passersby seeing him
reading would be amused wondering what an aboki
was doing with books.
Fortune smiled on him and he met Alhaji Bukar who
liked his quest for academic fulfillment. He employed him
in his company and from his salary he paid for his
education. He got admission into Unilag to study political
science. In school he actively participated in the
Students union politics.
Now he was a prominent good governance advocate and
human rights activist in the country, holding events,
seminars and workshops throughout the country.
He had asked Monsul to keep an eye on the Hadiza girl
for him.
“There is a girl I saw at my seminar in Sisawa
secondary school yesterday. She is very beautiful and
intelligent. I feel like she is the one I would love to
pick as a wife. Please keep an eye on her for me, get
some information about her family. I will approach
them at the right time. Let me check if I can get an
Ngo to give her a university scholarship”he had told
Monsul.
He would approach her family in a year’s time and
would wait for her to turn 21 years before marrying
her. Now, she was going off to someone else.
With a sense of anger and frustration, Mustapha
opened his laptop and began typing an article on the
dangers of Teenage marriage in the north. He would
use it for his back page DAILY TIMES column and
would ensure that Hadiza gets to read it.
*****************************************************
The nikkah was a success. It was held in Baba
Ahmed’s house. The house had gotten a new look. The
walls had been repainted and beautiful flowers and
decorations were placed at strategic places. The
compound was filled with invited guests and family
members. Traditional musicians entertained the guests,
blowing on their flutes and drumming. Hadiza was in
her room beautifully decked in her colourful traditional
wear and surrounded by her female friends, mother,
aunties, cousins and other relatives. Most of them were
offering pieces of advice and prayers for her.
“Za ka ji dadin ka aure, you will enjoy your marriage”
“Allah ya albarkace ku iya aure, may God bless your
marriage” “Amin” “Look at our kano princess, she how
beautiful she is!”
“Nagode”
The dowry, sadaki had been paid by Danladi and his
family.
The representatives of the bride and groom handled the
wedding vows according to tradition. The ceremony was
presided over by Sheikh Adulrahman Zuni, the imam of
the village Mosque.
Hadiza was splashed with gifts by her groom’s family in
the Budan kai ceremony. She had never seen so much
display of wealth before. It was true that she was
indeed marrying a rich man.
After the exchange of vows and the recitation of the
holy Quran, it was time for walimah. There was
enough to eat and drink and the guests ate to their
fill.
The next day, Hadiza was ready to be conveyed to her
matrimonial home. She was finally leaving the village for
the big city of Kano.
Danlaldi informed her that they would drive to Sokoto
city airport and then take a flight to Kano. She was
excited and apprehensive, it would be her first time of
travelling by air.
“Kada ka ji tsoro, ba za ka son shi”, Danladi said with a
reassuring arm around her as they drove away in his
car.
“Ina roƙonka haka” she replied.
She leaned against the back seat of the car and took
a deep breath. The air conditioning in the vehicle felt
soothing and relaxing, she was feeling a bit sleepy and
tired. Her eyes fell on a newspaper lying beside her on
the seat. She recognized it immediately, the DAILY
TIMES, the same newspaper Mustapha had given to
her.
Hadiza took it up and went straight to the back page
and as expected Mustapha’s column was on it. The
headline read:
VESICO VAGINA FISTULA: THE SCOURGE OF
TEENAGE MARRIAGE AND PREGNANCY IN
NORTHERN NIGERIA
Hadiza was frightened at what she read. Mustapha was
unveiling statistics of young girls suffering from the
horrific condition. He was calling on and urging the
government officials and authorities to immediately put
an end to the practice.
“Oh, you are reading Mustapha’s column? Crazy guy,
the dude is a psycho and noise maker. He practices a
warped version of Islam and calls himself a women
rights activist. He thinks women are equal to men. I
don’t know why he thinks a woman’s place is not in
the kitchen. He writes well though. I like the daily
times and so I buy all their editions every day, you will
be having lots of newspapers to read at home.” Danladi
said with a nonchalant smile at her.
“Mjina you are right, I like the way he writes”. She
replied in a half hearted tone.
Hadiza heart was beating as thoughts flooded her mind.
Was this article a direct message to her from
Mustapha? Did he write this to coincide with her
marriage? She was increasingly becoming frightened by
what he said will happen to the vaginal tract of young
mothers during child birth. Danladi suddenly looked like
an ugly bully who will imprison her. She wondered if he
knew that she knew and loved Mustapha. The trip to
Kano suddenly lost fascination for her.
Hadiza almost screamed out when her eyes landed on
the bottom of the page.
“PS: An anonymous poem to an anonymous lover
To you my bright jewel
Betrothed to another
Life is so cruel
We could have been together
Love is the fuel
That lights up the fire in my heart
We could have been together
If you only could have had a little patience
For a few more years
All what I have left now is sad tears”
There was no doubt in her mind that Mustapha was
writing to her!
“Ya Allah na” Hadiza said silently in her mind as the
blood coursed through her veins. Mustpha loves her! But
he should have contacted her, he should have just said
the word and she would have done everything to be
with him even eloping with him. Now, she was stuck in
a marriage with a man she didn’t love. She was facing
an uncertain future all because she wanted to please
her parents, all because she wanted to be an obedient
Muslim girl.
Tears welled in her eyes and she started sobbing softly.
She tried clumsily to wipe and hide them from her
husband.
Dandali heard her sniffing. He glanced at her and
smiled. She was just the first of the four wives he
was entitled to marry in his religion. He wouldn’t
interrupt her, let her cry on. Her tears were tears of
loneliness occasioned by leaving one’s family for the
first time. She was just overwhelmed and would be
alright when they arrive in Kano. He couldn’t wait to
take possession of her nubile body with firm breasts.
The pleasures he would get from her body will be
enormous. Tonight he will be in Paradise.
THE END.