BUZU

Jamila burst into a strange, trembling cry. She said, “I’m finished… has a jinn lain with me now?”

“Yes, but he entered through a human body and used you,” the woman told Jamila directly, without feeling any shame.

“I’m ruined… now who will marry me like this? What will I do? I’ve destroyed my life.”

Hajiya Sa’a held Jamila’s hand and said, “I’ve told you many times, a coward never becomes a champion, Jamila. Marriage is not compulsory. If you stay with me, you’ll get anything you want. And if it’s marriage you want, you’ll choose your husband yourself — and we’ll fix you up perfectly, no one will ever know anyone touched you. And the organization has paid your yearly allowance. I’ll receive it gradually so people won’t suspect anything. Calm down, focus yourself, don’t let anything scare you. You have money now, relax and enjoy life. You’re the youngest girl in the group. I love you very much. I wanted to bring your sister too, but it didn’t work out. I pity the life you girls live in your house. Remove every worry from your heart, remove fear and pity completely — you will go places you never imagined.”

Jamila lifted her head and gave Hajiya Sa’a a look — only she knew what it meant. She wiped her tears and said, “Alright then.”

Hajiya Sa’a smiled and said, “Good, my daughter. Get up, let me bathe you. Eat something. The organization’s doctor will come in to examine you.” Jamila dragged herself up weakly. Hajiya Sa’a held her, and they went to the bathroom.

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Today makes it the fourth day that Sayyid has been in this condition. What troubles Nana the most is that he hasn’t eaten or prayed — only sleeps or sits quietly. He says nothing, only keeps watching her. She prayed that Allah helps her. Even Ummi hadn’t visited, so she had no idea what they were going through.

Around 9 p.m., Nana was sitting on the floor beside her kerosene lamp, watching him lying on the mattress. She raised her hands like she wanted to pray, recited Suratul Mulk, Ayatul Kursiyy, Suratul Falaq and Nas. She blew into her hands, moved close to him timidly, and wiped his face. She stepped back, waiting to see what he would do — but he didn’t react. She found a spot and lay down, lost in thought.

In her sleep, she felt someone pushing her. She quickly opened her eyes and saw him trying to lie beside her, though the space was too tight for both of them.

“Sayyid,” she called him.

“Yes?”

She sighed deeply, held his hand, and asked, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep. You left me alone on the mattress.”

With warmth and concern, she rubbed his back and said, “I saw you were barely breathing, like I was squeezing you… that’s why I moved.”

“Ma vie.”

“Yes, my chief?”

“I’m hungry… it feels like I’ve never eaten before.”

“Let me quickly prepare something. But come, let’s wash your mouth. It’s the middle of the night.”

He stood up slowly. She held him — he was dizzy from hunger, sickness, and weakness.

She took him to the bathroom to wash. She returned him inside and he sat.

She peeled yams in the room, set up her small gas stove at the door, and cooked.

She fanned him with a hand fan.

“My life…”

“Yes, Sayyid?”

“It’s like we didn’t eat breakfast today, right?”

Nana said, “It’s been four days… you’ve been sleeping. I can only thank Allah you’re awake now.” He fell silent. She served the yam, made tea, and fed him. He didn’t even wait for her — he ate ravenously. It pleased Nana to see him eat so much.