KURUCIYAR MINAL
By Miss Untichlobanty
🍎 Chapter 1
Amina sat on her shiny mattress that looked as though someone had stepped on freshly baked bread. There was no need to even describe her bed. Beside her was a bowl with leftover tuwo and miyan kuka that had become smelly — clearly from the previous night.
She was
crying uncontrollably, as if her life depended on it. Her mother (“Inna”) entered the room, worried because her spoiled daughter had been unusually quiet and hadn’t come out to do chores that morning. Inna stopped suddenly, surprised by what she saw.
Her precious daughter was sitting alone and crying for no reason!
“Inna” shouted, “Subhanallah! Amina, what’s this? Are you alright? Who touched my tuwo? Why are you crying like this?”
Then Amina lifted her tearful face and started talking, sobbing between her words:
“Inna, please forgive me. Beg my sister Deejeh to forgive me too. For the times I took her things without permission, for the times I beat her... I’ve stopped! I swear, I’ll never pour away her food again, and I’ll stop taking her meat! Even the fifty naira I owe her, I’ll pay. All the disrespect I’ve shown... I’m done, I swear I’m done!”
She burst into more tears.
Inna stared at her in disbelief. “What’s this? Today you’re asking for forgiveness — even from your sister Deejeh? Truly, something strange is happening.”
She asked again, “Amina, tell me what happened?”
Amina replied, “Inna, I swear I had a dream that I caught Lassa fever and died!”
Inna sighed. “See what happens when a person refuses to bathe? When was the last time you took a bath? Do you think you’re doing yourself any good?”
Amina started crying again, “It’s just been five days, Inna!”
Inna snapped, “Five days? You don’t even feel ashamed? If you continue like this, you’ll catch something worse than Lassa — maybe Ebola!”
Amina whimpered, “Haba, Inna, so you don’t love me anymore? Even if I don’t bathe, I still change my underwear!”
Inna shouted, “Close your mouth! You’re making the neighbors hear us. And you smell terrible! Go brush your teeth and take a bath immediately.”
Amina began wailing and thrashing about like a child, until Inna calmed her down.
“Dreams aren’t real, my dear,” she said softly. “Now go wash and eat something. You have your final exam today, remember? Next term, you’ll be writing WAEC.”
Amina eventually got ready and was about to leave when she said, “Inna, do you remember the 100 naira I lent you before our last exams?”
Inna frowned, “When?”
Amina said, “That time when we started our tests.”
Inna nodded. “Yes, I remember.”
“Then please give it back,” Amina said.
Inna sighed. “After all the things I’ve given you since then, you’re still asking for money?”
Amina muttered, “So you gave it to me not for Allah’s sake, Inna? Wallahi, I must collect it back.”
Inna grumbled and dug into her wrapper, pulling out an old, wrinkled 200 naira note. “Here, but bring me change — that’s all I have.”
Amina wrinkled her nose, took the note unwillingly, and said, “If not that I really need it, I wouldn’t even accept this old money.”
She hugged Inna and left, pretending to be sweet. On her way, she stopped by her friend Zaliha’s house before heading to school.
During break time, she climbed over the school fence, went to the market, bought bread, and gave all the rest of her money to beggars, praying that Allah would protect her parents.
Though Amina was rude and troublesome, she had a soft heart when it came to her parents. Her laziness and dirtiness came from her belief that since soap and perfume were expensive, bathing often would only waste her parents’ money — so she only bathed twice a week.
Amina Yusuf was an 18- to 19-year-old girl — fair-skinned, shapely, tall, with beautiful eyes and long hair.
Her father, Malam Yusuf (popularly known as Baban Kowa), was a carpenter. He wasn’t wealthy, but he was respected by everyone in the neighborhood. Originally a Fulani man from Taraba, he lost his entire family in a fire when he was 18. He later moved to Kano, where he met Inna (a Kanuri woman from Borno who worked as a traditional beautician). They married and later moved to Kaduna, settling in Malali.
They had their first son, Abubakar, now doing his final year project at ABU. He helped the family financially whenever he could.
After eight years, Inna gave birth to Amina — their troublesome but religious daughter. Later, she had Khadijah, the youngest, now 12 years old.
And that was how it all began…
Stay tuned for the continuation of Kuruciyar Minal.
🍎 Chapter 2 (Part)
After some time, when Minal had written her exams…
Morning:
Minal held her result slip in her hand. Miftahu (Hannatu’s brother — we’ll meet her in Chapter 8) teased her:
“So the big scholar is back with results! I hope you didn’t fail again this time?”
Minal punched him in the mouth and said, “Don’t worry about me! I’m not like you lazy people!”
At that moment, Sani (Bilkisu’s brother — also in Chapter 8) slapped Minal. She turned furiously, saying, “So the bag of trouble has started again?” She then told the kids nearby to beat him up, which they did until he fell to the ground.
Evening:
Children ran joyfully shouting, “Baban Kowa! Our father!”
He had just returned home and, as usual, came with tsaraba — gifts for the children. He handed them fried intestines in a nylon bag, and they all thanked him and shared the food.
Then one of the girls asked, “Baba, which story will you tell us today?”
He smiled. “Today’s story is ‘Gizo the Thief.’”
Lado quickly spread out a sack for him to sit on while the children gathered around. The old man began his story…
Meanwhile, some young men were sitting elsewhere smoking cigarettes. One of their phones rang — it was his alarm.
He said, “Ah! It’s already past four — that’s when the old man returns. I bet he’s telling stories to the kids again.”
They laughed, joking that he was wasting his time with children. Soon, the old man appeared. They quickly threw away their cigarettes and chewed sweets to hide the smell.
He smiled and greeted them warmly, saying this was the first day he hadn’t caught them smoking. But as he got closer, he smelled the faint scent of smoke.
He frowned. “Look at you — fine young men with bright faces, yet you waste yourselves with bad habits. Don’t you know you’re bringing shame and sorrow to your parents?”
They all lowered their heads and said, “We’re sorry, Baba. We’ll stop, Insha’Allah.”