Tasowa moved slowly, coming toward the center of their house, overhearing her mother and her older brothers speaking, along with her mother’s co-wife. Everything was in disarray because everyone’s attention had been stirred at the same time by the terrible news that had just reached them.
Her own mind wasn’t at ease either, given her state—her husband was still in the hospital recovering from the accident that had occurred two days earlier on his way back from his cousin’s wedding, both of them sharing the same father and mother.
It was as if her ears had been torn open—she could hear what her elder brother Umar was saying, but she could not fully understand the literal meaning. She needed to hear it clearly.
She reached the doorway, drew back the curtain, and stepped out, looking at them one by one, her eyes wide open, reflecting the worry she had been carrying these past few days.
They, too, looked at her. Just as she scrutinized each of them, each face was full of grief and pity for her. Losing a husband at her age was tragic, and on top of that, she was pregnant.
She looked at her mother and saw how she had lowered her head, tears streaming down her face, unable to meet her daughter’s gaze.
So, she turned to her mother’s co-wife and asked directly:
“Mother, what’s going on? Why are you all crying like this? Is everyone okay? Has something happened?”
Then she turned her attention to her older brothers, who were standing and watching her, and said:
“Brother Umar? Brother Kabiru? Are you all right? Why are you silent like this? Did Father Abdul wake up?”
Brother Kabiru let out a sigh of relief, straightened himself, and looked at her with a hint of the sorrow of a man trying to stay strong. He said directly:
“Khadija, after you left the hospital, God gave Salisu...”
He didn’t finish, and she tilted her head to the side in surprise, staring at him, her jaw dropping. Her voice quivered as she asked:
“Right now? I just left him sleeping. I only went to bathe and come back to the hospital—are you saying he’s gone? Now? Just now?”
Immediately, her mother pulled her close in consolation and said:
“Hadiza, don’t blame God like that. Trust in Him, since you know death is not a game...”
Her eyes reddened, tears threatening to fall, but her strength held them back. She interrupted her mother, saying:
“Mother, he was sleeping peacefully. He felt much better today. Death—you’re saying he’s gone? Dead? Gone forever? How am I supposed to handle this?”
In a slightly raised voice, Brother Kabiru said:
“Khadija, what is this? They’re telling you Salisu has passed. Calm down and understand—death has nothing to do with what you’re saying now. Open your mind and accept what has happened. Salisu is gone; he will never wake again...”
She looked at his mouth, then turned away, her heart pounding violently as if it would burst from her chest.
Her mother looked at her, seeing the truth of his words reflected on her daughter’s face.
She turned to Brother Kabiru, and he saw it too.
She swallowed a dry sob, so intense that it even hurt her jaw. She turned straight and went to her mother’s room, picked up the long hijab she had removed when she arrived, threw some money in it without taking it herself, put on her slippers and her mother’s, without looking back, heading straight for the hospital. She just needed to get there.
Her mother quickly followed, grabbing her hijab, calling her name.
Her mother looked at Brother Umar and said:
“Have you given her the money? I didn’t expect any of you to take it yourselves.”
He turned and followed them. On the road, he quickly caught up, took out 1000 naira, and handed it to her mother, saying:
“Here’s the money, Mother. Take care of her. Don’t worry, we’re relying on God. Just tell her, Mother.”
Her mother quickly reached Hadiza, holding her hand as she tried to call her name. By the time they reached the hospital, Hadiza didn’t respond; she was paralyzed with grief.
When they arrived at the hospital, Hadiza didn’t even pause—she hurried to the Emergency Ward, where Salisu was.
From a distance, Salisu’s relatives—men and women—saw her coming in panic. Seeing her face, they were struck with intense sympathy, and many broke into fresh tears over the loss of their brother.
As she approached, she looked past everyone, seeing her mother crying uncontrollably, feeling as if half of her own being wanted to die. She rushed into the room and ran to his bed, where his body lay covered with the sheet she had brought that morning.
She looked at him, his hands folded, unable to believe it. She reached out, lifted the sheet, and gazed at his handsome Fulanin face from Yola.
Her heart pounded violently. She closed her eyes, tears threatening to fall. Her mother called her name, but she didn’t hear it—she was searching for him, only him.
Salisu’s older aunt quickly arrived, saying:
“Go home with her. Don’t let her be in this terrible state, especially with a pregnancy inside her.”
She wanted to take off, unable to imagine leaving Salisu’s body, but she had no strength to move or speak; her mouth felt glued shut.
They carried Salisu’s body out, put him in a car, and took Hadiza, along with her mother and Salisu’s sister, to his parents’ house.
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Tasowa moved slowly, coming toward the center of their house, overhearing her mother and her older brothers speaking, along with her mother’s co-wife. Everything was in disarray because everyone’s attention had been stirred at the same time by the terrible news that had just reached them.
Her own mind wasn’t at ease either, given her state—her husband was still in the hospital recovering from the accident that had occurred two days earlier on his way back from his cousin’s wedding, both of them sharing the same father and mother.
It was as if her ears had been torn open—she could hear what her elder brother Umar was saying, but she could not fully understand the literal meaning. She needed to hear it clearly.
She reached the doorway, drew back the curtain, and stepped out, looking at them one by one, her eyes wide open, reflecting the worry she had been carrying these past few days.
They, too, looked at her. Just as she scrutinized each of them, each face was full of grief and pity for her. Losing a husband at her age was tragic, and on top of that, she was pregnant.
She looked at her mother and saw how she had lowered her head, tears streaming down her face, unable to meet her daughter’s gaze.
So, she turned to her mother’s co-wife and asked directly:
“Mother, what’s going on? Why are you all crying like this? Is everyone okay? Has something happened?”
Then she turned her attention to her older brothers, who were standing and watching her, and said:
“Brother Umar? Brother Kabiru? Are you all right? Why are you silent like this? Did Father Abdul wake up?”
Brother Kabiru let out a sigh of relief, straightened himself, and looked at her with a hint of the sorrow of a man trying to stay strong. He said directly:
“Khadija, after you left the hospital, God gave Salisu...”
He didn’t finish, and she tilted her head to the side in surprise, staring at him, her jaw dropping. Her voice quivered as she asked:
“Right now? I just left him sleeping. I only went to bathe and come back to the hospital—are you saying he’s gone? Now? Just now?”
Immediately, her mother pulled her close in consolation and said:
“Hadiza, don’t blame God like that. Trust in Him, since you know death is not a game...”
Her eyes reddened, tears threatening to fall, but her strength held them back. She interrupted her mother, saying:
“Mother, he was sleeping peacefully. He felt much better today. Death—you’re saying he’s gone? Dead? Gone forever? How am I supposed to handle this?”
In a slightly raised voice, Brother Kabiru said:
“Khadija, what is this? They’re telling you Salisu has passed. Calm down and understand—death has nothing to do with what you’re saying now. Open your mind and accept what has happened. Salisu is gone; he will never wake again...”
She looked at his mouth, then turned away, her heart pounding violently as if it would burst from her chest.
Her mother looked at her, seeing the truth of his words reflected on her daughter’s face.
She turned to Brother Kabiru, and he saw it too.
She swallowed a dry sob, so intense that it even hurt her jaw. She turned straight and went to her mother’s room, picked up the long hijab she had removed when she arrived, threw some money in it without taking it herself, put on her slippers and her mother’s, without looking back, heading straight for the hospital. She just needed to get there.
Her mother quickly followed, grabbing her hijab, calling her name.
Her mother looked at Brother Umar and said:
“Have you given her the money? I didn’t expect any of you to take it yourselves.”
He turned and followed them. On the road, he quickly caught up, took out 1000 naira, and handed it to her mother, saying:
“Here’s the money, Mother. Take care of her. Don’t worry, we’re relying on God. Just tell her, Mother.”
Her mother quickly reached Hadiza, holding her hand as she tried to call her name. By the time they reached the hospital, Hadiza didn’t respond; she was paralyzed with grief.
When they arrived at the hospital, Hadiza didn’t even pause—she hurried to the Emergency Ward, where Salisu was.
From a distance, Salisu’s relatives—men and women—saw her coming in panic. Seeing her face, they were struck with intense sympathy, and many broke into fresh tears over the loss of their brother.
As she approached, she looked past everyone, seeing her mother crying uncontrollably, feeling as if half of her own being wanted to die. She rushed into the room and ran to his bed, where his body lay covered with the sheet she had brought that morning.
She looked at him, his hands folded, unable to believe it. She reached out, lifted the sheet, and gazed at his handsome Fulanin face from Yola.
Her heart pounded violently. She closed her eyes, tears threatening to fall. Her mother called her name, but she didn’t hear it—she was searching for him, only him.
Salisu’s older aunt quickly arrived, saying:
“Go home with her. Don’t let her be in this terrible state, especially with a pregnancy inside her.”
She wanted to take off, unable to imagine leaving Salisu’s body, but she had no strength to move or speak; her mouth felt glued shut.
They carried Salisu’s body out, put him in a car, and took Hadiza, along with her mother and Salisu’s sister, to his parents’ house.