BAD BOYS Complete Document Written By Oum Aphnan


During their conversation, Salima heard her husband, Sheikh Al-Miqdad, calling her. Startled, she quickly rose from their renowned white bed draped in soft, white sheets. Her heart racing, she rushed to the kitchen, where she had heard his voice, her mind preoccupied with the scalding water or an electric shock.

She swung open the door, entering the kitchen to find him pacing back and forth, clapping his hands in excitement. “Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajiun! Woohoo! Um um, you’re still in this world!”

Salima, visibly shaken, asked in Arabic, “O Sheikh, ma asabak? (What happened to you?)” Her husband pointed at the trash bin, prompting her to glance at it hurriedly. Finding nothing, she turned back, puzzled. “O Sheikh, manil hadha? (What is this?)”

The thunder of his voice rattled her to the core, and she trembled in fear, tears of anguish welling in her eyes. “What do I see here, Foreign Foreigner?”

Letting out a composed sigh, she raised her hand to wipe the beads of fear streaming down her face. “O Sheikh, it’s burnt rice (Kanzo).”

“What? Kanzo? Are you sitting here, wasting rice? Do you realize how expensive rice is in the market? Do you know that petrol costs ₦640 per liter, yet you’ve gone and burnt this entire pot of rice?”

Maintaining her composure with utmost courtesy, she replied, “O Sheikh, why am I shouting? It’s just a small amount, not more than what two people would eat.”

Sheikh Al-Miqdad was taken aback, looking at her with surprise. “O Salima, do you think it’s alright to waste a dish that could feed a household?”

She fell silent, bowing her head and praying for God to alleviate this trial tonight.

“Salima! Now I have to go and find money. Are you willing to help me save? But you need to understand and be careful.”

She frowned with a sign of weariness. “O Sheikh, lada’inan kharr. Sa tasma’una ma aqul… La dhair lillah (O Sheikh, we have neighbors. Please be quiet. Everyone will hear what we’re saying. Tonight, everyone is sleeping.)”

In his frustration, Sheikh Al-Miqdad lashed out, shattering the kitchen window’s glasses. “Let them hear! What’s the matter? Am I drinking in someone else’s house?”

“Sheikh, please be patient. Everyone knows Jollof rice can get burnt, but I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you new to cooking? What’s the point of the addition and subtraction on your gas stove? You should have reduced the heat when you noticed the water was low, stirring until it was absorbed. What about that?!”

“Alright, Sheikh, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry, please.”

In a fit of rage, he stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him as he returned to their bedroom. Salima remained still, accustomed to her husband’s temperamental nature.

She entered the room calmly, mindful not to disturb those still asleep. However, upon entering, she found it rather stuffy. “Now you’re talking and causing trouble. It’s true that we are not wanted, and God willing, we’ll make it through.”

“What happened?” he demanded.

“Didn’t you hear? You left the room, leaving the AC on. You can’t leave it running when you’re not there. How much electricity did you waste?”

“Oh, Sheikh, I heard you calling for me. I thought something had happened or that you were hurt. That’s why I rushed out.”

“Silence! ???? Don’t leave the room without turning off the AC, even if someone is dying. Turn it off before you leave. Is their life in your hands? Why don’t you understand? A slave’s destiny can’t be changed by another slave. Don’t rely on that, or you’ll suffer!”

Exhausted, she said, “Well, I’m tired. I want to sleep.” She settled into bed and pulled the blanket over herself. In the middle of the night, she reached for the AC remote, switched it off, and returned to Sheikh Al-Miqdad’s side.

“Ha’ah ???? Sheikh, what am I to do?” she sighed.

“Do you feel cold when I’m here? Wrap yourself in the blanket. Turn it on if you’re hot. God help you learn to save money. Despite living in Saudi Arabia for more than ten years, I am not wasteful. Let alone here in Nigeria. So if you have mercy on me, I might start having mercy on myself!”


Everyone knew it was a Tuesday night. Silence engulfed the surroundings, devoid of cries or shouts. 85% of the struggling poor found solace, easing their tired shoulders to rest. Meanwhile, the world’s wealthiest convened to strategize on increasing their wealth. Politicians delved into their plans for kingdom development and how to maintain control over the fears and confidence of their impoverished constituents. Evil individuals sought wealth through cultism, resorting to bloodshed. Some resorted to robbing their communities with deadly weapons, and blood was shed. Meanwhile, God’s servants bowed in humility, seeking fulfillment and closeness to Him.

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