*In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.*




I express my gratitude to Allah alone for granting me the ability to write this story, which I have titled “Barrister Shuraim.”


I extend my appreciation to the writers who have inspired me, such as Aunty Binta Abale, Aunty Jamila Jamee Ummu Mahir, the author of “The Blind Mother,” Shamsiyya Manga, the author of “Fansar Fatalwa,” and Mujahida, the wife of teacher Ammyn Kausaar. I am familiar with your works and I truly admire them. I must also mention Fatima Habib, the author of “The King of Ado.” I urge everyone to read her book without revealing the story. May Allah grant you wisdom. (Ameen). I am also grateful to other writers who have contributed to the literary world.


I dedicate this book to the community of Azare.




I kindly request not to ask someone to rewrite an entire book for me. If there is a similar story, the opposite holds true.







*PAGE 01*



I witnessed joy and happiness among the students who received their exam results. Unlike some who obtained average grades, Alhamdulillah, most of them achieved excellent results. Dr. Najeeb observed people congratulating one another.


“One of their friends asked Dr. Najeeb, “Where is your friend, Barrister Shuraim?” They hurried to the garden and found him lost in his thoughts, unaware of their presence. Finally, Najeeb asked, “Barrister, what’s troubling you?” Shuraim quickly turned towards them, surprised by their arrival. He responded, “At this moment, I have three concerns. Firstly, I am unsure about my future after leaving this school. Secondly, the girl I frequently dream about is in need of my help. Lastly, I am searching for my parents.”


Najeeb took a deep breath, exhaled, and reassured his friend, saying, “Calm down, my friend. Insha Allah, we will find solutions to your problems. Firstly, you can stay with us until we figure out your next step. Secondly, we will assist the girl you dream about. And lastly, we will locate your parents. But for now, let’s freshen up, get ready, and meet at 9:00 PM. We will depart from London to our homeland, Nigeria.”


They bid farewell to their friends from London, Egypt, and India.

They returned to the place they were staying and took a shower. Barrister Shuraim emerged from the bathroom, tall but unassuming. He possessed a broad chest and ordinary looks. His hair fell smoothly on his head, and one might describe him as simple. His slim physique, big eyes, long nose, and appealing lips captured the attention of women. He had beautiful white hair, and his personality fascinated those who knew him. If I were to elaborate on his charm, we would spend the entire night in awe.


As he exited the bathroom, towel in hand, he focused solely on the mirror hanging in their room. He meticulously combed his hair, while a woman handed him a comb to help. He put on a pair of long pants, selecting a black one, and donned a white t-shirt. He added a Sanyi hat and wore shoe covers. The room filled with the refreshing scent of his cologne. He resembled the tall Sharukhan, but more captivating. Najeeb mentioned he needed to clean the restroom and headed towards it.






         Four girls from their school in Kaduna town embarked on a journey. Amal, one of the girls, walked slowly, contemplating whether she would find food awaiting her at home. Something caught her attention, and she became disoriented. Suddenly, a tinted jeep pulled up, and the girls rushed into it as if soaring to the heavens.




Dr. Najeeb completed his preparations, and they headed to the airport for their return to Nigeria. Just as they were about to leave, the phone rang. Dr. Najeeb’s mother called and said, “My son, don’t worry. Where is my son Shuraim?” The boy glanced at Shuraim and replied, “His hair smells just like you, Mommy.”


Shuraim smiled as he took the phone from Najeeb’s hand and greeted his mother in his sweet voice, “Hello, Mommy. Good morning.”


“Morning, my son. I hope you’re well. What would you like to eat?”

Shuraim responded, “Mommy, anything will do.”


She insisted, “No, I won’t settle for that. I want my son to have a proper meal.” Shuraim acquiesced, saying, “Mommy, we haven’t enjoyed traditional cuisine in a long time.” “Okay, bye, my son. Have a safe journey,” she concluded. Shuraim then turned to Najeeb and remarked, “See, Mom knows you, my friend. What’s my name?”




Amal awoke to find herself bound, with her hands and feet tied. Hunger gnawed at her, and she noticed a person resembling Samudawa entering the room. He didn’t even spare her a glance as he said, “What do you want to ask me?” Then, he swiftly departed, leaving Amal to her thoughts. He returned with ice cream and chocolate, assuring her, “There’s nothing wrong with this girl.”


Confused and scared, Amal asked, “What do you mean?” She continued, “Did I lose my money? Weren’t sleeping pills mixed in? How can this girl sleep without them? I won’t be able to carry out my plan as intended.” She decided to take Amal to Azare town, to the home of the influential Alhaji. Although Amal’s parents were vigilant and wouldn’t allow their daughter to go anywhere except for her studies, the kidnapper aimed to extort a significant amount of money. She planned to demand 30 million and make it seem like a kidnapping. She pondered how to obtain the money.




In Abuja, the news of their return from London to Nigeria spread quickly. Barrister Shuraim, with confidence, stepped off the plane, followed by Dr. Najeeb. Khalifa and Abdullah’s car awaited them, ready to take them home.


As they walked, a sense of uncertainty loomed between them. Shuraim voiced his thoughts, saying, “How can it be? You all look so beautiful. I don’t seem to fit in. Perhaps it’s best if I concentrate on my studies.” Upon their arrival home, warm conversations ensued. The gatekeeper welcomed them, expressing surprise at their transformation. He exclaimed, “Oh, Najeeb Bokan, greetings to you. You’ve returned, and honestly, I didn’t recognize you on the way.”


Barrister Shuraim emerged confidently, as though he were a beloved family member. Warm greetings and embraces were exchanged, and they entered the house. Mommy, as they affectionately called her, started to address them, saying, “Wow, my children, you are most welcome.” They embraced her,


 and they all proceeded inside. Najeeb inquired, “Is Daddy at home?” Mommy answered, and then Daddy, Sega Dady, appeared from downstairs. Shuraim and Najeeb knelt before him, greeted him, and expressed their gratitude. Dady remarked, “Now that you have completed your studies, may God bless you. Go, freshen up and join us for a meal.” They stood up and made their way to Najeeb’s room. Subsequently, they entered the dining room where their meal awaited them. Mommy playfully remarked, “Hmmmm, Hajiya, are you trying to pamper the children? Amna Auta didn’t do that for you.” They all laughed, and Shuraim quietly contemplated.


In Kaduna town, a woman informed me that a man named Amal’s father received a call. He abruptly ended the conversation.


In Abuja, Daddy addressed Shuraim, asking, “What’s troubling you?” Shuraim responded, “It’s nothing, Daddy.” Dady replied, “No, something is amiss. Unless you consider us your parents…” Shuraim interjected, “Oh, Daddy, it’s not like that.” Dady continued speaking, addressing Khalifa and Abdullah as well.


In Kaduna, Amal’s father prepared a salad while uttering, “Innalillahi wa inna ilaihiraji’un.” Amal’s mother inquired, “What happened, Alhaji?” In tears, she uttered her prayer and said, “He’s leaving us.” It was Abba who suggested, “Let me call my brother and inform him.” Abba called and spoke with Amal.


After finishing their meal, Shuraim and Najeeb joined Daddy Zama in his activities. Najeeb spoke, revealing that he overheard everything. He wanted to know more about Shuraim, but he was also curious about the way Shuraim would dress. He thanked Daddy and requested that Barrister Shuraim be allowed to stay in the house.


If there are any errors in my story, dear reader, I implore you to inform me so that I may correct them. May God bless us with unwavering faith and grant us the status of dying as Muslims (Ameen).


_I am deeply saddened by the tremendous loss we have suffered in Azare town with the passing of Teacher Kabiru Ahmad (Jazzy). May God have mercy on him, forgive him, and grant us patience and forgiveness for the loss of this esteemed teacher. May God bless us with strong faith and allow us to die as Muslims (Ameen)._

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