The young man drove his car slowly, trying to figure out how to find the house he was looking for. He was deep in thought, navigating the unfamiliar streets.

As he drove, a young girl named Yahango happened to be passing by. When she saw the young man open the hood of his car and step out, she let out a surprised scream.

Dahanzari greeted him, saying, “Assalamualaikum.”

The young man responded, “Waalaikum Salaam.”

The girl seemed somewhat aloof, but there was an underlying curiosity in her demeanor.

“Son of God,” the young man said, “I have a question. I’m looking for Alhaji Ibrahim’s perfumed house.”

Yahango remained silent for a moment, as if contemplating the young man. Then she spoke, “If you go a bit further, you’ll see an Islamic school. On the other side, you’ll find a house with a gate.”

The young man smiled and expressed his gratitude, “Thank you, my sister. Son of God, may I know your name?”

Yahango hesitated, as if uncertain whether to reveal her name. Finally, she replied, “My name is Morning.”

His face lit up with a smile that reddened his cheeks. He ran his fingers through his hair and said, “That’s a beautiful name. My name is Assadiq.”

“Inbadamuwa, do you know your way to the house?” she asked.

“And our house?”

“Yes, I’m thankful for your help in guiding me home. You’ve been very kind.”

“Hmm, I don’t think he’s home,” she remarked calmly.

Then, to his surprise, she changed the subject, “Excuse me, Assadiq. I’d like to have a word with you.”

He compared the situation to her initial helpfulness. While she spoke, he couldn’t help but focus on her delicate lips.

He thanked her for her assistance, got back into his car, and drove away with a sense of contentment, his mother’s words echoing in his mind.

As for Dasassarfa, she continued walking toward her home. Upon entering, she found her mother in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

“Ummi, greetings and work,” she said.

“Good morning, what’s going on?” her mother replied.

“Yes, Ummi, where are Amina and Najiba?”

“They went to your sister Rukayya’s house.”

“Okay, Ummi, I’m going to school.”

“They didn’t know you were coming, so they went to the barracks.”

“May God bless you,” Dasassarfa said before adding, “Amen. Let me go change out of my uniform and get ready.”

“Sure, my dear.”


In another setting, Hajiya Karima sat in her spacious living room, dressed as if she were attending a party. Her children gathered around her, curious about the materials she had brought for advertising.

Assadiq greeted her as he entered the hall.

Afifa was the first to speak, “How quickly you arrived!”

Rushida chimed in, “Mommy’s son, welcome home.”

“Hello, Assadiq. Are you here?” asked Hajiya Karima.

“Yes, Mommy,” he replied.

“Couldn’t find the house?” she inquired.

“Nasamu,” he began hesitantly, “I’d like to talk about the girl I want to marry, but I’m afraid of how you’ll react, so I’ve been keeping it to myself.”

Farhana, with her bold voice, spoke up, “What’s going on, brother?”

Assadiq answered, “Well, those materials you’re interested in, Mommy, they cost 8 thousand.”

“Whoever guesses correctly, Mommy, I’ll dance to two songs. That’s 2 thousand,” Rushida added.

Hajiya Karima smiled, saying, “You’re right, dear. Teachers, how about it?”

Their reactions were varied—some were silent, some laughed, and others playfully nudged each other. Finally, they gathered their things and retreated to their rooms.

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