Yar Kadde village is a peaceful town located in our beloved Nigeria, specifically in the Nasarawa state. It is a place that brings together people from various backgrounds, speaking a multitude of languages. This small town serves as a harmonious gathering point for both Muslims and pagans, and it is abundant in natural blessings, offering a diverse array of fruits and vegetables.

Today, while in the town, I noticed a small house with an inviting entrance, much like the houses we find in the countryside. Nearby, there’s a small hospital, and just across from it stands a primary school.

I ventured inside the house to gather some information for you. A conversation was underway.

“Joy, are you aware that you should attend church today?” There was silence, as if she hadn’t heard her mother. “Nu’ku, my dear, get ready and wake me up there. Wait for her to finish, and then we’ll head to the rest of the house.”

Even Joy’s cousin, who was seated nearby, remained in her spot and didn’t move for about an hour.

During this time, I observed Joy. She appeared to be a young girl, likely no older than 16. She had a tall frame and a face that one might describe as neutral—neither ugly nor beautiful. Her demeanor exuded tranquility, and she was dressed in sleepwear that seemed comfortable on her.

With calm composure, she made her way to the kitchen, where she prepared a bowl of jollof rice and some soup, as though it were a simple task even a two-year-old could accomplish. She filled a bucket with water and took her time before reemerging.

Joy had changed into a short dress paired with long pants, the dress accentuating her figure. Her dark hair complemented her look, and she walked past a person lying on the bed behind her.

Her face lacked conventional beauty, but she grabbed her Bible, locked up their house, and headed towards the church, which was conveniently close by. She walked gracefully and silently, seemingly in control of her surroundings.

On her way, she passed a group of young men and women who gathered there each morning, even in the cold. One of the young men couldn’t help but stare, licking his lips while she walked by, leaving all of them captivated by her presence.

One of the young men remarked, “This girl has some charm. It’s astonishing how she’s gotten me thinking. Quite fascinating, I must say.” Another chimed in, “She may not have much, but she’s got a certain charm about her. I reckon she’d consider marrying me. She’s no fool. Why shouldn’t we try our luck?”

Another member of the group interjected, “Well, fellas, the girl may be a bit stubborn, but I managed to get a kiss from her. Who knows, maybe she’ll agree to marry me.”

They continued discussing her, not even knowing her name.

After the church service concluded and people began to disperse, Joy broke into a joyful smile, which only added to her allure. I observed her with surprise as she stood near the church.

Soon, her mother and a friend approached. They cast surprised glances at Joy’s cousin, who was still irate. Joy, seemingly unfazed, maintained her composure, sipping her coffee and looking around as she always did.

Her mother, with a mixture of anger and frustration, asked, “Joy, why did you come so late?”

Joy responded with nonchalance, “What do you want, mother? What’s the fuss about? I don’t see any suitable match for me here. Sam, you’re making an enemy out of your own religion. You lack any sense at all.”

Joy’s friend Kwanta chimed in, “Madam Gloria, I told you that when you kept your daughter away from the Muslims, you’d have days like this.”

Her mother tried to reason with her, but Joy remained unruffled, confident in her choices.

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