KIBIYAR AJALI Complete Document Written By Miss Xoxo



“Move! Move! Mudikalle is a blessing! Son of God, step outside and see if you can find out who is searching for this girl. She went to buy cocoa early in the morning and hasn’t returned. Go and locate her for me within this household.”

Mudi, who was brushing his teeth with charcoal, sauntered for a while, revealing his greenish teeth resembling a crying hue. Eventually, he rose and gazed at his mother, his freshly frozen nostrils reddened.

“I’m truly exhausted, Naji. You always send me on errands, and I have no clue where the devil is…?”

“Oh, my Mudi! Forgive me, but please find her. I’ve also asked you.”

Mudi was midway through his meal before he begrudgingly left, after tossing an irritated glance at his weary mother. Under the tree, they spotted a row of children, one child standing out from the crowd. Everyone halted and turned their attention towards them. She clutched the boy’s neck, the skull in his hand having slipped from him. She scolded him and slapped him, and the boy’s whole frame seemed to tremble, despite being older than her.

“Kutumelesin, a calamity upon the misfortune of Dirim Durbun! Walle or Dan Haladu (his father) will be informed, and I’ll ensure he punishes you. You want to know if I’m a wazobi? I don’t know how to go to the city.”

Glancing at the ground, I recalled how wearisome this process was. My heart ached, and my hand instinctively slapped the back of his head again.


“You! You! You! Well,” he said, his voice laden with frustration, “I’m tired and useless.”

Recognizing the caller, I knew it was Mudi, “the unfortunate son of my father’s wife.” I looked at Mudansiru, who was wiping his tears, caressing his reddened cheek and offering slaps in consolation. I joined Mudi at his side. Meanwhile, I observed a man carrying a rake for Mudansiru’s father. That wasn’t the method I’d employ.

“Hey, what’s going on? What’s your take on this?”

Dan Haladu inquired, pulling Mudansiru closer to him.

“My wife, the wazobi, pleaded with me, so I requested payment.”

Their quarrel escalated. The son of Haladu continued walking, encountering the elders of Harara.

“A woman beat you? May God bless you. You’ve also aged thirty years because you haven’t eaten fifty times since saying that.”

“What’s ‘murtalar’ (twenty naras)?”

“That’s what he’s entitled to. Just hold on, let me retrieve my money.”

I took the money and inspected the murtalar, shaking my head.

“You won’t accept her; she’s caused too much damage.”

Wafcewa, son of Haladu, handed me a coin as large as the moon, and I accepted it as I savored my dark meal. Haladu’s son nudged Mudansiru forward, attempting to immobilize him again, ensuring he couldn’t be pushed to the ground.

“Woo Dijangala oganniya, the one with a jar-like mouth, she’s exhausted from her little escapades.”

Yes, I’m an “oga,” the moniker other kids gave me. I often resolve fights and sometimes even buy them to stop weaker adversaries. Mudi gripped my hand, took the thirty coins, and led me home. Beginning from where we stood in line, I walked to his place before heading home. Mudi’s behavior of pilfering surprised me. Approaching with fatigue, she held a machete and, spotting me, dragged me along as if I were a sack. I counted my knuckles, as accustomed to pain, I hardly felt it.

“Shegiya Amru, with wide eyes, you’re a girl, a troublesome one. Today, you’ve been in another brawl. Where’s your father’s money?”

“Let’s go…”

An inner fire ignited and surged through me, propelling me forward like a forceful wind.

“Father’s fury! Tell your birth father that I’ll pull your teeth out. Are you determined to be wicked today? Did you squander the money? Will you lie again? I didn’t give birth to a slave. You’re a slave who still nurses from your mother. Move before you perish. The bank is empty, the bank is empty.”

Stepping aside, I wiped the tears of weariness and sorrow that overcame me each day. I sought solace, lying down, drowning out their voices. My belly cried out from hunger. I turned away, pondering how to find sustenance, fully aware that today, drained as I was, she wouldn’t feed me.

I glimpsed at the pile of laundry awaiting my attention. Standing there, I pounded my legs, ending up in a pile with them. I began folding and collecting the garments to the side. In the meantime, Wednesday, the shopkeeper, entered the house and greeted them.

“Exhausted! You’re exhausted, only giving anything to your animals, your chickens, and your Mudin.”

Tired, she brushed her teeth, gnawing on the small bits.

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