“Run, hurry, she’s on her way to the dealer. We’re waiting for her to finish the day. The dealer’s getting anxious, suggesting she could work in the minister’s house. I’m doubting if I should spend my money to hire her. We’re near Jeddah,” I said, contemplating that I could be the dealer for us without any embarrassment. Without objection from the dealer, she didn’t stop the car and drove straight to the Federal City of Abuja. As they entered Abuja, just in front of Jidda, it was getting dark. She prayed for success in their mission, for they had come to a luxurious house. As they surveyed the opulent houses, the saleswoman looked at them passively, in contrast to how she usually stood firmly on the ground. I couldn’t help but wonder why Jidda wasn’t paying me the usual attention that people who brought clients did. She was detached, her focus not on the passing houses but deep in thought. The saleswoman noticed and touched her arm. I was surprised by how Jidda didn’t acknowledge me as she usually did. She said, “You’re not looking at anyone, not even the houses we’re passing. I’m afraid I won’t be able to leave this place without finding someone.” Jidda, showing remarkable courage, replied, “Dealer, is this a place you can’t leave?” Harara waved at her before saying, “Hello, city girl. I’ll be here, but your parents shouldn’t worry. They won’t force you into work.” Jidda responded with a hopeful, “God willing, that won’t happen.” At the gate, soldiers surrounded the house, and the saleswoman prayed silently for success. Without wasting time, their car was parked in the house’s enclosed shed, the same car that had picked them up. Two soldiers emerged and escorted them to the main gate of the palace.

After exchanging greetings, they entered the palace hall, a lavish abode furnished in luxury. The dealer was seated comfortably, sipping water and enjoying oranges. The maid who had been summoned from Kano, named Amina, appeared. She corrected her speech, saying she didn’t want someone ignorant. Then, Amina turned to Jidda and asked about her school year. Jidda, with humility, replied, “S.S.1.” Amina smiled and assigned her to assist a young girl who was about to take her final secondary school exams. She mentioned they would send the girl to India to pursue a medical career if Jidda’s performance met expectations. Amina added, “You’ll have to help her not just academically, but also socially. She’s been through a lot and needs someone to talk to and laugh with, aside from her studies. Money can’t heal the wounds she carries.” The dealer interjected, “My friend, who was here last year, told me that she worked in Jeddah’s room. After he finished talking, Takira, who was not a Muslim, lay on the bed, lost in thought. Her mind was preoccupied by the Indian girl who had brought her here. The non-Muslim girl woke up and said that Madam was looking for her in the main palace, so Takira reluctantly went upstairs to meet her friend.

In the presence of Amina, a disabled woman, and a beautiful white girl who was clearly from a different generation than Jidda, they gathered on chairs. The young girl, smiling warmly, greeted Jidda and introduced herself, saying, “Hi, Jidda Tamyar, and hello!” Jidda reciprocated with a smile and responded, “Thank you, Ma’am. I like her because she doesn’t embarrass me even when I visit my friends’ houses. She’s not hung up on formality anymore.” Amina commented, “That’s why she’s the one. It’s her right to find someone who understands.” Jidda stood up when instructed by Auta, and Amina and Zainab looked her over. Zainab remarked, “Amina, you’ve picked well. She doesn’t look like a village girl. Even Fareeda’s servants won’t see through her act. We’ve trained them well. It won’t be a problem. What matters is that they’re the same. Money, privilege, religion—none of that is an issue. But what does it all mean?”