The city of Kano is a place enriched with the spirit of its people and a thriving business environment. It’s a city that takes pride in its significant contribution to economic development throughout Africa.

Today, as I visited the Murtala Hill Orphanage, my attention was drawn to a young, beautiful girl. She couldn’t have been more than 16 or 17 years old, holding a broom and dressed in black. I couldn’t help but wonder about the faded red stripe on her dress.

“Marwanatu! Marwah!!” I heard someone call out. “Marwah, your father’s child, I have no use for you. You’re strong. What wealth do you possess? Opportunity is knocking, yet you turn your back. I can’t fathom a girl as fortunate as you, acting like a demon. Go to Hajiyan; she will return and seek your answer. If you agree, I’ll spare you, but your birth mother abandoned you in the streets and bore another child, Annamimiya Makira.”

Quietly, she entered the room, tears streaming down her face. She stood at the door, mourning a life devoid of happiness, seeking forgiveness. It was Nanny Indo’s arrival that prompted her to step inside and swiftly turn around.

When Nanny Indo entered, she knelt on the floor and, in a trembling voice, said, “Look… see.” She added, “But there’s one condition: don’t reveal to the household leaders that this is the reason you’re leaving with her. Just come to them with a temako form, and you’ll be fine. They have too many children to care about you, especially this young lady. Nobody has shown her any kindness. She can’t fend for herself.” The shorter woman reached out. Her beauty was undeniable, unlike Marwa, who had a somber disposition. “Aren’t you tired of the commotion, Nanny? Where are we headed, Ummah? Let’s put an end to them; they lack resources. My husband has shown interest in marrying secretly; you must provide everything. All we ask is for you to lend us your blessings, and we’ll send you on your way with cold indifference.”

The head of the orphanage spoke passionately, although she struggled with English. She divulged everything while her young daughter cried inconsolably, sprawled on the ground. Marwah rarely visited them, if at all, claiming that she had never set foot in the orphanage until today.

They walked for an extended period and arrived at a vast area known as Badawa Layout in Nassarawa L.G. They halted in front of a grand house, and a woman named Hajiya Ra’isah emerged. She gestured towards the orphans and stated firmly, “I will only consider her.”

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