**Title: “The Welcoming Home”**


In a house that stood proudly with its two tall palm trees and a colorful facade, lived a bustling family of twelve. They had joy in abundance within their walls. Their residence was situated in a neighborhood where people thrived, each pursuing their own crafts and skills.


The head of the household was Malam Tanko, a man with two wives, Jummai and Hannatu, and five children: Lado, the eldest, followed by Buba, Sani, Saratu, and Laraba. Every one of them, both men and women, had found love and tied the knot.


Malam Tanko was a man of wisdom, respected by the entire community, who didn’t withhold his generosity from anyone in need. Maman Ladi was known for her culinary expertise, while Maman David was adept at weaving beautiful fabrics. Ladidi excelled in everything except tidiness, Malam’s wife was skilled in pottery, Iya Beji in crafting, Mama Akintola in trading, Mama Dare in farming, Abule in painting, and Maman Usman was the government’s liaison officer, while Inna Talatu specialized in sewing.




Maman Ladi sat by her doorstep, diligently sewing a dress today. With urgency in her voice, she called out, “Help, Maman Ladi, the children have spilled water again. I need you to watch over them while I clean this mess.”


She swiftly put down her sewing, exclaiming, “Oh, dear! Is your vision limited to your nose? Can’t you see I’m busy right now?” Her eyes narrowed as she adjusted her hijab, irritated by the interruption.


“Who has eyesight as sharp as yours to recognize my son from afar?” Maman David retorted. She stormed inside and snatched the children away, scolding, “Stand aside, Maman David, and let me handle this or else I’ll report you to the Quran class today.” The trembling Maman David quickly left with her children, and the other women of the house followed suit, their faces displaying a mix of astonishment and fear.


Maman Ladi resumed her work, muttering, “And now… someone please tell me what fault have I committed in this household? Am I not left alone with the chaos and mischief while you all go about your business?” She sighed, weary from her ongoing battle. As she sat before Maman David’s abandoned sewing, she said, “So, which one of you intends to continue what Maman Ladi was doing? Who’s taking up the mantle of watching over the children? Or perhaps…”


But before she could finish her thought, Matar Malam, who had been listening, intervened, “Is it a game to you to make people argue, Maman Ladi? Did you enjoy watching Maman David’s embarrassment?” Maman David, who had just reappeared, said, “You’re welcome to take over, Matar Malam, today in this house.” Before Maman David could turn away, Matar Malam grabbed her arm, and a whispered conversation ensued. Iya Beji observed from a distance, her curiosity piqued.


Meanwhile, Abule stood pensively with his paintbrush in hand, Mama Akintola continued her trading, Mama Dare tended to her farm, and Inna Talatu worked on her sewing machine. Inno, the dillaliya (helper), stood by the front gate.


As Maman Ladi sat by her door, lost in thought, she realized that unity was the key to peace in their home. With that in mind, she decided to mend her relationships with the other women. Each one of them, unique in their talents, played a crucial role in making their household a harmonious place to live.

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