The scene unfolds in Dilau Village, where the ambiance is filled with the sound of the wind, women’s joyous chatter, and singing, creating an atmosphere of festivity. It may appear to an outsider as if a celebration or party is underway, but these are the everyday sounds of life in the BIG HOUSE of Dilau town.
As you enter the house, you’ll find women engaged in various activities. Approximately ten women are divided into groups, with each group consisting of at least four people. They are busy with tasks such as baking cakes, preparing food like pasta, and working tirelessly next to fires. In another area, under the shade of a dalbejiya tree, older women sit and engage in conversations.
The house is bustling with children playing on the ground, and the atmosphere is one of lively activity and communal living. However, these people are not visitors or guests; they are residents of the house. Some of the men from the house are busy engaging in various activities, some of which involve seeking financial assistance from outsiders, while others are involved in village meetings. Children, too, are scattered around, running errands.
The intricate web of relationships within this household is complex. It encompasses the children of younger brothers, grandchildren, wives, and even great-grandchildren. Marriages, births, and new generations have added layers to this extended family over time.
Malam Buhari is one of the residents of this house, and he is considered part of the family. He has three wives and ten children. His first wife, Yalwa, is known as Baba Yalwa. She has five children, including three boys and two girls, who have all grown up and married. The second wife, Dhahara, gave birth to one daughter, Ummukulsoom, but tragically lost four children during childbirth. Asabe, the third wife, has four children, consisting of three daughters and one son, who is the youngest.
Malam Buhari earns a living by weaving rugs, mats, and other similar items, earning him the nickname “The Weader” in the town. While not all members of the household are engaged in this business, some of the women are skilled in glue application. The eldest son typically takes the products to sell in Kaduna and Zaria and then returns home. Occasionally, his younger sister Araba, who is married outside the town, sends her son to retrieve him. Farming is another source of livelihood for the family, with crops being cultivated each year.
One day, a group of young girls, likely aged fifteen or older, arrives with buckets of paint to draw watermarks. Their presence in the house adds to the bustling atmosphere.
As the girls go about their tasks, Baba Yalwa, who is busy at the stove preparing pasta to sell, inquires about the whereabouts of Ummah. Hadiza, one of the girls, responds hesitantly, which angers Ashariya Baba.
Ashariya Baba chides them, saying, “You cursed children! Why are you fighting among yourselves?” The women in the house, including her mother-in-law and her children’s wives, find this amusing.
Suddenly, Umm Salam enters, catching everyone’s attention. They all gaze at her, wondering why she has attracted such attention. Umm Salam, in tears, goes to her father, who is sitting at the base of the stove.
Baba Yalwa questions her, “And now you’re done?” Umm Salam, confused, shakes her head in response.
The father says, “Don’t hold the water in your hand; she swears that she will put the pasta. Since you’re here with a young man, if you don’t know that you’ll soon be betrothed, you’re only getting rid of a bad omen. You’ve been discovered, and it’s time to face the consequences because you’re engaged to someone, and if you think you can avoid it, you’re mistaken.”
Umm Salam retorts, “This is a tale that has been hanging on my father’s lips ever since my parents rejected this marriage. I know they’re scheming to find a way out of it. Rashida’s words are also echoing in my mind, saying she’s trying to influence Samiya.”
Baba Yalwa, amused, lets out a chuckle, and then she drops her pot of pasta on the floor. She adds, “Well, your father’s eyes are closed, and he can’t see this coming, Rahida. Because you’re a girl, you say you don’t want to face heartache, but we’re telling you how it’s going to end.”
The women join in the laughter, teasing Umm Salam with unkind words. She loses her composure, takes the water, and heads to the Hanne section.