HUSNA

Chapter11

"In the dusty streets of Maiduguri, where the call to prayer echoed through narrow alleys and children chased after empty tins, lived Alhaji Abdulhamid Ibrahim Wakeeli ....a man known more for his humility than his wealth.

He was the first son of Alhaji Ibrahim Wakeeli and Hajiya Asma'u, a simple family of teachers and traders. His younger brother, Ashiru, had always been more ambitious....a dreamer who believed education could change the world. Their mother's last child, Fateema, had died young, leaving behind a scar in their mother's heart that never quite healed.

From the beginning, life wasn't kind to the Wakeeli family.

Alhaji Ibrahim, Husna's grandfather, taught in an islamiya school. He wasn't rich, but he was respected....a man who lived by honesty and hard work. His son, Abdulhamid, however, was different.

While Ashiru went to school with a satchel of old notebooks, Abdulhamid preferred to spend his days cutting firewood and selling it in the market.

He used to say, "What will I do with education when my stomach is empty?"

So, he worked....hauling wood, carrying loads, selling groceries....whatever put a little money in his pocket.

Years later, destiny led him to Aisha, a soft-spoken girl from Yola, Adamawa State. She was the kind of woman who carried grace in her silence and patience in her smile. Their love wasn't accepted by either family. His parents wanted him to marry a local girl, while hers thought he was too poor for their daughter.

But Abdulhamid and Aisha went against the world. They married quietly...without fanfare, without blessings....only with love and stubborn hope.

When both families turned their backs on them, the young couple packed what little they owned and left Maiduguri for Kaduna.

There, Abdulhamid found work as a gate man, earning a small salary of ₦20,000 per month. They rented a small room in Rafin Guza, a modest neighborhood filled with laughter, noise, and the smell of burning firewood.

It was in that house that Aisha gave birth to her first daughter, Asma'u ...known to everyone as Husna.

She was named after her grandmother, and from childhood, she carried the same intelligence and quiet strength.

Husna attended Government Primary and Secondary School in Kaduna and also completed her islamiya at just 15. By 21, she was studying Microbiology at Kaduna State University. Her father always said, "Husna will change our lives one day....she just has to study hard."

And she did.

Husna was the kind of girl who always came first in her class. No radio, no television, no parties...just her books. The only friend she allowed close was Faiza, a kind girl who often helped the family with small food items, even when Husna's mother told her to stop.

When Husna was four, Aisha gave birth to her second child, Abdulkarim, and three years later, the last born, Fatima, arrived.

Fatima was 14 now, in JSS3, while Abdulkarim was in SS1....both bright, cheerful, and respectful.
Life was still hard.

There were nights they slept hungry, their mother pretending she was full so her children could eat the little that remained. Sometimes, dinner was just plain rice or beans.... no meat, no oil, just survival.
On the worst days, Aisha would borrow food from neighbors ...a cup of garri here, a handful of rice there. And when she finally fed her children, she would lie on her mat with an empty stomach, whispering "Alhamdulillah" before falling asleep.

Abdulhamid's job didn't make things easier. His employer was wicked... sometimes it took three to four months before he was paid. Yet, he endured.
"Being poor," he used to say, "isn't the same as being hopeless."

Eventually, he changed jobs and began earning ₦25,000 a month.

For the first time, the family started eating three meals a day. The children could go to school like everyone else, and their house ...though small ...was filled with laughter.

Aisha, despite everything, remained strict.
She always warned her children, "Don't ever eat food from outside. No matter how hungry you are, never take what's not yours."

Though they were poor, she taught them self-respect and dignity.

They learned to control temptation, to say no even when their stomachs ached. And somehow, in the middle of all that struggle, the Wakeeli family learned to find joy....in little things, in each other, in survival.

If you saw them on a good day, you'd never imagine they had ever gone to bed hungry.
Their home wasn't perfect, but it was filled with love ...and love, sometimes, was enough to keep them alive....