HER GONE DAYS

chapter one ❤️

---

It was early in the morning, and a chill hung in the air. In the kitchen of a modest Hausa home, a graceful woman labored over a spread of dishes. Her hands moved deftly, preparing a variety of foods for her family. The kitchen was filled with the aromas of stews and fried pastries. Despite the exhaustion from her daily routine, she remained steadfast. This was her way of showing love and dedication, not for the sake of appreciation but as a testament to her care.

The woman, Amina, was well aware that her efforts often went unnoticed by her husband, her mother-in-law, and her other children. They rarely acknowledged the long hours she spent preparing meals, but her first daughter, Najma, always expressed gratitude, even if just through a simple smile.

Amina took pride in what she could offer, and cooking was her way of contributing. She was determined to make every dish perfect, believing it to be the best way she could serve her family. As she glanced at the wall clock, she realized it was time to wake everyone.

"Salam alaikum," she murmured as she made her way to Najma’s room. The walls of the room were painted a warm yellow, a color that Amina hoped would provide her daughter with some comfort. Najma, at eleven, had always been different. Some called her strange, even crazy, but to Amina, her uniqueness was a blessing. Despite the judgments from relatives and the derision Najma faced, Amina’s love for her daughter remained unwavering.

Najma's room was simple, with a thin mat laid out on the cold tiles. Najma slept there every night, often without a blanket. Amina knew her daughter would wake up shivering, but this had become a routine, one she hoped would prepare Najma for the hardships of life. She gently tapped Najma's foot, rousing her from sleep.

Without a word, Amina hurried to the bathroom, filling a small bucket with water. She returned and splashed the water onto Najma, who awoke with a start and began to cry out in panic. “Help, help, the witch is here!” Najma screamed, running in circles around the room. Her cries echoed through the house, eventually stirring the rest of the family.

Amina, though accustomed to Najma’s morning outbursts, simply walked away, returning to her own room to continue with her morning routine.

In the main room of the house, the grandparents, Baba Usman and Nana Zainab, were already stirring. Baba Usman was a stern but fair man, respected in the community. Nana Zainab, on the other hand, was known for her sharp tongue and traditional views. Both were staying with Amina and her family, adding a layer of complexity to the household dynamics.

As Amina re-entered the kitchen, the grandparents began to converse, their voices filled with the familiar tones of Hausa dialect.

“Yara na, these children,” Nana Zainab began, shaking her head as she prepared her own breakfast, “they have no respect. The way they treat that poor girl, Najma, is shameful.”

Baba Usman, who was sipping his tea, responded with a gruff tone. “It’s not just about respect, Zainab. The girl is different. It’s not easy for her or for the rest of the family.”

“I know,” Amina interjected softly, as she placed a steaming pot of stew on the table. “But she’s my daughter. I just want her to be accepted and loved.”

Baba Usman looked at Amina with a thoughtful expression. “We must be patient with her, Amina. Our ways are often harsh, but she needs kindness and understanding.”

As the conversation continued, Najma, still shaken from her earlier fright, sat quietly at the table, trying to eat the breakfast that had been prepared with so much care. Her siblings, who had woken up to the sound of her cries, watched her with a mix of annoyance and pity.

Najma’s eyes were downcast, her mood as cold as the tiles she had slept on. The insults and exclusion she faced from her siblings were compounded by the harshness of her grandparents' words. She felt like a ghost in her own home, visible yet ignored.

The breakfast table was filled with the usual chatter, but Najma’s presence seemed to barely register. She ate her meal in silence, wishing for a day when she might be seen for who she was, rather than being judged for her differences.

Amina, while trying to manage the household and maintain some semblance of normalcy, couldn’t help but worry about Najma’s future. She wondered what would become of her daughter when she was no longer around to shield her from the world’s cruelties.

As the morning wore on, Amina continued with her duties, her heart heavy with concern for Najma. The house was filled with the usual hum of activity, but beneath it all, there was an unspoken tension and sadness that lingered in the air.

Najma, lost in her own world, clung to the hope that one day, things would change. For now, she endured, carrying her loneliness with a quiet determination, believing that perhaps, someday, she would find a place where she truly belonged.

---

The you guys like the new edited and written version.if so pls,

Comment,like and share

Written with so much love by najma.