Wiping away the tears, as I walked away from my mother’s crowded sitting room, I found myself walking towards my late aunty’s room. What will it look like now that she is no longer around? I wondered. While standing at the door and looking in, I felt the tears threatening to return that very moment. It is the first time I’d look into it and not see Mama seated on her prayer carpet nor hear her cheerful voice welcoming me in.
Now, it is a room full of mourners, and right in the centre of it, is the lady we all know as Mama’s closest friend, Hajja Humayra. I walked towards her like someone in a dream and by the time I knelt in front of her, the tears had return in full force and were streaming down my face. She held my hand in a handshake and in-between sobs we were able to exchange condolences. Yes, we can only exchange condolences with Hajja Humayra because she is as bereaved, at the loss of our aunt, as the rest of us.
As little children, we grew up seeing the fair, plump woman with the very long, silky hair visiting our aunt all the way from Niger Republic; but we only knew her as Mama’s friend. It was not until we grew up that my siblings and I became aware that they were once co-wives. Today, in our moment of grief, Hajja Humayra decided to give me a crash course in their history.
In a voice that seemed to come from another time and place, she began: ‘Most people think Hajiya Yagana and I only knew each other because we were married to the same man. But that’s not true, in actual fact I knew her long before then. You see after I lost my first husband in Kano, several decades ago, I decided to move back to Niger, as soon as my mourning period ended. I arrived at the front of Hajiya Yagana’s home in Fagge quarters because her husband was a travel agent of those days. He used to organise trips for people travelling to Niger Republic and the bus used to take off from the front of his house. I and a male relative, who was accompanying me home arrived at that spot but alas, the bus had left. I announced my intention to go back to my late husband’s house and then return the following morning to catch the bus to Niger. But Alhaji Habeeb, your aunty’s husband would hear none of that. He said I shouldn’t do that and risk missing the bus again the next day. Rather he suggested that I go inside the house and sleep so that first thing the next morning I would be on the bus to Niger. I agreed with him and went in to meet Hajiya Yagana for the first time. She welcomed me heartily, brought dinner for me to eat and gave a warm bath to my infant daughter, Mariya. I had three daughters at the time but I had to leave the first two behind at their late father’s house and was going home with only the youngest of them. Your aunt treated me like someone she had known all her life. The next morning she made us breakfast before we set out on our journey to Niger.
I was so grateful for the way she treated us that when, afterwards, I met someone going to Kano, I immediately sent him with a gift for her. Then she also saw some Niger-bound passengers and sent them with a gift for me. Our gift-giving to and fro continued for a while, with even my own mother once sending a parcel to Hajiya Yagana, to show her appreciation for the friendship she had shown to me.
A few years later, Alhaji Habeeb appeared at our home in Niger and asked for my hand in marriage. There and then I said to him I would never marry him. I told him that I would never betray my good friend Yagana by agreeing to be his wife. Undaunted, he went to my mother and told her what transpired between us. My mother called me and said, you know you have two young daughters in Kano, if you agree to marry this man, it will be a chance for you to live close to them and see them regularly. Again I said to mother that I would never marry Alhaji Habeeb. He returned to Kano and courageously confessed to your aunt that he had proposed marriage to me but I had turned him down because I didn’t want to betray her.
“You mean Hajja Humayra refused to marry you because of me?” Hajiya Yagana asked.
“Yes”, Alhaji Habeeb replied, “so I have come to ask your permission to marry her because I am sure that once you agree she would no longer have reservations about it. But if you refuse your consent, I will drop the whole idea of marrying her.” He added.
“Not only do I agree that you marry her, I will also travel with you to Niger to make the marriage proposal.” Hajiya Yagana replied. The next thing I knew, your aunt and her husband were at my parent’s house trying to convince me to marry him. I thought to myself, if my dear friend could consent to this and my mother too has no objection, then maybe there is some good in it. It turned out that there was indeed a lot good in it. Alhaji Habeeb and I were blessed with six children. Though your aunt never had any children of her own, she never begrudged me my good luck. In fact when I showed up in Kano with my twin boys, you know our husband allowed me to stay in Niger, after our marriage, because the house in Kano wasn’t spacious enough. But I came to visit after my twins were born and Hajiya Yagana never allowed us to go back. She took care of my second twin, Hussaini and did everything for him, bringing him to me only when he needed to be fed. He remained with her after I had weaned them. Hussaini never left your aunt’s room till he reached the age of six. Then, their father insisted that I take them back to Niger and enrol them in school. Being originally from Niger himself, Alhaji Habeeb wanted his childern to go through our nation’s educational system. But Hussaini never forgot his mother, Hajiya Yagana, and that was why he named his first child aftet her. You know his eldest daughter is named Zainab, don’t you Bint?’
‘Yes I do Hajiya. I’ve also heard that she is already married.’ I replied.
‘Yes, she was married a few years ago and she had her third child only last week. That’s why she cannot make this condolence visit. But her father and his twin are on their way from Niamey. They will be here tomorrow in sha Allah.’ Hajja Humayrah declared mournfully.
(This is in memory of my late aunt Hajiya Zainab Muhammad, who was Mama Yagana to us and Mama Lale to our children. We lost her on September 26th 2017. The true-life story above was as narrated to me by her former co-wife, on September 27th. May Almighty Allah grant her Aljannah Firdausi, amin.)
