Fareeda, Fareeda, Fareeda! Just now, Umman and Mu are in the kitchen where they are together with Fareeda’s mother preparing dinner. After finishing the Maghrib prayer, I quickly went because I heard them calling. Since I know Umman is a very hot-tempered person, I told my mother to be patient, Umma, when she calls me, so I can finish my prayer.  

Fareeda’s mother is cooking soup and says, "Fareeda, go and arrange your things; you’ll go to your Aunty’s house." She has a stomach ache, and her hair is disheveled. Insha’Allah, they will leave soon. She is also fasting, and the children are going to school. Even though your uncle is on break, she will still need your help.  

Aunty Raheema is the wife of Fareeda’s mother’s younger brother, meaning the wife of our stepmother Hajiya Asiya. Hajiya Asiya has been married to our father for many years, but she has never given birth—not even once. Everyone assumes the problem is from our side, but only Allah knows. However, when our stepmother got married, within just one year and a few months, she became pregnant.  

At first, our father sought treatment, but since then, everyone believed that the infertility issue was not from our father but rather from Fareeda’s mother. However, she is an extremely patient, humble, and accepting woman. She never took it to heart or let it bother her. She remained calm.  

There is also an age gap of about four to five years between her and my mother. This is why, ever since she became pregnant, she has treated my mother with slight disdain. She also made sure that Umman took over all household responsibilities. Similarly, since I was born, she has handled every difficulty and hardship. Everything concerning me—bathing, dressing, feeding—she did it all. She is a generous woman who loves to give to anyone around her.  

Because of this, since childhood, I have never accepted anyone else but her. Sometimes, I even resent my father and Umman. Everything I have is because of her. Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I would think she is my real mother.  

Back when I was in primary five, during a holiday trip to their hometown, I realized who my real mother was among them. My mother, my biological mother, is originally from Zamfara State, while my father and Fareeda’s mother are from Katsina State.  

Fareeda’s mother is from a royal family. She said their ancestor was a king in their lineage, while my father comes from Musawa Local Government.  

Their family—our grandfathers—had four sons and one daughter, who is now referred to as *U.K.* because she lives there with her husband and only child. Although Allah has not blessed her with more children, she is still considered part of their lineage. Our grandfather’s descendants were not many.  

Umma Asiya, also known as Fareeda’s mother, is well-known in the neighborhood, among relatives, and friends. They call her *Maman Fareeda* (Fareeda’s mother). Since I was the one who gave her that name, I call her *Inna* (mother) to make it easier, as people refer to her as *Umma Asiya*. Just like how they call my mother *Umma Salma*, while her family calls her *Mai Gado* (the heiress). But now, everyone calls her *Maman Fareeda*, even those who used to call her differently.  

She is a very tall, dark-skinned, and extremely fair woman. She is also very patient and humble. Even our youngest uncle is shorter than her.  

She is the third daughter of her father, [Sarki Abdul Kadeer], a king known for his justice, compassion for the poor, and efforts to uplift them—may he rest in peace.  

She has two siblings: Hajiya Indo, the eldest daughter, and Baba Salihu, who comes after Hajiya Indo and is the king’s heir. Then there are her five younger siblings—three sisters and two brothers. Uncle Jawad is the eldest among them.