TANTIRIYA A GIDAN YARI

COMPELET DOCUMENT 

Asma Baffa

BOOK DESCRIPTION 

The house was modest but well-kept, typical of a middle-class neighborhood. It had four rooms, a living room, and two bathrooms in the courtyard. The floors were cemented, with only the living room and bathrooms tiled. The house was located in the city of Kano. A young man, very handsome, fair-skinned, though not extremely light, around 31 years old, walked in with a greeting. He was holding a little girl who appeared to be about three years old and shared a strong resemblance with the young man named Mohsin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The children in the house greeted him, saying, “Welcome back, Brother Mohsin.” He smiled and responded. A girl named Hidaya came and held his hand, leading him into the living room. After exchanging greetings, he asked, “Where’s Umma?” Hidaya squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back laughter, and replied, “Brother, she went out to inhale the scent of sweaty laborers because of the pregnancy cravings. You know the baby Umma is carrying makes her crave such smells.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t understand,” Mohsin said, puzzled. Hidaya burst into laughter and explained, “You see, Brother, Umma kept insisting that Dad should stop taking baths because she wants to enjoy the smell of his underarms. It helps her relax, but Dad refused, saying he has to stay clean. She can’t stand his cleanliness, so she sneaks out to smell the construction workers instead. We’ve tried to make her stop, but she won’t listen. And now, with Aunt Naila in prison, there’s no one else who can scold her and make her stop.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even Mohsin was bewildered by his mother’s unusual cravings, driven by her pregnancy. Whenever she needed to smell that odor, she found it calming. While they were talking, they heard Umma’s voice greeting them as she entered the living room. She was dressed in a long, loose-fitting silk gown with a wide scarf draped over her shoulders, her large belly evident in front of her. She looked happy and content.

 

Umma sat down, letting out a satisfied sigh, “Ah, Alhamdulillah. I feel so much better, but those laborers are really filthy. When I inhale the type of odor I love, it feels like peace enters my soul.” Mohsin looked at his mother with concern and said, “Umma, you’re married to your husband. How can you go around inhaling the sweat of other men, even if it’s due to the pregnancy? It’s not appropriate.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kubra, whom they called Umma, responded, “Oh, is that my fault? Your father is obsessed with cleanliness! I tried to convince him to go three days without a bath, but he wouldn’t agree. I have no choice but to find peace elsewhere. Today, I finally got lucky and found a laborer who gave me the exact smell I wanted. The moment he raised his arm, I felt this incredible sense of peace. The worries I had about Naila being in prison melted away, and I even slept soundly with a snore. If you’re upset, stop bathing and shaving your armpits, and let me enjoy your odor instead.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mohsin wrinkled his face in disgust, replying, “God forbid!” Umma then asked, “Where is Hanan, your wife?” Mohsin replied, “She’s fine and well.”