Chapter One The Jealous Wives

 Chapter One

The Jealous Wives

There was a man well known in his community called Mallam Maikudi. His name was spoken with a mixture of respect and curiosity, not because he was born into wealth or power, but because his life itself was a testimony of endurance. He came from a very poor family, one whose roots were deeply planted in hardship. Poverty was not something they visited from time to time; it was a permanent resident in their home, shaping their choices, their struggles, and their prayers.

Mallam Maikudi’s parents were typical farmers, people whose hands were hardened by years of labor on the land. They cultivated what their fathers had cultivated before them, relying on simple tools, uncertain weather, and the hope that Allah would place barakah in their efforts. Their lives followed a repetitive cycle—planting, waiting, harvesting, and enduring loss when the harvest failed. They owned no land of great value, only small plots passed down from their forefathers, pieces of earth that carried memories more than wealth.

Among their many children, Mallam Maikudi was the only surviving son. Before him, four brothers had been born into the family, each one a source of joy and hope, yet each one taken away by illness, hunger, or circumstances too harsh for fragile lives. Their deaths left scars that never truly faded. His parents bore their pain silently, believing that questioning destiny would only deepen their sorrow. Two of his sisters were taken away during the dark days of slave raids, a tragedy that reshaped the family forever. Those girls were never seen again, and their names were mentioned only in whispered prayers and moments of quiet reflection.

By the time Maikudi was old enough to understand, he had already inherited a heavy burden. He was not just a child; he was the last pillar of his parents’ lineage. Every expectation, every unfulfilled dream, and every silent prayer rested upon his shoulders. His parents knew that they had only one chance left, and they guarded it with caution, discipline, and unwavering faith.

From a young age, they instilled in him the fear of Allah and the value of patience. They taught him that wealth was not measured by possessions but by character, and that knowledge was the only treasure that could never be stolen. When he was still very young, they sent him to an Islamic school, believing that learning the Qur’an would protect him in ways wealth never could.

Life at the Islamic school was far from easy. Maikudi lived among other students who shared the same struggles. Food was scarce, clothing was limited, and comfort was almost nonexistent. Yet, these hardships did not weaken him; instead, they strengthened his resolve. He memorized the Qur’an verse by verse, often repeating passages under the moonlight when lamps were unavailable. Hunger accompanied him often, but he learned to silence it with patience and remembrance of Allah.

His teachers noticed his dedication and discipline. He was quiet, observant, and respectful, never involving himself in unnecessary arguments or distractions. While others complained of hardship, Maikudi accepted his reality with humility. Over time, he completed the Qur’an at a young age and earned recognition as a Mallam. The day the news reached his parents, it felt as though light had entered their home. Despite their poverty, they expressed gratitude the only way they could—through prayers, tears, and shared joy with neighbors.

However, Maikudi’s journey did not end there. His parents believed that religious knowledge alone was not enough in a world that demanded more. With encouragement and sacrifice, they supported his pursuit of Western education. This decision came with its own challenges. School fees were difficult to gather, books were expensive, and transportation was unreliable. Many times, Maikudi walked long distances to attend classes, carrying hunger in his stomach and determination in his heart.

Throughout his studies, he refused to be a burden. He worked tirelessly, taking on small jobs wherever he could find them. He taught younger students, assisted traders, and engaged in labor that others looked down upon. Whatever he earned, he divided carefully—keeping enough to survive and sending the rest to his parents. His parents, in turn, prayed for him endlessly, believing that Allah would reward his sincerity.

By the time Maikudi reached his early twenties and gained admission into the university, he had become a man shaped by discipline and hardship. University life exposed him to a different world, one filled with ambition, competition, and opportunity. Many students came from privileged backgrounds, their paths already paved. Maikudi’s path, however, was carved by effort alone.

Despite his modest appearance and quiet nature, his intelligence set him apart. He attended lectures diligently, asked thoughtful questions, and dedicated himself fully to his studies. Slowly, people began to notice him—not for his wealth, but for his character. Lecturers respected him, and fellow students admired his humility.

It was during this period that Maikudi’s heart encountered something unfamiliar. Among the many faces he saw daily, one presence stood out. Her name was Ameera. She carried herself with dignity, her manners reflecting good upbringing and self-awareness. She was known for her calmness, her modesty, and her seriousness toward her education. Maikudi noticed her presence without intention at first, as one notices the change in weather or the passing of time.

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, he became increasingly aware of her. It was not merely her appearance that drew his attention, but the way she conducted herself—focused, respectful, and composed. He observed her from a distance, never approaching, never speaking, and never allowing his feelings to cross the boundaries he had set for himself.

Maikudi struggled internally. He had never allowed his heart to wander freely. His life had always been guided by responsibility—toward his parents, his education, and his faith. Yet, feelings are not always obedient to logic. He found himself thinking of Ameera during moments of reflection, questioning whether his emotions were a test or a sign of something written for him.

At the same time, his financial struggles continued. University expenses increased, and opportunities remained uncertain. There were moments when despair threatened his resolve, but he reminded himself of where he came from and what he represented. He could not afford to be careless with his future.

As he progressed through his studies, Maikudi’s dedication began to open doors. He gained recognition for his academic excellence and was entrusted with responsibilities that reflected trust. These opportunities allowed him to earn modest income, easing his burden slightly and strengthening his ability to support his parents.

Still, his heart remained conflicted. Love, once awakened, does not easily fade. He feared that allowing his emotions to grow would distract him from his goals. Yet, suppressing them completely felt equally heavy. He turned to prayer, asking Allah for guidance, clarity, and protection from regret.

Unbeknownst to him, these silent struggles marked the foundation of events that would later define his life. His journey from poverty to purpose, from isolation to recognition, and from discipline to emotional conflict was quietly shaping a destiny far larger than he imagined.

This was the beginning—not of peace, but of complexity. The choices he would later make, the households he would form, and the jealousy that would arise all traced their roots back to this period. A time when love was still unspoken, intentions were still forming, and fate was patiently waiting.

Thus, Chapter One closes not with resolution, but with anticipation. The seeds had been planted—of love, of responsibility, and of trials yet to come.

Continuation (Chapter One)

The Jealous Wives

Ameera was one of the best ladies in her community. Many noticed her light skin, but those who truly knew her understood that her real beauty lay in her character. She was brilliant, modest, and well trained, a product of careful upbringing and strong moral guidance. She loved Islamic activities and found peace in gatherings of knowledge, Qur’an recitation, and discussions that strengthened faith. She carried herself with calm confidence, never loud, never careless, always mindful of her actions.

Mallam Maikudi first truly noticed her within the university environment, though their paths had crossed several times before without proper interaction. One afternoon, after a lecture, fate arranged their first direct meeting. They found themselves standing close to one another near a notice board, both reading the same announcement.

Maikudi hesitated briefly, then spoke with courtesy.

“Salāmu ʿalaykum,” he said gently.

“Wa ʿalaykum salām wa raḥmatullāh,” Ameera replied, turning toward him with a polite smile.

There was a brief silence, the kind that carries curiosity rather than discomfort.

“How are you?” Maikudi asked, his tone respectful.

“Alḥamdulillāh, I’m fine,” she answered. “And you?”

“Alḥamdulillāh,” he said. “I’m doing well.”

Encouraged by her calm response, Maikudi continued, “Please, may I know your name?”

“My name is Ameera,” she replied. “And yours?”

“I’m Maikudi,” he said. “People usually call me Mallam Maikudi.”

She nodded slightly. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he said.

Their conversation flowed naturally, without force or haste.

“Which department are you in?” Ameera asked.

“I’m in the Business Administration department,” Maikudi replied. “What about you?”

“I’m in the Arabic and Islamic Studies department,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of pride for her field.

“That explains your involvement in the Islamic programs,” Maikudi said thoughtfully. “I often see you attending them.”

Ameera smiled lightly. “Yes, I enjoy them. Knowledge gives peace.”

Maikudi nodded in agreement. “That’s true.”

That simple exchange marked the beginning of something deeper. From that day onward, they began greeting each other whenever they met. Their conversations remained respectful, guided by manners and intention. Slowly, greetings turned into longer discussions, and discussions turned into understanding.

They spoke about their studies, their challenges, and their dreams. Ameera talked about her love for Islamic knowledge and her desire to live a life pleasing to Allah. Maikudi spoke about his background, his parents, and his struggle to survive while pursuing education. He did not hide his reality, nor did he exaggerate it. He spoke with honesty.

“I come from a very poor family,” he once said quietly. “Everything I have, I work for it.”

Ameera listened attentively. “That is honorable,” she replied. “Struggle does not reduce a person’s worth.”

Her words stayed with him.

As time passed, their bond grew stronger. Their love did not rush; it matured naturally, shaped by patience and understanding. Maikudi admired Ameera’s discipline and modesty. Ameera admired Maikudi’s resilience and humility. Each saw in the other qualities that went beyond appearance or status.

Despite his growing affection, Maikudi’s life remained difficult. He did not have enough food at times, money was always short, and hostel accommodation was a constant challenge. Many nights, he studied with an empty stomach, relying on determination and prayer. Yet he never allowed his struggles to turn him bitter.

During weekends, Maikudi often left the university environment to work. While others rested, he searched for opportunities—assisting in shops, carrying goods, or doing any honest work available. These weekends were exhausting, but necessary. They provided him with just enough to survive and continue supporting his parents back home.

Ameera noticed his frequent absence during weekends.

“You’re often not around on weekends,” she once observed during one of their conversations.

“Yes,” Maikudi replied. “I go out to work. It helps me manage.”

“That must be tiring,” she said softly.

“It is,” he admitted. “But it’s part of my journey.”

Ameera respected that. She never discouraged him, nor did she complain about his limited availability. Instead, she focused on her own responsibilities. During school hours, she dedicated herself to her studies, spending long hours reading, writing, and attending lectures. She balanced her academic life with Islamic activities, maintaining discipline in both.

Then came the month of Ramadan.

For many students, Ramadan was a time of adjustment. For Maikudi, it was a test of endurance. His financial situation worsened, and securing food for iftar and sahur became increasingly difficult. Some days, he contemplated breaking his fast with nothing more than water, trusting Allah to strengthen him.

Ameera noticed the change in him. His energy was lower, and his silence deeper. One evening, she asked gently, “Are you okay?”

Maikudi hesitated, then replied, “Ramadan has been a bit difficult this year.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I struggle with food sometimes,” he admitted. “Especially for iftar and sahur.”

Ameera did not respond immediately. She reflected quietly. From the next day onward, she began supporting him. Without drawing attention or making him feel uncomfortable, she ensured he had food for iftar and sahur. Sometimes it was simple meals, sometimes just enough to sustain him, but always given with sincerity.

“May Allah reward you,” Maikudi said one evening, overwhelmed by gratitude.

“Āmīn,” she replied. “We help one another for the sake of Allah.”

Throughout Ramadan, her support remained consistent. Maikudi felt strengthened not only physically, but emotionally. Her kindness reinforced his belief that sincerity still existed in the world. By the end of the month, he felt deep happiness and appreciation, recognizing the role Ameera had played in helping him complete Ramadan with dignity.

When Ramadan ended, the academic session soon followed with a break. Students prepared to return to their homes. Maikudi and Ameera went their separate ways, each carrying memories, thoughts, and growing feelings.

Though physically apart, what they shared remained alive in their hearts. Their journey had only begun. The connection formed through respect, patience, and shared struggle would later shape decisions that neither of them yet fully understood.

This was still Chapter One—the foundation. What followed would test love, faith, and justice in ways far beyond their imagination.

To Be Continue Inshallah..... 

©AHMAD ZAHIR ENAGI ABU KHALIF