Mallam Hamza was one of those servants of Allah who inherited his father’s position as a religious scholar in a village north of Maiduguri. He was a Bafilatani by origin, fair-skinned with striking, hypnotic eyes—sharp like those of a sorcerer or a snake, yet distinct in their own way, and always gleaming.  

Mallam Hamza had four wives, but none except his first wife, Ya, had ever conceived. Allah had blessed her with a child, removing the stigma of barrenness. Mallam Hamza was a teacher of Almajirai (Qur’anic students), and his home was always filled with young pupils. He would often disappear into the wilderness for months, isolating himself in deep spiritual retreat before returning—a habit that earned him the nickname Aljan (the Jinn) because his emaciated appearance was terrifying.  

After three months of absence, Ya became pregnant, though she had never shown any signs before. But when he returned from another seven-month retreat, he found Ya had given birth among his wives, as if it were nothing.  

Slowly, resentment grew. One by one, his other wives left him, unable to bear the shame of their childlessness compared to Ya and her daughter, whom he named Nana Fatima.

So, Mallam Hamza’s household dwindled—only Ya, his daughter Fatima, and his young Almajirai remained.  

As Fatima grew, so did her beauty and intelligence. Among the Almajirai, there was one who stood out—a bright, devout student known as Dan Mallam (Laminu)  

Life went on. Fatima blossomed into a stunning young woman, her eyes as mesmerizing as her father’s. Many young men desired her, but the color of her eyes—so unusual—made people whisper. Some even claimed she had the “gift of the serpent,” and suitors were warned against marrying her, lest they invite misfortune.  

In the village, girls were often married off as early as ten or eleven. By thirteen, they were considered ready. But Fatima remained unmarried even at fifteen, and whenever she stepped outside, she returned in tears from the insults hurled at her.  

Mallam Hamza ate his meals in silence, his heart heavy watching his daughter suffer. The pain gnawed at him, and often, he would confide in Laminu Dan Mallam. 

One day, Laminu came to Mallam with news—he had found work in the city as a gatekeeper for a wealthy Alhaji. 

Mallam rejoiced, seeing it as a blessing.  

Laminu excelled in his new role, earning respect and a good income. He never forgot Mallam Hamza’s kindness, regularly sending gifts—grains, rice, and supplies from the city.  

This deepened Mallam’s affection for him, especially knowing Laminu was an orphan, his parents lost to a flood when he was just a boy.  

Then, one day, Laminu returned with a request—he wanted to marry Fatima  

Not out of pity.  

But out of love.  

And with the will of Allah.