Sangartaccce Book Completed

Description

 SANGARTATTCE

Maman Abd Shakur

1... Free page

In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

"Oh my God, Baba, I am going to die! Oh, Mama, blow on my stomach!" Two women surrounded her on a woven mat, along with two young girls sitting in the middle of the spotless, cement-floored courtyard, looking utterly bewildered and distressed. Terror was written all over their faces. Over by the edge of the mat, near her feet, sat an elderly man wearing a large flowing gown (babbar riga), a small cap, and a turban typical of Islamic scholars (malamai). He held a silver cup to his mouth, whispering prayers into it calmly.

She screamed again, hiking her wrapper up to expose her stomach, which looked as though she hadn't eaten in days. On the left side of her abdomen, a swelling had formed; anyone looking at it would swear a massive boil had appeared and was about to burst with fluid. She screamed again, grabbing the hands of the women hovering over her. "Oh my God, Mama, I am ruined! The agony, Mama, oh, the agony he is causing me!" She dropped their hands, crying out, "Baba! Baba! Baba, I am calling you! Oh my God, no, save me!" She let out another piercing cry, gripping their hands tightly as she panted. The pain in her stomach seemed to writhe as if it were a living creature trapped inside. Her screams filled the entire compound.

Out of sheer frustration, one of the women—who happened to be her mother—let out a hiss of irritation. Seeing this, the other woman wiped the sweat from her forehead, took Balkisu’s face in her hands, and said, "Haba, Balkisu! My golden heiress, endure it! Isn't your father here praying over water for you? You are a resilient person, a heroine. Look at Layla and Raiyana, they will think you are a coward. See how they are just staring at you."

Balkisu shook her head, bursting into tears and heavy sobbing. "Someone call Baaba for me, please! Baaba, come! Baaba, come and save me!" She began kicking her legs, her eyes bloodshot. "Baba! Baba! Muji! Oh my God, Mujittapa, please come and help me! Shato, please, I am finished! Oh Mama, look at me, is my stomach about to burst?"

She let out another loud shriek, prompting her mother to slap her mouth firmly. "Can't you even call upon the name of Allah, you useless girl?"

Right at that moment, Baba pulled the cup away from his mouth, looked at the senior wife, and said, "Zainaba, lift her up."

Zainaba lifted her slowly. Balkisu let out a heavy gasp, biting her lip. "Wait, wait, umm..." She paused, looking at her with pity. The young girl placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut as she panted. "Okay, I'm ready." Even Mama reached out to help them pull her into a sitting position. She let out a sharp cry as if she were dying. "Enough, enough, that's it!" They propped her up against the wall. Baba held the silver cup to her lips, and she drank deeply from the water, lifting her Ankara wrapper higher. Baba scooped up the remaining water, prayed over it, and moved to wipe it over the swollen lump.

Balkisu quickly grabbed his hand, crying and screaming, "Baba, I swear it hurts! For God's sake, don't touch it, please, for the sake of the Messenger of Allah!"

Mama slapped Balkisu's hand away, casting a fierce look at her. Baba sighed and gently rubbed the water over the spot anyway, while she let out a piercing scream that deafened everyone.

Baba stood up, looked at her mother, handed her the cup, and said, "After an hour, give her Amina's portion again. Let me go back to the zaure (entrance porch) with the students."

With a heavy heart, her mother took the cup and said, "Alright, Malam."

He turned and walked toward the zaure, opened the door, lifted the heavy curtain separating him from the porch, and stepped outside. The porch was packed with almajirai (Islamic students) reciting from their wooden slates (allo). Older students stood over them holding canes, keeping watch. The walls of the porch were lined with the students' bags and the woven mats where they slept, as the porch was quite spacious. The moment the students saw him, they raised their voices, reciting even more vigorously.

Baba stepped out from the porch to the front of the house, where even more almajirai sat on the concrete outside, reading from their slates. A large shade canopy had been erected over the front of the house so that during the rainy season, students could sleep outside. The students' plastic jugs were stacked near a cassava patch. As soon as it turned two o'clock, they would pause, pray, and everyone would head out to beg for food (bara). Off to the side of the entrance was a narrow alleyway where mud bricks had been built up to enclose a makeshift bathroom area where the students bathed and handled their chores. Right in front of the house was a well with a bucket for drawing water.

Baba sat down on a mat specially laid out for him—a soft prayer rug placed on top—breathed Bismillah, and began rolling his prayer beads (tasbiha), scanning every student reciting nearby. An older student, one of those supervising the rest, came over and sat near the Malam, folding his legs, lowering his head, and saying, "May Allah protect the Malam, may Allah forgive the Malam, may Allah preserve the Malam for us."

Gently lowering his prayer beads, Baba looked at the boy and asked, "Have they paid their lesson fees properly, Isyaka?"

"Yes, they have paid, Malam. It's only Muhammadu who didn't bring the exact amount, but I made him repeat his recitation."

Malam smiled, leaning back against the wall. "Masha Allah, then. Go bring me my Qur'an, I left it in the zaure, and you can bring yours so I can listen to you."

The young man glanced at him briefly, then lowered his head. "Malam, how is Balkisu feeling?"

Malam let out a sigh. "She is better. I prayed for her; she will get well very soon."

Looking worried, Isyaka stood up and left for the zaure to retrieve what Malam had sent him for.

[7/15, 12:17 PM] Ummi Tandama: ♦♦♦ SANGARTATTCE ♦♦♦

Maman Abd Shakur

2 - 3 Free page

She passed through the zaure, glancing at the almajirai before stepping outside the front of the house toward Baba, who had been watching her ever since she emerged. She squatted in front of him, screwing up her face as if she were about to cry, and said softly, "Baba, I am going to school, but I haven't eaten anything because lunch isn't ready yet."

Malam merely shook his head, knowing his daughter's habits well. He reached into the pocket of his large gown, pulled out a hundred-naira note, and handed it to her. She took it eagerly with a smile. "Thank you, my Baba. May Allah reward you. I'm leaving now."

"And how is your stomach?" he asked calmly.

She stood up, trying to tuck the money into her bag. "It stopped hurting a while ago, Baba. I'm going."

"Safe journey."

She turned and left, glancing back at the zaure. She walked down their street, which was lined with neem (dogon yaro) trees, hurrying so she could reach the main road and catch a bus to school. She darted into a small, modest house along their street, running in quickly because she was in a rush. An elderly woman was sitting in the courtyard frying waina (rice cakes). Walking up to her slowly like a fragile eggshell, Balkisu stood over her before the woman even noticed, and suddenly burst into tears.

Alarmed, the woman held her hands to her cheeks. "What has been done to you now, you queen of pampering, you lover of comfort, Balkisu?"

Balkisu burst into louder sobs, stamping her foot on the ground. "I haven't been well since morning, and you just sit here frying waina, Baaba!"

Panicking, the woman exclaimed, "Me? My child, you know that if I had known you weren't well, I would have dropped this waina immediately and come to you. Stop crying! Tell me, did your stomach act up again?"

Balkisu nodded, wiping her tears. Baaba said, "Go inside the room, grab your food flask, and I'll fill it with waina for you to take. Look, you're already late today."

Balkisu hurried into Baaba's room, reaching for her flask. "Baaba, where is Muji?"

From outside, Baaba called out, "He went out with his Keke NAPEP to look for passengers. He only just picked it up from the garage today."

Just then, Balkisu came out and handed the flask to Baaba, who filled it with plenty of waina, sprinkled a generous amount of groundnut cake (kuli-kuli) on top, closed it, handed it back, and pulled out a fifty-naira note. "Here, have a safe trip."

Taking the flask, Balkisu said, "Keep the money, Baba already gave me some. I'm leaving, Baaba, see you later."

"Safe journey, blessed child. No playing around in class, you hear me, my child?"

She walked out smiling, deeply fond of Baaba, who was actually her mother's older sister. That was what they called her. After Baaba married and gave birth to Mujittapa (Mustapha), her firstborn, their mother had come to help her out with childcare before she herself was married. Malam saw her, fell for her, and insisted on marrying her. Sometime later, they traveled back to their village near Gombe—Bojude village—long before their parents passed away, and the wedding was held, bringing her into Malam's household. Umma had no issues with this, and Malam treated them equally, living in peace. Malam had eight children in total: Umma's five sons were all sent by Malam to Niger to study Islamic jurisprudence under a close friend and scholar at a major institution. They had been gone for a month now and wouldn't return for five years, as the school grants a formal certificate upon completion. Then there were the three daughters born to the senior wife: Balkisu, Raiyana, and Layla. Malam enrolled all of them in the Government Girls Secondary School; Raiyana and Layla attended the morning shift, while Balkisu, being in Senior Secondary (SS), attended the afternoon shift.

She reached the main road and stood waiting for a bus. She noticed a blind woman and her young daughter begging by the roadside shops, complaining that they hadn't eaten since morning. Filled with pity, she watched as they retreated to a concrete ledge and sat down, the little girl crying. Rummaging through her bag, Balkisu pulled out the hundred-naira note Baba had given her, walked over to the ledge where they sat, and knelt down. The little girl was crying from hunger while her mother tried to soothe her. Gently, Balkisu pressed the hundred-naira note into the little girl's hand with a smile. "Stop crying, here you go."

The little girl took it and told her mother. The woman was overjoyed. "Thank you, my child. May the Almighty bless you and protect your children."

Balkisu laughed brightly. "Amen, but I'm not married yet, Mama."

The blind woman beamed. "Then may the Almighty grant you a righteous husband who will bring you more joy than you can imagine!"

Softly, Balkisu replied, "Amen, thank you." She waved to the little child, turned, flagged down an oncoming bus, and hopped in. She waved back at the little girl until the bus pulled away and they were out of sight.

Luck was on her side; when she arrived at school, they were just about to lock the gates for latecomers. She rushed to the mosque to pray quickly, then hurried to her classroom. The moment she stepped inside, the entire class fell silent, everyone staring at her, which made her heart flutter nervously. She walked past the second row of desks, heading to her usual seat, but saw that Aisha Shehu and the others had blocked it, and Walawa was sitting in her place.

Frowning, Balkisu walked up to Walawa and said, "Get out of my seat right now, that's supposed to be where you sit." She pointed to the desk behind them.

Walawa rolled her eyes, ignoring her, and continued drawing flowers on a piece of paper. Aisha Shehu and the others snickered quietly, because Walawa had deliberately sat there just to provoke her. Seeing that Walawa completely ignored her made Balkisu furious. She snatched the pen right out of Walawa's hand and snapped angrily, "I'm talking to you! I said get up."

As if waiting for that exact cue, Walawa stood up, jaw clenched, glaring at Fateema and Fa'iza nearby who were also stifling laughs. "Move aside, let me get away from this misfortune," Walawa muttered.

The girls shifted their legs, and Walawa began to walk out. Just as Balkisu stepped up to her seat, waiting for Walawa to clear the way so she could enter with a scowl on her face, Walawa reached out as she passed close by and playfully groped Balkisu's breast.

Startled, Balkisu dropped to a crouch right there on the floor, letting out a shriek. "Oh my God!" She wrapped her arms around herself.

Instantly, the whole classroom erupted into laughter and shouting. Aisha Shehu and Fa'iza banged on their desks, laughing hysterically. Walawa ran toward the door, squatting down outside while clutching her stomach in fits of laughter. The entire class was howling.

Aisha Shehu called out, "There isn't a single girl in this class whose boobs haven't been touched, except you, Malam's daughter! Well, someone finally touched them today, and look how big they are!"

Everyone laughed and drummed on their desks, thoroughly enjoying the spicy gossip. Balkisu wiped away her tears, stood up, marched right up to Aisha Shehu, and said, "At least I'm not a loose girl like you lot who play around with touching breasts at school!" With that, she turned toward the door where Walawa was.

Aisha Shehu glared after her. "Who are you calling loose? It's just a joke, everyone in this class has had theirs touched except you. Isn't that right?" she asked Fa'iza and Fateema, who were still giggling and holding their stomachs, thrilled by how easily Balkisu, Malam's pious daughter, had been caught off guard today. Since she was the only one who usually refused such nonsense, everyone was having a field day.

Balkisu marched up to Walawa. Even before Balkisu reached her, Walawa held up her hands defensively while laughing. "Come on, Billy, Malam's daughter, take it easy! I was just joking, I didn't mean anything by it, I just touched you because I knew you wouldn't like it. I swear I won't do it again. Please forgive me!"

Balkisu grabbed her and gave her a sharp shove on the back just as the English teacher walked into the class, causing everyone to scramble back to their seats and quiet down. (Oya, name what you used to do back in secondary school? Especially those who went to all-girls schools! 😂)

Around 4:00 PM, they went out for break and prayer. After praying, her friends—Aisha Shehu, Walawa, Fa'iza, and Fateema—shared the waina with her. When they finished eating, they returned to the classroom. School was finally dismissed around 5:30 PM. They all walked out together down to the main road, boarded a bus, and headed home.

Balkisu stopped by Umma's house first to drop off her food flask, then stepped outside their front door where she ran into Isyaka performing ablution for the Maghrib prayer. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. She rushed inside, greeted Baba, and went into the inner courtyard. No one was in the courtyard; everyone had retreated to their rooms. She drew water into a small kettle, headed to the outdoor bathroom, performed her ablution after coming out, and entered their room.

She found Mama, Raiyana, and Layla performing the Maghrib prayer, so she sat on a chair and reached out to light the lantern. Once it was lit, they finished their prayers. Layla stood up first, followed by Raiyana, and they all gathered around her. Layla asked, "What did you bring for us from school, Anty Baby?"

Smiling, Balkisu opened her bag, pulled out some guava and sweets, and handed them over. The girls took them happily.

Mama shot her a sharp look. "That's all you ever think about."

Laughing, Balkisu stood up, put on her hijab, and performed her Maghrib prayer. As soon as she finished, she rested her head on Mama's lap and whispered, "Mama, I am so hungry."

Mama reached out, pulled the food flask of tuwo (swallowed corn/millet meal) closer to her, and said, "Here, dish some out for you and your siblings to eat."

Balkisu got up, grabbed a tray, dished out the tuwo, poured the soup over it, and turned to Raiyana and Layla. "Come down, let's eat."

They climbed down and reached for the food, but Mama glared at Balkisu. "Aren't you going to go take off those school uniform clothes first?"

Looking like she was about to cry, Balkisu stood up, walked into the main room, shed her uniform, and emerged wrapped in a wrapper tied around her chest, pouting. Then they all dug in together.

Meanwhile, a doctor stood over an elderly man of at least 75 years old—around President Buhari's age 😂—inside a massive, luxurious living room, muttering deliriously, "My Dr. Ayaan, you must bring him to me... Ayaan."

He fell silent as the doctor administered an injection. At that exact moment, a security guard in uniform appeared at the entrance of the living room, seeking permission to enter. The woman sitting in the room, dressed in exquisite attire, granted him permission. He stepped forward holding an iPad.

He walked up to Baba Sule, who was the uncle of the ailing elderly man, and said respectfully, "Alhaji, this is the CCTV footage from the day Ayaan first fell ill in his wing, and the time he left the house."

He turned to the woman, who sat resting her chin in her hands, staring anxiously at the sick man's face. "Hajiya, you need to see this as well. One of the maids brought him food while he was in the garden, claiming you sent her to take it to him. According to the CCTV footage, after eating that food, he immediately fell ill, and then..." He paused worriedly. "You should watch it yourself; perhaps you'll recognize the maid, because we need to find her—she surely knows something about his disappearance."

The woman, addressed as Hajiya, stood up, walked over to sit beside Baba Sule with a heavy heart, and began to watch. From the moment she started watching, she pressed her hands to her chest, uttering invocations, before bursting into bitter tears. She turned to Baba Sule. "Baba Sule, where has my son gone? How and where will we ever find him now after he left like this? Innalillahi wa innalillahi raji'un, what kind of calamity is this..." She trailed off, seeing that the sick man had stirred again. He reached out, grabbed the hand of the doctor standing over him, and whispered, "Where is my Ayaan? Tell me, where did you take him?"

[7/15, 12:17 PM] Ummi Tandama: ♦♦♦ SANGARTATTCE ♦♦♦

Maman Abd Shakur

5... Free page

The wind and the calls to the Maghrib prayer entered her ears, piercing straight to her brain. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Seeing where she was, she jerked upright in sheer panic, reciting Ayatul Kursiyu while every part of her body shook. The sound of something banging startled her even more, causing the crazed figure to spin around and look at her. She began crawling backward against the wall, trembling uncontrollably...

Summary

The narrative introduces Balkisu, a pampered and dramatic young woman living in a traditional Hausa household headed by her father, an Islamic scholar (Malam). Balkisu is suffering from a mysterious, painful abdominal swelling that her father attempts to treat with spiritual remedies (prayers blown over water), while her mother and peers alternate between scolding her dramatics and showing affection. Despite her illness, Balkisu insists on attending school, where she is caught off guard by a prank from a classmate, Walawa, leading to playful classroom drama. Alongside her domestic and school life, the story weaves in subplots involving her family, her affection for her maternal aunt (Baaba), her kindness to beggars, and a parallel high-society mystery involving an elderly elite family searching for a missing young man named Ayaan who was seemingly poisoned or abducted.

Description

Set against the vibrant backdrop of Northern Nigerian domestic life, Sangartattce explores the contrast between strict traditional/religious scholarship settings (the almajiri system and scholarly households) and modern adolescent school life. The prose captures authentic cultural nuances, interpersonal dynamics between co-wives and children, playful secondary school rivalries, and dramatic tension juxtaposed with sudden shifts into high-stakes mystery and suspense.

Analytics

• Character Dynamics: Strong focus on maternal figures (Umma, Mama, Baaba) balancing tough love with indulgence, highlighting Balkisu's position as a cherished yet dramatic figure (sangartattce).
• Cultural Realism: Rich depiction of everyday Northern Nigerian routines—almajiri education, home-cooked meals (tuwo, waina), traditional healing methods (rubutun addu'a), and public transport (Keke NAPEP, minibuses).
• Plot Structure: Alternates between slice-of-life domestic comedy/drama (Balkisu's stomach pain, school pranks) and thriller elements (the elite family mystery surrounding Ayaan's disappearance), building narrative suspense across chapters.

Comments

The opening chapters successfully establish a lively, relatable atmosphere filled with humor, cultural authenticity, and emotional stakes. Balkisu's character is vivid—simultaneously vulnerable, dramatic, and endearing. The transition into the subplot involving Ayaan adds an intriguing layer of mystery that elevates the story beyond a simple slice-of-life romance/drama, promising higher conflicts to come.

Conclusions

Sangartattce by Maman Abd Shakur establishes an engaging narrative framework by blending lighthearted cultural comedy with domestic realism and sudden dramatic suspense. It effectively hooks the reader through relatable characters, cultural immersion, and unfolding mysteries.

Keywords

Hausa literature, Sangartattce, Maman Abd Shakur, Northern Nigerian culture, almajiri, secondary school drama, family dynamics, fiction translation, mystery subplot.

Extended Summary

The narrative opens with a dramatic scene in a traditional Northern Nigerian household. Balkisu, a vivacious and pampered young woman, is suffering from a severe, unexplained abdominal swelling and sharp pain. Her father, a revered Islamic scholar (Malam), attempts to heal her through spiritual water prayers (rubutun addu'a), while her mother and senior co-wife alternate between scolding her dramatics and caring for her. Despite her illness, Balkisu insists on getting ready for school. Along the way, she visits her beloved maternal aunt (Baaba), who spoils her with food (waina), and she shares a tender moment of charity by giving her bus fare to a blind beggar and her child.

At school, Balkisu faces an unexpected and embarrassing prank when her classmate, Walawa, gropes her breast—a rare violation of personal boundaries that shocks the usually proud student and throws the classroom into uproar. After a day filled with adolescent banter and meals shared with friends, Balkisu returns home to her responsibilities, her family, and a warm evening routine.

Midway through the text, the narrative shifts abruptly to a high-society, high-stakes mystery. In a luxurious, sprawling mansion, an elderly patriarch is deliriously calling out for someone named "Ayaan." Security footage reveals a sinister plot: a maid allegedly sent by the lady of the house delivered poisoned food to Ayaan in the garden, shortly before he fell violently ill and mysteriously disappeared. The chapter concludes with a jarring transition back to Balkisu, who wakes up terrified in an unfamiliar, ominous setting, cornered by a raving, crazed figure.

Extended Description

Sangartattce by Maman Abd Shakur provides a multi-layered exploration of Northern Nigerian society, weaving together contrasting social strata. On one hand, it immerses the reader in the bustling, communal, and deeply traditional rhythm of a scholar’s household—complete with the hum of almajirai reciting from wooden slates, the smoke of outdoor cooking fires, and the tight-knit dynamics of a polygamous family. On the other hand, it captures the vibrant, modern-day reality of secondary school culture with its playful teenage gossip, harmless hazing, and social hierarchies.

The story thrives on vivid sensory details: the smell of neem (dogon yaro) trees, the taste of freshly fried waina and tuwo, the sharp sting of discipline, and the comforting warmth of familial bonds. By anchoring the plot in authentic cultural nuances—such as traditional healing practices existing side-by-side with modern schooling—the author builds a rich, textured world. This domestic realism is sharply contrasted with a parallel thriller plot involving wealth, elite family secrets, corporate intrigue, and a sudden disappearance, setting up a collision course between two entirely different worlds.

Extended Analytics

• Character Archetypes & Contrasts: Balkisu embodies the classic sangartattce (spoiled/pampered favorite)—she is simultaneously dramatic, deeply affectionate, resilient, and prone to playing the victim. Her character contrasts sharply with the disciplined, stoic nature expected of a Malam's daughter.
• Thematic Dualism (Tradition vs. Modernity): The narrative constantly bridges traditional religious life (the almajiri system, reliance on spiritual remedies over Western medicine) with contemporary youth culture (girls in government secondary schools navigating teenage pranks, fashion, and social bonds).
• Pacing and Narrative Shifts: The author utilizes a dual-narrative structure. The primary storyline follows the intimate, slow-burn slice-of-life comedy of Balkisu's daily routines, while the secondary storyline interjects with high-tension, cinematic mystery tropes (CCTV footage, elite family betrayals, medical emergencies), keeping the reader hooked through tonal whiplash.
• Social Realism and Empathy: Balkisu’s interaction with the blind beggar highlights underlying themes of compassion and social consciousness, grounding her character's flaws with genuine warmth and kindness.

Extended Comments

The strength of Sangartattce lies in its ability to make everyday domestic scenes feel intensely alive and entertaining. The dialogue flows with natural Hausa colloquialisms and cultural flavor, making characters like Balkisu, her mother, and her aunt feel like real people rather than flat archetypes. The school scene involving the breast-grope prank captures the raw, unfiltered, and sometimes ruthless nature of all-girls school dynamics with striking accuracy.

Furthermore, the introduction of the Ayaan mystery injects an unexpected layer of suspense. While the beginning reads like a charming domestic comedy/drama, the sudden pivot to a high-stakes poisoning and kidnapping investigation elevates the narrative stakes significantly. It transforms the book from a standard regional romance/drama into a gripping page-turner, leaving readers eager to see how Balkisu's seemingly ordinary life will intersect with the dark secrets of the elite upper class.