"Sir, please have mercy on me. Today, for the love of God, let me in! This is my third week of coming here on patrol, and you’ve been denying me entry," a woman in dire straits pleaded. She looked about 25 years old, but due to severe hardship, her appearance had aged her significantly. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, her hijab was tattered as if it had been through a storm, and her feet were worn out, as if she had walked across Nigeria on foot, with calluses and cuts. At first glance, one might think she was forty.

Clinging to the iron bars of the gate, she begged the security guard who was leaning against the gate, seemingly oblivious to her presence as he fiddled with his old Nokia phone. It was clear from his nonchalant attitude that he was used to her pleas.

Exhausted from begging, she let out a long sigh, tears of pain streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh Allah, Oh King who created both the poor and the rich, who made the cruel and the oppressed, my Lord, please send someone who will have mercy on me, who will look at my suffering," she prayed, her voice breaking as a sob choked her and she struggled to breathe.

Alhaji Saddam Mamman, as if jolted, glanced at the clock mounted in his spacious office. Realizing it was time for the Zuhr prayer, he stood up quickly. As he stepped out of his office, his employees, who had been waiting for him, followed closely behind as they all headed to the mosque situated at the back of the premises.

---

**Rewrite:**

"Sir, for the love of God, let me in today! This is the third week I've been coming here, and you keep denying me entry," pleaded a distressed woman who appeared to be about 25 years old, though the severity of her hardship made her look much older. Her dry, cracked lips were bleeding, and her hijab was so tattered it looked like it had been used as a plaything. Her feet were as if she had walked across Nigeria barefoot, swollen and covered in cuts. At first glance, one would easily mistake her for forty.

Clinging to the iron bars of the gate, she continued begging the security guard, who was leaning against the gate, engrossed in his old Nokia phone, seemingly unaware of her pleas. His demeanor indicated he was quite accustomed to her persistent begging.

Exhausted, she let out a deep sigh, tears of pain rolling down her cheeks.

"Oh Allah, Oh King who created both the poor and the rich, who made the