In another part of the village of Biu, a storm was brewing. Being the rainy season, everywhere was lush and green. The fields were flourishing, and every inch of land was covered in greenery. I walked, almost stumbling, as I couldn't see clearly due to the hunger gnawing at my insides. A prayer sat on my lips, asking that the rain hold off, as I would have to find shelter if it started raining, which would delay me further and result in punishment. Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly felt a raindrop on my hand. Quickly, I dashed towards a tree to take cover, reciting the prayers that Malam Baffa had taught us in the Islamic school.

The rain poured down with force, accompanied by wind and thunder. I was scared, my mind racing back to home. I prayed that Inna wouldn't punish me too harshly and would give me food. I hoped she wouldn’t save my meal from earlier and that the goat hadn’t eaten it again, as they would blame me and refuse to give me more. 

Resigned to my fate, I continued with my chores until evening when I set out to the mill to grind the grains. My mood was sour, remembering the long line at the mill. If I hadn't cried earlier, I would still be stuck there. Lost in these thoughts, a loud thunderclap startled me. I crouched down, huddling over the grain bowl to protect it from the rain, as I knew Inna would scold me severely if the grains got wet.

In my anxious state, I saw someone approaching with an umbrella. He moved quickly through the rain, and when he noticed me, he smiled. He came over and covered me with his umbrella.

"Haba, Shatu! Haba, Shatu! Inna is at home cursing and worrying about you because you haven't come back yet, and now it's raining heavily," he said.

I smiled, knowing that Lawandi could hear everything Inna said because their hut was close to ours. I looked up and said, "Yes, Lawandi, I got caught in the rain and I'm afraid the rain will ruin the grains."

"Let's hurry, the rain has lightened up a bit," he said.

We walked together, with him telling me funny stories that made me laugh heartily. Somehow, whenever I was in a tough spot, Allah always sent him to help me out. As we neared home, we saw my younger brother Habu, our mother's son, coming towards us, wiping his tears. I stopped, watching him because I knew his tears meant trouble. When he saw me, he ran over and said...