(10 years later… Morning. The house is busy as the children prepare for school.)
Abdulrahman: Mum! I can’t find my socks.
Grace: (calling out) I’m coming, honey… Where is that witch? Fati!
Fatimah: (running in, out of breath) Yes, mom!
Grace: Were you deaf before? Can’t you hear when I call you?
Fatimah: I’m sorry, mom.
Grace: Sorry for yourself. Now go and find Abdulrahman’s socks for me.
Fatimah: But mom… I saw when he put the socks inside his bag yesterday.
Abdulrahman: (defensive) Which time? Mom, she’s lying on my head oh! I don’t know where the socks are.
Fatimah: (pleading) Mom, he just wants you to get him new socks. Please, ask him to check his bag.
Grace: (flaring up) Are you okay at all? Is that how you talk to me?
Fatimah: No mom… I’m sorry. But I’m not lying—just ask him to open his school bag.
Sulaiman: (entering) What’s going on here? Why all the shouting? Fatimah, what happened?
Grace: (hissing) So you can’t ask me what happened? She’s the one worth asking, right?
Sulaiman: (calmly) Because I know she’s the only one who won’t lie right now. My dear, what happened?
Fatimah: (scratching her neck nervously) Daddy… ehm…
Sulaiman: Can’t you talk?
Abdulrahman: (quickly) Daddy, she stole my socks!
Fatimah: (shocked, raising her voice) Ehhhh?!
Grace: Yes! Exactly. And she’s still denying it.
Sulaiman: She stole your socks? For what?
Abdulrahman: I don’t know, dad. Please, hurry and find it—I’m late for school.
Fatimah: (pleading with tears in her eyes) Daddy, I swear I didn’t steal it. Just ask him to check his bag. I saw him yesterday when he kept it there!
Grace: (mocking) And how did you know he kept it there if you’re not lying? It must be you that hid it there just to frame my son.
Sulaiman: (firm) Okay, enough. Abdulrahman, give me your bag.
Abdulrahman: (hesitant) Dad, I’m telling you it’s not there.
Sulaiman: (stern) I said give me your bag before I spank you!
(Abdulrahman reluctantly hands over his bag. Sulaiman opens it—inside are the missing socks. The room goes silent.)
Sulaiman: (holding up the socks) So… who is lying now?
Grace: (quickly) Honey, you don’t know this girl. She must have put it there herself, then pretended to be innocent.
Sulaiman: (examining them) See how dirty the socks are. Anyway, I’m late for work. (He pecks Grace on the cheek.) Bye.
Grace: Bye, dear.
(The door closes. Instantly, Grace’s face hardens. She pounces on Fatimah like a wild cat.)
Grace: You little witch! I’ll nearly kill you today!
Fatimah: (screaming) Yeeeehhhhh! Mummy! Sorry! Daddy! Help me!
(Grace beats and slaps her mercilessly for five minutes, before throwing the socks at her.)
Grace: Now! Go and wash these socks till they shine like new—or else you are dead in this house!
Abdulrahman: (smiling proudly) Yes, mummy!
But I still want new socks.
Fatimah: (crying bitterly, clutching her body) Ahhhhhh! But mummy, I’m late for school too.
Grace: (raising her hand) You must be stupid. Before I open my eyes, you better be washing it already. Foolish girl!
(Fatimah runs off, weeping. Hours pass. She scrubs and washes the socks, her tiny hands raw and trembling. Finally, she enters the living room, shivering, holding the socks.)
Fatimah: (weakly) Mom… I’m done washing it.
Grace: (without looking up) Let me see it… or must I come to where you are standing?
Fatimah: (quickly moves closer, trembling) Here it is, ma.
(Water drips from the socks onto the tiled floor. Grace’s eyes flash with rage. She slaps Fatimah hard across the face.)
Grace: Are you blind? See how you’ve littered my house with water! Your senses didn’t tell you to bring a bucket?
Fatimah: (bursting into tears) Yeeeehhhhh!
(Grace snatches the socks, throws them to the ground, and grinds them under her feet.)
Grace: Now take it—rewash it! This time it must shine like the morning sun.
Fatimah: (falling to her knees, sobbing) Please, mom. It’s already 10 a.m. I’ll be late for school.
Grace: School? (laughs wickedly) Do you think you’re going to school? Evil children like you are not needed in school—you’re needed here, working day and night. After you mop this entire sitting room, you’ll rewash the socks.
Fatimah: (voice shaking, pleading) But mom, I already mopped this morning.
Grace: (hissing, raising her hand again) Was I the one who poured water on the floor? See—if I should stand up, you’ll regret the day you were born.
Fatimah: (sobbing) But please ma… I’m hungry. My body is shaking.
Grace: That’s your problem. Finish your work. You still have more waiting.
Fatimah: (falling to the ground, weeping bitterly) Please mummy!
Grace: (yelling) If I stand up from here, I will kill you today! Better move!
(Fatimah stumbles back into the bathroom, crying, dragging her little feet.)
Three Hours Later.
(Grace throws a plate of food on the floor before Fatimah.)
Grace: Here! Eat your stupid food.
(Fatimah rushes to it and eats ravenously, not even noticing it is cold and burnt. She eats like a child starved for days.)
Grace: (watching with disgust) See how she’s eating like an animal. Anyway—when you’re done, go and pick beans for me. You hear?
Fatimah: (murmuring with food in her mouth) Yes, ma.
(She continues eating in silence, tears mixing with each bite.)
AT NIGHT
(The family sits around the dining table, eating dinner. The clinking of spoons and plates fills the silence.)
Abdulrahman: Daddy, we were asked to bring our Home Economics practical fee.
Sulaiman: How much is that?
Abdulrahman: ₦1000, sir.
Sulaiman: Okay… but Fatimah asked for hers since last week.
Grace: (interrupting) But my son needs his urgently, now.
Sulaiman: (frowning) So you want to decide for me now? I’ll give Fatimah first. I’ll give you yours tomorrow. Speaking of Fatimah—where is she?
Grace: (shrugs coldly) I don’t know for her oh.
Sulaiman: (raising his voice) Fatimah!!!
Fatimah: (rushing in, bowing slightly) Sir! Good evening, Daddy.
Sulaiman: Evening, my dear. How was school today?
Fatimah: (glances quickly at Grace, then whispers) Fine, sir.
Sulaiman: Why aren’t you eating? (turns to Grace) Where is her food?
Grace: (indifferently) It’s in the kitchen. Let her go and get it.
Sulaiman: (smiles kindly) Oya, go and get your food, my dear, so you can join us.
Fatimah: Yes, Daddy. (She walks to the kitchen, finds her plate uncovered, the food cold and dry. She carries it carefully and returns to the table.)
Sulaiman: (looking at her plate) Ahh, why is your amala this dry?
(Nobody answers. Fatimah quietly sits, forcing herself to eat, her face heavy with sadness.)
Sulaiman: (pulls out a ₦500 note and hands it to her) Here, my dear—your practical money you asked for.
Fatimah: (eyes lighting up, smiling for the first time) Thank you, Daddy.
Sulaiman: You’re welcome, my princess.
(Grace and Abdulrahman exchange furious looks.)
Blessing: Daddy, you promised to buy chocolate for me.
Sulaiman: Iyami Asake! Who am I to forget? Go to my bag in the room—on the bed, you’ll see it.
Blessing: (squeals with joy and runs to the room)
Grace: (leaning closer, sweet voice masking bitterness) Honey, I need ₦5000 for my friend’s naming ceremony.
Sulaiman: (sighs) I’m sorry, honey. That will be next week. I promise.
Grace: (mocking tone) But you can give Fatimah money, abi?
Sulaiman: (irritated) Ah, it’s just ₦500. And you know she’s been asking since last week.
Grace: (forces a smile) Okay o.
(Blessing runs back in, holding her chocolate, beaming with happiness.)
Blessing: Thanks, Daddy! I saw it.
Sulaiman: Good. (He stands and stretches) I’m off to bed. Good night, family.
All: Good night, Daddy.
(He exits to his room. The moment he disappears, Grace’s face changes. She suddenly shoves Fatimah against the wall, her eyes burning with rage.)
Grace: (through clenched teeth) Give me that money.
Fatimah: (shaking, holding the note tightly) But mom… it’s for my school practical.
Grace: (snapping) I said give me that money before I strangle your neck!
(Fatimah, trembling, slowly hands the note over. Grace snatches it, stuffs it into her bra, and straightens up with pride.)
Grace: Nonsense. (turns, smiling sweetly at the others) Good night, my two lovely children.
(She walks majestically into her room.)
Abdulrahman: (mocking, grinning at Fatimah) Good night, Mom. Ntorr!
(Fatimah stares at him, then breaks down, sobbing loudly at the table, her food untouched.)
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