“Wallahi, Ammi, I don’t like hawking… When we go to Daura Garage, most of the men there are thugs,” she said.
Ammi opened her mouth in surprise as Dije continued:
“They say they must touch someone before they buy her fura…”
Ammi’s eyes widened in shock. She looked at her daughter’s small chest, where tiny, barely-developed breasts showed.
“Wallahi, Ammi, yesterday one told me to sit on his lap before he would buy all the fura…” she burst into tears.
Quickly, Ammi took the tray down from her head.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
“Wallahi, Ammi… I’m serious… it’s like that every day. Some of them are older than Uncle Nanu, but they’re all useless men. Wallahi, Ammi, I don’t want to hawk anymore…” she cried heavily.
Slowly, Ammi sat on the small stool in front of her and held her head in her hands as tears began to fall.
“Oh Allah… here we are before You… here is Your orphaned child before You… oh Lord, don’t let anything happen to this orphan girl…” she prayed through tears.
She looked at Dije, who was still crying.
“Dije… if I knew what else to do, I swear you wouldn’t hawk again… but you yourself know the condition we’re living in… Are you full from the noodles you ate?” Ammi asked.
Through tears, Dije nodded “yes.”
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