When she saw her coming, he bowed his head. She approached and angrily shouted, “By your father, is this how you treat me?” She tried to strike her. Shahida put up her hand defensively, her eyes overflowing with tears. In distress she said, “Stand up — let’s go to the madman who stole my money.”
As she tried to defend herself, she opened her mouth to speak but was snapped at — which made her jump up quickly and follow behind, continuing to insult her mother who did not know what was happening.
By the time they reached the roadside, people were talking and asking what was happening. As she walked she answered, and some laughed, others followed behind to mock her.
He stood holding a sack, appearing to be moving away from his place. She grabbed her hand and they reached where he was.
He stared at them. She looked at him intending to insult him fiercely, but when she saw his eyes — which seemed to have a strange intensity — her body froze and she could not form a word, only hanging her head.
Their eyes met; then she quickly lowered hers because of the chill that ran through her body. In his gaze there was a secret he himself did not know he had.
Then the neighbor asked, “What is it? Are you going to check for the money?”
She could only lift her head a little and could not look at him. Baba Asabe insisted, “Listen, Malam — stop this! We will not accept the idea that you are not a madman. You came into this neighborhood with bad intentions, so that four thousand naira of mine which you stole — bring it out or sleep at the police station.”
He gazed at her with charming, gentle eyes.
A man standing nearby said, “Mother, let it be. Have you ever seen a madman punished by law? I’m sure Baban-Baba would never steal your money. What would he do with it? Someone without a mind — if you don’t believe me, take action, but I warn you that you’ll suffer. No one will listen to you.”
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