ZAYYANA

About this Novel

A broken-down jeep beckoned to you,Across the street, the Marsandi company parked,A recluse in a Kano city corner.For onlookers, unable to see inside,The car's tinted windows concealed its guest.Late in the night, the front door creaked open,Revealing a graceful lady stepping out,Her gait akin to an Arab dancer's moves. Outside the car, sand gracefully slipped,As it fell from her elegant sandal,Symbolic of the flowing water's graceIn the dawn of God's blessed city, Azahar.Though called "yellow water," it persisted,Even when the sun had only reached three. The car door widened, and another figure emerged,A tall and striking arrival, akin to a snake.A true beauty to anyone's discerning eye,With legs as enchanting as those of an Arab.Yet, her heritage was contrary to appearances,A secret only known to her and her kin. She stood at the car's door,Adjusting her vibrant red scarf,Her silk dress flowing elegantly,And she revealed a white lemon-like object,A water sprinkler, an earthly beauty's gift. Not far away, four beautiful girls sat inside,Wearing white shoes reminiscent of Arabian children.Their faces showed signs of wisdom, and their allure was undeniable.