ZUCIYARMU DAYA

About this Novel

She sat on the worn-out bed where her father had been bedridden for the past two years. Tears streamed down her face, reflecting the pain and hardships they endured. At just seventeen, she should have been enjoying her youth, but instead, she was taking care of her sick father and trying to make ends meet. The room they were in was devoid of any comfort or luxury. It contained only an old mattress on which her father lay for days on end. The entire house was in a state of disrepair, with crumbling walls and broken rooms, indicating the desperate conditions they lived in. Wiping her tears with her tattered sleeves, she mustered the strength to get up and leave the room slowly. She prayed fervently that her missing brother would return before her father's health deteriorated further. In a trembling voice, she whispered, "Father, I speak of you and pray for you, Lokoja, as you are not here, and your health is not improving. Father, I wish to hold you in my arms before I depart from this world. Nobody knows our struggles, and if I leave, you will be alone, facing hatred and hardship." Her cries filled the room, and her father's eyes were also brimming with tears.