DAULAH

A Purpose Amidst Choas

"Know that the soul becomes rusty, just as iron becomes rusty when it is not used, and it becomes shiny and bright when it is in use. The soul rusts with idleness and shines with action. The soul becomes blind with ignorance and sees with knowledge. The soul becomes weak with laziness and strong with striving. The soul becomes poor with desires and rich with contentment. The soul becomes dead with sins and alive with good deeds. So, polish your soul with actions, illuminate it with knowledge, strengthen it with striving, enrich it with contentment, and revive it with good deeds."

- Imam Al-Ghazali

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Daulah

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Karima's text reply comes in as I slid out of the car. She is with Sheikh but she will be done in five. I text back.

"I am outside waiting for you,"

Leaning against the car, I scan the familiar neighborhood that seems not to have gone through much of a change in decades. By the roadside spread on the ground are silver trays containing boiled groundnuts and my eyes travel up to the hawkers, a group of four little girls ranging about the age of six to ten, each sitting in front of her goods, their youth contrasting the hardship evident in their tattered clothings. They seem to study me as well as their eyes roam over me, and then whispers are exchanged amongst themselves followed by mischievous giggles and snickers.

I feel my brows furrow.

I am certain there are no moles on my face or thorns on my head, so I wonder what they find amusing in me. On any other day, I wouldn't pay heed to some little girls gawking and laughing in my direction, but I have plenty of time to spare today so I will indulge.

I approach the girls and position myself in front of them, sensing their unease as they fidget and exchange nervous glances. Attempting a friendly demeanor, I address them,

"Hey there, what's going on? What's so amusing about me?" I remain relaxed in both posture and voice, though I'm certain they understand my intent to address their behavior, evident in their fretted expressions.

They stay quiet, continuing to observe me with tense eyes. I offer another reassuring smile, crouching down to their eye level, bridging the gap between us with a gesture that conveys they are not in trouble.

"I thought you were laughing at me, so I'd like to understand what's amusing you." I address them with a smile, noticing the tension gradually dissipating. They continue to gaze at me, seemingly not understanding a thing I said. Perhaps they didn't grasp my English.

"Nace ko me kukeyi wa dariya?" I switch to the native Hausa language, acknowledging my limited proficiency in it, it's not on the standard level, but it looks like the situation requires I communicate with it. They seem to comprehend now, exchanging glances while suppressing laughter. Eventually, one of them musters the courage to speak after a silent debate among them using eye contact.

"Safara'u ce tace kinyi kama da opisa." (Safara'u said you look like an officer.) The girl at the end of the row is pointed out as Safara'u.

Intrigued, I maintain a friendly expression and inquire further.

"Waye officer? Kuma taya mukayi kama?" (Who is the officer? Why do I resemble him? I inquire in surprise, seeking clarification.

One of the girls promptly responds, indicating their growing ease with the conversation. "Dan sanda ne, gilashin ku iri daya ne shiyasa kukayi kama." (He is a police officer in this area. You wear similar glasses to his, hence the resemblance.) The other three girls erupt in laughter upon hearing this explanation. I realize that the source of their amusement is the dark sunglasses that I wore, unintentionally resembling the local policeman. I can't help but join in their laughter.