Today was a bust for me. I lay on the mat under the neem tree standing directly opposite my door and my eyes were fixed to the space between the leaves on its branches as if searching for sky or God’s location. I tried to move my legs but having become heavy, they trembled. I stood up and begin to unclench my fists; Even though I wanted to loll there more than the time I had spent, I couldn’t maybe it was because the atmosphere was too silent for my nature. I needed some music which I was already addicted to, to keep me going in my lonely atmosphere.

The wind swarmed heavily and as if it has gotten its voice, it whispers severally as though someone were in a discussion with it.  I stood up and staggered inside where I kept my MP3 player, which I met with a dead battery but I wasn’t angry anyway, for I already knew the nature of the power supply in my locality.

Sluggishly I went back to my resting place. By this time I knew the only option left for me was to listen to Radio with my NOKIA touch light phone. Luckily for me, the first station I tuned in to was playing music, but there was something about it. LADIDI BABA was the title. To me the song is a memory, a living life or perhaps an invisible beating heart. The song reminds me of Zahra’u so much that I almost shed tears. The story of the song and the story of Zahra’u are edge in that special part of my heart. This memory began some days that has turned to almost 3 years now. 
That day when so much had happened, I came back from school after my normal evening reading and began to wash some of my dirty clothes, which I couldn’t wash over the weekend because of the rain that has refused to stop. I was still washing when she came into the compound singing on the top of her own voice the song “LADIDI BABA” which was unlike a typical Fulani girl. Immediately she saw me she paused and gave me that killer smile of hers and shouted “ba hausa” (she calls me by that name which means one who does not understand Hausa) “should I helep (help) you?” jokingly, which I answered yes jokingly too.

She went inside her room and changed her clothes to her normal house gown. She hardly wears Hijab in the compound except a short head tie most times and most of the time, she leave her hair like that revealing its hefty size. 

Zahra’u to be frank was a very jovial person, even though my cold nature wouldn’t allow me to laugh at her jokes which were no doubt funny couple with fact that I had a poor understanding of the hausa language at that time. She was very tall and her neck too was elegant and beautifully long. Whenever she smiles it was as though two w were stretched joined together with one standing on top of one another.