The Geegpay Writing and Storytelling Challenge

My story is one of travails and tribulation; like a woman in labor, the birth pangs that eventually bring forth the bundle of joy. From the gutters of Burhama, to the slums of Jakara and Sanka, I have been smashed between chasing my photography dreams and taking care of my family. It is difficult to imagine light at the end of a tunnel, when you live in a single room with your 5 siblings and aging mother whose health is failing, in a densely populated compound that houses 24 rooms, with only one broken toilet for everyone to share, joining a long queue daily in wait for your turn to use a bamboo bathroom, which you have to cover the entrance with your wrapper, to protect your privacy. 

I went out everyday with the hope of landing small gigs; something to put food on the table and buy my mother's medications. Some days, I was lucky, and on those days, I was able to improve my craft, and I could afford to pay my bus fare back home, squeezed in-between sweaty, tired fellow slum dwellers, who also went out in search for their daily bread. But most days, I went home with nothing, trekking under the scorching Kano sun, hiding my pain under my hijab. One thing was certain: each rejection stirred up my hope and resilience, the very elements that propelled me to keep pushing. 

Exhausted and almost frustrated, I sat under a mangwaro tree after an unsuccessful gig hunt, and yelled in frustration, "Ya Allah, this burden is too much for me to bear! What sin have I committed that cannot be pardoned?" That was the very prayer I needed to say, for that was the moment help came. A group of prominent artists nearby were venting about a still photographer they hired for their photoshoot, who never showed up. I straightened up and offered my services immediately. And just like that, I was given a real chance at professional photography, and in one single moment, all my struggles were worth it. Indeed, Alhamdulillah!