As it is said, prayer does not prevent death, and the grave does not plant but only buries. Destiny is like sand; even if you try to mold it, it won't hold. Life and destiny walk together like siblings, so every life comes with its own kind of destiny. Whoever you see today has come through yesterday.
****In a state of extreme urgency and trembling, the elderly woman rushed out of the room they were in, not caring about the heavy rain and strong wind, nor the intense darkness.
She headed to their cooking shed, using both hands to wipe the rain off her face so she could see clearly.
The shed, which was thoroughly soaked, caught her red eyes filled with the weight of her heart and distress. However, the situation they were in now surpassed any pain of sorrow, so she went to where their firewood was and began trying to arrange the remaining pieces to light a fire despite the strong rain and wind.
She heard movement behind her but couldn't turn around because she was focused on lighting the fire quickly, knowing it was her husband, the father of her children.
He came around to her side, also drenched, with his clothes dripping water and his turban soaked and dripping as well.
Despite the rain, he had been standing at the door of their room since morning until evening, only moving for prayers. He stood by the room's side, hoping for a solution, praying for ease from the trials and tribulations they had faced in life.
He helped her gather the firewood and tried to light the fire, closing his aged eyes to shield them from the rain.
She was also trying to light a match, but the rain and wind wouldn't let her. Her hands were trembling from the cold and the overwhelming worry and fear.
He knew lighting a fire in such conditions was impossible, as the matchbox was soaked. But neither of them could accept giving up because their hearts were not at peace. The only thing on his mind was that they couldn't survive if something happened to the woman in labor inside the room.
She was their source of strength and courage to continue living despite the calamities they had faced. He was the head of the household and their pillar, but she was his heart's light and his pillar. Without her, he wouldn't have the courage to continue leading his family.
His trembling hands took the matchbox from her, trying to light it, but the box started melting in his palm due to the rain.
He stared at his palm, unable to move or speak, his heart heavy and warm at the same time.
The elderly woman, whose body was also failing, looked up at him with her red eyes, her heart breaking at his condition. She loved him as much as he loved Ameenatou and her mother, so she wouldn't let him experience the pain of loss again. Trembling, she went to get another matchbox, determined to light the fire even if it meant the dead would rise and speak.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw her futile efforts but couldn't stop her. He took the matchbox from her and gently led her away to the room's door. Before they reached it, the woman inside came out, drenched in sweat and exhausted.
They stared at each other before he looked away from her to the door, feeling a strange calm and heaviness in his heart.
The elderly woman managed to speak softly, "Ameenatou..." but couldn't finish, fearing the answer.
The woman sighed and calmly said, "I can't do it. We must take her to the hospital immediately to prevent a bigger problem."
They were silent, absorbing her words. He looked at the rain, wondering how they could take a sick person to the hospital in such heavy rain.
The elderly woman, unable to speak, went into the room, swallowing her tears to find their daughter. He turned to find transportation, knowing it was like searching for a needle in a haystack in such rain.
The elderly woman stood by her daughter, trembling and calling Hafsatu, who was outside, begging God not to take her daughter's life.
Hafsatu rushed in, her eyes wide with fear, and asked in a panic,
