My name is Saaima.
I was born in West Africa, in Nigeria. I am the second child in a family of six. Growing up was not easy. My childhood was filled with memories I wish I could forget.
I watched my parents fight—sometimes, too many times. My father would hit my mother, and as a six-year-old girl, I didn't understand why. All I knew was that it hurt to watch.
I remember going to school and begging my teacher, with tears in my eyes, to please talk to my father… to make him stop hurting my mother. I thought maybe he would listen to someone else.
We were a middle-class family, but peace was something we never truly had. My mother suffered more than anyone. She carried pain silently, like it was her duty.
Then, everything changed.
My father died when I was still very young. At the time, I thought maybe things would get better. But life had other plans.
Back then,At just thirteen years old, my mother was forced into marriage. Being Fulani by tribe, traditions were followed without question. The marriage was not cancelled.
She was taken by a man she didn't know(my dad)
I grew up watching… thinking… imagining.
At first, it was just a way to escape reality. I would create different worlds in my head—places where everything was peaceful, where no one cried, where no one was hurt.
But as time went on, those imaginations became stronger.
Deeper.
Realer.
Until one day…
I realized I could no longer control them.