Lokacin tauraruwa ta karya a rai

An cire sunan Maryam daga allon jadawalin ne a daidai lokacin da ta isa gefen dandalin, hannunta na riƙe da takardar rasit da ta ninka ta sake buɗewa har ta yi laushi. A inda aka rubuta “Maryam Yusuf — Kai tsaye Demo”, an manna wata takarda a kai da sellotape mai sheƙi: “Rukayya Sani — Lead Founder.” Wani yaro mai kula da igiyoyi yana ta daidaita kebul ya ce, “Hanzari, ku bar hanya, Rukayya za ta shiga live.” Maryam ta taka zuwa teburin na’ura, amma wani jami’i da kati a wuya ya ɗaga tafin hannu ya tare ta kamar mai hana mai shara hawa mota.

Kuɗin da ta zuba cikin wannan rana bai tsaya ga kujerar shiga ba. Ta sayi data da dare, ta yi bugun takardun samfurin, ta ɗauki okada daga Kurna zuwa wajen taron da safiyar nan da ba a gama kiran asuba ba. A jiya ma Hajiya Binta ta ce mata a fili, idan wannan baje koli ya tashi ba tare da sunanta ya tsaya ba, ‘yan uwanta za su ce ta yi ta bin aikin birni ba tare da tsari ba. Yanzu a gaban layin kujerun gaba, inda Hajiya Binta ke zaune cikin farin mayafi tare da kawunta Umaru, ana kallon Rukayya a matsayin uwargidan wannan aiki, ana kallon Maryam kamar mai ɗaukar jaka.

“Wannan kuskure ne,” Maryam ta faɗa cikin sanyi, tana nuna allon. “Ni na gina tsarin. Ni ce za ta yi demo.”

Rukayya ta juya daga bayan banner ɗin masu daukar nauyi, murmushinta a daure kamar wanda aka koya wa kyautatawa a gaban manya. Ta sanye da suit mai kaifi da takalmi marar ƙura, wayarta na haske a tafin hannunta. “Maryam, don Allah kada ki rikita mana tsari yanzu. Na riga na yi wa masu zuba jari bayani. Ke kin fi dacewa da bayan fage, kin san haka.” Sai ta waiwaya ga jami’in ta ce da murya mai laushi amma mai yanke, “A cire ta daga active roster ɗin console. Kada a ba ta taɓa panel.”

Jami’in ya danna allon tablet ɗinsa. Sunan Maryam ya shuɗe daga ƙaramin jerin masu shiga, sannan wani ƙaramin kati da ke rataye a kan maƙarƙashiyar na’ura aka zare aka maye da sabon mai rubutu: Rukayya. Wannan shi ne ladan farko ga raini: ba zagi ba ne kawai, an kwace iko da hannu. A layin hanya tsakanin kujeru da dandalin, mutane biyu da ke ta rubuta a litattafan su suka ɗaga kai, suka kalli Maryam, sannan suka maida ido ga Rukayya kamar abin ya riga ya warware.

Nasiru, mai kula da sauti da hoton taron, ya fito daga bayan monitor, zufa na sheƙi a gefen fuska. Ya san Maryam; su ne suka kwana biyu suna gyara ciyarwar na’ura a ƙarƙashin ƙarar janareta. Ya ɗan matso ya ce da ƙasa, “Na ga abin da suka yi. Amma sponsor ɗin nan na son a fara yanzun nan.” Idanunsa suka yi saurin komawa ga kujerun gaba. “Ki tsaya kusa. Kada ki tafi.”

Maryam ba ta tafi ba. Ta tsaya a bakin layin hanya, kusa da babban speaker da monitor wedge ke cizon gefen dandalin, tana jin hum na fitilar corridor ta baya da ƙarar fan cikin bango. Rukayya ta hau kan tabarmar dandalin, ta karɓi mic, ta fara fassara aikin da kalmomin da ba su da nauyi: manoma, kaya, kasuwa, saurin kaiwa. Kowace magana tana ɗaukar abin da Maryam ta yi da dare-dare ta sa masa fuska mai tsabta. Har ta kai ga cewa, “Mun gina dashboard da live routing...” alhali a wancan lokacin, hannun da ya gina shi na manne da rasit a gefen hanya.

Hajiya Binta ta gyara zamanta. Idonta ya sauka a kan Maryam, ba da tausayawa ba, da gargaɗi. Kallon nan ne na manya idan suna cewa ki tsare kanki; kada ki ba wa jama’a abin magana. Umaru ma ya ɗan kauda fuska, kamar bai son a haɗa sunan gidansu da wata gardama a bainar mutane. Wannan shi ya sa rainin ya yi kaifi: ba kawai aiki ake kwacewa ba, ana tura ta ta yarda ta tsaya a ƙasa domin mutuncin gida.

Sai daga kujerar alkalai wata mata mai ruwan toka a mayafi mai siriri ta ɗaga hannu. Ita ce Malama Zulaiha daga kamfanin tallafin sana’o’i da ya saka kuɗi a taron. “Toh,” ta ce, “mu daina zance mai laushi. Ki nuna mana live. Idan aka samu oda uku daga unguwanni uku a lokaci ɗaya, wane direba za a tura, ta yaya za a kauce wa maimaita hanya, kuma ta yaya tsarin zai tsaya idan network ya yi tsalle?”

Tambayar ta bugi dandalin kamar ƙusa.

Rukayya ta yi dariyar da ke neman lokaci. Ta danna tablet ɗin da aka ɗora kan stand. Allon ya tashi. Taswirar Kano ta bayyana da layukan hanya. Ta kai hannu zuwa wani ɓangare na panel, ta buɗe wani menu ba daidai ba, ta rufe, ta sake buɗewa. A bayan banner, Nasiru ya ɗaga kai. Maryam ta ga abin da ya faru kafin kowa ya gane: Rukayya ta kunna gwajin kwaikwayo maimakon ainihin ciyarwa. Direbobi suka zama alamomi marasa rai. Daga wata kujera wani saurayi ya ce, “Ba ya motsi.”

Rukayya ta latsa da sauri. Allon ya tsaya. Ta sake taɓa shi. Sai karar mummunan feedback ta fito daga mic saboda ta sunkuyar da kanta kusa da speaker. Wasu suka ja kai baya. Ta ce, “Akwai ƙaramar matsala ta fasaha—”

Malama Zulaiha ta yanke ta. “Live muke so.”

Rukayya ta kai hannu ga Nasiru. “Reset mana.”

“Kar a reset,” Maryam ta faɗa daga gefen hanya, ba da ƙarfi ba amma kalmar ta isa. Ta riga ta taka zuwa dandalin kafin jami’in da ya tare ta ya sake tunanin tare ta. Rukayya ta juya, idanunta suka kaure da wani firgici na farko. Maryam ba ta nemi izini ba. Ta yi wucewa a gefenta, ta ɗora yatsa biyu kan console, ta fitar da menu na failover, ta zaro gwajin kwaikwayon, ta kunna ainihin ciyarwar da aka ɓoye a tashar biyu.

Taswirar ta numfasa.

Kan allon, manyan ɗigogi uku suka motsa lokaci guda daga Sabon Gari, Rijiyar Lemo, da Tarauni. Maryam ta ɗaga idonta ga alkalai, ba ta yi wa Rukayya ko kallon ba. “Oda uku kenan. Daya na kayan hatsi, daya na kayan miya, daya na fakitin magani. Ga direbobi hudu a kewaye.” Yatsunta suka yi sauri amma ba su rude ba. Ta ja layin farko ta ba shi babur mafi kusa, ta cire wani saboda man fetur nasa ya yi ƙasa, ta maye gurbinsa da wanda ke kan hanyar dawowa daga kasuwa. Sannan ta danna ƙaramin alamar ja. “Nan network zai yanke.”

Allon ya yi rauni na sakan biyu. Wani abu ya yi tsit a ɗakin. Maryam ta buɗe cache route, ta sa tsarin ya koma ajiyar cikin gida, ta ci gaba da jan hanya ba tare da ciyarwar intanet ba. A monitor ɗin gefe, jadawalin isowa ya ci gaba da sauyawa. Ta ɗora wayarta a kusa da stand; screen glow a tafin hannunta ya yi ƙasa. “Idan ya dawo, tsarin zai haɗa canjin ba tare da maimaitawa ba.” Ta danna. Wani direba ya ɓace daga hanya ta farko ya koma ta uku saboda cunkoso a kasuwar Kantin Kwari da aka ɗora a cikin bayanan yau. “Ba a aika mutum biyu zuwa guri ɗaya. Ba a jinkirta magani saboda hatsi.”

Babu wanda ya yi mata tambayar ko ta yaya ta sani. Sun gani. A layin hanyar gaban kujeru, mutanen da da suka riƙa rubutu suka tsaya rubutu. Hajiya Binta ta daina gyaran mayafinta. Umaru, wanda ya kauda fuska ɗazu, ya miƙe kaɗan a kujerarsa kamar ya ji ana jan igiya daga ƙirji. Nasiru kuwa ya ja mic ɗin gefe ya kawar da shi daga speaker ba tare da an umarce shi ba, yana ba Maryam sarari kamar ya fahimci sabon mai iko a dandalin.

Rukayya ta yi yunƙurin komawa tsakiyar stand ɗin. “Abin da take yi,” ta fara, “mun tattauna—”

Maryam ba ta waiwayo ba. Ta ɗora sabon gwaji a kanta. “A’a. Ga abin da bai tsaya a zance ba.” Ta buɗe shafin umarni na live agents. Sunayen direbobi suka bayyana tare da halin na’urorinsu. Ta nuna wata alama mai rawa. “Wannan wayarsa batir ya kusa ƙarewa. Idan aka bi map kawai za a ba shi kaya, ya tsaya. Sai a miƙa masa gajeriyar hanya zuwa Hadejia Road, a ɗora wa na biyu babban kaya daga Dawanau.” Ta yi hakan a fili. Lokacin kimanta isa ya ragu. A babban allo, ja ya koma kore.

Wannan ne lokacin da ɗakin ya juya. Ba da tafi ba, ba da wani jawabi ba. Sai dai kowa ya daina duban Rukayya don sanin me za ta ce. Ko jami’in da ya cire sunan Maryam daga roster ya matso gefen dandalin ya tsaya, tablet ɗinsa a hannun sa amma ba ya sake danna komai. Idanun sa suna kan Maryam ne, yana jiran umarni kamar mai gadi da ya gane ya buɗe ƙofa ga wanda ba shi ne mamallaki ba.

Malama Zulaiha ta miƙa jikinta gaba. “Ke,” ta ce, kai tsaye ga Maryam. “Ki ci gaba. Nuna mana yadda za ki faɗaɗa wannan idan an ninka odar dare goma.” Kalmar “ke” ta fito daidai, ba ta nemi suna daga wani ba, ba ta kallon Rukayya. Wannan ya fi takarda zafi.

Maryam ta jinjina kaɗan. Ta shiga shafin rarraba yanki, ta rabawa direbobi ta hanyar nauyin kaya, nisan mai, da lokacin sallah da cunkoso ke shafar hanya. “Da daddare ba duka unguwanni suke motsi iri ɗaya ba,” ta ce. “A nan za a raba nauyin hanya biyu, amma wannan layin za a bar shi saboda fitowar kasuwar dare. Idan aka nace a kai, za a yi asara.” Ta ɗaga ƙananan sliders uku. Taswirar ta sake fasali, layuka suka yi siriri, direbobi suka watse cikin tsari. “Yanzu sai ku ƙara goma.”

Wani mai saka kuɗi namiji daga gefen hagu ya yi saurin cewa, “Good. Very good—” amma ya tsaya a rabin kalma saboda Maryam ta riga ta gwada. Odoji goma suka sauko a lokaci ɗaya. Ba ta tsaya ta ba wa ɗakin dariya ba. Ta sa tsarin ya ware masu nauyi zuwa mota, masu sauƙi zuwa babur, ta kulle yankin da ruwa ya cika jiya kusa da titin France Road, ta canja hanya daya saboda gyaran titi. A gefe, Rukayya ta kai hannu kan stand ɗin tablet kamar za ta shigo, amma Malama Zulaiha ta ɗaga hannu ba tare da ta kalle ta ba. Alamar tsayawa ce, ga wadda ta zo da sunan jagora amma aka riga aka kwace mata damar magana.

Visible damage ya zo nan take. Jami’in da ya sauke Maryam daga roster ya buɗe tablet ɗinsa a gaggauce, ya goge sunan Rukayya daga layin “presenting founder” ya saka Maryam. A ƙarƙashin rushayar hasken projector, wannan ƙaramin canji ya fito a allon da ke gaban masu gudanarwa. Rukayya ta gani. Ta tsaya a tsakiyar dandalin ba tare da abin yi a hannu ba, mic ya rataye a yatsunta kamar abu mara amfani. Opponent destabilization ya bayyana a fuskarta: ba zafi na kuka ba, zafin rashin abin dogaro. Ta sake cewa, “Na kawo ta ne—” amma babu wanda ya karɓa.

“Madalla,” Malama Zulaiha ta ce, har yanzu ga Maryam. “Ke ce kike tafiyar da wannan. Bayan wannan zagaye, ki zo teburinmu.” Sai ta juya ga masu rubutu a gefenta. “A gyara layin suna. A rubuta ta a matsayin jagora.”

Rukayya ta yi ƙoƙarin riƙe wani abu daga tsohon tsari. “Ai ni na yi pitch—”

“To ki sauka daga panel ɗin,” in ji Nasiru, ba da tsawa ba, amma a aikin. Ya zare mic daga hannunta saboda yana buƙatar share hanya ga stand ɗin da Maryam ke aiki a kai. Wannan ya fi zagi muni; an gyara ta da lafazin aiki kamar mai kawo cikas ga ainihin nuni. A layin gaban kujeru, Hajiya Binta ta yi kallon da ta saba yi idan abu ya koma tabbatacce. Ba gargaɗi ba ne yanzu. Karɓa ne, ko da taƙaitacce.

Maryam ta ci gaba. Ba ta waiwayi ga ƙaryar da aka yi mata ba, domin ba ta buƙata. Ta nuna yadda tsarin ke ɗaukar sabon direba idan wani ya lalace, ta saka daya ya fita daga layi da gangan, ta nuna yadda sauran ke sake lissafi cikin daƙiƙa. Ta amsa tambayar farashi da ta hanyar nuna jadawalin kaya kai tsaye, ba ta shiga dogon bayani ba. Duk motsinta yana ƙarfafa sabon tsari: ita a kan console, sauran dakin a kewaye da aikinta.

Lokacin da zagayen ya ƙare, ba wanda ya ce “a ba wa Rukayya damar ƙarshe.” An riga an gama da hakan ba tare da hukunci na baki ba. Maryam ta rage ƙarfin mic, ta kashe tashar da ke ƙara hayaniya, ta daidaita kebul ɗin da ya yi nisa a ƙafarta. Babban allon ya tsaya a kan ciyarwar da ta canja, korayen layuka na ci gaba da numfashi. Ta sauko rabin taku zuwa gefen monitor wedge, kirjinta na hawa da sauka da sauri, sautin numfashinta kaɗai ya rage a kusa da ita. Sai ragowar feedback ɗin ya yi laushi, ya yi santsi, ya faɗi matacce.