A Tausayawa Juna 1 Complete Hausa Novel

“May your fast be accepted, my dear Namecy, my Aysha Aliyu Tsamiya. May Allah accept it from us. May Allah, our Lord, make us among His righteous servants and admit us into His mercy.”

They were sitting in their modest but neatly furnished living room. Bashir sat on a two-seater couch, holding their little daughter, the beautiful Salima, in his arms. He looked gently toward Rukayyat, who sat on the three-seater sofa, her face tense and swollen with anger as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

Their eldest son, Salim, moved closer and said sleepily,

“Ummi, I’m sleepy. I want to lie down.”

She raised her head and, in a harsh tone directed at their father, said,

“Honestly, Salim, you and Salima make me feel sorry for you. You’re missing out on what other children are enjoying this month. Every father who truly loves his children and wants them to be happy and not feel ashamed has already bought Eid clothes for his family. But your father hasn’t even cared about you, let alone me.”

Bashir only smiled quietly. With Rukayyat’s nature, he had learned patience; in marriage, he believed there should be understanding and compassion, not constant urgency and anger. He nodded, stood up while still holding Salima, took Salim by the hand, and looked at her gently. He always made excuses for her because he knew she was sensitive and needed to be treated with care.

Smiling softly, he said,

“Go lie down and rest, baby. Let me bathe the children and put them to bed first. You should rest too—I know you’re tired from the day’s work.”

She ignored him, then frowned and muttered under her breath,

“Listen to him, as if he’s bringing something special for us to break our fast with.”

He heard it clearly but said nothing. Instead, he went to get the children ready, bathed them, put them to bed, prayed for them, and covered them properly. Then he returned to the living room.

With calm determination, he said,

“Baby, get up, let’s go to bed so we don’t oversleep and miss waking up to spend the night remembering Allah.”

She kept quiet, pouting, while he continued,

“Let’s go lie down so sleep doesn’t overpower us. Even if it’s just one night in this blessed month, it’s better we strive in worship. We don’t know which night is Laylatul Qadr, so the best we can do is stay consistent in remembering Allah every night. If we’re fortunate, we may catch that blessed night.”

With a small hiss of irritation, she said,

“I’m not sleepy.”

He looked away and replied gently,

“Alright, let’s just go anyway.”

She got up reluctantly and sat upright, wrapped in annoyance.

“So you’re stubborn, huh? You just want us to go to the bedroom, right? You don’t have any worries, do you? Tell me, Abban Salim, do you even remember that you haven’t bought Eid clothes for your children? Are you aware that the month is almost gone? How many days of fasting have we done already? Yet you haven’t brought anything home. Do you want these children to pray Eid in their old clothes? Honestly, you’re starting to scare me. Every responsible father has already finished everything for his family.”

He moved to the side and sat quietly, looking at her with patience, trying to understand her heart while also hoping she would understand his situation.

Softly, he said,

“Rukayyat, please be patient and understand my condition. You know better than anyone the responsibilities on my shoulders. You know I take care of this house because my father is no longer strong. I take care of you and our children too. You see how expensive life has become, and you know my income isn’t enough for all these responsibilities. It’s only Allah who covers my shortcomings. Despite everything, you’ve never lacked food or drink. I haven’t neglected the children’s education—they’re in a good school. They have clothes, and so do you. Even if not specifically for Eid yet, they have what to wear. So please, make an excuse for me and wait. By the time Eid comes, you won’t find that I failed to provide what you need.”

She stared at him silently as he spoke. When he finished, she said,

“If you can’t do it, just tell us. Between you and Allah, is there any of your friends who hasn’t already provided everything for his family? You saw Maryam, Umar’s wife, who came here earlier. Look at what she bought from the market—she bought everything for her children and even collected their sewn clothes from the tailor. You know Umar gave her the money; he’s your friend. And Aysha, Yusuf’s wife—she too has everything ready. She even finished sewing Salima’s clothes and sent them earlier. It’s shameful when a father can’t do for his own child what others do. Those women don’t even have children yet, while you have them and still can’t take proper care of them.”