Auren Katin Kasa Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Kano city, Lamido Crescent, GRA.

It was a big house; from the moment you entered through the gate, you could tell it belonged to wealthy people. In the middle of the compound stood a huge guava tree that had grown so large it provided shade over the whole compound. Four beautiful children were playing football; all of them were boys and they looked like siblings because they closely resembled one another, except that two of them were light-skinned while the other two were dark-skinned. They were lovely kids, clearly on holiday, and they couldn’t have been more than seven to nine years old. They were wearing T-shirts and jeans.

Beside them sat another boy near the car-washing tap, watching them. It was obvious he wanted to join them, but they had refused him. He was a handsome boy too, a black beauty, not more than ten years old. He had big, very innocent eyes and a nose that gave his face a special kind of beauty, the kind typical of pure Fulani features—except his skin was chocolate-colored.

One of the boys looked toward where the boy was sitting and said, “Hey Salim, come and play ball.” It was as if Salim had been waiting for that invitation; he sprang up and ran toward the one who called him. Suddenly—bam!—the ball was kicked straight into his forehead. Immediately he screamed in pain, confused, and dropped to his knees. As for the other boys, all they did was laugh.

His crying echoed through the whole house and made a fair-skinned woman come out through the main entrance of the parlor. Seeing the boys standing around laughing made her walk toward them. She looked at them one after the other. The two light-skinned boys rushed to her shouting, “Mummy, mummy.” She looked at them and said, “Khalil, Khamis, what is this? Didn’t I tell you to play by yourselves?”

The one called Khamis looked at her and said, “Mummy, we were playing when Jabir and Jalal came and said they wanted to join us. We told them we wouldn’t play with them. Then Jalal said we should do a competition. While we were playing, Jabir called Salim to come and play. When he came, he kicked the ball at his head.”

She looked at Jabir and said, “So you’ve become this troublesome? Thank God it wasn’t my children you hit with that ball—otherwise I would have dealt with your mother.” She grabbed her children by the hand and swept them into the parlor. As for Salim, the poor boy, she didn’t even look at him as she went inside. Jabir and Jalal picked up the ball and also went into the house.

They left Salim there, pressing his eyes as tears poured down. His eyes were red and his forehead was badly swollen—the blow Jabir gave him was no small one.

While he was standing there, a girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old appeared. She was beautiful, her face very similar to Salim’s, but she had a longer nose than his. She had a slim figure and was holding a bucket of clothes, clearly about to hang them out to dry. She turned to head toward the backyard where they usually dried their clothes, but when she heard the sound of crying, she turned back into the compound. Her eyes landed on Salim, crouching and crying.

She looked at him carefully and said, “Salim, come here.” He turned when he heard his sister Salima’s voice and ran to her. She examined him closely and, seeing his swollen forehead, exclaimed, “Subhanallah! Salim, what happened to you? Who hit you?”

He looked at her and said, “Salima, I was sitting by the tap watching Jabir and the others play ball. He called me to come and play. When I came, he kicked the ball at my head.”

She looked at him with pity and said, “Salim, I told you to stop playing with them, didn’t you hear what big sister told us? You know they don’t like us living in this house. Stop paying attention to them, okay?” He nodded and said, “Okay, Salima, I won’t do it again.”

She took his hand and they went to the backyard, where he helped her hang the clothes she had washed. When they were done, they entered the house through the back door that connected to the kitchen.

A young lady was standing by the kitchen sink, washing dishes, her back turned to the door. She was wearing a long red Ankara gown with yellow patterns, well-fitted to her body. Her headscarf matched her outfit in red. She had a very curvy figure; from behind, you could see the gentle movement of her hips as she worked. She had what is called an hourglass or figure-eight shape, with well-defined hips that stood out despite her slim build—she was tall and elegant.

Salim ran up and stood beside her, saying, “Adda, well done with your work.” She turned to look at him, then looked at Salima standing beside him, both smiling at her. She smiled back at them.

Seeing her face, you’d say masha Allah. She was beautiful too—a black beauty with a rich chocolate complexion. You wouldn’t call her very dark or fair; she was lighter than Salim and Salima but still within the chocolate-skin range. Her nose was even more pronounced than theirs, giving her face extra beauty and brightness. She had big, round, expressive eyes with long eyelashes, full eyebrows that almost met, and an oval-shaped mouth that was very attractive. She wasn’t wearing anything on her lips, yet her lower lip looked as if lipstick had been applied. The outline of her lips was slightly dark, adding to their beauty. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old. Her chest was proportionate to her body; she wasn’t bulky, being tall and slim, but she was well-shaped.

She kept smiling at them, then looked closely at Salim and finally said, “Oh Allah, Salim, what’s wrong with your forehead?” He stayed quiet because he was afraid she might scold him. Salima quickly spoke up: “Adda Amra, he went to play with those wicked children and they hit him with a ball on his forehead. I told him to stop going to them, but he refused—now look at him.”

Amra looked at Salim, withdrew her hands from the dishes, and said, “Salim, I thought we had talked about this. I told you to stop going to them, because whenever you’re around them they hurt you, and if you try to fight back their parents will blame you. Please, Salim, for our sake, stop going to them. Stay and play by yourself, okay?”

He nodded and said, “Insha Allah, Adda, I won’t do it again.” She smiled at him, pulled him close, and said, “Come here, let me see properly.” He stepped closer and she pulled him in, bent down, and gently started rubbing his forehead. He opened his mouth to cry out, but seeing Salima signaling him to keep quiet made him close his eyes slightly. Amra kept rubbing gently until the swelling began to go down. Tears welled up in his eyes and he said, “Adda, my head really hurts…”