Bakar Ta'ada Complete Hausa Novel

But most people called me Yabi because of my mother, who performed Hajj while I was still inside her.

Mama, however, never called me that—she only called me Asiya—because she opposed the name Yabi, as it implied that I was also a Hajiya.

Our house is a large one in the town of Toro; even a small child could be asked, and they would point you to Marina’s house. This was because of the origin of our grandfather, who came from Kano and established this trade in the town. It has been more than seventy years, yet the business has never been abandoned, even though it has been modernized. However, it is not conducted inside the house because of its strong smell.

Our house is truly a very large house.

When I say a large house, I mean one with many different members. Even at the door of our father, Alhaji Sani (Marina’s father), he had three senior wives.

Hajiya Habiba was our father’s main wife—a strict and cunning woman. Any conflict at our gate, or indeed anything happening inside the house, she had a hand in. She despised seeing progress in any of the children unless it was her own. Everything she did was with careful strategy and authority; few could understand the schemes she plotted. We, her children, had to live with her day by day.

Everything had to be done according to her way, except for the days when she was upset and Baba opposed her.

His children numbered five:

Yaya Musa, Yaya Hadiza, Yaya Salamatu, Yaya Indo, and her youngest, who she bore after many years, Nazira, who was my half-sibling by three months.

Then there was my mother, Hajiya Asma’u, whom we called Goggo. Not because she was my biological mother, but because she was a calm and extremely patient woman. And when I say patient, I mean the kind of patience that could make anyone around her fall into trouble if they dared to challenge it.

Her children numbered eight:

Yaya Salisu, Yaya Rabi’u, Yaya Ummi, Yaya Adnan, Yaya Ali, then me, Yabi, and another who had passed away, Anas, and our youngest, Ikilima.

This large number of children my mother gathered in her household, all boys, made Mama despise her. Nearly everyone in the house hated my mother, and few interacted with her. Everyone in the house spoke ill of her. And Mama was the one who tarnished her reputation, opposing anyone who dared be close to her.

That’s why even us, her children, had little influence. Even with our grandmother Dada, we were in a separate part of the house.

Then there was Hajiya Sahura, whom we called Innah. She had five children: the older ones slightly grown—Ubaid, Ubaida, Abida, Hajara, Ismail—and the youngest, Saliha, was our lucky one.

No matter how Mama tried to divide our loyalties, it had little effect on Nazira or me. Despite her neglect, I still learned to maneuver within her household because of Nazira.

And she even shared a room with our Goggo. A thousand times better was Inna than Mama. For there was no way Inna would plot against Goggo or tease her intentionally, yet Mama’s schemes prevented her from interacting with Goggo, claiming that Goggo ruled the household and all her children were male; if Alhaji died, they would inherit everything.

When I first became aware of my surroundings, I wondered why our father’s control over everything seemed so absolute that people even wished for his death.

He had once been very wealthy, because the grandness of our house had been built by him, and most of the members of his lineage had been taken care of through his wealth. But since the year I was born, he had encountered swindlers who caused the decline of his fortune. Even at fifteen, he had not fully recovered.

His siblings also watched him as if he were an object of pity.

Yet Mama kept saying that our Goggo would handle everything.

That was the situation.

Then there was the house of Alhaji Badamasi (Baban Tsakiya). He had two wives with twelve children. His first wife, Hajiya, had seven children: the eldest Jabir, Zakiya, Jamila, Hauwa, Firdausi, Aisha, and the youngest, Basira. Firdausi was our lucky one.

His second wife, Momi, had five children: Nasiru, Naziru, Sararu, Rumanatu, and Kubrah. Saratu was our lucky one.

Then there was the house of Alhaji Iliya (Baban Kasuwa). He had one wife and six children: Amina, Aminu, Maijidda, Kaltume, Abba, and Aliya. Maijidda was our lucky one.

Then our grandmother Hajiya Binta—whom our uncle Ummi called Dada. She was an elderly woman with a formidable temperament. She caused conflicts and cared little about harmony among the household members.

Because after our father, there were two other wives.

Dada’s side had two levels, as there was another door inside after passing her first door, leading to the outside, though that door was usually kept closed. Few went in except for storing farming tools and scraps.

Babar Bulkachuwa (Hauwa) was married to Baban Tsakiya, living in Bulkachuwa. Her husband, Alhaji Yusufu, was a major merchant in Muda Lawal’s market in Bauchi. She was a wife who could only bear children on her own terms. When she bore children, she controlled them. Her children were four, two by her.

Tijjani, the eldest, then Aliyu, then Nasir. After Nasir was born, she bore Maryam and Hafsa. Then she had Ihisan. That was four children for her, and two more.

Tijjani grew up with special favor from his father because of the long time she had been unable to bear children.

But unfortunately, the favor turned against him, as he became stubborn and rebellious. From a young age, he caused trouble, stealing chickens and sheep from the community to sell, refusing the guidance given to him because of the corrupt friends he kept.

Despite how much Baba of Bulkachuwa and our father tried to correct this behavior, it proved impossible.

Eventually, they had to separate him from the town and return him to our father, Baban Tsakiya, because the rest were too difficult.

At that time, he was not more than fifteen years old.