Bazan Barshi Ba Complete Hausa Novel

She was a 16-year-old girl who came out running, saying, “Yes, my father.”

Her father remained silent, looking at Rayyanat. She was chocolate-skinned, neither fat nor thin, just moderately built and naturally beautiful. She wore a blouse and wrapper from different years, and her headscarf didn’t match her clothes either. Her wrapper was torn in several places; she had gathered one torn spot together so her body wouldn’t show. He said, “Rayyanat, didn’t you find a needle and thread this time?”

“Father, I didn’t,” she replied. “I went to ask, but they said they wouldn’t lend me again. They’re tired of buying thread and I keep finishing it,” she added, her voice breaking into tears.

Her father said, “Don’t cry, Rayyanat. God willing, if the village head pays me today for the farm work I’m doing for him, I’ll buy you a needle and thread so you can rest from borrowing from neighbors, okay?”

“Alright, Father, thank you. May Allah grant success greater than usual today.”

He said, “Amin, Rayyanat. I’m going now—take care of yourself and don’t roam around neighbors.”

“Insha’Allah. But Father, don’t you want me to go with you today?” “Rayyanat, how will you go out when your wrapper is torn and there are young men loitering at the town square?” “That’s true, Father. May Allah protect your journey.” “Amin, amin.”

After that, he left, carrying his hoe on his shoulder. Rayyanat followed her father with her eyes; his clothes too were old and worn out. When she could no longer see him, she went back inside and sat down.

She looked around her small room, which contained nothing good except a small bundle of her clothes—no more than two or three sets—a worn-out mat she slept on, a pillow that looked like flattened bread, a mosquito net folded and pushed against the window, and two small containers in the room whose contents I couldn’t tell.

As she was surveying the room, her stomach twisted painfully from hunger. Since the previous morning, when she and her father last ate, they hadn’t found anything else to eat up to this new day.

She lay down, hoping sleep would take her before her father returned, but hunger wouldn’t let her sleep—just like the night before, when she had struggled until she filled her stomach with water before finally sleeping. Even now, she got up, went outside to the water pot, filled her stomach with water, then returned to lie down.

Sleep was just beginning to take her when she heard the greeting of a friend of hers named Sarat.

After Rayyanat answered the greeting, Sarat entered. She was a tall, slender, dark-skinned girl, also moderately beautiful. She sat down and said, “Rayyanat, please forgive me. Since yesterday I wanted to come, but the preparations for our journey back to the city didn’t allow me.”

Rayyanat gave a faint smile, imagining that it was she and her father who were going to the city, because she dearly loved the idea of going there—but she had never once had the chance.

Sarat handed her a small black nylon bag—the kind meant for one person’s food—and said, “Please don’t say you won’t accept it, because I know how you are. I didn’t buy it for any special reason, only because I know you love cassava so much. I even went all the way to the market to buy it for you. But forgive me, I know you don’t like this kind of thing.”

“It’s nothing, Sarat. Today I’ll accept your gift, since you’re leaving and I don’t even know when we’ll meet again. Thank you. But when are you traveling?”

“Today—right now. That’s why I’m apologizing for not coming since yesterday. I didn’t want it this way, honestly.”

“Don’t worry, because I understand better than anyone how much you care about me. That’s why I don’t have any friend closer than you.”

“Hmm, thank you, Rayyanat. I have to go now—my parents are at the gate with the car, waiting for me.”

Rayyanat stood up and they went outside. Rayyanat bent slightly in respect and greeted Sarat’s parents. Then a young man stepped out of the car—Sarat’s sibling, apparently her elder brother.

Quickly, Rayyanat lowered her head in shyness, fidgeting slightly. The young man smiled and said, “Truly, I have loved you for a long time, Rayyanat, and I will never stop. Through every hardship and difficulty, my love for you remains in my heart—even if I am no longer alive.”