Gobe Na 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Milk made up the largest part of what I bought—not for any special reason, except that I knew my father needed tea more than anything at the moment. I filled one basket with snacks and assorted treats, then took another basket and filled it with some daily necessities such as bathing soap, laundry soap, perfume, and Omo detergent.

I was wearing a black abaya with a small veil, which allowed me to carry both baskets as I headed to the payment area. Amal followed behind me, holding her biscuit. I placed the baskets on the small table where they were tallying the items, then reached into my bag and brought out my ATM card, holding it in my hand as I waited for him to finish with those ahead of me so he could attend to me. Since I’m used to it, whenever I don’t withdraw my entire salary and I buy something, I usually pay with my ATM card through the POS machine.

After he finished with two people, he moved on to me. He completed the calculations, and just as I was about to hand him the card, he began taking out nylon bags and packing my items. As far as I knew, when you shop at Jifatu, you pay first, then they pack your goods in bags and send you on your way.

“How much is it?” I asked.

“Hajiya, it has been paid for,” he said, continuing to pack my items.

At once, my legs nearly gave way and I had to steady myself before asking again,

“Who paid?”

“He’s over there outside.”

I turned and looked outside and saw Abdallah standing by his car, his eyes on the phone he was tapping. I looked away and continued watching the cashier until he finished packing the items, then I reached out and took them.

“Thank you,” I said.

“No, we’re the ones who should thank you, Hajiya,” he replied.

Holding the bags with both hands, I headed toward the exit, Amal holding onto the edge of my dress as we walked out. Even playfully, I did not look toward where Abdallah was standing, nor did I let him see my face—though I knew that wouldn’t stop him from talking to me if he chose to.

I was walking along the roadside when I heard his voice behind me.

“I didn’t pay so that you’d thank me, and I know you won’t thank me. But at least you could look at me so I’d feel a little better, couldn’t you?”

I stopped abruptly, turned around, and shot him a useless glare, my face dark and stormy. But it seemed my glare pleased him, because a smile spread across his face as he removed the white glasses from his eyes and looked at me. I looked away and continued walking, only to feel him grab Amal’s hand. That made me turn back quickly, and I saw him placing money into her hand.

“Use this to take a tricycle (napep), okay Amal. I know if I say I’ll drive your stubborn mother in my car, she won’t agree.”

Amal said nothing to him; she took the money. She’s like that—if it’s money or biscuits, she never refuses, no matter who it’s from. I pulled her hand and we continued walking.

“I just left your husband over there in the Damba area with his friends and some women,” he said.

I turned around for the second time and looked at him, a look filled with the pain of hearing his words and the hatred I felt at the sight of his face.