Kauyen Yar Kadde Complete Hausa Novel

The village of Yar Kadde is a town located in our country, Nigeria. It is a town in Nasarawa State, a place that brings together people of different backgrounds. It accommodates many languages—a small town where both Muslims and non-Muslims live together in peace. It is a town blessed with abundance and prosperity, with farming of various kinds as a major activity.

Today, I have settled in this town, standing right at the entrance of a modest family house—one of those typical local houses. Not far from the house is a small clinic, and directly opposite it is a small primary school.

I entered the house to bring you a report.

“Joy, you know there is church today, right?”

She remained silent, as if her mother was not the one speaking.

“Joy, I’m talking to you. Can you hear me? You don’t get up early except on Sundays. Once it’s said that today is Sunday, that’s it—you start dragging yourself. Hurry up and get ready to meet me there; time is running out, and you’re still refusing to go.”

She sighed and shook her head.

Even after her mother left the place, she did not get up. She remained seated exactly where she had been left, only standing up after almost one hour.

During that time, I observed her closely. She was still quite young—her age could not be more than sixteen years. She was fair-skinned and tall. Her facial features were neither ugly nor exceptionally beautiful—she was simply average.

She had a good posture and a calm, composed demeanor. She was dressed in sleepwear that clung neatly to her body.

Calmly, she went to the kitchen and scooped a small portion of jollof rice, just like the amount one would give a two-year-old child. She returned to the room, ate, and before even finishing, she put the food aside, fetched bathwater into a bucket, and bathed.

She took her time before coming out. Then she dressed in a small top and long trousers. The top fit her tightly, revealing her figure.

Her hair was naturally black and beautiful, neatly styled and flowing down her back.

She wore no makeup on her face. She picked up her Bible, locked their house, and headed toward the church. The church itself was not far from their home.

She walked slowly and calmly—everything about her was graceful, masha Allah.

On her way, she passed by a place where some young men usually gathered every morning, even during the cold rainy season.

One of them, as soon as he saw her, began swallowing saliva and licking his lips. As she passed them, all of them stared at her as though they wanted to devour her.

One of the young men closed his eyes and said,

“That girl is really something. Honestly, everything about her—if she were mine, hmm… I’d really enjoy.”

Another added,

“The girl isn’t proud, it’s just her calm nature and head movement. If she agreed, I swear I’d marry her. She’s not foolish or mad—and she’s not even a Muslim. What’s the problem? Why shouldn’t we tempt her and enjoy ourselves?”

Another, whose mouth was known for vulgar speech, said,

“Ah, that girl will be stubborn. I’d marry her just to break her. Honestly, I feel like I’m going crazy. Who would even agree to marry her? If she ever agrees, that’s the end.”

They continued talking about her like that, while she herself had no idea.

By the time she reached the church, the service had already ended—people were already coming out. With happiness, she smiled, a smile that made her dimples show, adding even more beauty to her face.

I watched her in amazement as she stood near the church. Then her mother came out with a friend.

They looked at her in surprise. Her mother became angry—seeing her standing there calmly without fear, just looking back at her.

In anger, she walked up to her and said,

“So for God’s sake, it’s now you’re just arriving?”

She slapped her hard, causing pain and forcing her to shut her beautiful eyes.

“Joy, what is wrong with you? What is your problem? I don’t understand you at all. You don’t take your religion seriously, you have no sense at all!”

Her friend added,

“That’s Gloria for you. I told you—if you don’t separate your daughter from those Muslim children, one day you’ll cry.”

The mother continued scolding her without showing any concern, while her friend kept provoking and encouraging her anger.