Manar Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Slowly, the cab rolled down from the top of the main road and turned into the lane that led into the large housing estate, a place so quiet it felt as though no living soul was inside it. Two people were seated in the back seat: an elderly woman whose age was well over seventy, and a very beautiful young girl who could not have been more than fifteen years old. Even though she was sitting, it was easy to tell she was tall. She had a well-shaped face with large, bright white eyes framed by unusually long eyelashes—so long that anyone who didn’t know her might think they were artificial, but that was simply how she was created. Her slightly prominent nose was adorned with a delicate ring-shaped piercing, and her small lips revealed a smiling glow, coated with red chapstick. Despite her young age, her beauty was obvious—there was nothing hidden about it at all.

From the moment they entered the area, she kept peeking through the window, so eager for the car to stop that she felt like she might turn into a bird and fly out. The old woman turned her head away from her, smacked her lips in disapproval, and before either of them could say a word, the driver stopped the car at the large gate of the house. Without waiting for him to finish parking properly, the girl hurriedly opened the door and jumped out with a burst of excitement, laughing as she ran toward the gate. With all her strength she pushed open the small gate and rushed inside without stopping to close it. The gate swung back on its own with an unpleasant noise.

She slowly scanned the entire house with her eyes. It was a very large compound, filled with attractive plants. Just by looking at it, you could tell serious money lived there. The courtyard was spacious and contained three apartments, each separated from the other by a wide distance. The main building was a very large duplex, with a parking space off to the side. The design and structure of two of the apartments were exactly the same, even down to the paint—there was no difference at all, except for the apartment at the far end, which was a beautiful flat.

She stared intently at the apartments, as though trying to remember something. Slowly, she smiled and softly uttered in Arabic, “Anaa halla ja’eh…”

She turned around, intending to speak to someone, but it was as if the person had vanished into thin air. Quickly she looked toward the gate that had made the noise earlier. With her mouth open in frustration, almost on the verge of tears, she exclaimed, “Oh no! God help me,” said the elderly woman (the co-wife of the landlord). “As for me, AZUMI, I see it with my own eyes—this girl, every day it’s only growth without sense. Oh Allah, help us with what is beyond our strength.”

The cab driver, who had been listening to her complaints, couldn’t help but smile as he continued unloading the large bags from the top and trunk of the car. He said, “Don’t worry, Hajiya, these days children only need prayers.”

She sighed painfully and replied, “That’s true, my son. May Allah set our offspring right.”

“Ameen,” he said.

Before he finished unloading, she asked, “Is your name Malam Audu?”

He laughed and replied, “No, Hajiya, is that your grandfather’s name?”

She smiled and said, “Yes, it is.”

He laughed again. “I thought as much.”

She asked, “So what’s your name, young man?”

“Usman,” he replied.

She covered her mouth in surprise and said while staring at him, “Allahu Akbar… you share the name of my landlord!”

He smiled. “Then he truly owns the house,” he joked.

She smiled back. “Indeed, he does.”

The driver kept smiling and said nothing more until he finished unloading the bags. Then he said, “Alright, Hajiya, I’ll be on my way.”

She quickly looked at him and said, “Wait! Can you please watch my luggage while I quickly go inside to call my grandchildren to help carry it? Honestly, I’m exhausted—I can’t lift these things. We kept traveling and traveling, unsure if we’d even go at all. I got tired of waiting before that troublesome plane finally picked us up, and once we were on the road, I felt like we were about to leave this world behind.”

The driver smiled and said, “Alright, Hajiya. May Allah make it quick; I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

She smacked her lips and gave him a sideways look. “No matter how much of a hurry you’re in, you’ll still wait for me, right? You won’t just leave my luggage here for thieves to steal.”

He smiled. “Go safely.”

“Alright—mind yourself,” she replied.

He didn’t say anything more, and neither did she. She walked away slowly, dragging her feet, leaving him standing there. She first encountered their gatekeeper, who was standing by the door of his small room, still shaken by the earlier scare. She glared at him and, hearing him muttering under his breath, angrily asked, “Who are you talking to like that, boy?”

He quickly widened his eyes and said, “Hajjaju, is it you who has arrived?”

She smacked her lips and turned her face away. “So should we go back since you don’t want to see us?”

The boy scratched the back of his head with an awkward smile. “Who said that, Hajiya? Welcome. Did you arrive safely?”

She continued walking and curtly replied, “Safely,” then left him standing there.

Once he was sure she was gone, he peeked toward the road and muttered, “The plague has returned. May Allah make you leave soon.”

She was wearing an Arabian gown with a black mini hijab that stopped at her neck. Sitting on the balcony, she spotted him seated on a white plastic chair, answering a phone call, his eyes fixed on a laptop placed on a small table as he worked. He was a very tall, handsome young man, not more than thirty years old. One look at him and you could tell he was of Fulani origin.

She stared at him, her large eyes widening with pure joy when she confirmed it was really him. She shouted, “Brother!”

Then she burst into laughter and ran toward him. As if in a dream, he heard her voice and lifted his head from the computer in front of him, and their eyes met. The shock of seeing her at that moment made him widen his striking eyes, framed by long, thick eyelashes, his full dark eyebrows perfectly arched as he stared at her.

She threw herself into his arms, laughing, and said in Arabic, “I missed you so much, Yaa Waleed!”

A beautiful smile appeared on his handsome face without him saying a word, as he hugged her firmly and closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

Within three seconds, the smile on his face began to fade as he turned, his expression shifting into a hard-to-read anger. He quickly opened his eyes and, without warning, pushed her away from him. She fell to the ground just as the old woman arrived, her eyes catching what was happening. In deep rage, she marched toward them without saying a word. She screamed, then let out a cry as if her soul were being ripped from her body, rolling and writhing on the ground.

Waleed quickly stood up, shot her a fierce look, and began gathering his belongings, preparing to leave. Realizing what he intended to do, she cried even harder in distress. Frustration made him look up to speak—but just then his eyes caught sight of her approaching in shock, and with a startled voice and widened eyes, he exclaimed…