Waye Shi Complete Hausa Novel

I hear everything Baba Umaru is saying about how I should consider everything as nothing and place my trust in God. But if only he knew what I was feeling inside at that moment, he wouldn’t have had the courage to make such a statement—because I felt like strangling him until he stopped moving, out of pure anger.

Despite the warning I gave him, he didn’t listen. Instead, he continued, saying: “I know you are still angry and troubled, but I want you to know that this was written in your destiny. And I have fulfilled the promise I made to my wife, Hajara, which she made me give before she returned to her Creator.”

I quickly turned to look at him when he said it was Ummah’s will, which she gave him before she died. So that was what she had told Baba Umaru that day when she asked us to leave while she was preparing to die. That was a question I asked myself alone—but I had no answer to it.

I stood up to leave his room, because at that moment I didn’t need anything that would connect me to anyone at all. I realized that all the years I had lived my life were spent in darkness and ignorance, unaware of what was truly going on.

I headed to our room. At least I was relieved not to see people in the house, because everyone had dispersed after three days of the wedding. I took a bath—not because I wanted to, but because my body felt sticky. I hadn’t bathed since three days ago.

I saw Inna Rabi’s belongings beside mine, meaning she had been staying there since the wedding ceremony. I looked around the room, a deep sadness eating away at my heart. I had planned to arrange it and live there alone—only to realize that they also wanted to push me out of the house.

Even though that wasn’t my main concern now, my goal was to understand what was happening between Sameer and me, since now I knew he wasn’t my blood relative, seeing as I had been married off to him. And I vowed that I would not do what they wanted unless they told me the truth about what was going on.

In all three houses of the brides, none of the husbands made any special effort upon bringing their brides home. Whatever they desired, they had already taken from them on the first night—or even long before. One of them was even a widow, so there was no need for any special effort at all.

Zainab looked at Yunusa, who was trying to put on his police uniform in preparation to leave.

“So now, because of men’s sheer lack of respect, you bring me here and I haven’t even spent my honeymoon, and you’re telling me you’re going out for work? And your mother is even saying that today I’m the one to cook in this house?”

As she spoke, she held a small bundle that looked like a snake and shook it angrily. But Yunusa didn’t react at all—it was as if she was talking to a stone. He continued polishing his shoes.

“Yunusa, I’m talking to you and you’re acting like I’m worthless. Wallahi, go and tell them early that I didn’t come here to cook for them. I haven’t even spent a week here and already I’m being bothered to work—as if I was brought here like a sack of goods. Wallahi, I won’t do it.”

“So you won’t eat either,” he replied. “And as for me, by Allah, today I won’t buy you bread. Yesterday I even had to buy it on credit. And since I’ve stayed with you for three days, that’s enough, right? So either you cook with your own hands, or you refuse and just sit there like that. I won’t go and tell them you’re not a sack of goods—but since you think they’re animals with no parents, or that they didn’t have brides, then go and tell them yourself.”

After saying this, he picked up his cap and left, as if he wasn’t the same person who had married her just three days ago.

Zainab sighed deeply, filled with bitterness over what her husband had said. She placed one hand on her forehead and held the bundle with the other. The troubles of this world began to overwhelm her, even before she had gone anywhere.

Seeing that there was no king but Allah, she left her room and headed toward her mother-in-law’s section to greet her.

From afar, she could hear her elder mother-in-law hurling insults, as usual. Both of them treated her with disrespect because of her quiet and reserved nature.

“Get up and go sweep the yard. Your husband brought money and you think you can just do whatever you like with it. As if you’re the one who earns it. You just sit, eat, drink, and mess things up. I won’t give you two measures—here is fifty naira. Go and buy him red and yellow capsules (tetracycline) for diarrhea. Aren’t you the ones who cause this running stomach? Everywhere smells—nothing but filth. You’ve filled the house with dirt.”

She turned her head and saw Zainab, who had arrived and was staring at her. The insults continued nonstop, without even a pause.

“And you—why are you standing there stiff like someone wearing iron trousers?”

Zainab quickly squatted down, nodding respectfully. It was Inna Laraba.

“Inna, good morning.”

She frowned as if she wouldn’t respond, before finally saying, “I’m fine. Yunusa told you about cooking tonight, didn’t he? If he didn’t, then let me repeat it—today you’re the one cooking. Every bride spends three days, then joins the cooking rotation. I hope you understand.”

Zainab quickly raised her head, her chest pounding. She hadn’t expected things to be like this. All the insults and humiliation—she couldn’t bring herself to argue with Inna Laraba. Instead, a trembling ran through her body.

…Hmm, let’s continue.

Kwass, kwass, kwass—the sharp sound of high-heeled shoes echoed as someone descended the stairs.

Hajiya Mairoce appeared, dressed in expensive clothes, a gold chain around her neck. From the doorway, Salma fixed her eyes on her, stunned by the elegance of her outfit and its obvious cost.

This was Salma’s first time seeing Hajiya Mairoce. Since her relatives brought her and left, she hadn’t seen anyone else enter her section except the person who brought her food. She hadn’t even seen her husband since their brief conversation on the eve of the wedding—until now, when she was summoned because the head of the household was calling her.

After finishing her dramatic movements, Hajiya Mairoce sat on a chair facing Salma and shot her a sharp look that seemed to say, I know you, girl, even before anyone spoke. Then the greeting of Sameerah and Umaruje reached their ears.

Sameerah looked radiant in her bridal glow, smiling as she walked in. They sat down at the lower end of the room. Sameerah even lowered her head shyly before her mother-in-law.

Hajiya Mairoce removed her gaze from Salma and turned to her daughter and the woman who came with her.

“Good morning, Mom.” “I’m fine, my son.” “I’m fine too, Mom. How is your companion?” “She’s here—ask her yourself. Or has marriage made you this way?”

“Ah, I was just asking.”

Seeing they had finished greeting, Sameerah said, “Good morning, Mom.”

(Though it was said reluctantly, despite Salma’s sadness, she almost burst into laughter.)

“I’m fine.”

From then on, Hajiya Mairoce didn’t look at Sameerah or Salma again. She focused only on speaking with her son.

“My son, I’m traveling to Dubai. You should go there and continue your studies. When you return, we’ll talk.”

“But Mommy, Sameerah and I will go together, right? I’ll be there for six months.”

A magical joy filled Sameerah’s heart at the thought of traveling with her husband. She began imagining the life they would live there, resolving not to return once they left. Hajiya Mairoce’s words shattered her bright thoughts and plunged her into darkness.

“She’s not going with you. You’re going alone. Do you want to burden yourself and deny yourself enjoyment? If it were a girlfriend or one of those flashy women, then you could go together—but not someone who knows nothing and will only embarrass you. And our plan for your marriage to Suhaila still stands. She’ll return to Nigeria by the time you do. I’ve already decided—you’ll leave within one week.”

Three emotions filled the living room. Umaruje was overwhelmed with shame—he didn’t want his mother to bring up another marriage in front of his wife. As for Sameerah, since the day her mother gave birth to her, and despite all the hardships she’d faced, she had never experienced humiliation as painful as this.