Bongel Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

“Hafsat Aliyu.”

She heard the voice of their Vice Principal calling her name. She stood up immediately.

“Yes, sir.”

“Come,” he said, walking ahead. She followed him to the admin office, where she found Hamma Bala seated inside.

“Hamma, ina wuni?” she greeted softly.

“Lafiya lau,” he replied in a weak voice. From his expression alone, she knew his visit was not for anything good.

The Vice Principal scribbled something on a paper and handed it to Hamma Bala. Then he turned to her.

“If there’s anything you need from the hostel, go and pack it. You’ll be going home.”

Home?

The word echoed in her heart as it began to pound heavily. It couldn’t be good news. Since JSS1, no one had ever come to pick her from school—not for weddings, not for naming ceremonies. Bappa had always insisted her education came first.

“I don’t need anything,” she said quietly. At that moment, all she wanted was to get home and find out what was happening.

She rode on Hamma Bala’s motorcycle to Malumfashi, since it wasn’t far.

The crowd she saw gathered at the entrance of their house made her body go weak. There was no doubt—someone had died.

As she approached the gate, she began to hear loud wailing. Her body trembled. Pushing through the people, she entered the house.

Her eyes fell on her mother, who was crying uncontrollably.

She rushed forward and fell into her arms.

“We’ve lost Bappa, Bongel. Allah ya k—”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Bongel fainted.

People gathered around her, sprinkling water on her face. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

“Nene… please tell me I’m dreaming. Tell me we didn’t lose Bappa.”

The tears flowing freely down Nene’s face confirmed the painful truth.

“Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un,” she repeated over and over, her eyes tightly shut as tears flooded her cheeks.

Everyone present felt deep pity for her, knowing the special bond she shared with Bappa.

She sat there for a long time, crying.

When the Asr prayer call was made, people rose to pray. Bongel lifted her swollen, red eyes and noticed Dije and Fatsuma eating tuwo calmly, without a single tear on their faces.

She turned her head away in disappointment. She hadn’t realized their lack of empathy ran this deep.

After performing ablution at the tap in the courtyard, she entered Nene’s room and spent a long time making heartfelt prayers.

“Adda! Adda!”

She looked up to see her younger sister, Ramla—about fourteen years old—holding their four-year-old brother’s hand.

“Adda, Bappa has left us,” Ramla cried, throwing herself into Bongel’s arms.

Little Abu followed, clinging to her as well.

She wrapped her arms around them tightly as they cried together—heartbreaking sobs that shook the room.

Goggo Hajjo, Nene’s younger sister, had been standing quietly, watching them with deep sympathy.

Finally, she spoke.

“Haba, Bongel. You are the eldest among them. You should be comforting them, not leading them in tears. Bappa needs your prayers, not crying. I know it hurts, but you must endure. Death comes to everyone.”

Her voice barely audible through her tears, Bongel replied,

“So this is how death tastes—so bitter and painful. We’ve lost Bappa, Goggo. How can we not cry?”

Goggo Hajjo knelt beside them, holding Bongel and Ramla’s hands, offering words of comfort and guidance. Slowly, calmness settled over them, and their sobs softened.

That night, Bongel lay down with a fever. Sleep refused to come. Ramla and Abu managed to sleep, and Nene spent the night praying continuously for Bappa’s mercy.

For three days, they observed mourning. Each day, Dije and Fatsuma’s behavior made it clear they were unaffected by the loss. People began whispering about them openly.

“I’ve heard stories about jealousy, but I’ve never seen rivalry between co-wives like yours,” Hajjo remarked.

Nene sighed.

“Even I am shocked. I only truly noticed their attitude after this death.”

“I’ve long known Dije and Fatsuma don’t like you,” Hajjo added.

Nene smiled bitterly and shook her head.

Bongel remained silent, reflecting deeply on the complicated life of their household—how jealousy between women could burn hotter than rivalry itself. They weren’t even co-wives, yet their jealousy was worse.

One evening, Bongel and Ramla sat on a mat in the room. Nene leaned against the wall on a mattress, with little Abu resting on her lap. Silence filled the room, heavy with longing for Bappa. At times like this, they used to sit together laughing and sharing stories.

Nene finally spoke.

“Tomorrow, you should return to school.”

“Tomorrow, Nene? The seventh-day prayer hasn’t even been done.”

“What are you waiting for, Bongel? You’re in your final stage. Don’t play with your education. Bappa left nothing behind except your schooling. His greatest wish was for you to pursue deep knowledge. Please fulfill his dream.”

Weakly, she nodded.

“In sha Allah, I will try to fulfill Bappa’s wish. You will be proud of me.”

“Allah ya yarda,” Nene said.

“Amin,” they all responded.

The next day, Hamma Bala returned her to school.

She went back with renewed determination—to work harder, to fulfill Bappa’s dream, and to help her mother and siblings.

Asiya was overjoyed to see her return. They were close friends, and her absence had been deeply felt. She offered condolences and promised that during the holidays, she and her family would visit Nene.

Back at home, Fatsuma mocked loudly in the courtyard.

“The girl’s father just died. They haven’t even done the seventh-day prayer, and they’ve sent her back to that useless Western school.”

Dije added,

“Of course. The one who died is gone. Before a week passes, his family starts forgetting him.”

Nene ignored them. She was used to their behavior and refused to engage. Outwardly, Dije and Fatsuma appeared united and affectionate. But beneath it all lay jealousy, resentment, and rivalry.

Follow the journey in the book BONGEL, which will captivate and entertain you — In Shaa Allah.