Cutarwa Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Asr Time in the Courtyard

It was Asr (late afternoon), and a young woman, not yet eighteen, was sitting in the large courtyard. She was trying to pick beans to pound and add to the stew she was cooking. On her lap lay a little girl, about three and a half years old. The girl had her big toe in her mouth, sucking it, while one hand played with her belly button.

If you looked at the girl once, you would want to look again, curious about her ethnic background.

She was very dark-skinned, with a bit of chubbiness. She had small sideburns, although her thick hair mostly covered them. Her eyes were large and white, but the irises were brown instead of black. Her lips were chocolate-colored, full, and plump, as if painted on. The most striking thing was her long, straight black hair—long and thick, unlike typical African hair—more like Arab-style hair, parted in two sections that fell down to her belly. Her nose was small and flat, likely from her mother’s influence.

A voice interrupted Mariya’s thoughts:

“Why aren’t you focusing on finishing this work instead of playing with this mischievous child? You’ve already carried her on your lap—don’t you feel the weight? I see you won’t even feed her.”

Mariya thought to herself, ‘I’ll manage. How could a little girl fail her feeding?’

Out loud she said, “Yes, I’ll finish what I can now.”

The older woman scolded her further:

“Let her play with the other children. This woman is sitting there, and you must give birth and discipline her. You refuse to have a child, but make an effort to give birth. Maybe God will grant you one with potential. This child is already too much. Even if your family took this black child with flaws, as you all are, blacks are like the sin of the first people.”

Mariya lowered her head in silence, feeling the sting of the words, but forced a smile and said, “Aunt, don’t worry. She won’t trouble you. When she stands, she’ll come with sweetness and even bring something good for you.”

Aunt frowned and said, “With this black, flawed child? If it were a fair-skinned girl, who would take the spoiled one? Even her eyes could prevent her marriage—scary eyes, like remnants of wickedness, red and glaring like coals.”

The little girl turned over on her mother’s lap, resting her head to the side.

Mariya patted her and said, “Ummi, get up so I can finish cooking before your siblings return. Get up and go play with them, Auwwalu.”

The girl wriggled slightly, pushing her little toe in her mouth, then repositioned herself.

At that moment, someone greeted from outside, making them respond together.

It wasn’t a small disturbance. Hearing the voice, Mariya got up slightly. It was a young man, holding a small bag in his hand.

Aunt asked, “Ahh, Idris, you’re back?”

“Yes. Has the food finished?”

“Not yet. She’s here, struggling with this mischievous child, who refuses to breastfeed and misbehaves.”

He looked at the girl and said, “Ummi, let’s go. I’ll buy you biscuits. Let aunt finish cooking first.”

The girl clung tightly to him, her eyes wide with visible fear.

“Ummi, please, follow Idris, so I can finish this work,” she said, tears filling her eyes, resting her head on her mother.

He reached to lift her, but she screamed—a cry of fear, not playfulness.

“Leave her! If she’s taken, she’ll be punished. Look at how naughty she is. Even her play isn’t proper; it’s reckless,” Mariya scolded.

He forced her gently, lifting her as she cried. Mariya, impatient, said, “This child really has no manners.”

He carried her on his shoulder, taking her to a quiet part of the house, a room meant for boys. He entered, placing her in the middle of the room.

“Cover your mouth, or I’ll pinch you!” he warned. She struggled, trying to stifle her cries, trembling with fear.

He moved a mattress, grabbed a hoe, and crouched in front of her, asking, “Did you tell your mother?” She shook her head, tears streaming as she tried to hold back her sobs.

“Did you tell or not?” he asked again. She shook her head in fear.

“Any day you tell, I’ll cut your meat with this hoe, put it in a bag, and give it to the dog to eat. I’ll also throw you in the fire your father cooks with—you’ve experienced the pain of fire before.”

She could only stare at him, tears rolling down.

He put down the hoe, pulled her, and tried to remove her long dress. She screamed and made noise. He covered her eyes, gagged her, and tied the hoe to her mouth. Her body shook, and she went silent.

As usual, Idris forced her, completing his intended act, then left her, but never crossed beyond that. He continued to threaten and frighten her, warning that if she spoke, he would punish her severely.

He left her sitting there, pinched her, then pulled her hand harshly. She felt pain but couldn’t cry, fearing fire or the hoe.

Eventually, he took her to the market, buying her biscuits for twenty naira and candy for five, holding her hand tightly back home. She tried to move quickly, but he made her slow down.

“You won’t hurry. You’re clumsy, like an old lazy woman,” he scolded, dragging her toward the house. Before entering, he warned her not to tell anyone about what happened. He carried her into the house on his shoulder.

“Aunt Mariya, here’s your mischievous child. The one who took my biscuit—she cried all the way back because of her naughty behavior.”

“Ohh, Ummi! God help me. She’s grown, but she’s still mischievous, not like a proper girl.”

The aunt was very worried and frightened, but knowing Mariya’s daughter, a rebellious eighteen-year-old, she assumed it was just mischief.

In the courtyard, the girl finished the biscuits and hugged her mother. It was almost Maghrib prayer. Her father returned, lifting her while spinning her in the courtyard.

“Ummi, who touched my only child? I see you’ve cried. Did you stop her?” he asked Mariya.

“No, father, it’s just mischief. She refused to play with the other children, clinging to Idris, who carried her while she cried.”

“Stop this mischief, please. I brought sweets from the market for you and Yalo—you eat, right?”

Aunt came out of the room and scolded, “Balarabe, this child is stubborn. Look at her chest first!”

He smiled, “How many sweets does Ummi need?”

“Leave her alone. She misbehaves, playing naughty. You, Balarabe, always seem lost in poverty, while your siblings work hard for their wealth. You keep nothing, just chasing this bad girl. You want to marry, but you don’t seek prosperity,” she scolded.

He stayed silent, lowering his head. Mariya focused on collecting the food, tidying up the courtyard.

This passage is quite intense and depicts child abuse, psychological fear, and control. It would be important to handle it sensitively if sharing.

I can also translate the next sections if you want to continue the story in English. Do you want me to do that?