Dukan Ruwa Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Her figure was delicate, and her features graceful. He had a long nose, which added to his elegance, and his mouth was perfectly proportioned. His eyes were large, almost as if they matched the size of his face, and although his hair had turned white with age, his overall appearance still commanded respect. She couldn’t look away until he let out a joyous laugh, and then she found herself whispering, “Wow!” without even realizing it. Immediately, all eyes turned to her.

She quickly covered her mouth and bowed her head in shyness. The man approached and knelt before her. Her heart felt heavy, and memories from many years ago seemed to resurface. Shyness overcame her, and she greeted him timidly, hoping he didn’t notice. To her surprise, he responded warmly.

“Welcome home, my daughter. Relax—this is your home, your father’s house. There’s nowhere better than here, right?”

When he said this, she glanced at Kawu, who smiled and nodded to her.

“Whether you like it or not, this is your father’s house. Something to remember fondly.”

She smiled, looking again at the man who claimed to be her father, and tears immediately filled her eyes. The fear she had felt melted away, replaced by love and joy from the time they spent apart. She embraced him tightly and wept freely. Memories flooded back, and she realized how much she had missed him. Though she had never lacked food, shelter, or clothing, she had missed this closeness to her father—this sense of family love that was irreplaceable.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I won’t stay away from you again. That time was fate, but this time, God willing, I’ll come to you myself. May God bless your mother and Hajiya Dada.”

They responded with “Amen,” and he gently started a conversation with her, drawing her in with familiar warmth. He took out his phone and sent a short message to someone named Ummita, asking her to come immediately. He then spoke with Kawu about Dada’s illness and passing, sharing stories as they sat together.

Meanwhile, she could hardly take her eyes off her father. Soon, a young woman arrived—a stranger to her, yet commanding attention. She was dark-skinned, slender, wearing modest clothing with a hijab covering her shoulders. She greeted Kawu and then focused on her father.

“Ummita, take your sister and go prepare food for her. Make sure she eats and rests. Tell your mother I have a guest to prepare for before we pray, and bring water to drink,” he instructed.

Ummita complied respectfully, and Humaira watched her carefully, noting how much she resembled her in poise and presence. She immediately felt affection for her, even though she didn’t fully understand why. Ummita exuded a kind of grace and maturity that set her apart, and Humaira recognized her as someone important in their household. She took Ummita’s hand and helped her carry a box of belongings inside.

They walked along a narrow, plant-lined path to a side entrance of the house. Humaira was struck by the beauty of the garden and the careful arrangement of plants framing the doorway. Ummita led the way to a part of the house with a veranda and a door. Upon entering, she called out excitedly:

“Mami! Mami!! Come and see!”

Her call brought others into the room—men, women, and children—all curious.

“What’s the matter, Ummita? Why are you shouting?” one asked.

Humaira noticed the tension in the room and the way others’ words seemed to stop in midair as Ummita drew attention. The girl standing before her had a striking presence. Her hair was neatly tied back, and her appearance immediately caught Humaira’s eye.

“Who is she?” one of the young women asked, glancing at Humaira for confirmation.

Ummita smiled and introduced her gently. “Mami, this is Umma from Niger, Aisha Humaira. Father said she is now living with us.”

The woman called Mami remained stern, not offering a smile, and Humaira noticed the unspoken authority in her gaze. Still, she felt a warmth toward Ummita, sensing her kindness. Humaira followed her to a room and quietly observed every corner: four neatly arranged beds, personal belongings organized carefully, and the room kept immaculate. This was the girls’ room.

Ummita began placing a box on one of the beds, speaking to Humaira, but was interrupted by another young woman who arrived suddenly, scolding her loudly for mishandling the belongings. Humaira noticed the tension but stayed silent, observing the interactions and trying to understand the household dynamics.

Through it all, she realized that Ummita was kind, considerate, and held a respected place in their home. Humaira felt a sense of belonging and reassurance, recognizing that this new chapter of her life would be guided by both care and structure.