Duniya Biyu Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

It’s a large orphanage for orphans and children with disabilities. There is a short building labeled Kitchen and Dining, where both the staff and the children come to eat. Nearby, there is a large multi-story building close to the kitchen. This building alone is fenced off and labeled Girls’ Section. On the left side of the compound, there is a large school building, which runs from nursery all the way to SS3, staffed with qualified teachers. There is also an Islamiyya where every day, by 4 p.m., both children and adults attend. Classes end around 6 p.m., after which everyone returns home.

As he closed his eyes and remembered his father, he knew he could never be like him. He had never seen anyone as generous as his father. His father loved helping people and had a strong sense of community. After his passing, he set up this orphanage in his memory, both as a legacy and for reward in the afterlife. Setting it up was not easy. During the first two years, the government had to approve and license the orphanage. Now, any child brought in requires government permission, and the government provides no financial support—he had more than enough resources to keep the orphanage running for the next hundred years.

Slowly, he opened his eyes as a car parked. When the driver opened the door, he stepped out, following the parking space leading to the Admin Block, admiring the flowers and the neat, organized environment—it looked perfect, almost like Dubai.

A tall, fair-skinned man, Waleed, though not as tall as Zak-Shadow, emerged from an office wearing a black suit and necktie. In his hand, he held an Apple pad as he descended a small flight of stairs, no more than ten steps. He extended his hand with a teasing smile and said:

“Groom! I didn’t expect to see you here today; I thought we’d meet at dinner later.”

Zak-Shadow stared at him and replied:

“Mr. P.A., tell me what we have for today.”

The man laughed:

“P.A., don’t be so formal, you know that. Better call me by the name my father gave me when he slaughtered two rams for me—ARHAM ABDULLAH.”

He smiled, showing his deep dimples, and continued walking up the stairs without looking back, with Zak-Shadow following. Knowing he wouldn’t be stopped, he tapped lightly on the iPad screen he was holding.

“All right, let’s see what we have here.”

He exhaled and continued:

“Okay, Boss, you have five major tasks today.

Talk to Tata Marcopolo company; you need to get them to deliver five Marcopolo buses we’ll use for the excursion to Yankari Game Resort next week.

By 9 a.m., you’ll be in the theatre for surgery on that boy with the outgrowth on his neck.

Go to the girls’ section—we need to inspect their bunks, as Iyami Tamana has complaints that need addressing.

You have a meeting with all employees after Friday prayers at 2:30 p.m.

Finally, send a letter to the state government.”

Zak-Shadow nodded as they arrived at his office. He pressed his hand against the glass door, then used a blue scanner to unlock it. He entered, with Arham following behind.

It was a spacious, well-furnished office. Zak-Shadow removed his suit jacket, hung it on a designer hanger, and sat down. Arham took a chair facing him, waiting for instructions. Zak-Shadow glanced at his watch, then said:

“I’ll be in surgery by nine. I think you can handle communication with Tata Marcopolo and inspect the girls’ section bunks. Postpone the meeting with employees—you don’t have time today. Tell the secretary to notify them. As for the letter to the state government, probably won’t happen today; maybe tomorrow. You can go and do your work.”

Arham looked at him and asked quietly:

“What?”

Zak-Shadow replied softly:

“Talk to me, X-Man. I know something’s wrong with you. When did we start hiding things from each other?”

Zak-Shadow stared without saying a word. “X-Man,” Arham called gently.

Waleed, slightly annoyed, said:

“How many times do I need to explain this to you, P.A.? Work time is work time. Friendship doesn’t interfere with business. Please go and do your job—I pay you for it. We’ll talk later.”

Arham, frustrated, stood up, pointing out:

“Do you even know what my problem is with you?”

Waleed’s eyes shifted slightly in color as he stared at him. With full irritation, he said:

“You are so weak but hide it under rudeness. You know what? You suck. And please, let me go do the job I pay you for.”

He slammed the table hard, then turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, a voice called out:

“Arha…”

He froze, closed his eyes, pressed his hands on his forehead, groaning in frustration. Then he kicked the table and cursed. After a short sigh, he went to a side door in the office. He used the scanner, opened it, and entered another room. It was fully furnished—nothing missing.

He walked to a fridge, opened it, and selected a bottle of wine. He poured some into a glass, sat on a sleek Italian bed in the room, poured it into the cup, and drank. He grimaced at the bitterness, then set the glass down and glanced at his watch. Seeing it was nine, he left the office. Even on his way past the main clinic of the orphanage, he nodded politely at greetings but did not respond verbally.