Facala Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

He was an old women’s tailor, having started sewing when he was fifteen years old, and up to now he had no other trade besides sewing women’s clothes.

He studied for his N.C.E. at the federal college in Kano, that is, F.C.E.

He had a fairly good knowledge of Islam.

Anyone who lived with Ibrahim would testify that he was not an angry person; whatever he did, he did it calmly. He loved free roaming and was extremely sociable. His mother died about ten years ago. They were living in their family house in the Zoo Road area on Hausawa Sabon Titi street. Their father had given birth to four children: the eldest was their brother Yaya Muktar, then Khaleel, then their younger sister Zakiyya, who was in her husband’s house, and then their youngest, Jabir, who was eighteen years old.

Their father, Malam Sule, was still alive, though age had caught up with him, along with the everyday ailment that old people cannot be separated from.

Their house was a large house with many rooms. That was why Yaya Muktar lived there with his family. At the front, once you entered, was their parents’ room, then Ibrahim’s and Jabir’s rooms in a row, together with a small bathroom at the side. Then, if you went further into the house, there were six rooms, some closed and some open. Sakina used all the open ones, along with her four children. There was a spacious courtyard containing a large toilet and a kitchen. Ibrahim’s, Jabir’s, and their father’s food was all cooked in Sakina’s pot. They lived peacefully with her, since she was their brother’s wife and like a mother to them, even though she was not really that much older than them. Still, they respected her greatly.

He was standing by the table where he cut cloth in the first circle at his sewing shop, which was by the road leading into the Zoo Road area.

Su’ada said salam and entered the shop cheerfully, first greeting Jabir, who was squatting and fanning the charcoal in the charcoal stove.

Ibrahim looked up, smiled at her, and returned to what he was cutting. She went inside, greeted the other tailors in the shop, then came back to where he was standing, pulled a chair over, sat down, and said, “Good evening, Yallabai, how is work?”

Without stopping the cutting he was doing, he replied cheerfully, “Good evening to you, Yallabiya. How is school?”

“Hhhhmmm, school is going well, only a little remains, insha Allah we’ll rest. May Allah make it so my sewing is finished too.”

Teasingly, he said, “Your clothes? They won’t even be cut until tomorrow or the day after.”

She widened her eyes a little and said plaintively, “Seriously, Khaleelee? Tomorrow is the dinner, and I won’t be able to come out tomorrow because I’m going for henna and hair treatment.”

He pretended to think for a moment, then said, “Truthfully, there’s a problem, because you see all those Musa boys have clothes with them that I cut for them; they’ll take until evening or even morning.”

She pleaded more sweetly, saying, “Ah, Khaleelee, you know I don’t enjoy anyone sewing for me except you. Please, just find a way and sew it for me by tomorrow evening, okay?”

He nodded and looked into the shop, then said, “Umar, bring me that bag so I can see.”

He began taking the items out and, with a little laugh, said, “So this is the outfit, right?”

She pouted a little, then smiled and said, “Oh Allah, Khaleelee, you’ve made me someone to tease. Honestly, my whole body has already gone numb.”

“No, don’t let it die, please. Here are your things, take them and go home.”

Cheerfully, she accepted the bag and handed him the balance of his sewing fee, three thousand naira. Then she said farewell to them and left the shop, her face lit with joy. As for her, she did not know why Khaleel attracted her so much; everything about him pleased her, especially his extreme cleanliness. Allah had made him clean—every day you would find him spotless. His shop too was always tidy and fragrant; if you entered, it would feel as though you should not want to leave.

Sa’adatu Mustapha Sarki Darki was a young lady of nineteen years in the world. Everyone called her Su’ada. She was fair, though not very fair, neither tall nor short, but she could be described as small in build. One look at her would show that her features were Fulani by origin. Su’ada was extremely patient and always cheerful. She was born in Kano city, in Sharada area, where she did her primary school, secondary school, and Islamiyya. From there, they moved to Medile in Kumbotso local government area. Now she was studying at Aminuddeen College of Education.

There were seven of them in their house. Her elder sister was married, then there was Su’ada, then her four younger sisters, and their youngest, Ibrahim, whom they called Khaleelee. That was why she called the tailor Ibrahim Khaleelee. He was the only male among them, so they loved him dearly and called him Khaleelee.

Their father was a Fulani man from Darki town in Kano; business brought him from their village.

He was a businessman who transported shoes and lace materials from Lagos to Kano.

Their mother, on the other hand, was a pure Hausa woman from Gwale Gudundi area. She was a health worker at the children’s hospital in Kano, known as ASIYA BAYERO.

There was plenty of good upbringing in their home, because their mother was a strong woman who stood firm regarding the affairs of her family. Since Allah had blessed her with daughters, all their movements were under her watchful eyes. She was a sophisticated woman, not the sort to turn a blind eye when it came to her children. She kept them very close, so they could not hide their secrets from her. Sometimes, when you went to their house and saw the way she related with her children, you would think they were her younger siblings, not her children. She had no companions for conversation or advice other than her children, so all their decisions were made together with her.

_*perhaps in future it will become about money*_

*Follow me now as I begin*

*Yours truly*

*daughter of the people of Ja’oji*

*FACALA*

*BY*

*LAYUZA KABIR* *ADAM*

*ZAMANI* *WRITERS* *ASSOCIATION*

_We_ _are_ _here_ _to_ _educate_ , _motivate_ ,and _entertain_ _our_ _Readers_

_*page*_ *3-4*

Around half past eleven at night, she was lying on her bed holding her phone. One look at her would tell you…