Gidanmu Parts Parts 1 & 2 Complete Hausa Novel

All praise is for Allah, Lord of all beings. I glorify Him as befits Him, and I bear witness that there is no deity except Allah alone, without partner. I also bear witness that Muhammad is Allah’s Messenger and servant. May the peace of Almighty Allah be upon him, his family, his companions, and those who follow in their footsteps until the Last Day.

Once again, I thank Almighty Allah for giving me the opportunity and wisdom to begin my new novel, which is a work of fiction.

Any resemblance to your lifestyle is the nature of the story.

I ask Allah to guide me, protect me throughout, and make it successful till the end.

Warning:

Using any part of this book or making audio without the permission of the author is prohibited.

DEDICATED TO:

Aisha Alto (Sisinah)

Chubado Muhammad (Uwar Dakina)

Yahanasu Soupnass (Qawalli)

Kausar Salis (My Jika)

Rahma Ladingo (Dota)

All of this story, from beginning to end, belongs to them.

1

KANO STATE

Area: Gadan Kaya, at about 8:30 a.m. on Monday morning

In her usual hurried manner, she came out from a corridor to the west with three rooms lined up there, and appeared in the sitting room at once while adjusting the knot of her headscarf, Zahra Buhari style.

She was a very fair girl, so fair that you could almost say blood would come out if you touched her. Tall, with a slender figure; by appearance alone, you would link her to Fulani blood from both sides. Especially as she kept her hand on her head, further adjusting the knot of the wrapper on her head, which sat perfectly on top of her neatly arranged hair, tied with a large band.

She was wearing a gold and blue Ankara dress with milk-colored stripes, a blouse and skirt. On her feet were black low-heeled shoes, and she had a small handbag. She dropped the bag on one of the chairs in the sitting room and held her head at once. Then she looked up, and I understood she was not wearing makeup. As my guess turned out to be true, she had not even put on powder. But because of her fair skin and overall appearance, she looked fine even without it.

She hurried into the corridor, and before she entered one of the rooms, she came out shortly after with a phone in her hand and a stack of books, like someone about to begin some study. She dropped them on the chair again and looked at the watch on her wrist, a small, beautiful one with leopard-skin color. She clicked her tongue lightly before raising her head again and looking toward the dining table that stood in the west side. She stood up in surprise when she saw that he was not there eating, although she knew better than anyone that only the two of them were the early risers in the house: she, because of school, as she was in her first year at BUK and they often had morning lectures; and YA YUSUF, because he had to go to his place of work. He was the one who usually took her and dropped her off before continuing on to his own work, unless she had finished what she was doing and took an adaidaita back home.

Her body grew cold when she reached the large dining table that could seat only five people. She opened the food containers she had prepared since dawn before getting ready, because of her father and her two older brothers. She had not counted Abba or YA IMU among them, knowing they did not eat early—though it was better to say Abba, whom she knew was probably still there now, with both eyes open, wrestling with thoughts that had become his companions in recent years. As for Ya Imu, he only came out when the sun was high, and even when he did, it was not as if he could manage much of anything, knowing his sharp temper and stubborn nature. He was not one to worry much about food, except for tea and fruits—and then there was the smoke from his tobacco, which she thought might be what filled him up, since he hardly ever looked for food. If not that, then what did he eat? Since she had been with him, she had never once seen him go a proper five minutes without puffing smoke from his mouth! As she kept wondering how a person’s life could go on like that, she allowed herself to see that such a life was indeed continuing, and continuing in a way that fate had descended upon OUR HOUSE..!

Feeling downcast, she left the area and headed toward the row of rooms facing her. She began knocking on the first room before pushing the door open and entering with a small greeting on her lips, walking calmly.

A very fair old man, with thick white hair extending down to his beard and mustache, was lying on the bed in the room. He wore a milk-colored jalabiya. His feet were resting on the bed, white and covered with age spots. Looking at him, you would understand that it was not age or old age that had made his hair white; it was simply the way he was created. From his condition, he could not have been more than 61 years old. Though he had spent two days without sleep, his skin still did not darken, and his face remained strikingly handsome and dignified. His eyes were half-closed, as though he were sleeping. A rosary was in his hand, which he moved bead by bead, and his mouth kept moving as though he were speaking.

She stopped abruptly in front of him and looked at him for a moment, her eyes filled with tears, on the verge of spilling. When I looked again properly, I understood that she resembled this fair old man deeply. I had not finished being amazed when I saw her kneel before him and say, “Abba, good morning...” She said it while placing her hand on his, the one moving the rosary.

Quietly, he opened his eyes and looked at her. If not her, then who else could it be? She was the only one he first wanted to see when day broke in God’s land. He shifted a little and adjusted his posture, saying, “I am fine, Maimunatu!” he said, smiling at her. She returned the smile, stood up, and said, “Have you prayed, Abba?”

He looked at her briefly before saying, “Which prayer, Maimunari?” She nodded and said, “Yes, the Fajr prayer, Abba...” His eyes widened a little before he said, “You, for Allah’s sake... Has the prayer been called?”

Maimuna felt like crying from pity for her father, but she held herself together and said softly, “It has been prayed, Abba... It’s even past eight now, already...”