Hauwa Kulu Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The conference hall had filled up in a striking way—senior and junior lawyers alike. Some came with their families, others attended alone. Off to one side, in a special reserved section for guests, were representatives of non-governmental organizations (International NGOs) that defend the rights of people living with disabilities and promote Equal Rights, Inclusion, and Opportunities for people with special needs.

Even though the hall was not very large, it swallowed a huge crowd of attendees. Many of them did not come simply to congratulate her on the position she received today; they came mainly to see her face-to-face—to “test the light” and remove doubt, to confirm the rumors they often heard about her being fully healthy. This was because she had become a Nigerian celebrity in the global disability community—her name had spread and exploded across the media and social platforms. For a long time, her voice had become familiar to everyone in Northern Nigeria as the voice that fights for the rights of people with disabilities and defends their dignity.

Some others came only because they saw the invitation message online—simply because they liked her and wanted to see her in person. Truly, she was widely loved.

It was the disability-rights organizations that organized this face-to-face meet-and-greet event for her, in order to celebrate her emergence as the head of the national body of lawyers popularly known as the Nigerian Bar Association.

These organizations stood firmly behind her because of her unwavering commitment to defending the rights of people with disabilities in the North; supporting their progress, their education, and the education of their children—through her collaboration with the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and her chosen path of being a lawyer for the underprivileged and for physically-challenged persons.

Beyond being an SDG Advocate, she is also an independent lawyer whose work is mostly focused on standing up for the less-privileged—those who cannot afford legal representation, those who have been oppressed because of disability, or whose citizenship rights have been violated due to disability. She is at the forefront of disability-rights defense across the entire North.

When she arrived in the hall—walking in with complete elegance and presence—her hand locked in his as they stepped slowly toward the place prepared for them to stand together, everyone rose in respect. Many who were seeing her physically for the first time said silently in their hearts, “Truly, Hauwa—seeing you is better than only hearing you!”

Even though, this time too, her dark glasses were on her eyes, they did not hide the clear signs of her full health, her confidence, her complete composure, and the beauty of her dressing.

After everyone sat down and the hall settled, she took the microphone and began by pouring out thanks to all the participants, to her fellow brilliant lawyers, and to the organizations that put together this important meet-and-greet and greeting event—organizations committed to ensuring that people with special needs gain relief from life’s pressures under the support of the Sustainable Development Goals, to which she contributes partially. She thanked those organizations again for persuading her to come out today—so the world could see her—on this important day of her life. Since, until now, only her voice had been known online, they asked her to tell her story—one that might become an inspiration to people who find themselves in a situation similar to hers.

The organizations included major disability-rights and development groups such as AGILE, SightSavers, Action Against Hunger, and PERL (Partnership to Engage, Reform and Learn).

She also thanked the journalists from BBC Radio, led by the BBC correspondent in Kano, and VOA Radio, led by their representative Hamza Mustapha Mawonmase.

Above everyone—above all, and above all—she said she was grateful to the father of her children, whom she called: “My PACE-SETTER…”

Her strong, ringing voice continued to fill the hall through the microphone— a voice that many people had already become familiar with long before they ever saw her face in public—exactly as she said:

“As everyone knows, my name—my given name—is Hauwa-Kulu. ‘Hauwa’ is the name with which a ram was slaughtered for me.” Many times, when I blow out air—especially during moments of enjoyment when I’m trying to cheer myself up—I beat my chest and tell myself:

No one ever lived youth as sweet as mine!

I often think I enjoyed the bustle of youth more than all my peers. The reason I say this is that my childhood happened in a time when the minds of our country—and the northern states in general—were calm and settled. Both my parents, mother and father, were alive together, and I leaned on them—especially my mother—enjoying the blessings of having both maternal and paternal care at once, within the protected, modest life of any ordinary poor Kano family.

I spent my early years during a period full of events in our Nigeria—an era when the military seized power from civilians (or “the common people”) in the late 1980s, when Nigeria’s leadership returned to military rule after the government of **Alhaji Shehu Shagari.”

Hauwa went on to say that in those days, people lived a life marked by great simplicity and strong unity among the residents of Kano State—and even across Nigeria as a whole—something that is now rare, or almost completely missing, in the situation we live in today.