Hauwa Kulu Part 3 Complete Hausa Novel

On one Thursday evening, at about four o’clock, the rainy-season breeze was blowing pleasantly through Hauwa’s compound. Dark clouds had gathered, and rain was about to start.

Hauwa’s Inna was sitting on a low chair in her veranda, tying up the plastic bags of alale that they would eat at night. Each time she finished tying one, she would place it into a pot. As she worked, she listened to the radio—her program, Jakar Magori.

At that same time, Hauwa was lying in her room upstairs like someone struck by water—curled tightly inside a blanket on her firm, new Vitafoam mattress. Yet her heart was uneasy. These days she couldn’t understand why she felt so unsettled inside… until she finally realized the reason:

Dr. Sarham. Nothing else.

For almost seven days now, that quiet worry had been sitting in the bottom of her heart. She had noticed Dr. Sarham had stopped paying attention to her. It wasn’t that he had stopped coming to the house—he still came—but now she only heard his voice outside when he and Inna were talking. He had stopped asking for her inside the house whenever he came. He no longer came to her door to tease her with words the way he used to.

Hauwa pushed out a small laugh and adjusted her position. A voice inside her said, “So, Hauwa… why are you worried that Sarham has stopped giving you attention? He wasn’t coming here because of you in the first place. It’s because of your Inna that he comes—and it was only through her that he even had the chance to notice you. So why would you burden yourself because he decided to stop?”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance at herself and told her heart: from today, she too would learn to ignore him. Whatever he felt, he could keep it. What exactly did he pride himself on beyond his medical work—work she felt he wasn’t even that good at? Why should she trouble herself over his anger—anger that seemed to come for no reason? If she knew she had wronged him, then she would worry; but since she knew she hadn’t, what was the point?

Yet whenever she heard his voice in Inna’s sitting room, she would pull on her veil and come out of her room, stand at her doorway, and greet him. She noticed—and felt—that he only replied when he felt like it, responding carelessly and coldly as if he was forced to answer. After replying, he wouldn’t say anything else to her; she would end up tired of standing there and return to her room.

She sighed when she remembered that he did the same to her yesterday. Shaking her head, she said, “He’s just being childish. Why am I even worrying about him? There isn’t any blood relationship between us—only the bond of Allah and the help he chose to give us. If that’s the case, why should his change toward me disturb me? He hasn’t changed toward Inna at all—in fact he seems to come even more often now, even if he doesn’t stay long.”

But strangely, no matter how much she wanted to stop worrying about Dr. Sarham’s coldness, she couldn’t. It troubled her—because whether she liked it or not, she knew Sarham held an important place in their lives. He had played a role in her and her Inna’s life that was bigger than even a blood sibling’s role… and now, just because he decided on his own, he had stopped caring for her.

To her, his importance was more than that. They say you should make seventy excuses for a loved one before you accuse them of wrongdoing.

So she decided in her heart: Why not ask him, when he comes, whether I offended him?

That was the thought consuming Hauwa. All day long she couldn’t enjoy herself. She lay heavy on the mattress, unable to come out and help Inna with the alale, even though tying the alale is something she could do easily because she was used to assisting her. She couldn’t find peace at all.

On top of that, she had been having frequent dreams about her father, Malam Bilyaminu—dreams in which she saw him return, but sick. That too deepened Hauwa’s worry, yet she couldn’t tell Inna, afraid it would alarm her: How could I tell her I keep seeing Malam return in a weak, paralyzed state?

In the middle of that troubled state—tears sliding from the corner of her eyes—a powerful greeting suddenly rang out from the entrance into their compound courtyard, in a strong, healthy, commanding voice.

Inna’s heart dropped violently—ras!—because it was a voice she could recognize even in sleep. A voice whose owner she could never forget, even if she died and came back. A voice she believed belonged to only one man in the world—a voice she had missed for more than seven years.

The person greeted again:

“By Allah’s power, may it not be that I’ve mistaken the way… have I?”

Their eyes locked—he and his true wife (Safiya), Hauwa’s Inna. He said Alhamdulillah—even though she had grown heavier with age, she was still the same woman he had left, with her beauty intact. He began walking toward her quickly, repeating Alhamdulillah again and again.

Inna’s lips trembled and shook as he arrived and stood before her. She rose to her feet, her hands shaking as she reached out and touched his beard, and she said:

“MALAM!”

He held her hand and replied, “Yes, Safiyatu. I thank Allah for bringing our faces together in peace.”

Only then did she truly confirm it was Malam Bilyaminu standing in front of her—this wasn’t a dream. She staggered backward—luu!—about to fall against the wall, but he quickly caught her into his chest, saying:

“Safiyatu, don’t do this to me. Will you collapse and hurt yourself before we even speak? You should be thanking Allah that He reunited us alive and well.”

But no—Inna Safiyya’s eyes rolled, and she fainted in Malam Bilyaminu’s arms.

He laid her down there—on the cool floor of the kitchen area. He rushed to the tap, quickly filled a container with water, came back, and began wiping her face down to her neck. Not long after, Inna began to release deep breaths, though she still didn’t open her eyes.

From inside the room, Hauwa could hear their movements—because a blind person hears sharply. She kept asking:

“Who is there? I said who came in? Inna, where are you? What is it?”

When she heard no one answering—because at that moment Inna had opened her eyes and she and Malam Bilyaminu were locked in a stunned gaze—Hauwa rose, stepped out slowly, feeling the wall with her hand. She reached the courtyard and kept turning her eyes sharply—bright, wide, and shining.