Kalbim Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

Ammar had waited for Modibbo to come and look for work for them for so long that he finally lost patience. His desperation pushed him to start following Modibbo around the city himself, so they could understand the depth and level of knowledge they possessed. If not for the terrible misfortune that came with the entry of Aziz Limba into their lives, there would have been no company that would dare look down on them given their level of education.

But now, since they were willing to take any kind of job, Ammar suppressed his pride and began following Modibbo around in order to humble themselves. From what he knew of their qualifications, wherever they were employed they would surely be taken in at a high position, because people with such education and experience were not hired cheaply or easily. He was certain that once they got a job, everyone would rush to value and appreciate them.

The first day they went out, Modibbo looked Ammar up and down, then let his eyes drop to his feet, standing stiffly like uprooted stalks, before saying:

“When I go out, my feet are my vehicle. I walk very long distances, like a motorcycle without brakes.

Can you handle that?”

Ammar stared at him and swallowed his dry saliva. He had expected Modibbo to talk about money—after all, that was how such men usually were—but hearing about trekking under the scorching sun shocked him. Still, with courage and determination, he replied:

“Yes, I can. If it’s for job hunting, even if we walk all over Abuja, I can do it. But you’ll buy us food and good water, right?”

Kawu Isiya, who was sitting beside Modibbo and listening, lifted his narrow eyes—slanted like those of a Japanese man—and looked at Ammar’s thin neck, stretched long like a broomstick, before saying:

“Before we even talk about food, do you have transport money at all, Ammaru?”

Ammar tightened his face and muttered under his breath in anger, irritated by how people in the village called him Ammaru like a fool:

“God, these fools are killing me slowly.”

Kawu Isiya, not understanding what he said, continued while removing his bowl-shaped cap and placing it aside:

“If you don’t have money, go and meet Garba and the others in the bush where they burn charcoal. Join them, work hard, sell it, and get transport fare.”

Modibbo cut in:

“I’m leaving tomorrow. I don’t have time to wait two days for firewood to turn into charcoal and be sold. If he wants to follow me, fine. Otherwise, he should wait for another chance.”

Ammar stepped closer, lowered his head slightly, and pleaded:

“Modibbo, if you go, let us go with you now. It’s better. I’ll show them how deep my knowledge is, and they’ll quickly employ us.

Given our level of education and experience, once we’re employed you’ll see money flowing easily. So let’s just consider the trip. What do you say, Kawu Isiya?”

Kawu Isiya adjusted his seat and gave Ammar his full attention:

“I don’t understand how money will start coming immediately. How exactly will your education begin to bring money?”

Ammar clicked his tongue softly, gathering courage. He needed to confuse them just enough to get their support for job hunting. Though the others had little education, they had some money that could help with transport. So, like an old, ragged scholar, he pulled a stone, sat before them, and began:

“We got our education after spending wealth that could build this entire village and its surroundings. Not just the houses you see here—

in fact, we spent money that could buy a thousand cattle just to acquire knowledge.”

Kawu Isiya interrupted:

“What do you mean by ‘a group of cattle’?”

Annoyed, Ammar replied, while Modibbo frowned at the obvious exaggeration:

“He means a herd of cattle, old man.”

Kawu Isiya’s eyes widened as he sat upright:

“Did you say a thousand cattle, Ammaru?”

“Yes. Compared to our wealth, a thousand cattle is nothing.”

Modibbo cut in sharply:

“It’s a herd, not a ‘group,’ understand?”

“Whatever you call it, Modibbo. We have wealth whose size only God knows—even we don’t know its limits.

So now, once we get jobs, we’ll earn even more than before. And all the blessings that come, we’ll share generously with you.”

Kawu Isiya and Modibbo exchanged looks.

“Share with us??” Kawu Isiya asked.

“Yes, Kawu. You’ll enjoy wealth too, once we get the job.”

Modibbo clicked his tongue in frustration:

“Isiya, just because of greed, you’re ready to believe that all the wealth of a thousand cattle was spent only on education?

A thousand cattle!”

Kawu Isiya fell silent, nodding. Though it sounded unbelievable, everyone knew the Zaaden family had inherited an unimaginable fortune—something even Modibbo admitted he had never seen before.

Suddenly, Kawu Isiya stood up barefoot and rushed inside, calling out:

“Jibo! Come quickly. You’re the one who understands money and the world. Ammaru has explained something—come tell us how this can make sense, because I won’t agree to ruin wealth I’m not deeply involved in.”

Kawu Jibo came out, removed his sandals, and sat down, listening as Ammar repeated the story. The figures confused Jibo deeply. He looked at Isiya and said:

“If it’s advice you’re seeking, I’m fully in. Ammaru, I’ll lend you transport money. When you get a job, we’ll share the salary.”

Everyone stared at him in shock.

Ammar forced himself to remain calm and continued explaining that they wouldn’t even need loans—once they started searching for work, they wouldn’t stop until they succeeded, even if the job offer involved buying into it. Anything was better than remaining stuck in village hardship.

Just then, Maheer arrived and heard what Jibo said. Ammar looked at Maheer in frustration, while Jibo muttered:

“Is he mad or just stupid?”

Maheer sighed silently.

Modibbo interrupted, turning to Maheer:

“Maheer, you’re the only one I trust among your people. You’re wiser than this one who looks like rotten cabbage pretending to be rich.

Tell me the truth—are these claims of wealth real, or are they just fairy tales like ancient Egypt?”

Ammar quickly glanced at Maheer, silently begging him to support the story. If they could just tempt them with wealth, they would contribute money for job hunting.

In truth, Ammar was exhausted—Maheer’s neck had grown thin, Dad’s clothes were always faded, Jannah and Ummah looked weak and pale, and even he himself had become “Ammaru,” the pitied one. His heart burned with frustration.

At this point, any job—no matter how small the salary—was better than continuing this life of village struggle.