Kanwar Maza 1 & 2 Complete Hausa Novel

In the city of Kano, Dorayi Tinga neighborhood, around four in the afternoon on a Thursday, there stood a modest house, part of a row of small homes. At first glance, you could tell the residents were of limited means—by the appearance of the walls, the rope fences, the lack of proper drainage, and the poorly maintained roads. Everyone’s home faced outward, and each person displayed what they could of their property; some had repairs, others didn’t. The small houses seemed to lean against one another as if one might climb onto the next.

“Are you not going to come and do the errand for me, or must the charcoal finish first?” asked a young matron, seated on a low stool, holding a pestle and grinding maize flour. Beside her, a silver plate carried a heap of cornmeal dough.

A girl emerged from a room behind the woman, holding her hijab in one hand while wiping tears with the other.

The woman looked at her sharply. “Why are you crying?”

The girl hesitated, as though unsure how to answer, then said softly, “It’s not Huzaifa…”

“Be quiet! That’s all you know how to say, as if your cries can stop what’s happening. If I forbid you from going where he is, will you disobey? Take this money and go to Laure’s house. Sixty [coins] for the soup, forty for the palm oil, and bring back the change. Hurry, or I’ll cook the meal without you.”

The girl pulled a face. “So today, soup too? Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un…”

The woman didn’t open her mouth, just watched her with a stern gaze. “When I give orders, don’t argue. Take the money and leave, or shall I deal with you here?”

The girl knelt, took the money, adjusted her hijab, and headed out, thinking to herself that with this maize dough, they’d hardly have a decent meal for the day.

The woman, warning her, said, “If you find the chance, sit down for a moment, but don’t rush. Watch how I handle you, or how you behave with the children on the way.”

Without any fuss, the girl continued, glancing around as she went.

At her friend Habiba’s house, she found Habiba’s mother in the courtyard, braiding hair. She knelt to greet her, then asked where Habiba was.

Habiba appeared from inside, smiling at her. She came over and asked, “Ruma, where are you headed?”

In a soft, pleading voice, Ruma replied, “Please, Habiba, can I borrow Sani’s help? My mother sent me; I want to hurry there and come back quickly.”

Habiba frowned. “Ruma, you know Sani is too much for you. I won’t let you go and waste your time. It’s the three of us now—you, me, and him.”

Ruma, confident, said, “I swear she won’t waste my time. Just let me go; I’ll hurry and come back.”

Habiba guided Ruma toward their house, looking toward the small chicken coop in the little enclosed courtyard. She handed Ruma Sani’s young rooster and said, “Please, Ruma, be careful with this bird. Make sure nothing happens to it. Go quickly and come back soon.”

Ruma smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll go, handle it, and return. I want this little rooster to know I can handle it. Now you’ll see me go and come back safely.”

Habiba smiled. “Alright then. Hurry before he comes back.”