Mutallab Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

They were quarreling loudly in the middle of the women’s courtyard. There were three of them, each with her chest tightly wrapped, standing over the cooking pot placed on the hearth. Apart from the noise of their argument, nothing else could be heard. Even the Malam outside, with the Almajirai, could hear how they were abusing and insulting one another. That was what made him stand up, pick up his whip, put aside the wooden slate he was writing on, and walk into the house.

“So you’ve reached the point where you say you’ll stop Mufee from eating food in this house? Who do you think you are?” Inna Binta shouted angrily. “I am Binta, the Malam’s wife. Tell me, how much did Mufee contribute toward the cooking of this food? The father of these children didn’t give money for food. Is it possible for the children to gather their little coins, buy millet husks to make this porridge, and then you say I shouldn’t serve Mufee? You shameless, useless girl! You watch her other siblings go out to look for money while she just lies down because she’s a rich man’s daughter. Now she must eat her father’s liver while the Malam sits there idle doing nothing!”

Mama, who was trying to scoop the porridge into a bowl, said, “It’s not only your children who contributed money. Saudat and Zaituna also did.”

“No, Zaituna has nothing to do with it. Since yesterday my eyes have been blurry and my stomach hurts—I’ve been doing nothing but praying. Saudat spent the night with stomach pain; hunger struck her badly. You can have everything to yourself. This life—may God save us—hunger will kill half of the people in this time,” Mama Zaituna said as she pushed Saudat’s bowl forward so a little could be poured for her to scrape and put in her stomach.

Inna Binta leaned over the pot proudly, since she was from a noble family, and said, “By Allah, Mufee will eat this food.”

Mama Zaituna replied, “Then Allah is sufficient. You people are used to eating; Allah is enough. God willing, she’ll vomit it.”

Inna Binta suddenly felt a whip lash her back. She quickly dropped the pot and shouted, “Whose wicked child is this—?” She went silent when she saw the Malam and he said, “If you speak again, I’ll whip you some more, you useless woman.”

He turned to them and said, “Ungrateful people! Quarreling over food until the whole neighborhood hears.”

Inna Binta replied, “When last did we see a single kobo from you? Apart from cruelty, you give us nothing—shouldn’t we act this way?”

The whip landed on her head. She hurriedly scooped some porridge with her hand and ran into the room saying, “Oh well, I’ve taken my share—I’ve returned the wicked saliva!”

Suddenly, they heard dogs barking—something they hadn’t heard in three years. Everyone turned at once. Mama Zaituna screamed and flung away the porridge they had been fighting over so fiercely. Her wrapper loosened and fell to the ground. She quickly turned to pick it up but slipped on onion peels and fell flat on the ground. Being heavily built, she cried out in pain, clutching her back, and crawled into her room in panic.

Even the Malam felt fear stir in his heart as he watched the dogs with their tails raised, tongues hanging out, growling as they surrounded whoever had entered. With difficulty, the Malam took a breath and said:

“Is that you I’m seeing, Mudallabi Danmalam? So they released you and didn’t kill you? I truly thought you were dead already—by Allah, the power of God.”

His head was throbbing badly, as if it would split, and his whole body ached. His skin trembled; he had darkened greatly, his clothes were torn, and he stared at the Malam with wide eyes.

“Mudallabi, aren’t you listening to me? Now that they released you, what does it mean—are you to go around killing people’s daughters for nothing? I won’t support this wrongdoing. I must go to the security agents immediately and report this madness.”

Ammo rushed out of her room when she heard the name being called. Her heart was trembling. As she came out, their eyes met—he was leaning against the wall. Slowly, the children of the house began to come out. He scanned the children’s faces; some of them he didn’t even recognize.

He moved toward Ammo, but she quickly raised her hand and said, “I am afraid to even call you my son. I regret ever giving birth to you, by Allah.”

He opened his wide eyes, then shut them tightly, still struggling to move toward her, when they suddenly heard shouting outside. Before he could move, Goje rushed in, shouting:

“Mai Dawa! It’s the people of the neighborhood—they’re carrying weapons. They say they’re coming to take revenge—”

Immediately, Moh raised his hand to stop Goje. He didn’t even want the girl’s name mentioned near him; his heart was pounding hard. Goje continued, “It’s not only the neighbors—there are thugs and street hoodlums too.”

Before Goje could finish, they heard voices saying, “Not only Mai Dawa—today Malam and his mother will die. Everyone in this house will die. We’ll take revenge for the girl you killed, since the authorities released him for nothing.”

Mutallab signaled to his dogs. Tiger went first and stood at Ammo’s door. Rainbow positioned himself at the main gate. Spider circled and stood close to the Malam.

Goje said, “You’re immune to iron and curses, but Malam is the problem.”

Without a word, Moh moved straight outside. Ammo collapsed in front of him when she saw he had no weapon.

As Moh stepped out, they surrounded him. Because he had a machete in his hand, anyone who came close was knocked down. They were many, ignorant of the fact that his body was already broken. One of them picked up a stone and struck his head—it split instantly. Another raised a knife and stabbed him in the stomach; the knife sank in. Goje’s eyes widened when he saw they had succeeded. They surrounded Moh and began hacking at him. He didn’t fight with weapons—he didn’t even know how.

Before long, they brought him to the ground. Blood flowed from every part of his body. At that moment, a group of hunters arrived with hunting dogs. The fight turned into a fierce clash between the villagers and the hunters.

In great pain, Moh dragged his body away slowly as he heard someone calling the police. He thought, So is my sacrifice due right now? He kept moving, dragging himself until he left the neighborhood and entered an area that looked like farmland and thick bush.

She was sitting inside a hut, holding a calabash of milk, when she heard someone fall into the hut. Startled, she jumped to her feet…