Shade Of Rufaida Part 1 Comlete Hausa Novel

It was evening, and the town had become cool. Children filled the streets with noise and excitement, a clear sign that it was the time they had been dismissed from the large Islamic school located at the back of their neighborhood in Kano.

From a distance, three girls could be seen walking together in an organized manner, heading home. Their entire bodies were covered in long dark-green hijabs, which were the uniform color of their Islamic school. The color suited them beautifully, reflecting on their long faces and the graceful appearance of young girls just entering adulthood.

None of them appeared to be more than seventeen years old. They were tall, beautiful, and had been close friends since childhood.

As they walked calmly, it was clear they were already used to the way people stared at them secretly. From the way others looked at them, anyone could tell they were different from the other girls in the school.

Their names were Amal, Batul, and the third was Rufaida.

Among them, only Rufaida covered her face with a niqab, and she usually walked slightly to the side, especially on the right.

That day, as usual, they walked while chatting about men they admired—men who would suit them—and the kind of modern marriages they hoped to have someday.

In their neighborhood, however, no one had ever had a rushed marriage like the ones people talk about these days. Even now, preparations were ongoing for the wedding of Rufaida’s older sister, Adda Suhan, which was expected to take place soon.

Rufaida herself could be described as one of those women with dignity who prefer to hide their beauty behind a hijab. She was very reserved and not the talkative type. She only spoke when necessary and to the right people.

She had a charming and naturally playful face that could hardly be hidden even behind her veil. She was very smart and deeply romantic at heart. Rufaida dreamed of living a well-organized life—one with class, dignity, and the sophistication of educated women.

However, the way she was raised hid any signs of this from others. She was the daughter of a strict religious scholar—a man who had a strong love for wealth and worldly things. Because of this, whenever Amal and Batul talked about marriage and such matters, Rufaida rarely joined their conversation.

Deep in her heart, she had no desire or rush to get married like many girls who long for marriage immediately after finishing secondary school.

For her, early marriage was never an option.

She had a strong ambition to pursue education so she could build a life of quality and dignity.

Her friends had grown tired of hearing her views and had stopped arguing with her. That was why, even when they discussed their future husbands, she rarely responded. In fact, she had never really paid attention to men in her life, especially since she had always been modest and reserved.

As they always did, when they reached the path that branched into the narrow alleys leading to their homes, they said goodbye to each other. Each girl then went her own way toward her family house.

As soon as Rufaida entered her home, she found the courtyard crowded with loud, gossiping women talking endlessly. She suddenly remembered that the previous day they had brought the bride-price gifts (lefe) for her sister Suhan, and preparations for the wedding were already in full swing.

Almost all the women in the neighborhood had gathered in their house to see the gifts meant for the bride.

It was a festive gathering filled with cheering and excitement—but it only made Rufaida’s heart feel heavy.

She lowered her head and quickly walked through the crowd, knowing no one would pay attention to her greetings anyway. She moved quietly, her body feeling weak as she heard small whispers and bits of gossip rising from every corner of the women gathered in the courtyard.

In truth, most of the women who attended wedding celebrations in their house did not come sincerely. They came mainly for gossip, hypocrisy, and to show their jealousy openly.

Throughout the neighborhood, people often whispered that Yaa Malam, their father, only gave his daughters in marriage to wealthy men and never to poor ones.

Rufaida hated hearing people talk about her parents that way.

People constantly gossiped about how their father was obsessed with finding rich suitors, and how he showed ignorance and greed in his life—so much that arranging wealthy marriages for his daughters had become almost like a life ambition for him.

Quietly, Rufaida opened the door to her room very slowly, almost like someone who did not want anyone to notice her arrival.

She entered gently, greeting with salaam, although she had already noticed there was no one inside.

She glanced around for only a few seconds, her bright white eyes scanning the room.

She sighed with relief when she saw that everything was still arranged exactly as she had left it.

Removing the Islamic school bag from her shoulder, she placed it down and sat on the edge of the mattress, resting her chin on her hand.

Silence filled the room for a while.

All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat growing stronger in her chest, though she did not understand why.

Ever since the discussions about her sister Suhan’s marriage began, she felt her mind becoming restless and troubled. Each time she approached the house and heard the loud voices of women celebrating, her chest would tighten and her heart would beat so fast it almost felt like it would burst out.