Tukuicin So Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Muhammad Muhriz was a handsome young man, not yet 32 years old. He was a wealthy businessman and well-educated, known throughout Katsina for his success in commerce both locally and internationally. His parents had died when he was just fifteen years old, leaving him and his younger sister, Razina, who was only two at the time. They were killed during a raid by bandits on a village called Charanchi in Katsina State. The attackers slaughtered all the men in the village and some women who resisted, including their mother, Bilkisu. His father was also killed after a brief struggle to save his family.

Muhriz himself was taken, but by Allah’s mercy, he managed to escape unseen and returned home. When he arrived, he found Razina sitting in the courtyard, crying in the sun. He rushed to her, scooped her up, and carried her into their father’s room. There, he found his father lying in a pool of blood, butchered. Placing Razina’s head on his shoulder, he collapsed in front of his father’s body, letting out a heart-wrenching cry, the kind that no one could console.

The sound of Razina’s weeping pierced his mind, burning his heart with sorrow. He cried in a way that revealed the depth of helplessness, grief, and weight on his soul. For thirty minutes, he remained focused on one thing, before finally embracing Razina, who had fallen silent, as if she already understood the misfortune and the cruelty of life that had befallen them.

The sound of gunfire startled him, and he rushed out of the house in panic, while Razina broke into another round of wailing.

Without knowing where to go, he set off to seek safety for himself and his sister. Reaching the village gate, he stumbled over a corpse and fell to the ground with Razina. His eyes fell on the body; the shock did not lessen even a little the memory of their mother’s face. There was no doubt—it was her. Her spirit seemed to be trying to push him away, to protect him from the trauma of seeing another pillar of their lives killed before him.

In her muffled cries, he managed to utter: “Innalillahi wa inna ilaihirraji’un!” and he fell onto the body with force, ignoring the villagers passing by, some of whom even stepped on him. Razina, trembling, climbed onto the corpse of their mother, crying as she saw her sibling lying there, as if the way they had killed their father, they had attempted the same on her. But because the woman still had life in her, she did not die, and hearing the cry of her children, she let out a weak moan that showed she had not given up.

Muhriz quickly lifted her from the body, saying:

“Mother, do not die! Wake up, mother! Look, Razina is crying—by Allah, do not die, mother! Do not leave us like our father left us!”

He pulled Razina close as she wailed, brushing her face with his hand to wipe away her tears. With courage, she lifted her hand to his face and wiped the tears from his cheeks, then wrapped herself around Razina and placed her on the one holding her.

“Run, and take care of your sister, Muhriz…” she said. Before she could close her lips, her hand fell lifelessly onto his face—she had passed away.

At that moment, Muhriz felt as if a fire had been ignited in his blood. All fear, panic, and grief melted away. His heart felt dry, steeled, ready to face any challenge that life might throw at him. He touched the eyes of his mother, closed them, and then held Razina tightly, wiping away her tears as he whispered softly.