Yankan Kauna Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

She was writhing on the floor of their room, which wasn’t even tiled. Her hands clutched her stomach. Her eyes were swollen and heavy, her face flushed red—especially the bridge of her nose. Because she was very fair, her skin had turned so red it looked as if touching it would draw blood.

But extreme poverty and hardship were evident in the clothes she wore. If you looked closely, you could see how worn and tattered they were. The fabric, though originally an Ankara dress, had become thin and ragged, almost tearing apart. Still, it was always washed clean and neat—only now covered with dust from the cement floor where she lay.

“Big sister, your stomach… are you feeling any relief from the pain? Should I go check if that chemist has come out so I can call him to come and examine you and give you medicine?”

“Don’t call anyone. My lower abdomen feels like it’s about to burst. Oh, my mother!”

Ummi wiped her tears. They were used to this panic at the end of every month whenever Sa’adah’s period came.

“So you’ll just keep sitting there in pain, Sa’adah? I must go to that chemist and see if he’s come out. Since he’s the one who gives you medicine, he should come and see you. That fainting you had earlier really frightened me. I was the only one shouting in this house—I swear, Umma just turned up the radio so they wouldn’t hear me shouting,” Ummi said.

Sa’adatu bit her lip and shut her eyes tightly. They looked even bigger now. Her face was flushed, especially the tip of her nose, which had turned red like a tomato against her fair skin.

She rested her head on Ummi’s body, breathing heavily. One hand remained on her stomach as she felt the cramps tightening. She wished there were something she could take to ease this pain that troubled her at such times. It wasn’t only the pain in her womb that made her cry—it was also the pain of poverty. What can one do when you lack what you need, and what you thought you could handle ends up overwhelming you?

Sleep eventually overtook her. Ummi gently laid her down and placed a small pillow under her head. Then Ummi went into the inner room. Their mother, Hajiya, was completely unable to care for herself because she was partially paralyzed.

“Oh, our dear Hajiya, forgive me for not coming earlier to clean you up. Things have just been too much for me,” Ummi said as she struggled to lift her. She leaned Hajiya against the wall and began removing her wrapper, which had become soiled. She carried it outside to the courtyard near the well, set it in a large basin, fetched water with a kettle, and returned to the room.

She began washing Hajiya, pouring water into a big basin they used to bathe her. Today they hadn’t had the chance to bathe her earlier because of Sa’adah’s pain. There wasn’t even warm water. Sa’adah had planned to braid Hajiya’s hair that day too, but the severe cramps that came at the end of every month had disrupted everything. None of them had any peace of mind.

When Ummi finished washing Hajiya, she carried the basin and kettle outside into the courtyard.

“Hey! Ummi! Who told you to take our kettle and use it to wash filth? I swear I’ll never touch it again!”

Zainura shouted as she came out of their mother’s room, hands on her hips, clearly looking for trouble.

In a calm voice, Ummi replied,

“Please be patient. Ours is broken, but by God’s will, when I go out I’ll buy you a new one. After all, carrying and cleaning filth can happen to anyone.”

Ummi said this as she bent down to wash the clothes in the basin. But all the humility she showed did not satisfy Zainura. It wasn’t that Ummi feared them; she simply knew she was in the wrong for using their things.