Zurfin Ciki Part 4 Complete Hausa Novel

Inna Harira said, “May Allah make it easy. Get up, let’s go.”

They stood up and headed to Ummi’s room. Even though Ummi had never thought she would have to deal with Bishira, now she knew it was unavoidable—the kind of life they were about to live.

Inna Saratu and the others told Ummi, “Whatever you do, for God’s sake, don’t pay attention to her. Face your own future, obey your husband—that is what will put you above her.”

Ummi said, “Alright,” but in her heart, she didn’t think she could just watch herself be humiliated.

As they were leaving, Fatima came in to greet them. Ummi said, “Please, Fati, stay with me a bit. I’ll be alone in this room.”

Fatima replied, “Which loneliness? Haven’t you married your co-wife?”

Ummi said, “What co-wife? A marriage conducted in just a few minutes?”

Fatima said, “Today you’ll hear things that married women hear.”

Ummi grabbed Fatima’s veil. “I’m feeling strange—are you serious, or are you teasing me?”

Fatima held Ummi’s ear and whispered to her.

Ummi widened her eyes and said, “Really?”

Fatima burst into laughter. “I’ll come later to hear how it went.”

Ummi said, “It’s a secret—how can I tell you my secrets?”

Fatima replied, “Oh, so I wasn’t the one who told you mine?”

Ummi said, “You committed a sin by telling me.”

Fatima replied, “And didn’t you hear a sin too?”

They both laughed.

No matter how much Ummi tried to make Fatima stay, she refused. So they said goodbye. Fatima went into Bishira’s room to greet her.

Bishira said, “Fati, get out of my room. I’m not joking with you. Since I’ve seen you join that foolish girl’s group.”

Fatima left, thinking angrily, I won’t betray my sister because of your useless jealousy.

Ummi stood frozen, afraid of what Fatima had told her. But another voice in her heart said, He doesn’t love you anyway—maybe he won’t even touch you. That thought gave her a little calm.

Abba stepped out intending to go home, but then changed his mind and went to the supermarket. He bought sanitary pads, assuming she would start her period the next day according to his calculations. Ever since it began, he had never forgotten the dates—he always kept track, even when it changed.

He also bought some groceries and headed home, his heart pounding. Maybe Ummi hadn’t been brought yet. When he parked, he instead went to his mother’s house—everyone had already dispersed.

He greeted them. The old woman was performing ablution and replied. Umma responded from the kitchen.

The old woman said, “What’s this nonsense that brought you here, Malam, after she has been taken to you?”

He said, “Listen, old woman. Is there some other talk about Ummi that I’m coming for? This is my family house.”

She said, “Leave it. God forbid I hear or see anything, because I told her—whatever you people do to her, she should come and tell me. That girl left this house crying.”

Umma laughed and said, “Old woman, if it concerns Abba, there won’t be any quarrel. Ummi is someone who listens to advice.”

The old woman said, “Enough of this talk before I get involved.”

Abba said, “Let me come and pack your things so we go there. So no one says anything bad. You’ll be closer to her.”

She replied, “Even staying here, I’ll hear everything.”

He asked, “Have Alhaji returned, Umma?”

She said, “No, they haven’t.”

He said, “Then I’ll go home.”

She added, “Abba, Ummi was brought earlier today. Please, Abba, be more patient with this matter. And don’t show your wife favoritism against Ummi—she’s your sister. Calm her down, be just, and don’t give Ummi room to disrespect Bishira.”

He replied, “I’ll be careful, God willing. And please, Umma, convey my gratitude to Alhaji.”

She said, “Abba, why are you saying that? Alhaji is your father—don’t keep weighing your relationship with Ummi.”

He said, “That’s true, but still, thank him for me.”

The old woman said, “He refuses gratitude—he’ll receive it from God. You faithless Malam, you didn’t even buy her a wrapper. You know she’s still owed her bride price.”

Abba said, “Umma, I’m leaving.”

Umma laughed. “Alright, Abba.”

He said to the old woman, “I’m going before we end up quarreling.”

She replied, “Go, I entrust you to God.”

He left laughing.

When he reached home, he opened the car, took his groceries, and entered the house with a greeting—though despite his courage, his heart was pounding. He had no idea what kind of trouble Bishira had prepared.

He entered. Bishira was sitting at the doorway holding Muhibba, but she didn’t reply to his greeting. Dusk had almost reached the time for Maghrib prayer.

He said, “Bishira, don’t you hear when you’re called?”

She replied, “Since you’ve come now, you should wake yourself. Before that woman arrived, you never came and asked to be woken.”

Abba looked at her and thought, These are women who forget God.

He dropped the bags and went to start the generator. Bishira stood up and went to the bags, saying, “Since she’s already been brought food, that means we won’t cook today. I had planned everything.”

She opened the bags and saw groceries and sanitary pads. She sucked her teeth in annoyance and scattered them.

Abba finished fueling and starting the generator, then returned, gathered the bags, and took them into his living room.

The furniture they changed for her was beautiful, but Abba thought to himself he’d give it two weeks.

He removed his shirt, intending to bathe before the prayer call. He bathed quickly, came out, and called Bishira.

She said, “Why are you disturbing me?”

He asked, “Where are my boxes?”

She said, “They’re in the kitchen.”

He rushed out. “The kitchen? Are you serious? I don’t have the dignity for my belongings to be kept there?”

She replied, “If my room was avoided and my things were called dirty, why should I respect you?”

Without saying anything else, he went to the kitchen, carried his boxes and shoes to his living room. He didn’t change clothes—he went straight to the mosque so he wouldn’t miss prayer.

He didn’t return until after Isha’i prayer. Bishira was still sitting there.

Ummi couldn’t come out because she was disgusted by the bathroom. Her period had started unexpectedly, and she could hear everything happening between him and his wife.

He returned home, changed into fresh clothes, sprayed perfume on himself, and his phone rang—it was Salis.

Salis said jokingly, “My friend, is there no greeting unless someone raises a hand? You were given half your life—at least greet us.”

Abba laughed and said, “I forgive you.”

Salis replied, “May God grant you a peaceful home.”

They ended the call.

Just as he was about to put down the phone, a message came in—from Ummi, using the phone he had given her earlier: I have a problem. I need help.

His heart skipped. Then he thought it might be her period. He put on his cap, took the bag of sanitary pads, and headed to her room.

Bishira was still sitting where she was. She said, “Oh! So injustice has started already? You picked up a bag and went to her room?”

He didn’t even look back. He greeted Ummi, and she replied while adjusting her veil. They entered and looked at each other—both their hearts went blank.

In a gentle voice he asked, “What kind of help do you need?”

She closed her eyes and turned her back out of shyness.

He said, “Take this,” and handed her the bag. She turned and collected it with both hands. She was surprised to see sanitary pads—how did he know she needed them, and how did he know her cycle so well?

She said, “Thank you.”

He smiled slightly. “I should be the one thanking you.”

He turned to leave when she said, “Um… I mean…”

He turned back. “What did you say?”

She said shyly, “Please, I need toilet cleaner,” because of the filth she had seen in the bathroom.

He smiled. “Which type do you want? (Izal?) There is some, but you shouldn’t clean the toilet now.”

She said, “I’ll clean it if it’s available.”

He said, “Let me do it.”

She quickly replied, “No, Brother Abba, I’ll do it.”

He returned to the living room and began fetching water.

Bishira stood up angrily. “So you won’t fetch water for me anymore? You’ll empty the well for her? But when I need water, you must fetch it for me!”

Ummi came out with buckets, having heard everything. Softly, she said, “Brother Abba, please let me fetch the water.”

He looked at her, instantly forgetting Bishira’s insults.

“Just arriving and you want to start fetching water?”

Ummi held the rope of the well. “I didn’t come here to sit. I came to serve. Paradise requires effort.”

He laughed. Bishira snapped, “Is prostitution being tested here?” She tried to splash dirty water at Ummi.

Abba shouted, “If you splash her, you’ll see!”

He barked angrily, “You jealous fool!”

He continued fetching water, filling Ummi’s buckets. Bishira threw her bucket down in anger, but he didn’t even look at her.

He brought out Izal and Omo. Ummi returned to her room, brought out the broom bought for her, and began cleaning. Abba kept pouring water for her until the toilet was clean to her satisfaction.

She felt unclean and went to prepare her bath. Abba stayed at the well, refusing to move—he feared Bishira might harm Ummi if left alone.

He fetched her bath water, scrubbed, and only stopped when she finished. She went back to her room wrapped in her hijab. He washed himself and returned his things, then left.

Bishira stood by her door, unable to sit or stand, talking nonstop like someone newly insane—complaining and demanding repayment of every little thing.

Ummi cleaned herself thoroughly, wore fresh clothes, and sprayed the perfume Umma had bought for her. Since she hadn’t received her bride price, she hadn’t even gotten new clothes.

She sat on the long couch. Hunger struck her—she hadn’t eaten since morning. She rubbed her stomach, wishing Umma had sent food. She reached for her phone to tell Abba she was hungry, then stopped—that’s not the dignity of a bride.

So she ignored it and started playing a game.

At eleven, Abba returned and locked the house. He intended to go straight to Ummi’s room, but remembered the chicken he bought for Bishira. To his surprise, she was still standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed—meaning she hadn’t prayed or bathed.

He gave her a sharp look. She snapped, “I don’t need it.” He turned away without a word. She followed him, shouting about debts.

He headed to Ummi’s room. Bishira grabbed his shirt from behind. He turned in anger, almost slapping her, but she crouched and fled. He only clicked his tongue and said nothing.

He entered Ummi’s room with a greeting. Sleep had lightly overtaken Ummi from exhaustion—she was on the couch with her phone in hand.