Abdulkadir Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The Weight of Fear and Guilt
 
He stood with his back against the wall, running his hand through his hair every few seconds. He couldn’t remember the last time anything disturbed him this deeply. The feeling inside him was foreign. He looked down at his clothes—short military khaki trousers that didn’t reach his knees, and a sleeveless top. Around his neck hung a chain with a small metal tag containing his name and service number. Many times when death occurred suddenly, that metal tag became the only proof of identity.
 
Despite the color of the khaki uniform, it could not hide the blood staining it. The sight of the blood made something snap inside him. He couldn’t find any words to describe what he felt. Blood never frightened him—not even before the job. His heart had always been unusually tough, surprising even to him. But today, he felt sweat gathering on his forehead just from seeing the blood on his shirt.
 
“Paapi, I want to drink water…”
 
Fajr’s voice struck his ears, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. He turned slightly toward them. Fajr, five years old but tall for his age, sat with his four-month-old baby sister Ikram. The way he held her made Abdulkadir lean forward to check if the baby was even breathing.
 
“What kind of way are you holding Ikram like that?”
 
Fajr pouted at him—he was tired of holding his sister.
 
“I want to drink water. Paapi, where is Omma?”
 
Abdulkadir stretched his hand and gently collected Ikram. She was asleep, peaceful. He frowned, trying to remember the last time he heard her cry. She was never troublesome. He glanced around, searching for where he could get water for Fajr without leaving the spot. He didn’t want to move, not even if the doctor came out with news. Deep inside he felt something dark spreading, wrapping itself around him, getting heavier—he knew it was trying to cover him with the truth he didn’t want to face.
 
“Fajr, where do you expect me to get water here?”
 
He adjusted Ikram on his shoulder. The way she rested her head calmed him slightly. He raised his eyes just as Mami pushed open the glass door and walked in. Only now did he regret calling her—but at the time he was confused and panicked. She had told him to bring Waheedah to the hospital. In his rush, he had brought the children too.
 
Behind her came Aminu, then Salim and Zainab. He had forgotten how his family operated—any slight emergency meant half the household came to the hospital. And if they stayed too long, the other half would soon follow. Every hospital in Kano that had their family file already knew the Bugajes and their tradition; they were never stopped from entering.
 
As they reached him, Zainab extended her hands to take Ikram. He gave the baby to her without argument.
 
“How is she?”
 
Mami asked. His eyes dropped to the floor—he couldn’t meet her gaze. Before he could speak, Fajr said loudly:
 
“Mami, Omma fell. There was a lot of blood on her head…”
 
Mami quickly pulled the boy to her side. Abdulkadir lifted his eyes and they met hers. His tongue felt heavy. Shame sat plainly on his face. Fajr stared at him with a strange expression, then clung tightly to Mami and said:
 
“Paapi pushed her… Mami, Paapi pushed Omma…”
 
Silence fell—thick, heavy, suffocating. Anyone who walked past could feel it. Abdulkadir clenched his face, trying to find a word for what drowned him.
 
Shame.
 
A voice whispered deep in his skull.
But shame and he had always been worlds apart. Shame had never touched him—not once. He didn’t even know how it felt. He always faced things head-on. But today, shame didn’t only touch him—it wrapped him completely in a thick blanket of guilt. Even his breathing felt measured and forced.
 
“Aminu, you see what I’ve been telling you?”
 
Aminu snapped, shattering the silence.
 
“Aminu—”
Mami warned, her voice sharp.
 
People said young children never lied, especially ones as small as Fajr. But the children of today were unpredictable—she repeated this to herself so she wouldn’t believe what he said, even though Abdulkadir’s expression confirmed it. She didn’t want to accept it. She didn’t even notice Aminu shaking his head at her until he said:
 
“Don’t tell me to keep quiet today. You heard what Fajr said. Wallahi, I’ve long suspected that Hamma Abdulkadir would be the cause of Adda Waheedah’s death…”
 
Mami stared at Aminu in shock. His look made him stop talking. He turned away from her and shot a furious glare at Abdulkadir. Bitterness rose in Aminu’s throat—Abdulkadir had long fallen from his heart. When Mami said Waheedah fell and cracked her head, he had known Abdulkadir was responsible. He only assumed it was anger or her high blood pressure—never that his hands caused the fall.
 
If he had any authority over Waheedah’s marriage, he would have cut the cord between her and Abdulkadir long ago—cut it in a way it could never be tied again.
 
The Doctor's Report
 
“Hamma—”
 
Zainab called softly, making Abdulkadir lower his head even more. He had no words for any of them. He didn’t even know how to speak. Talking was never his nature, even when he had something to say—and now he had nothing. He wished the ground would open and swallow him whole.
 
Before she continued, the doctor walked out, followed by two nurses. He glanced at Abdulkadir, but before he spoke, Mami quickly said:
 
“I am her mother. These are her siblings. Anything you tell him, he will repeat to us. Please speak here.”
 
The doctor shifted his eyes to Abdulkadir again, then nodded.
 
“There’s no serious problem, In shaa Allah. We performed a minor surgery because the impact to her head was deep. She won’t wake up yet, but you can go in and see her. Please avoid noise. She needs complete rest—her blood pressure went very high…”
 
Mami nodded repeatedly, thanking him. Then she walked into the room with Fajr, brushing past Abdulkadir without looking at him.
 
From the doorway she saw Waheedah—terribly thin, her eyes hollow even though they were closed. Her head wrapped in bandages, her hand attached to a drip. Something squeezed tight inside Mami’s chest. She slowly approached and sat on a chair, placing Fajr on her lap.
 
The boy stretched his hand toward Waheedah’s body.
“Omma…”
 
She gently pulled his hand back.
“Don’t wake her, Fajr. She’s sleeping.”
 
“I want to drink water…”
Fajr insisted.
 
Before Mami could speak, Salim answered:
 
“I’ll get it. Just water? Or do you need something else?”
 
She glanced at Waheedah—she knew Abdulkadir brought nothing.
“Bring the water first. Then you and Zainab should go home. There are things we’ll need.”
 
Salim nodded and left.
 
Outside, he found Abdulkadir standing motionless at the doorway. Salim just shook his head at him and walked past. Abdulkadir went to the chairs and sat. Everything he had buried years ago returned, wrapping itself around him tightly. He wanted to see Waheedah, but shame wouldn’t let him enter—not while Mami was inside. He buried his head in his hands, drowning in scattered thoughts.
 
Inside the Hospital Room
 
When Salim returned with water for Fajr, they all left—Aminu included. Fajr clung to them, so Mami took Ikram back from Zainab. She used the baby’s towel to wrap her and carefully sat on the rubber chair. She even told them to bring the big prayer rug from home.
 
Her full attention returned to Waheedah’s fragile body. Waheedah had always been slim, but this was something else. Tears filled Mami’s eyes.
 
Waheedah had suffered too much in silence. No matter what happened, she never complained—only smiled and said:
 
“Mami, life is short. Everything will pass like it never happened.”
 
That was always her answer, even when her eyes never smiled with her lips anymore. Ever since she completed her forty days after giving birth to Ikram, she had become a shadow of herself.
 
Mami did not know how long she remained seated until she heard Zainab and the others return. She answered their greetings quietly. Their number surprised her—almost the whole household had come. They whispered as they entered, carrying so many items that one would think they planned to stay for months. Their untouched meals from the house were now being unpacked to be eaten here.
 
Even Anty had followed them after they passed by her place to take food and tell her Waheedah was admitted.