Alkibla Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The School Courtyard
 
The spacious compound of Government Girls Unity College, Kachako, was buzzing with activity. The place overflowed with people, mostly students, and some parents who had come to pick up their daughters for the third-term holiday.
 
At one corner of the courtyard stood a young girl with her hands crossed behind her back, dressed in a neatly washed and well-ironed uniform that fit her perfectly. Her eyes scanned the crowded school compound like someone counting the number of people around. Her pretty face bore no trace of a smile.
 
Though she couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old, her beauty and poise were obvious. She was of average height, with an oval face and a complexion that was neither dark nor fair. Her large eyes revealed depth whenever she opened them wide, and her thick eyebrows hinted at her abundant hair. Two dimples graced her cheeks, visible whenever she spoke or smiled, even faintly.
 
She adjusted her stance as tears welled up in her eyes — they hadn’t fallen yet, but one look at her would show her heart was heavy. She longed to be home, to see people dear to her heart, though she had lost a major pillar in her life. Still, others had stepped in to fill the emotional gap, even if they could never truly replace that person.
 
Her eagerness to leave school was partly fueled by the early departure of her close friend, who had been sent home before the official break due to illness. Since then, she had felt more lonely than usual.
 
A voice suddenly called her name from behind — “Fatima Sa’id Dabo! Fatima Sa’id Dabo!” She turned slowly and saw Ladifa Hamza, one of her classmates, walking toward her.
“They’ve come to pick you up! Your family has been looking for you!” Ladifa said, a smile spreading across her face.
 
Fatima turned her eyes toward the school gate, half-expecting to see her family car, but what she saw surprised her. The car waiting wasn’t one she recognized. Confused, she began walking toward it, with Ladifa teasing her for being so quiet and moody ever since their friend Munira went home.
 
When she reached the car, her face showed clear astonishment — this wasn’t her family’s car. Everyone in her house knew whose car it was. How did this happen? she wondered. Could it be him? She quickly dismissed the thought; even in her dreams, she knew he’d never come himself.
 
The car door opened, revealing a young man of about twenty-five or twenty-six. “Aren’t you ready to go home yet?” he said with a calm but expressionless face. Before she could reply, the back door opened, and another young lady stepped out, smiling brightly.
 
“Surprise!” the girl shouted with laughter. Fatima couldn’t help letting out a small giggle, which made her dimples appear. When she saw Hafsat in the car, her face lit up with relief — this wasn’t what she had feared after all.
 
“Wallahi, you all tricked me! I thought it was our family car from Abba’s house, that’s why I waited,” she said, laughing.
“Get in first,” Hafsat replied, still laughing. “I promised myself I’d ride in this car no matter what — even if it belonged to Gold herself!”
Fatima laughed again, replying, “Witch! And you really did it!”
 
The young man in the driver’s seat — Mustapha — called out jokingly, “Are you girls done gossiping? Get in before the time we were given runs out.”
 
Fatima peered through the window and laughed. “Congrats, Musty! This car suits you. But are you sure you won’t sneak off to show it off around town?”
Smiling, he replied, “If it weren’t for the limited time, I’d be gone by now! You should’ve seen how all the girls in school were staring at me.”
“They just don’t know it’s borrowed,” Fatima teased as she got in, still laughing.
 
Inside, laughter and playful arguments continued as the car drove away.
 
The Journey Home
 
As the car sped through the highway, Fatima turned to Hafsat. “So what happened exactly?” she asked.
Hafsat giggled before answering. “It was Hajja who told him to send someone to pick you. When he refused, she called Mas’udu and told him to lend his car instead. After some pressure, he finally agreed — and Zahra here helped convince him too.”
 
Zahra, sitting near the window, rolled her eyes. “If Hajja had told me earlier, I would’ve told her not to bother asking him. He acts like lending his car is a sacred favor. I came home happy, ready to enjoy my freedom and spend time with Hafiz, but now everything’s ruined because of him! He doesn’t want anyone to have peace unless it’s his way.”
 
Before Hafsat could reply, Shamsu, who sat in the front, turned and teased her.
“You talk too much, Zahra. Keep ranting like this, and you’ll burn out before we reach home.”
She shot him a playful glare. “Oh, we’ll see who gets burned. You’re all the same — noisy and annoying.”
Mustapha laughed. “Don’t mind him. He’s just jealous. Nobody’s laughing at you in daylight.”
Shamsu leaned back with a smirk. “Fine by me. Just don’t expect me to save you when you all get mocked.”
 
Their car was filled with laughter again, the kind that comes from long friendship and shared memories. Despite their different parents, they had grown so close that they were practically family.
 
Arrival at Home
 
After over an hour’s drive, they entered Gadon Qaya, a serene and affluent neighborhood in the heart of Kano City. The car stopped in front of a large compound with tall gates and several buildings inside. One look at the house was enough to tell that many people lived there.
 
As the gate opened and they drove in, Zahra could barely contain her excitement. Before the car even stopped properly, she jumped out and ran toward one of the buildings, laughing and calling out happily.
 
The others exchanged knowing looks — Zahra’s lively spirit was nothing new. Despite her age, she carried the joy and playfulness of a child.
 
She dashed toward a section of the house belonging to her grandmother — the woman she loved deeply and had missed terribly. Their bond was special, unlike any she shared with her other relatives.
 
Inside, the elderly woman stood near the freezer, talking to a young lady in a dark-blue hijab seated on a couch. The grandmother’s age was visible, but her neatness and grace shone through — her henna-stained feet and silvery hair hinted at both elegance and devotion.
 
She hadn’t noticed Zahra enter until the girl’s cheerful voice filled the room, echoing with warmth and excitement — a sound that melted hearts and brought smiles to everyone within earshot.