Anti Romance Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Jabi Motor Park, Abuja
The Journey’s Chaos
Dije had just alighted from the commercial bus that carried them all the way from Yobe State to Abuja. In her usual dramatic fashion, she snatched her wrapper, tied it hastily around her waist like someone ready for battle, and with a mountain of exhaustion on her face, she rushed toward the boot of the vehicle where passengers’ luggage was being offloaded. Amid the noise and confusion, she suddenly turned and began shouting at the conductor:
“Careful! I have explosives in my bag! If they burst because of your rough handling, wallahi you’ll pay me every single kobo for my loss!”
The conductor looked up to the sky, then down to the ground, sighed deeply, brought out an old rag that had once been a shirt, now worn-out and patched with thread and needle, and gently placed it beside her “Ghana must go” bag. He gathered her three heavy loads into one spot, then grumbled:
“Here’s your property. Go and find another victim! From Yobe to Abuja, I’ve swallowed six Panadols because of your headache, but my own headache refuses to go down because of your trouble!”
“Oho! You think I’m the only one suffering? This headache of yours isn’t even caused by me, ah-haaa!” she retorted, slapping her thighs dramatically in the classic manner of seasoned market women.
Just then the horn blared—the vehicle was trying to reverse. In panic she screamed:
“Wayyo Allah! They’re going to run over my daughter…!”
The frightened driver quickly intervened:
“Enter three times, you this woman! If you don’t leave this girl alone she’ll drag us into trouble here in Abuja.”
“I’m stronger than you, you say she’s a small girl? She’s twenty-four years old! Haba! Anyone who has reached twenty-four has long passed childhood, not to mention this fully grown beautiful young lady of seven years experience!”
The driver, tired of arguing, simply picked up an old slipper lying beside him and gave Dije a light tap on her leg. Startled, Naja jumped awake from where she had been dozing on the engine cover (the hot metal passengers sometimes use as a pillow when the vehicle is stationary).
“Who… who is it?”
“Get down! Come out, you troublemaker… out!”
Almost falling, she jumped down from the vehicle and immediately clung to Dije’s leg crying:
“Wayyo mama, wayyo mama!”
The driver got even angrier and gave her another slap across the mouth.
“Leave me alone! God will deal with you people!”
Quickly Dije gathered her loads, placed the heaviest one on her head, held another in her hand, and lifted the lightest one onto Naja’s head.
“Let’s go, my mother’s daughter. Today you’ll sleep in your father’s house. Whatever is stuck will surely come out, you this child of trouble!!!”
Lost in the City
They began walking into the city without really knowing where they were headed. After almost two hours of walking, Naja started crying.
“Mama, I’m tired.”
“Allah the King, come here my little one, let me carry you.”
She removed her headscarf, tied it around Naja like a baby carrier, lifted her onto her back and continued walking.
3:30 pm
The call for Asr prayer began. At this point Naja started dozing off behind her mother’s back.
Annoyed, Dije held her left hand and gave her a little shake.
“Sit properly! How many times will I tell you? Or do you want me to carry both you and the loads at the same time?”
“Then put me down! Put me down! You said people were looking at us, that I’m not a child you can carry on your back.”
“Ohooo! Now you know you’re not a child? So now your legs will walk and suffer in the streets of this city, uhum uhum, let’s go and look for our loads, young lady. You said you’re not a child, since you’ve rested on my back and forgotten how you were crying ‘I’m tired’ earlier.”
Naja pouted.
“So mama, where are we going now?”
With fierce eyes Dije replied:
“How many times will I tell you we’re going to your father’s house?”
“But do you even know the house?”
“Ah! I forgot. Let me bring out the address and ask if it’s correct.”
They approached a woman by the roadside frying plantain and stew for sale.
“Assalamu Alaikum, servant of Allah, please we have a question.”
The woman raised her soot-covered face from the fire.
“Wa’alaikumussalam. May Allah make me know.”
Dije handed her the paper containing the address.
“Please, this is the house I’m looking for.”
The woman stared at the address in surprise. This was Asokoro—the area of the wealthy and powerful. What was this wild-looking woman doing in such a neighborhood?
“Really…? Before she could finish speaking, Dije cut in quickly:
“Please help me, his name is Danlami, his friends call him ‘Makil Jackson’.”
The woman burst into laughter in her heart, thinking: These village people have really found a big catch and will end up sleeping under the bridge.
“You’re hearing? That area is far! You need to take a taxi.”
Thanking her, Dije returned to the roadside and began waving down vehicles.
The Rain, the Fear, and the Miracle
After great difficulty they found a small cab that took them. A short distance into the journey, heavy sleep overtook them, weighed down by exhaustion.
Subhanallah! When the driver almost entered the area of the upscale estates of Abuja, he hadn’t heard “We’ve arrived” from his passengers since. When he saw his fuel gauge warning light come on, he pulled over.
“Hajiya… Madam, wake up! What kind of sleeping sickness did I pick up in my car today?”
Still drowsy, she asked:
“Have we reached Danlami’s house?”
The driver opened his mouth in astonishment. Danlami’s house? Did I make a mistake?
He switched off the engine, came out, opened the back door and helped Naja down. Dije also alighted, adjusting her wrapper.
“Ah, Malam, don’t shout, we’re just being patient with the child.”
“Show me where you’re going!”
“But we didn’t tell you where we’re going.”
“Are you another species? Do I know where you’re going?”
“Haba! How many times did I tell you Danlami’s house? Isn’t the address written on the paper I gave you? Check it please.”
The driver widened his eyes.
“You’re the one who gave me the paper, ah, check your own paper!”
A sudden scream like that of a hunted animal:
“Durun uwa salatin Arna! Wallahi we will only end up chasing shadows if we don’t find our address or their Malam…”
Thinking she wanted to trick him out of money, the driver jumped into his car and drove off in a flash.
Dije turned to Naja:
“Did you hold it?”
Like someone lost, Naja shook her head. Instead of answering she just followed behind the moving vehicle screaming:
“Wayyo Allah, our documents!”
Dije raised both hands:
“Wayyo Allah! Three of us entered and he ran away with our belongings!”
They went to the refuse dump area, sat down and each one began to curse their father.
“Mama I’m hungry.”
“Come here, look, I’m also hungry. Eat me and rest. It’s all because of you we entered this calamity.”
Naja burst into loud tears. Dije, trying to calm her, spoke softly:
“Patience, my dear, patience. I’m coming. Sit here, don’t go anywhere. If anyone calls you, don’t answer. Let me go and look for food—even if it means begging. Keep quiet, you hear, my girl?”
Naja fell silent, wiping her tears. Dije adjusted her slippers and disappeared into the lanes of the wealthy. When she was far enough that Naja could no longer see her, she raised her voice:
“Naja, don’t go anywhere, you hear?”
Naja lifted her face, full of resentment:
“Kash! Mama I heard.”
After walking for nearly thirty minutes without seeing a single open house, without seeing even one person walking, fear began to grip her. She felt someone was following her, ready to bag her and sell her head. Just as she was about to run, lightning flashed across the sky, thunder roared, and before she could say anything, heavy rain began to pour.
Dije raised both hands in extreme panic:
“Wayyo Allah! What kind of trials have we entered? From one trouble to another…?”
She started running:
“Wayyo my daughter! Wayyo the rain…”
“Hmm, this is Abuja! All the signs are here—even the rich get wet too! Allah the Powerful, friend of the wealthy!!”
The Reunion
In deep frustration, Sajeedah came out of the shopping mall holding bags of cosmetics she had just bought, cursing under her breath.
“Tir! These people can’t do business. If I ever see your feet here again, do whatever you want… Nonsense!”
Just then she bumped hard into Dije who was running and desperately calling Naja’s name, searching where she had left her but couldn’t find her.
Sajeedah shouted:
“Keeey! What the hell?”
They stared at each other. In anger Sajeedah hissed:
“Mts, lunatic! Shift from the road, nonsense!”
She opened her car by the roadside, threw her purchases onto the back seat, started the engine and zoomed off.
Then suddenly she braked:
“Wind of trouble! What is this extra load?!… Najaaaaa?!”
She continued calling Naja in great anxiety.
5:35 pm
Naja was sitting on a stone near where she had originally waited for her mother, hugging her knees with both hands, tears flowing freely.
“Mamaaa…”
Slowly Dije raised her head and looked at her. At the same moment, cold tears mixed with joy and pain rolled down her cheeks.
“Where did you go, Naja?”
“I went behind there. I was very thirsty so I begged for water and they even gave me bread. See, I even saved some for you.”
Without asking how she got the bread, Naja rushed to hug her tightly.
“Naja, the portion of this bread I’ve been eating since you were in the womb is what I eat every day, that’s why you’re so attached to it. In our town they used to call it ‘Hajiya’s chair’ but later it disappeared. Turns out it came back to the city of the rich.”
“Hmm mama, where will we sleep tonight? It’s getting dark and we haven’t even prayed.”
Dije opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by hiccups.
Naja stretched out her hand and rubbed her back:
“Sannu mamana. Will you drink water? Let me go and get some.”
Quickly Dije stopped her, gently pulled her wrapper to bring out the remaining fifty naira she had, wanting to buy her pure water. But as she did so, the address paper fell out.
A cry of joy escaped her:
“Yeeeh! I’ve seen it…!”
They started dancing with happiness. The hiccups disappeared instantly.
“Now all we have to do is find a driver, give him the address in his hand, and let him take us straight home—or at least say Najaaaaa?”
Just then they nodded and headed toward the road. Fyuuuu! The same driver who had taken them earlier came passing by with bags of charcoal in the back of his vehicle. They didn’t even see him, but he saw them waving, reversed, and stopped right in front of them.
“Ah, here you are! I’ve been looking for you, I didn’t see you.”
As he was about to help with the loads, Dije handed him the address paper:
“Here, we’ve found the address of the house—just take us there.”
“Allah protect me from people who speak in riddles. Come, take your loads, I can’t carry bags.”
Though the world was harsh, he endured. When he saw Naja start crying again:
“Mama, it’s all because of you. Right now we would be at home, Baba would have finished preparing tuwo for us, we’d be eating and listening to radio.”
Dije spoke sternly:
“Dallah shut up! Be quiet there. As long as I haven’t taken you to your father’s place, I won’t rest. I gathered every last kobo I had and came to Abuja. Now you want us to return to Damaturu on foot, since there’s no house of Allah in this city?”
Pity touched him.
“Enter, let’s go and see this address.”
He felt fear seeing the neighborhood he was taking these strange women to—big houses, no numbering—but today he wanted to brave the madness. So he drove straight without stopping until he reached right in front of the house whose address they had given.
“You’ve arrived. Come down.”
Dije raised her head and saw a house covered in glass decoration like a plaza lolz.
“I said take us to Danlami’s house and you brought us to a bottle shop? Where exactly did you pick us up?”
“Dallah Malama, come out! The address you gave me—I followed it. Isn’t that the number there?”
Trembling, she alighted. In fear and shame she walked up to the gate, took the paper from his hand, looked at the number 3 on the gate, then at the one on the wall, then 5, then back at the paper. They were all the same.
Slowly, with relief, she said:
“Truthfully, driver, you’ve brought us. Wallahi I was afraid to enter.”
The driver gave a short laugh:
“Ah, don’t be afraid. This is indeed Danlami’s house.”