Ba Mahaifiyata Bace Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Invocation and Dedication
In the name of Allah, the Most Merciful, the Most Compassionate.
May the peace and blessings of Allah be upon the leader of all creation, Prophet Muhammad (SAW), his family, and all his companions.
Dedication:
I dedicate this book to Adda Amina, who resides in the town of Gombe.
Gratitude and Promise:
To everyone who contributed and supported me until I reached this stage, I extend my heartfelt thanks and appreciation. To you generous people—Uncle Usama, I extend my gratitude and promise. Musa Baffa, thank you for your perseverance; may Allah grant you what you desire. Ummana, the one who wipes my tears, I love you deeply, my beloved. Umm Abdul, a virtuous mother, thank you for your care. And to everyone whose name I could not mention, I am truly grateful and I love you all.
This book, She Is Not My Mother, contains life lessons and exposes acts of betrayal within it—such as how Didi betrayed Affi and maltreated Benazer and her brother Irfan. Please follow closely to understand the full story of my book She Is Not My Mother.
Anilat and the House of Tension
“Anilat! Anilat!”
She ran quickly from the backyard into the sitting room when she heard herself being called.
“Didi, I can hear you calling me as if I stole something from you,” she said, twisting her mouth rudely.
“Hey Anilat, I swear it’s your father you’re twisting your mouth at like that. Because I called you? What were you doing in the room?” Didi asked.
Anilat, the girl being called, stood where she was with one shoulder raised higher than the other, staring at Didi and pouting. Suddenly, she burst into tears.
Didi’s heart jumped in panic. She rushed to where Anilat was sitting, fell to the ground beside her, and began comforting her.
“Anilat, what happened to you? Is it because I scolded you? Forgive me, my daughter. I won’t do it again. What were you doing in the room?”
“Didi, I was ironing my uniform. You know tomorrow is school,” Anilat replied.
“Rubbish! What ironing are you talking about? Where is that useless girl? What is her use if she can’t help you?” Didi snapped angrily.
At that moment, as if provoked, Anilat began pretending and acting spoiled out of sheer wickedness.
“Didi, earlier today Saif asked her to wash clothes, but she refused. She said she must first iron Irfan’s clothes before she would wash,” Anilat added.
Didi jumped up angrily. “That will never happen! While I’m calling Anilat, my blood is boiling to the point of bursting, and she’s there doing nonsense?”
Anilat, about seventeen years old, ran happily toward the room, biting her lips and smiling wickedly. Didi, about fifty-five years old, hardened by life’s struggles, followed her angrily.
Anilat rushed into the room she knew she would find her, stumbling slightly as she entered. Inside sat a young girl of about eighteen, wearing a hijab, holding prayer beads, reciting the Qur’an softly in a beautiful voice.
“Benazer! Benazer!”
She called her name almost six times, but Benazer did not respond. Anilat immediately understood—Benazer had not been greeted, so she was ignoring her.
Annoyed, Anilat turned to leave, then returned and said loudly, “Assalamu Alaikum.”
“Wa Alaikumus Salam. Welcome, my sister,” Benazer replied gently.
Anilat shot her a fierce glare and said mockingly, “Leave that. So now you’re pretending to be righteous? I see you’ve finished all your so-called piety. Religion ended in the time of Sayyidina Ali, didn’t it? Now you’ll be telling us what Allah and the Prophet said.”
“That’s enough, Anilat. What brought you to my room?” Benazer asked calmly.
Rolling her lips, Anilat replied sarcastically, “Where is the room? I don’t even see any room here. With all its beauty, my feet have never stepped here.”
“It’s Didi who is calling you,” Benazer said.
Suddenly, Benazer slapped Anilat hard. “Are you mad? You’re calling our mother by her name?”
Anilat ran out crying loudly, knowing she couldn’t fight Benazer because Benazer was stronger and would beat her badly if she tried.
“What’s wrong, my dear?” Didi asked when Anilat collapsed into her arms crying uncontrollably.
“Benazer slapped me just because I called you Didi,” Anilat cried.
“What? She slapped you? If that’s the case, why didn’t you call me her mother? I told you to always call me Mommy!” Didi shouted as she stormed into Benazer’s room.
She met Benazer rolling up a mat. Didi punched her hard, smashing her head against the wall until it burst and bled. Despite the blood, Didi continued slapping her left and right.
Benazer cried silently, pleading, “Mommy, you’ll kill me. Please stop. You’ll kill your own child.”
“If I kill you, so what? You’re useless anyway!” Didi yelled.
“Why did you slap Anilat just because she called me Didi? You must call me Mommy! I’ll deal with you in this house. Anilat is my youngest. And Irfan too—if I hear anything again, I won’t spare any of you.”
She ordered Benazer to wash Saif’s clothes, then Anilat’s, scrub them thoroughly, cook dinner, and report back.
Benazer obeyed silently, crying quietly so Didi wouldn’t see her tears.
Secrets, Favoritism, and Hidden Darkness
Why does Didi love Anilat and Saif so much?
Why does she show hatred toward Benazer and Irfan, even though she is their biological mother?
Is there something hidden?
Let us continue to find out—where is their father? Is Didi truly their mother or not? Only time will tell.
After Benazer finished washing Anilat’s clothes, she went to her room and found Anilat lying on the bed pressing an iPhone 14, while she herself didn’t even own a small phone. Without looking at her, Benazer picked up the uniform and went to scrub it thoroughly, obeying her mother because nothing hurt her more than seeing her mother angry with her.
When she returned the clothes and greeted Anilat, she was ignored. Benazer placed the clothes beside her and left quietly.
Anilat scoffed and muttered insults, then continued chatting on her phone—clearly engaging in immoral conversations, exchanging explicit messages and videos. Her desire overtook her until she touched herself, moaning softly. Eventually, exhausted, she fell asleep, smiling wickedly, recalling the day she first committed adultery.
We seek refuge in Allah. May Allah protect us from fornication and guide those engaged in it to repent. Ameen.
Meanwhile, Benazer finished cooking dinner, helped Irfan wash, and sat him down to study. Irfan, about fifteen years old, was intelligent, obedient, and respectful.
After studying, Benazer asked if he would eat. He refused, worrying about her. She comforted him, reminding him that despite everything, Didi was their mother.
She hugged him, resting his head on her lap, remembering her own childhood pain. Irfan asked why Saif and Anilat attended expensive schools while he attended a government school. Benazer admitted she didn’t know the reason, but believed their mother loved them in her own way.
When she went to the kitchen to get food, Didi told her there was none left and ordered her to cook again. Benazer stood there in shock, knowing the food she cooked was more than enough.
The question remained: where did the food go?