Ba Ni Da Laifi Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Shattered Expectations
 
I sat collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, like someone who had just lost both parents. But unlike them, I was crying right in front of mine—yet it felt like I was alone. The more I cried, the more helpless I felt. My heart was heavy because I knew they wouldn’t agree with what I was about to say.
 
Then finally, Abba looked at me with concern and asked,
 
> "Baby, what's wrong with you?"
 
 
 
I couldn’t utter a single word. I believed if I held back my tears, he might dismiss my feelings. So I cried even harder, hoping he’d at least ask again.
 
Ummy then added,
 
> "Baby, can’t you hear your father talking to you?"
 
 
 
I looked up through my tears and whispered,
 
> "Abba, I can't marry Mahmud. I just can't. I used to love him, but now... I can’t anymore."
 
 
 
Without waiting for their response, I stood up and ran out of the room, locking myself in a nearby room and crying harder. I thought about all Mahmud had done to me, the pain, the betrayal. What kind of love was this? What kind of deception?
 
Parents’ Confusion
 
Abba turned to Ummy and asked,
 
> "Did she say anything happened between them?"
 
 
 
Ummy replied,
 
> "No, nothing."
 
 
 
Abba sighed.
 
> "I’ll call Mahmud myself."
 
 
 
Then he stood up, pacing slowly with his hands behind his back.
 
Innocence and Momentary Joy
 
As I sat in tears, my little brother, Affan, ran into the room calling,
 
> "Ba-by... Ba-by..."
 
 
 
I pulled him into my lap, trying to smile as he giggled and called everyone’s names, though some were too hard for him to pronounce. I followed him around the house, laughing briefly—one of the few bright moments in that heavy day. But once he fell asleep, I was back in my thoughts.
 
Wounds That Clothes Can't Hide
 
I wore a worn-out wrapper and shirt. I had no fancy clothes. That’s why I started sewing pieces of rubber print fabric to make decent outfits for staying around the house. When I saw Ummy pounding flour for tuwo, I offered to help.
 
> "Let me do it, Ummy."
 
 
 
She shook her head,
 
> "No, go light the fire instead."
 
 
 
In the kitchen, I arranged the firewood and lit it. As I walked out, I saw Yaa Ahmad coming back from work in a suit. He didn’t speak. It was unusual. I suspected Abba had told them all not to talk to me. I filled water for him, started washing dishes, and soon he returned from his bath.
 
> "Yaa Ahmad, say something!"
 
 
 
He smiled, pulled my cheeks,
 
> "Of course, babyna. I spoke with Ayan earlier—he sends his greetings."
 
 
 
We laughed.
 
> "Sarki mutanen London," I replied.
 
 
 
Affan came again, struggling to say “Ahmad.” We laughed as Yaa Ahmad carried him away. Still, I noticed how everyone at home had changed. They had all heard about me rejecting the wedding. But what could I do? The wedding was already fixed, but it was no longer possible.
 
Unexpected Visitor
 
Later, as I sat eating tuwo after Isha’i, a neighbor’s child entered.
 
> "Baby, someone said you should come."
 
 
 
I knew who it was—Mahmud.
 
> "Tell him I said no. And greet Mairo for me."
 
 
 
He left. No one at home said anything. Shortly after, Yaa Ahmad took a call and went out. He stayed long before returning. I knew Mahmud had called, but Ahmad still didn’t talk to me. I cleaned up, washed dishes—Ummy never tolerated mess overnight.
 
The Next Day
 
> "Ummy, I have one lecture tomorrow at 10. I’ll leave then."
 
 
 
> "Allah ya kaimu," she replied.
 
 
 
> "Ameen."
 
 
 
I went to my room—just a small mattress, an old bedsheet, and a little box for my few decent clothes. I lay down but couldn’t sleep. My phone kept ringing. It was him. I ignored it, put it on silent, and buried it in my bag.
 
By 1 a.m., I finally dozed off. I missed Subh but woke at 9. I hurriedly brushed, ate, bathed, and dressed in my regular atamfa skirt and blouse, wrapped my hair, and wore my long hijab with niqab. I left after greeting Ummy.
 
At School: A Painful Encounter
 
At the bus stop, I met a few coursemates. On arriving at our faculty, Zaynab, one of my classmates, tapped me.
 
> "What’s wrong with you, Mariam?"
 
 
 
Before I could answer, my phone rang again—Mahmud. I ignored it.
 
> "Alright, see you later," Zaynab said and walked off.
 
 
 
I picked the call. It wasn’t him this time, but a friend, saying she was nearby. As I approached the library, I saw Mahmud coming from behind, disturbed and distracted. I quickly pulled Jalila along and entered the library.
 
> "Why’d you pull me in like that?" she asked.
 
 
 
> "I saw Mahmud."
 
 
 
She was shocked.
 
> "Your suitor?"
 
 
 
> "Yes."
 
 
 
> "Did you fight?"
 
 
 
> "Let’s not talk about it now."
 
 
 
We looked down through the glass window. He was sitting outside with his head buried in his hands. Later, a master’s student, likely his friend, came and took him away.
 
Back Home—The Confrontation
 
When I returned home, Mahmud was seated alone across from our house, deep in thought. He didn’t notice the kekenapep until I got out and passed right by him. He jumped up.
 
> "Baby... Baby!"
 
 
 
I ignored him.
 
That night, Abba called me. I entered their room and knelt quietly.
 
> "Why did you say you don’t want to marry Mahmud?"
 
 
 
Through tears, I replied,
 
> "He lied to me. I never asked for riches. I liked him when I didn’t even know his status. But later, he said he was a staff member, when he was just a guard. I have no problem with wealth—but not lies. I’m not at fault. I just can’t marry him."
 
 
 
Abba looked at me in surprise, then said gently,
 
> "Alright, you can go. I won’t force you."
 
 
 
I stood and ran out again, crying.