Da Ciwo A Rayuwata Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The Nightmare and the Summons
Jumeta lay stretched out in the garden, his head resting on my thighs, both of us covered by a veil. He wanted to slip his hand inside, to pull aside the torn veil that shielded us. Strangely, his hand refused to reach. Forced to lift his head from her lap, he suddenly saw a man with three young women and their little daughter dragging her away. As he struggled to stand, he heard her crying out:
“Come and help me, Sadeeq. Please don’t let them take me away. Sadeeeeeeeeeeeeq…”
He woke up in shock from the terrible dream that had haunted him. Seeing the familiar elderly man seated nearby, he adjusted his posture, whispered a prayer, and continued staring at the ground in deep thought.
“Assalamu Alaikum,” a greeting came from the doorway. Knowing the voice was not that of a stranger, the old man replied,
“Wa Alaikum Salam. Imran, come in. This house isn’t strange to you—whether through the wall or any corner, you’re free to enter.”
Imran appeared before them, shyly lowering his head.
“Malam Jauro, good afternoon. Even though it’s almost noon.”
“All is well, Imran. How is home? Your parents and the rest of your people?” Malam Jauro asked.
Imran smiled lightly before replying,
“They’re fine. My grandmother sent me concerning this poor fellow. I don’t know how he’ll take the news, knowing his condition and how fearful he is of people. I also don’t know how he can resolve some of these problems.”
Silence fell between them. Throughout their conversation, he never lifted his head to look at them. He knew that neither Imran nor his grandmother would ever harm him. He buried his head again between his knees, closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around his legs, and remained quiet.
Malam Jauro adjusted his seat and said,
“Malam Imran, I hope this assignment is fine?”
Imran shook his head slightly.
“She told me to come take him to Bauchi for a kind of assistance work. Beyond that, I don’t know exactly what she meant. I wanted to understand why she sent him there, but she only said he should go and see with his own eyes.”
Without lifting his head, and when they least expected him to speak, he said softly,
“Grandfather, today again she returned screaming, calling for my help. Ya Allah, please remember me in your prayers.”
His voice was weak. Imran stepped closer and placed a hand on him.
“There’s no time. Come, let’s go. They’re waiting for us. You’ll have to be patient—you’ll serve in another place for the needs of others.”
He raised his head angrily, brushed Imran’s hand aside, and shot him a fierce glare, rage boiling inside him.
“So you jinn have a problem. You helped me, then turned me into your servant. By Allah, I could punch you and even go as far as—”
Before he could finish, his neck was seized. Imran smiled calmly and said,
“You’re the one with the problem, not us. You were sent for your own good. If you refuse, then truly there will be trouble in your life. Stand up, let’s go. There’s no time.”
Released again, his body weak, he stood up and began packing his belongings. It wasn’t that he had a choice—he couldn’t oppose Imran and his family. They had done everything for him in life, especially Imran and his grandmother.
When he finished packing, Imran turned to Malam Jauro and said,
“Whatever condition he’s in, he’ll explain it to you. We’ll combine strength with effort to help them. But he must first go to Bauchi. We now take our leave in the Islamic way.”
Malam Jauro nodded and extended his hand; they shook hands. As Sadeeq stepped into the courtyard, he met Innawuro. He looked at her and said,
“My old strength, I’m going on a journey for some time.”
She clicked her tongue, loosened the knot of her wrapper, muttering angrily, then raised her big eyes and glared at him.
“By Allah, you’re utterly useless. Is this how you’ll sit around sleeping in a room? If I get tired of you, I’ll marry you off to Bintalo.”
He smiled and turned to leave. As they reached the gate, she called him back. He stopped as she approached and handed him a white bowl.
“Here you are, my Sadiq—special dambu.”
He accepted it and thanked her. She turned away, wiping her tears sadly, worried about her grandchild. Once they got into the car, they wasted no time—it was Imran’s car.
Bauchi State – ATBU
Slowly, I walked out of the classroom, exhausted from standing and teaching my master’s-level students. My whole body felt drained; all I wanted was to go home. I stopped by my office, finished what I needed to do, and stepped out. I hadn’t even reached the gate when I heard laughter behind me. One of them said,
“I told you she’s still a virgin, never been married. I swear.”
Another replied,
“What virgin at thirty-one? Virginity has limits. How long will she stay without a man? She’s probably a widow.”
They kept throwing words at me. I hurried to my car, started it quickly, and drove off, my heart heavy with pain. My mind was in turmoil—could I really change my destiny when people constantly challenged it? By God’s grace, I barely made it home. I didn’t even park properly. I jumped out of the car crying.
He was sitting there with Baba the gatekeeper, who opened the door for me. I immediately ran into Inna’s co-wife, collapsed into her arms, and burst into uncontrollable sobs. My body shook as I lifted my tearful face and asked,
“Nenne, is it my fault that I’m not married? Or is everyone simply outrunning their destiny?”
She gently shook her head, smiled softly, and said,
“Whatever has a beginning will have an end, Amrahtu. Be patient. The patience you’ve endured for years is nearing its end. Just be patient, okay?”
Hope Beyond Patience
Her words settled into my heart like a quiet promise—that even the longest night eventually gives way to dawn.