Ɗan Acaɓa Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Restless Night
It was midnight. The wristwatch on his hand showed the time, though its age made the color impossible to identify. He adjusted his position, supporting his chin with a hand darkened by patches of grime. His reddish eyes, filled with desire, slowly began to close, yet sleep completely refused to come.
Gently, he started sighing deeply while his hand continued to rub his tail, which kept rising and stiffening, refusing to lie still as it noisily demanded satisfaction. For a long time, he masturbated until he released his fluid. Immediately afterward, a deep but useless regret washed over him.
He wanted to bathe, but the intense cold that had engulfed the town would not allow it, so he waited until dawn before finally taking a bath. As he stepped out of the bathroom holding a bucket, the light from Inna’s lantern fell on him. Like a guilty man, he dropped the bucket instantly and said in a slightly trembling voice, “Inna, you’re already awake? It’s just now they’re calling Assalatu.”
Inna said nothing and returned to her room. Basheer, feeling uneasy, filled his kettle, performed ablution, and left for the mosque.
When he returned home, daylight had already broken. He found Inna seated on her prayer mat, counting her rosary. He sat on the old bench in the living room. When Inna looked at him, he quickly greeted her, saying, “Good morning, Inna. Did you wake up well?”
“Alhamdulillah,” she replied briefly, turning her face away and frowning even more.
Basheer sighed deeply and said, “Inna, please forgive me.”
Without looking at him, she asked, “Forgive you for what?”
Scratching his neck, he replied, “For being angry with me.”
She shook her head, then turned to face him and said, “Basiru, whatever a person does, Allah sees it. And Allah does not forbid anything without first making its lawful alternative available. I’m not accusing you, but fear Allah and increase your fasting.”
Basheer lowered his head. Never before had Inna’s words weighed so heavily on him as they did that day. Though she had always hinted at his habit—often through remarks about how frequently he bathed, especially before dawn prayers, and sometimes even before other prayers whenever he was alone in a room.
Seeing that he had no intention of leaving, Inna stood up and entered one of the two adjoining rooms. He watched her go with pity, knowing that if Inna had money, she would have married him off long ago.
Basheer Amadu’s Story
Basheer Amadu was his full name—a young man of thirty‑two years. He was dark‑skinned, with frequent patches of grime, a broad chest, tall and slim but well‑built. Poverty had hidden the magic of his looks and worsened the condition of his skin. Basheer was a religious man who had memorized the Holy Qur’an, yet despite this, Allah had tested him with a powerful lust that could rise at any time and in any situation, especially when he was alone.
His father died before he became aware of life, leaving his upbringing solely in Inna’s care. Her lack of a stable livelihood made her unable to continue paying for his Western education. As for Islamic studies, he pursued them in Maiduguri, where he lived the life of an almajiri.
“Basiru? Basiru? Wake up quickly, the day is already far gone. You’re still sleeping—aren’t you going to the market today?” Inna said, holding a small cup filled with kunu.
He stretched before stepping out, used charcoal to clean his mouth, bathed, then returned to take the kunu and drank it.
“Today is market day, isn’t it? Or have you forgotten?” Inna asked again.
“I know, Inna. I’m going now,” Basheer replied.
Angrily, Inna said, “So why are you still sitting?”
He looked at her quickly—it was the first time she had raised her voice at him.
“The vehicles don’t arrive until ten o’clock, Inna. If I go now, I’ll just be waiting,” Basheer said softly, almost tearful.
Inna frowned and said nothing. Reluctantly, he left for Maradi main market.
The Market and an Unexpected Proposal
A twenty‑minute walk brought him there. He headed straight to where the potato trucks were parked, as they were just arriving. He greeted his coworkers, and they began unloading sacks of potatoes into the market. Basheer bent down repeatedly as heavy sacks were loaded onto his back, sweating and groaning from the strain.
From ten in the morning until noon, he worked nonstop. When they finished, Alhaji—their boss—dismissed everyone. Basheer found some shade, sat down, and poured cold water over his head, enjoying the relief.
Badiya, who had been watching him since morning, took a food container, filled it with rice and beans, and brought it to him. He smiled as he accepted it and said, “Is this really mine? It looks more than usual. I’ll give you three hundred, girl.”
As he spoke, his chest rose and fell while she watched before replying, “No, today it’s free. I’ve never done you a kindness before, as my elder brother.”
Basheer, with his mouth full from the first bite, widened his eyes in surprise as Badiya turned and returned to her spot. After eating his fill, he returned the container with thanks and went to a friend’s shop inside the market.
“Groom, you’re smelling nice,” Basheer said as he sat on a plastic chair.
Lawan frowned slightly and replied, “There’s no groom here—you’re the one who keeps refusing to attend the bride’s feast.”
Basheer smiled. “After you finish enjoying the marriage, I’ll come, In sha Allah. I just hope my sister isn’t angry.”
Lawan sighed. “Your sister barely lets me start before she says she’s tired and complains of pain.”
Basheer burst into laughter. “You wicked man! Are you hurting her? You know men like us don’t do things gently.”
Lawan shot him a playful glare. “It’s been about two weeks since the wedding, but I’ve only done it five times.”
“Stop lying! Only five times?”
“Yes! She fills her stomach, and once she sees action coming, she starts complaining. I have no choice but to leave her.”
Basheer clicked his tongue. “Nonsense! How will she get used to it that way? It’s your fault. By Allah, if it were me, I’d block my ears and finish the job.”
Lawan hit him lightly on the back and said, “It’s a love marriage—I can’t stand her crying. Tell me, what should I do?”
“Stop pitying her,” Basheer replied. “When she cries, distract her and continue. That’s how she’ll get used to it.”
They continued chatting. When Basheer returned home, he found Inna in the living room counting money, while he ate kanzo she had prepared with oil, seasoning, and onions.
“It’s two hundred and ten naira, plus some small change,” Inna said after counting.
After drinking water, Basheer added, “Here’s another seven thousand naira I made today.”
Inna collected it and said, “Good. Now, this is for your marriage expenses.”
Basheer suddenly started coughing violently—he had never expected such words from Inna.