Fatima Da Zarah Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

“In this world, I have no dream greater than having Zarah. Truly, my life was made for you. Oh Zarah, Zarah, I love you beyond every meaning of the word. I love you with a love beyond compare. May Allah grant you to me as my wife, my beloved.”
It was a handsome young man of about twenty-nine years old, saying these words while lying on his bed.
Without his knowing, his mother had been listening to him. When she had heard enough, she started calling his name:
“Kamal, Kamal.”
He did not hear his mother calling him at all, as he was deeply lost in his intense longing for Zarah. It was only when his mother stretched out her hand and nudged the leg he had rested against the wall that he came back to his senses.
He smiled before sitting up, scratching the back of his neck.
“Good morning, Mommy,” Kamal said, lowering his head.
“I will not answer you, you shameless boy. Since when did I enter this room, and you were here talking nonsense about that little girl?” Mommy said, sounding as though she was about to beat her son.
Kamal stood up quickly, holding her hand as he said, “Please forgive me, Mommy. I swear I did not know you came in. Come on, my love, my mother, the queen of my head.”
Mommy pulled her hand away from his and, in a softened voice, said, “Indeed, since you’ve now made me your grandmother, come out for breakfast.”
As soon as she finished speaking, she left smiling, while thanking Allah for the son He had given her.
He followed behind her until she disappeared from his sight. When they reached the dining table, Hajjiya sat in her chair beside Alhaji Mansur.
Kamal also pulled out the chair between his two younger ones, Nasir and Laila, and sat down.
Alhaji Mansur was the first to rise from the breakfast table after thanking Allah, and he went inside.
At that moment, Nasir quickly moved and sat in Alhaji’s chair.
Mommy shot him a look and said, “Why do you have no shame, Nasir? Have you become so disrespectful to everyone? What kind of behavior is this?”
Quietly, he stood up and returned to where he had been sitting, saying, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”
Kamal laughed, then looked at Nasir’s face, which had lost all brightness, and said, “Don’t worry. In my house, when I get married, one room in my house will be yours, I swear.”
Mommy laughed and said, “Yes indeed, he has already gone ahead and killed the marriage.”
Laila burst into laughter, even shaking from it, but Nasir’s face did not relax at all.
After Laila had calmed down from laughing, she looked at Kamal and said, “Okay then, Brother Kamal, I have never seen Aunty Zarah before.”
On hearing Laila’s words, Kamal became overwhelmed with happiness right there where he sat, smiling to himself.
Without saying anything to Laila, he drifted off into thoughts of Zarah.
That was the household of Alhaji Mansur, a retired soldier, an important man whose word was law.
He lived with his wife, Hajjiya Amina, who was Kamal’s mother, together with their only biological son, Kamal. Then there was Laila, who had been raised in the house from childhood after the death of her mother, who was Alhaji Mansur’s younger sister.
There was also Nasir, whom Hajjiya had brought from the village when he was eighteen years old, from the home of her half-brothers. He came back with her, and they all lived together there.
Now, in another grand mansion, very different from the first one, they too were seated around their own elegant dining table having breakfast.
At a glance, without needing to ask, you could tell who among them was the wealthy and influential master of the house. He was wearing a white jalabiya, with no smile on his face, drinking tea.
Despite the variety of food spread across the table, he did not take anything.
In the end, he let out a long hiss of annoyance, stood up, and left the place.
Some older women, fair-skinned and plump, who were also seated there, looked at one another,
while each of them continued eating her food.
That was the house of Alhaji Mustapha, also a retired soldier and a close friend of Alhaji Mansur. But Alhaji Mustapha’s household was not like that of Alhaji Mansur. Almost every day, he was surrounded by bitterness and annoyance because of his wives.