Fattomah Book Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Beneath the Gathering Storm
A violent storm was brewing in the sky; apart from the howling wind, nothing else could be heard. Thousands of people were hurriedly gathering their belongings so the rain would not catch them, because it was the heart of the rainy season and there was no guarantee that once the rain started it would stop quickly. In this condition, she walked like someone whose body had cracked open. Her lips trembled from the cold, clearly showing how much she was feeling the chill in the air.
She was a very young girl—no more than 15 or 16 years old—but from her physical appearance one would think she was about 18. She suddenly stopped walking and collapsed to her knees, gripping her leg tightly as sharp pain shot through it. She was still far from home and had no money with her, not even to think of taking a motorcycle or tricycle to get home. She remained crouched there for almost eight minutes. A man passed by her, went ahead, then returned and stood watching her without her realizing it.
“Hey! What are you doing here when you can see a storm is coming?”
Only then did she lift her heavy, tired eyes to look at him, but she couldn’t utter a single word. By that time, her whole body was shaking, a sign that her pain was about to worsen. The man shook his head and said, “Are you deaf or dumb?” Without saying anything, she stood up, holding her head as if it might split open at any moment. She moved on. The man watched her in amazement, wondering about her strange behavior—could it be that she truly didn’t hear him? He shrugged, as if it didn’t concern him, and continued on his way.
She entered their small compound with a greeting and went straight to sit beside her mother, closing her eyes that felt unbearably heavy.
“Fattum, are you unwell?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she nodded. Her mother sighed deeply, full of worry, and said, “Sorry, my dear. May Allah grant you healing and relieve you of this illness troubling you.” Fattum said nothing; she lay her head on her mother’s lap and immediately fell asleep.
Later, they sat on a mat eating with care. Her father asked, “Faɗimatoh, how are you feeling?” She looked at him and replied, “Abba, I feel a bit better. It’s just my leg that still hurts badly.”
“May Allah remove it completely, In shā’ Allah,” he said.
“Ameen, Abba,” she replied with a nod.
Seeing that she wasn’t eating, her mother said, “Fattum, you’re not eating.”
She pouted childishly and said, “I’m already full, Ammi.”
Her mother shook her head. “No, what have you eaten to be full? Try and eat a little so you can take your medicine.”
Annoyed, she glanced at her mother, turned away, and muttered words they couldn’t understand.
“Faɗimatoh, take the food and eat,” her father said.
She frowned with pure childish stubbornness. “Ahh Abba, wallahi I’m very full—I’m full.”
He sighed. “Are you sure?”
She quickly nodded. “Alright then,” he said. “Go and take your medicine and lie down to rest.”
Without argument, she stood up and entered her room. Inside, she sat on the mattress spread on the floor, pulled a nylon bag closer, and examined the medicines inside. She opened a sachet of PCM, tore it open, and brought it toward her mouth, but quickly rejected it, trying not to vomit. Taking medicine was one thing Fattomah hated most in life. No matter how sick she was, she would spit it out. She also refused injections—unless it was her father who brought or administered the medicine, even then she would cry before agreeing. She gathered the medicines back into the bag, placed them beside the mattress, and lay down.
A Child’s Tears and Tender Promises
She began to look around and, seeing how soaked their entire compound was, realized that there must have been heavy rainfall the previous night. Suddenly, a loud cry burst out of her as she squatted by her doorway and broke down crying. Her mother rushed in from where she had been lighting charcoal, and her father also entered from outside.
She cried intensely, like someone who had just been told her parents were dead.
“Faɗimatoh, what’s wrong?” her father asked.
She only cried harder without answering. Her mother shook her head and said, “Is it your illness?”
She looked at both of them and burst into fresh tears, rolling on the ground. They stood watching her, confused; even her mother thought perhaps a spirit had possessed her. After crying to her fill, she finally began to calm down.
“Now tell us, what’s the problem?” her father asked.
Through sobs, she looked at him and said, “Ab… Abba… my sandals got soaked in the compound from the rain…”
She broke down crying again. Her mother, overwhelmed with sadness, couldn’t speak and simply turned back to what she was doing. Her father, gently consoling her, said, “Alright, be patient. I’ll buy you new sandals. But you must stop crying and go pray.” She wiped her face and stood up, casting another glance at the compound. One thing she hated most was seeing the ground soaked; that was why she always kept her sandals inside. Any day they got wet, everyone’s peace would be disturbed. Slowly, as if stepping on fragile glass, she went to pick up her sandals, put them on, and took her water pot. Her father shook his head and said, “May Allah guide you, Faɗimatoh.”
She dressed in her uniform and came out, looking at her mother. “Ammi, I’m leaving now so I won’t be late. You know today I have duty.”
Her mother looked at her. “But you should eat first, Fattum.”
She shook her head while putting on her sandals. “I’ll eat when I come back. We won’t even reach 4 p.m. today.”
Her mother stayed silent, knowing that once she said that, nothing would make her eat. After finishing, she picked up her bag and said, “I’m going now. Pray for me, Ammi.”
Her mother smiled. “May Allah protect your journey, guard you for me, and keep you from all evil, Faɗimatoh.”
With a beautiful smile, she replied, “Ameen, Ammi. See you later.” She waved goodbye and left, feeling a deep calm settle within her. She truly loved her parents, just as they showed her love in return.
The Classroom Clash
Their Geography teacher entered the class, and silence fell immediately. He tolerated no nonsense at all; that was why any noise would instantly stop once he stepped in. Everyone would mind their behavior—everyone except Fattum. In fact, any teacher feared by others was the one she looked down on completely. She never regarded him as anything special, which was why she was constantly being punished by him. Still, he treated her like a brilliant student deserving discipline.
As usual, the moment he entered, she laid her head on her desk, which she shared with two others. She heard him say everyone should take out their books and that he didn’t want to catch anyone idle—but she remained lying there. Suddenly, he banged on her desk, jolting her from the sleep that had begun to take her. She opened her eyes, rubbing them, and looked at him. The stern look on his face, like that of an angel turned fierce, made her want to laugh.