Fyade Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Hayin Rigasa is a poor neighborhood, though it has elders and respected Islamic scholars.
It was very late at night—so dark you could barely see anyone. The rainy season had made the environment muddy and quiet. Around 12:00 a.m., a tricycle (napep) stopped at the entrance of a narrow street.
A woman stepped out, holding her wrapper, chewing gum casually.
“Here, young man—thank you,” she said, handing the rider his exact fare.
The rider looked at her with disdain and said:
“So your father’s house is in this neighborhood, yet you go around doing prostitution? Honestly, even without knowing them, I’m sure your parents regret your birth. May Allah guide you… but I will not accept money from sin!”
The woman, Lantana, looked at him from head to toe and replied calmly:
“Poor boy… everyone you see carries their own destiny. Take your money. Tomorrow morning, I’ll even come and buy bean cakes from your mother.”
The rider hissed loudly:
“Keep following your ‘destiny.’ You’ve just started seeing the consequences—ill-mannered girl!”
Before she could reply, he drove off.
She muttered angrily:
“Useless boy… I’m sure your parents aren’t proud of you either.”
She adjusted the nylon bag in her hand—it only contained roasted meat (balango) given to her by one of her wealthy clients.
She turned on the flashlight of her small Nokia phone and began walking through the narrow path toward her father’s house.
Suddenly, a bright light flashed directly into her eyes.
She stopped, irritated, placing her hands on her waist.
“Which foolish person is shining light in people’s eyes like this?” she shouted angrily.
She noticed a car reversing out of the street.
She hissed again:
“So they even come here now? Rich people entering this poor street full of gossip and hypocrisy. If you stay at home at 35 without marriage, they’ll call you useless. If you go out to hustle, they’ll call you a prostitute. That’s why I don’t care anymore—I’ll live my life.”
She kept talking aloud as she walked.
Suddenly—BUMP!
She collided with a nylon bag on the ground.
“What is this?” she muttered.
Then she heard a faint cry—like that of a kitten.
“These boys… thieves! Have they started stealing animals now?”
She bent down and opened the bag.
Inside was another white wrapping… soaked in blood.
Her body began to shake.
She carefully opened it—and realized…
It was a baby.
She screamed:
“La ilaha illa Allah!”
She quickly unwrapped the bandage. The baby girl gasped loudly and began crying.
The light from her phone shone on the baby’s face—that very moment marked the beginning of the destiny of Aysha Farida.
The baby wasn’t even cleaned. The umbilical cord was still attached. She was covered in blood and birth fluids.
Without thinking, Lantana picked up the baby and ran—leaving everything behind—chasing the car that had dropped her.
She ran faster than she ever had in her life, shouting:
“Stop! You wicked people! Stop!”
Inside the car, they saw her through the mirror.
A voice said:
“Doctor, drive faster—let’s get out of here!”
The doctor replied:
“We must escape. We were paid millions by Hajiya for this job. I don’t even know where we are—this isn’t Kaduna.”
But the car sped away and disappeared.
At a slope, Lantana tripped and fell—with the baby.
She screamed, lifting the baby and shaking her.
“Don’t die! Please don’t die!”
The baby stopped breathing for a moment.
Panicking, Lantana ran toward her father’s house.
She banged on the door.
Her father, an old religious man, came out with a flashlight.
“Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un… Lantana! Have you now returned with a child of sin? Get out! We do not forgive you! Don’t ever come back!”
She tried to speak, crying—but he cut her off:
“If you say another word, I will curse you!”
Broken, she turned and left.
She went back to where she left her things, picked her bag, and abandoned the meat she once craved.
Her life had changed.
This is part of the story of Aysha Farida.
Have you ever seen a child raised by a prostitute?
Lantana raised her—but tried to give her better values than herself.
Even once, Aysha never knew Lantana was not her biological mother.
At age one, Lantana realized Aysha had poor eyesight.
She rushed her to the hospital.
The doctor explained:
“If you’re lucky, she may see a little. If not, she will become completely blind.”
The damage came from the flashlight that was shone into her eyes as a newborn.
“There is surgery,” the doctor said,
“But it costs six million naira.”
Lantana repeated:
“Innalillahi…”
From that day, she continued her life—doing whatever she could—to raise money for Aysha’s treatment.
Only one person knew her secret—her friend, Mama Hansai, who shared the same lifestyle.
2012…
Aysha Farida walked happily in her school uniform, full of energy and innocence…