Ga Irinta Nan Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

I was walking with extreme tiredness and exhaustion. All I wanted was to get home, pour water on my body, lie down, and rest my life away.
Suddenly, my heart skipped.
The moment I remembered that troublesome boy was around, I knew it would be hard for me to even have peace at home. Khalid… that boy is seriously a problem.
Just as I was about to enter our street, Alhaji Nura’s car was trying to drive out. I stepped aside to give him way.
I shook my head when I saw him stop and park.
“I knew it… he won’t just pass,” I said in my mind.
He rolled down his window and we made eye contact. I smiled slightly and said:
“Good afternoon, Alhaji.”
He replied warmly,
“Good afternoon, Sa’ida. How is work?”
“Work is fine, Alhamdulillah,” I said.
I was about to leave when he stopped me again:
“Sa’ida, what about our agreement?”
I wiped the sweat on my face with the edge of my hijab and said:
“It’s still there, Alhaji. I just want to choose the days I’ll start your work.”
He said:
“Why not pick two days in a week—Thursday and Friday? The children don’t go to Islamiyya on those days. After they return from school around 2 or 3, you can come and teach them.”
I stayed quiet, thinking about it, then said:
“Alright, Alhaji. I’ll consider it, inshaAllah.”
He smiled and said:
“Thank you. Whatever decision you make, call me and let me know.”
“Okay, no problem,” I replied.
I was about to leave when he stopped me again.
He stretched out money to me—almost five thousand naira.
I smiled and said:
“You know I won’t accept this, Alhaji. Thank you.”
I quickly left, wondering why he was always so generous to me. Every time we met, he tried to give me money, despite already helping our family so much.
Before I reached home, I saw him—Khalid—leaning at our gate.
He was wearing casual clothes—three-quarter shorts and a tight singlet that showed his masculine figure clearly.
My heart dropped.
Anytime I saw him like that, I would feel uneasy. I didn’t even understand myself. That’s why whenever he was around, I avoided being too free with him—especially since he moved around carelessly without proper clothing.
I approached him with a frown.
“Malami, give me way,” I said seriously.
Instead of moving, he blocked me and stared at me with a strange expression.
“Aunty Sa’ida, what were you doing with that man?” he asked.
I looked at him sharply.
“What business is that of yours? Please move—I’m tired.”
He stepped aside slightly, and as I tried to pass, he suddenly pushed me against the door. Our faces were close—our breaths mixed.
My heart pounded.
I pushed him away quickly and rushed inside, praying nobody had seen us.
He grabbed my hand and said softly:
“Do you want my heart to stop? I told you to stay away from that Alhaji, but you ignored me.”
I looked at him angrily.
“Khalid, you’re crossing your limits! Am I your mate that you’re behaving like this with me?”
He stared at me seriously and said:
“I love you, Aunty Sa’ida. And you know you don’t have a husband. One day, you’ll realize you’re not as smart as you think.”
Then he left.
I stood there, shocked.
“I don’t have a husband except him?” I thought.
Truly, Khalid has no sense.
I hissed and went inside, feeling completely upset.
“Ummatu, well done,” I greeted.
She responded quietly, but I didn’t mind. I went inside and saw our grandmother, Gwaggo, grinding locust beans.
I removed my hijab and lay down, trying to catch my breath.
She looked at me and said:
“You came back late today, Sa’ida. Are you sure you haven’t started roaming around? Honestly, I don’t trust this your job.”
I looked at her in shock.
She continued:
“I’m serious. What kind of work makes you leave by 8 a.m. and come back by 2 or 3 p.m.?”
My voice trembled as I said:
“What are you trying to say about me, Gwaggo?”
Calmly, she replied:
“You know what I mean.”
Tears began to fall from my eyes.
“You mean I’m going around doing prostitution?” I asked.
Quickly she said:
“No! Don’t put words in my mouth—that’s not what I meant.”
I cried harder:
“Then what do you mean? You said you don’t trust my job. So you too have started doubting me?”
She stayed silent and continued grinding.
I lay back down, crying uncontrollably.
“So just because my father is dead, you want to accuse me of immorality? As if you didn’t give birth to him!”
She snapped:
“Sa’ida, don’t make me angry with that kind of talk! I’ve said enough. If you refuse to marry, people will definitely start accusing you of following men.”
I stood up immediately.
“Gwaggo, I’m tired. I’ll pack my things and go back to my mother. If you, who gave birth to my father, cannot defend me, then I will leave. I won’t force myself into marriage—only Allah decides that. Since you don’t understand me, I’ll leave this house.”
I came down and started packing my things.
She dropped what she was doing and said firmly:
“Sa’ida, I don’t like foolishness. You’re not going anywhere. I only advised you about marriage—and I will not stop until you settle down with a husband. That is final.”