Haihuwa-Da-Hanji-Complete-Hausa-Novel

Before Dawn in the Kitchen
Rain was pouring down in torrents, as if someone were splashing it from a bowl. Almost all of humanity lay stretched out comfortably on soft mattresses, wrapped in blankets, sleeping as though the night had become a servant’s shelter. But she was crouched in the kitchen, which was leaking because of the poor condition of the roofing sheets used to cover it.
She was blowing on the firewood, even though her back was getting drenched and her teeth were chattering from the cold seeping into her body. Still, she paid no attention to it. Instead, she focused even more on the firewood that had not yet properly caught flame, until she was sure the fire was burning as it should. It was a huge pot, one that someone could practically curl up inside, yet she lifted it with ease because of her thinness and sunken cheeks. Struggling with effort, she dragged it and placed it on the stove, then went to a bucket and began drawing water with a measuring bowl, pouring it in until she was satisfied it was the usual amount. After covering it, she stepped out.
She then turned over the raw fish they had kept in ice inside a large basin and began washing them, since they had already been cut up the previous evening at the market. When she had washed them thoroughly, she took another pot and poured them in. It was at that moment that the call to prayer began to echo faintly from afar.
Endless Work and Silent Endurance
I was amazed that there was not even a trace of fear on her face as she carried on with all these tasks in the rain. She set up another stove and placed the fish stew on it to cook. Once she was sure everything was going the way she wanted, she began gathering the household dishes, knowing that if she waited until daylight, she would be in serious trouble. She washed hurriedly while the rain, which had started pouring heavily again, kept soaking her. By the time she finished, there was no part of her body that was not trembling. Quickly, she washed the rice and poured it into the first pot, then performed ablution. Even by then, not a single soul had appeared in the house, despite the fact that some mosques had already finished the prayer.
She crouched into the corner of the room that served as her own in the house, took off her wet clothes, and with difficulty pulled out a faded long gown, which she put on. Then she drew her hijab over herself and stood for prayer. To my amazement, she performed her prayer properly, exactly as the religion prescribed. She had barely spent any time reciting her supplications before she came out again, trying to avoid being talked about, but she was not spared. In the kitchen, she met Inna Larai and quickly bent down in greeting.
“Good morning, Inna.”
Inna Larai looked at her, smacked her lips, and uncovered the pots. When she saw that the stew was done, she turned to her and said,
“What on earth did you go into the room to do until this stew almost started burning and you still hadn’t dished it out? Are you trying to cause me a loss?”
“No, Inna, I only went to pray.”
She clicked her tongue and pointed at the cooler they used to pack the stew for sale. Afifah hurried to bring it. Inna Larai packed the stew neatly and then placed the household breakfast on the stove. Afifah then went to fetch the rice cooler, brought it over, pulled open the bag of sugar inside it, and began serving. The steam was scalding her as usual, but she endured it until she was done. Despite the cold rain that had soaked her through, by then she was dripping with sweat. She continued arranging her trade items into a paint bucket: the plastic plates, water, and the little scraps of sponge she used to wash the plates whenever customers returned them after eating.
Harsh Words and Quiet Pain
“Go and knock for Iro and the others so they can load this on your head and take it for you right now.”
She answered softly, “Okay,” and headed to the boys’ room to knock. She spent more than twenty minutes knocking and calling before two young men finally came out. One of them stretched out his hand and shoved her so hard that she fell to the ground.
“Didn’t we warn you against this cursed knocking? Bastard! Every single day you do nothing except disturb people, especially this early in the morning…”
“Dahiru, your younger brother…! Won’t you just come and bring out my food for me, or do you want me to suffer a loss?”
She did not care whether they had prayed or not; all that mattered to her was that they should carry her goods for her business.
Slowly she got back to her feet, dusting herself off. She already knew that no one would scold them for taking advantage of her or oppressing her. Everyone in the house saw her as a dumping ground, as though whenever they gathered their rubbish, there was nowhere to throw it except on her head.
Silently, she walked back with them as they lifted the load, grumbling as they always did every morning, until they finally left. She was just about to step out of the house when Inna Larai shouted her name.
“Afifah! You!”
She turned back quickly and quietly.
“Just let me find out that anything is missing, I swear the afterlife will be sweeter for you than this world. And if you dare eat from it again or even lick it, Allah is my witness, I will never forgive you. Go and come back, and here is your breakfast—I’ll set it aside for you.”
She shook her head, her face carrying a heavy, painful smile, and replied…