Hajar Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The Turbulent House at Dala
 
In the heart of Dala stood a notorious house. Whoever lived in the neighborhood knew it as a place of endless quarrels, noise, and shame. The trouble came not from outsiders but from the very family that owned it.
 
The patriarch, Malam Adamu Mai Gini, was a weak man controlled by his two wives — Rabi’atu (Maama) and Fatima (Umma). God had blessed him with eight children: five girls and three boys. But instead of harmony, the house was filled with constant fights.
 
The two wives despised each other, their daughters stood by their mothers, and quarrels often escalated into shouting, insults, and even physical combat. At times neighbors intervened; other times they let the women fight until blood was drawn. In the chaos, the once-respected compound became more like a madhouse.
 
Malam Adamu often tried to intervene, but the fights only worsened. Weak and powerless, he eventually developed high blood pressure from the stress.
 
A Morning of Tension
 
One morning, Hajara, daughter of Umma, stepped into the courtyard after dawn. The ground was still soaked from last night’s rain. She held a toothbrush, rinsed her face, and headed to the small latrine. But she found it locked.
 
Annoyed, she banged on the flimsy wooden door.
“Whoever is inside, hurry up, I’m pressed!”
 
No answer. She kicked again.
“Which shameless girl is in there? Come out!”
 
Inside was Maimuna, her half-sister from Maama’s side. She deliberately delayed, then came out with an arrogant hiss. The two exchanged insults before Hajara finally entered.
 
Later, when she finished washing, she stepped into Umma’s room. Her mother, busy counting yesterday’s sales from fried cakes, looked up.
“Hajara, will you still go to school? Who will fetch me beans and oil?”
 
“Let me prepare first,” Hajara replied. “I’ll buy them before I go.”
 
Umma sighed. “Don’t bother with school today. You’re late, and the rain flooded the classrooms.”
 
But Hajara insisted. “We have exams coming. Today is the thumbprint for NECO registration.”
 
Reluctantly, Umma handed her some money for beans and palm oil.
 
The Rivalry with Sisters
 
As Hajara left, tension flared again in the compound. Maimuna sat polishing her face with bleaching soap, while her sister Sa’adatu teased her. Another sister, Nabila, emerged and joined the quarrel.
 
“You keep fighting with Hajara every day,” Nabila scolded Maimuna. “You’re shameless.”
 
“Shut up!” Maimuna snapped.
 
Their bickering filled the courtyard while Umma silently washed utensils, pretending not to hear.
 
Errand to the Shop
 
Hajara walked to the shop of Iliya Mai Awo, the local trader. He sat with his friend Munkaila, while a boy filled bottles of palm oil.
 
“Assalamu alaikum,” Hajara greeted.
“Wa alaikumus salam,” Iliya replied.
 
She bought a bowl of beans and half a bottle of oil, complaining about the poor quality she had received the previous day.
 
On her way back, a man lounging nearby teased her. “Hajara, do you have more fried cakes? Bring me some later.”
 
She frowned. “Send a boy to buy it yourself.” Then she hurried home.
 
The traders gossiped as she left.
“That girl is stubborn,” Munkaila said. “The other day she injured my wife during one of their fights.”
Iliya shook his head. “Her father, Malam Adamu, has no control. His wives rule the house.”
“Allah ya kyauta,” Munkaila sighed, adjusting his radio.
 
Farewell Before School
 
Back at home, Hajara delivered the items to Umma, then prepared for school. She went to greet her father, Malam Adamu, who sat quietly on a mat with prayer beads.
 
“Good morning, Baba. I’m going for the thumbprint.”
 
He nodded warmly, slipping two hundred naira into her hand. “May Allah grant you success.”
 
On her way out, she nearly bumped into her older brother Mu’azzam, the eldest son. He glared at her with disdain.
“Move aside,” he barked, and pushed past her.
 
The Driver’s Arrival
 
Meanwhile, far away, a young man was driving toward Dala. Behind the wheel of a sleek car, he struggled to find the right street. His phone rang — it was his mother giving directions.
 
As he turned into a rough road, a motorcycle cut across suddenly. Swerving, he lost control, and his car splashed into a flooded ditch.
 
Unfortunately, standing nearby at the roadside was Hajara, waiting for a tricycle. Muddy water gushed over her pristine white-and-pink school uniform, staining it with red earth and stinking gutter water.
 
Shocked, she looked down at her soiled clothes. Anger rose within her. She turned sharply toward the car as the driver’s door opened…
 
Cliffhanger
 
And so the chaotic household of Dala met the stranger’s arrival — a man whose path was destined to cross with Hajara’s, perhaps changing her fate, perhaps dragging her deeper into the storms that brewed within Malam Adamu’s divided family.