Hamdah Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

HAMDAH PART 1 COMPLETE HAUSA NOVEL 
 
The loud screech of a car jolted me awake. In a rush, I splashed off the soap from my face, scrambled out of the bathroom, and dashed into the living room—only to run into Aunty Rafee'at.
 
“Oyoyo Aunty Rafee’at!” I screamed joyfully, throwing myself at her.
 
“Ke, saki ta mana,” Ummi said sternly, trying to free herself from my excited hug.
 
“Oyoyo Ummi na,” I giggled, clinging to her next.
 
Soon, I noticed Abba, Abbu, Mamie, Aunty Jaleela, Ya Masa’ud, Nusaiba, and Fauzan—I leapt toward them, hugging everyone at once. Laughter filled the house.
 
Aunty Rafee’at, lifting me, laughed, “Hamdah, you’ll break someone’s ribs. You have no sense of size.”
 
“Well,” I said proudly, “Abba said I’m growing fast. Soon I’ll be like you and Aunty Jaleela!”
 
“Mas’ud, this your Hamdah is becoming troublesome,” said Jaleela.
 
“She’s only fifteen,” he said, smiling. “Still growing.”
 
“Abba, she’s already bossing people around,” Mamie added, chuckling.
 
I beamed. Even with Jaleela’s sarcastic glances, I remained clinging to Rafee’at, my favorite.
 
Old Tales and Family Quips
 
Inna entered, her usual strict aura following. Mas’ud playfully poked at her sternness.
“Inna,” he teased, “you never let anyone settle before chasing them out with complaints.”
 
Inna rolled her eyes. “Try living with you for a day.”
 
Despite the tension, laughter erupted. Only Mamie stayed quietly smiling. She had long stopped reacting to Inna’s repetitive story about her late mother, which still haunted Inna even after thirty years.
 
When Abbu handed Inna money to pacify her complaints, she took it with a grumble:
“An rigada an kuntata maishi.”
 
Daughters, Duties, and Growing Up
 
Abba turned serious: “Inna, please watch over Hamdah well. She’s growing into a young woman now.”
 
Inna, always quick to take offense, snapped:
“You’re saying I lack parenting skills? I raised all of you, didn’t I?”
 
Calm returned eventually. After the Asr prayer, everyone began preparing to leave. I ran out with them, waving until their cars disappeared down the street.
 
Lambun Tumaturi: A Sweet Escape
 
Sunday afternoon at 1 PM, we were dismissed from Islamiyya. Rabi and I bolted to the tomato garden behind the school.
 
“Yau kam, I’ll be the first to water,” Rabi shouted.
 
“No way,” I replied. “Baba na lambu said I go first!”
 
We both stormed the garden, trampling tomatoes in our excitement. Baba na lambu turned to scold us but laughed instead, handing me the watering can.
 
I danced with joy, unwrapped my hijab, and got to work. I loved water—whether in the garden or bathroom, it always brought joy. After my round, I passed the can to Rabi and we both returned home.
 
Late Arrival and Inna’s Wrath
 
It was already past 3 PM. I peeped through the gate and saw Fatu hanging clothes.
 
“Inna tana ciki?” I whispered.
 
“She is,” Fatu whispered back.
 
I snuck in silently and made it to my room. Breathing a sigh of relief, I offered my Dhuhr prayer and collapsed onto the bed. Before I knew it, I was asleep.
 
Busted by Inna
 
“Hamdah! Hamdah!” Inna’s voice cracked through my sleep.
 
Groggy and confused, I turned over. A sharp slap landed on my back.
 
“You’ve slept all afternoon!” she barked. “No housework, no nothing. Your uniform is still on the floor!”
 
I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
“But Inna, I was tired.”
 
“You always are! Get up and sweep this place before your laziness brings bad luck!”
 
Grumbling, I stomped into the bathroom for a bath and prayer. Then I changed into home clothes and joined her on the mat, spooning rice into my mouth.
 
Rabi's Visit Ends Abruptly
 
Just as I was about to share food with Rabi, who’d come to visit, Inna intervened harshly:
 
“Ke Rabi, get out! I won’t have people saying my daughter roams the streets!”
 
“But Inna,” I protested. “She just came to call me.”
 
Inna’s face tightened.
“These girls nowadays, you let them in and they take your daughter to disgrace the family.”
 
Rabi quietly left, and I continued eating in silence.
 
A Generation Gap
 
Inna’s anger was like a passing storm. One minute she was fuming, the next she was humming on the prayer mat. Her stern parenting was all I knew.
But inside, I longed for small freedoms—like walking with a friend or resting without guilt.
Yet I knew better than to argue. After all, she always had the last word.