Hariji Part 3 Complete Hausa Novel

My Name is Kabeer
My name is Kabeer Ahlan. Greetings to you. My origin is Arab from the city of Madinah, while my mother was Sudanese. Everyone knows the Ahlan family very well. It is a very large and influential family that includes people from many different parts of the world.
My father, Akram Ahlan, is the second son in this great family. He only had two children — myself and my younger sister Sophy. However, while growing up, we lived under constant hostility and mistreatment from relatives, even though we had done nothing wrong.
Later I came to understand the reason: my father did not marry within the Arab family as they expected. Instead of marrying his Arab cousin like tradition demanded, he married a Sudanese woman — my mother.
Their meeting happened during Hajj in Makkah. My father had gone for the pilgrimage, and my mother Atika had also come for Hajj. During the ritual of stoning the devil, Atika became extremely exhausted. She had been raised delicately and was not used to hardship. When she realized she could not continue throwing the stones, she became frustrated and threw all the pebbles she had gathered at once.
She complained:
“Uhm… Allah knows I cannot do this. Just staying in Mina and walking to Muzdalifah alone is enough to break your thigh muscles from the stress.”
My father Akram burst into laughter.
“Wallahi, when you return to your country, don’t call yourself a Hajiya — because you haven’t completed Hajj.”
She widened her eyes and replied:
“But I threw them all at once!”
“No,” he said, smiling. “You have to throw them one by one. You must go back to where you picked them and gather new stones again.”
At that moment dizziness overtook her.
“Wallahi I cannot do that. When I return to Sudan I will tell my father I didn’t complete the Hajj. And by Allah I will never come again. I would rather just perform Umrah.”
“But why would you leave your Hajj incomplete?” he asked. “After all this journey and the nights you spent in the desert — would it all be wasted?”
Tears filled Atika’s eyes.
“What should I do? I don’t have any more stones, and I cannot walk that far again while the others are completing their Hajj.”
My father then took some stones from the ones he had gathered in excess and handed them to her.
“Here. Take these and try again.”
She became very happy and thanked him warmly. They continued performing the Hajj together, and he began guiding her through the rituals. At the same time, a pure and sincere love began to grow between them.
Eventually she even introduced him to her mother and relatives, and they greeted each other warmly.
A Marriage Against the Family
But that was not the end of the story. When the topic of marriage came up, many relatives strongly opposed it. They insulted Atika, calling her a black woman, saying they did not want such a marriage in the family.
However, my father stood firm until the wedding between Akram and Atika finally took place.
It was a blessed marriage. Nine months later I was born, taking after my mother’s complexion but with the facial features of my father’s family. Three years later my mother gave birth to my younger sister Safiyya (Sophy), who looked completely like the Arab side of our family.
Our household belonged to a royal lineage, though only within our local region. It was not the greatest kingdom, but there was immense wealth in our family. Despite that, we were treated almost like outsiders within the family.
When I was seven years old, tragedy struck. My mother Atika died during childbirth. Neither she nor the baby survived.
My father was devastated by her death. He mourned her deeply and did not remarry for four years.
My mother’s relatives wanted to take us back to Sudan, but my father and his parents refused to let them. Instead, we were raised by my mother’s former housemaid, Zainabu.
Zainabu From Nigeria
Zainabu was a kind woman who had worked for my mother while she was alive. She was originally from Nigeria, specifically Niger State. She had come to work in an Arab household while she was still young.
Even then, she could not have been more than twenty-nine years old.
From that moment onward, our lives continued under her care.