Jannatan Wa Harirah Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

In the Name of Allah and Gratitude
I begin in the Names of Allah. May Allah send blessings upon the leader of creation, Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him), his family, and his companions. May Allah increase them in His pleasure.
I am filled with joy and I offer my deepest gratitude to Allah who blessed me with sons and daughters—some who have memorized the Qur’an, some who have not yet memorized it but have completed its recitation and are still memorizing, and others who are still on the path of completion. Truly, this is not by my power or wisdom; Allah alone decreed it for me. I am extremely grateful for this blessing. May Allah bless you and your parents—both mothers and fathers—who supported me in this work, as well as myself, your father.
Everyone responded with “Ameen.”
There was silence, and then the Malam continued.
Today we have completed the recitation of the Qur’an, which we do every three days. As is my habit, today I will advise you about certain matters, just as Allah, the Exalted, has said:
“Protect yourselves and your families from the Fire.”
This statement is not mine; it is Allah’s. There are many actions one can take to protect oneself and one’s family from the Fire. The first is prayer. My family, do not take prayer lightly, for neglecting prayer or not observing it at its proper time is to toy with it. Especially you women—because as men we go forward to the mosque to pray, but I do not know fully how you perform your worship at home. Therefore, Larai, Hajara, Ashibilo, and Zulai—you are the mothers of these children. For Allah’s sake, continue to care for them; I know you already do.
And please, do not differentiate among my children. Let them remain as they are, as though one mother gave birth to them all. My hope is that Allah will reward you with Paradise.
They responded, “Ameen, insha Allah.”
The Virtue of Muharram and Sacred History
Today is Wednesday, the fifth of the month of Muharram in the Hijri calendar, in the year one thousand four hundred and twenty-two after the migration of the best of creation, Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). This year is read as a year of goodness, and a “year of goodness” is one that begins on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday—meaning a year full of blessings, because it began on a Thursday.
The month of Muharram is one of the sacred months. Both joyful and painful events occurred in it. Fighting is forbidden during this month, and in it the fast of Tasu’a and Ashura is observed. The Prophet (peace be upon him) encouraged this fast because he found the Jews fasting on the tenth day of this month. When he asked them why, they said it was the day Allah saved Prophet Musa (Moses) and the Children of Israel from the oppression of Pharaoh, and the day Pharaoh was destroyed.
The Messenger of Allah (peace be upon him) said, “We are more deserving of Musa than them.” He then fasted that year and said that if he lived to the next year, he would fast the ninth and the tenth days of the month.
In this month also, Allah created the Throne, the Footstool, the Pen of Decree, and the Preserved Tablet.
In this same month, we lost a great leader in the history of the Muslim Ummah—the grandson of the Prophet (peace be upon him), Hussain ibn Ali ibn Abi Talib, the son of our mother Fatimah, the daughter of Muhammad, the Messenger of Allah—at Karbala.
It was also in this month, seventeen years later, that our sister called out to me.
A Family Story of Loss, Patience, and Hope
To begin, my name is Abubakar Ibrahim. I have a younger brother after me named Usman Ibrahim, and then our sister who was born when I was seven years old and Usman was ten. After her birth, our mother passed away—may Allah have mercy on her. Because of that, our father named the girl Hurairah after our mother. We loved her very much.
When Hurairah reached the age of five, our father also passed away. We cried greatly. After that, my brother Usman said he would leave the town to seek money. I tried to stop him, but he went and left me behind. To this day, I do not know where he is.
I took care of our younger sister, whom we called Waleeda. One year after our father’s death, I got married—I was twenty-one years old then, and Waleeda was six.
She grew up and later married one of my students, Anas. After his father’s death, he settled down with her. Waleeda’s great worry was childlessness, as she spent over seven years without becoming pregnant. Then one day, Allah fulfilled her wish and blessed her with pregnancy. She came to inform me at home, and we were all very happy—myself, Larai, Hajara, and Ashibilo. At that time, I had not yet married Zulai.
Suddenly, on a day like today, she called me joyfully to tell me she had given birth to triplets—two girls and one boy. The girls were human, but the boy was said to be a serpent. This news spread throughout the area, to those who knew her and those who did not.
She later called again and said she named the children Hassana, Husaina, and Alsasaini, and that she would bring them all for me to see. From that day onward, I never heard from her again. She disappeared from her town, and I never found her husband either. Until today, no one knows where she is. Just as I lost my brother Usman, I also lost my sister Waleeda—whom whenever I remember, I am reminded of our mother. May Allah have mercy on her.
I pray that Allah returns them to me, and if they are no longer alive, may Allah have mercy on them, forgive them, and make Paradise their final abode for all of us.
Everyone responded with “Ameen.”
The Malam then said, “Larai, please serve us food so we may eat.”
Larai stood up smiling and brought the food. As they were about to eat, he said he had forgotten to tell them to always include their children in prayers—that Allah should guide them and remove them from bad behavior.
Food was brought on a large tray. The older sons came down and ate together with the Malam, while the younger ones were served separately. The women were also served their own food. He had eleven daughters—six were married, and five were present before him. He had nineteen sons; only one was married—Habibu Aminu, the eldest son of the household, the one they prayed for Allah to guide.
Among them were five who had memorized the Qur’an, and seven who had completed its recitation and begun memorization.
After the meal, everyone stood outside when suddenly Aminu entered. I looked at him—Aminu is broad-built and tall, wearing a sleeveless shirt with his arms exposed. He was dark-skinned, with marks on his face, large eyes with white sclera and very dark pupils. His nose reached his mouth, and his lips were dark. He was born that way; Aminu does not chew kola nut, smoke, or take intoxicants.
He looked at them and said, “Why are you standing and staring at people? Everyone should go on with their work.”
The Malam came out, and they met face to face. Aminu bent down respectfully and greeted him.
“Father, good morning. I hope you are well.”
The Malam replied that he was fine—Larai is what he jokingly calls him when teasing his son. Aminu smiled, because only his father dares to call him by that name.
“Where have you been, Aminu? It has been three months since I set eyes on you.”
“Father, I am fine. We went hunting and almost entered Niger, but I am back now.”
“May Allah bless you. Please stop this lifestyle. Look at your hair, your dressing, and these people with you—I do not know them and have never even heard their names.”
Aminu laughed and introduced them jokingly, naming their nicknames. The Malam replied that he did not ask for their names and told him to stop this and get married.
Aminu felt a sudden calm in his heart, remembering the woman he loved. He said, “Insha Allah, Father, I will marry soon.”
“May Allah bless you. Go inside.”
The Malam called out to Larai and asked her to serve Aminu food since he had arrived late. Happily, Larai came from the kitchen and brought the food to the room where Aminu stood with his bag hanging from his shoulder. She held his hand, and he turned to her smiling.
“Mamata, good morning.”
She did not reply the greeting, but told him to sit and eat. After finishing the food, he said he would greet everyone in the house and then leave, adding that he had news to share later.
He went from room to room greeting everyone, and they responded with joy and respect, because he honored them just as he honored his mother. Even Zulai—though he was older than her—he bowed to greet her. She did not respond verbally but bowed in return, and he smiled and moved on.
Afterward, he told Mashkur to take all the sweets in his bag and give them to Mama Zulai to share among them. Mashkur thanked him and prayed for him, and Aminu responded, “Ameen.”
He then went out. Outside the house was filled with people greeting him cheerfully and respectfully. He passed them and went into a shelter facing their house, beneath his father’s tall tree. Though it was Wednesday and school had not yet resumed, the Malam’s students had already gone out to beg.