Jikar Iya Delu Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Dark Plot at the Village Gate
 
A group of children stood gathered at the entrance of a large compound, hiding in the shadows. From the way they huddled together, it was clear they were planning something mischievous. The darkness made it difficult to see their faces clearly.
Among them was a young man crouched down, tying his football boots. “Inna, I’m going now. When I return, I’ll bring your message, since the wedding preparations are almost done,” he said as he stood up.
“All right, Salisu, return safely. But don’t forget—your football game today will be a test,” she replied. Salisu said nothing more and began walking toward the house gate.
 
Suddenly, one of the girls whispered, “He’s coming—get ready!” The others adjusted themselves quickly. As Salisu stepped outside, one girl sprang and clung to his neck like a frog, while three others yanked his trousers down in a flash. Another shoved something into his shorts, shouting, “I’ve put the snake in—run!”
Hearing that, Salisu screamed, “Oh Allah! A snake!” and began jumping around in panic, feeling something crawling inside his shorts. The poor boy wasn’t even wearing boxers—just his football shorts. The children burst into wicked laughter as they ran away.
 
Moments later, Inna Uwani rushed out shouting, “Salisu, are you okay? What happened?” But Salisu could only jump and scream, unable to explain because of the “snake” inside his shorts. Seeing this, Inna Uwani panicked and ran off crying for help.
 
One of the hiding girls crept from behind a pillar, pulled down Salisu’s shorts again, and a plastic toy snake fell out. She picked it up and ran away.
When the others stopped running, they noticed one of them was missing. “Where’s Haja?” they asked. Before they could finish, Haja appeared, laughing wildly.
 
I turned to look at her. “Masha Allah,” escaped my lips. Despite her young age—around fourteen—Haja’s beauty was striking: dark chocolate skin, sparkling eyes, a fine nose, and pink, glossy lips. But her boldness and shameless behavior showed she was a mischievous and fearless girl. “We’ve dealt with him,” she told her friend Indo proudly, “and tomorrow he’ll get more.”
The girls laughed and scattered, each heading home with plans to meet again in the evening for another “revenge game.”
 
The Mischievous Haja and Her Aunt
 
Haja slipped into her house playfully and saw her aunt, Iya Delu, washing grains by the well. Smiling, the woman called out, “Hajojona, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all day. Gambo said he hasn’t seen you.” She pulled Haja close, setting her on her lap as though she were still a child.
Haja pouted and said, “It was Salisu who annoyed us yesterday after we came back from the stream, so we went to his house for payback.”
“That’s my girl,” said Iya Delu proudly. “I like hearing that—you’re just like my blood. Since you’ve done well, take this money and grind the zabar seeds for me.”
But Haja pouted again. “Let me eat some awara first, I’m hungry,” she said, rising to her feet and stretching gracefully. Her movements made her whole body sway—the curves of her chest and wide hips were noticeable even at her age.
 
Startled by the sight, Iya Delu said jokingly, “Hungry again? Oh, child, you’ll eat me out of this house! Go get food quickly.”
As Haja turned to leave, her eyes met those of Aunty Larai, who was glaring angrily at her. Larai hissed, “It’s all your fault, Iya! You spoil this girl. You feed her everything, yet she never eats unless she spends money! I pray that Salisu you pranked will give her what she deserves, so she learns her lesson.”
 
Before Larai could continue her rant, Iya Delu interrupted sharply, reciting a blessing, “Laa ilaha illallah, Muhammadu rasulullah…” and added angrily, “Larai! How dare you curse my niece in front of me? You want to destroy my lineage, but you won’t succeed. Go wait for your husband—he’ll settle this. Leave my sight before I lose my patience!”
Haja said nothing but gave Larai a defiant look before walking out calmly.
 
Banana Island – The Mysterious Soldier
 
In the luxurious Banana Island area of Lagos stood a grand mansion surrounded by heavily armed soldiers, each holding a massive rifle and marching like they were on a battlefield. Their presence filled the compound with tension.
 
Inside, I moved through the parlor—an elegant masterpiece of modern design, like a slice of paradise. Everything was spotless and expensive, yet strangely empty. I decided to climb upstairs, curiosity urging me to see more.
Upstairs were three bedrooms and one private section to the side. I chose the one apart from the rest and quietly opened the door. No one was inside, but I could hear water running from the bathroom. Someone was in there.
 
I waited nearly thirty minutes, growing impatient, when suddenly the door opened.
My jaw dropped. Out stepped a strikingly handsome man—tall, fair-skinned, muscular, with long, silky hair falling over his face, and blue eyes that seemed to glow even in the dim light. His features were flawless: a straight nose, full lips, and a calm confidence that radiated power.
 
With only a towel around his waist, he dried his body, his smooth chest glistening. When he dropped the towel, I gasped silently, covering my mouth in shock. His body looked sculpted—strong, flawless, and radiant like carved marble.
 
He applied fine oils and colognes, then put on his boxers and an armless vest before spraying perfume on his soldier uniform, which he later wore neatly. As he picked up his AK-47 rifle, I realized—he was a soldier, and not an ordinary one.
 
He left the room with commanding presence, and the soldiers outside immediately snapped to attention, saluting him with respect.
Raising his hand, he said in a deep, magnetic voice, “Where’s Captain Basheer?”
“Yes, sir!” Captain Basheer replied, running forward. The man handed him his laptop and phone before heading to another section of the mansion.
 
Who was this mysterious man? His authority filled the air like thunder—and everyone around him obeyed without question.