Joy Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Cold Night in Minna
 
It was around 2:00 AM in a mixed neighborhood of Minna, known for its diversity of people — Muslims, Christians, the wealthy, the struggling — all packed together in big and small houses. That night, heavy rain poured like it had no end. Thunder clapped. Lightning flashed. Wind roared and made the entire town cold and eerie.
 
In one of the poorer homes, Al-Ameen lay curled up on a thin mattress in the entrance room of his family house. He looked asleep, but he wasn’t. His breathing was labored, sweat soaked his body despite the chilly air — signs of a silent battle within.
 
His eyes opened slowly, landing on a bag hung on a rusty nail. His medicine was inside. He wanted to get up and grab it, but he couldn’t move. The pain in his abdomen had crippled him completely. For four years now, ever since puberty at age 18, he’d dealt with this mysterious illness. But no one knew — not even his mother, whom he cherished dearly.
 
He gritted his teeth and whispered prayers, hands clutching his stomach, hoping the wave of pain would pass. For over an hour and a half, he laid there invoking Allah until slowly, like a miracle, the pain started to fade.
 
He reached for the bag, trembling, fetched a sachet of medicine, and swallowed it with water. With a sigh, he collapsed back on the mattress.
 
A New Morning
 
At 6:00 AM sharp, Joy James’s alarm buzzed. She groaned, shut it off, and stayed still for five more minutes. Then, finally, she sat up, wrapped in warm sleepwear. The cold weather had blanketed the city. She sluggishly got up and entered the bathroom.
 
Thirty minutes later, she came out wrapped in a towel. Her long hair dripped water. She stood in front of her dressing table — packed with perfumes and beauty products — and began her routine: oils, creams, mascara, gloss. She kept it subtle but elegant. Her hair, shiny and black, was parked neatly to one side.
 
From her six-door wardrobe, she picked out her clean, ironed school uniform — a white shirt and sky-blue skirt — and dressed up neatly. She put on socks, boots, and her watch. Grabbing her school bag, she headed downstairs.
 
Joy’s Family Home
 
The downstairs living room was spotless, scented, and quiet. The only sound was from Eagle TV where a pastor preached with fire and brimstone. She didn’t watch. Instead, she walked to the dining room where breakfast was already set — tea, chocolate, warmers full of food.
 
Just then, her parents descended the stairs, holding hands like newlyweds. Her mom wore a lace dress with added hair extensions and no scarf. Her dad was in a fine ash-colored suit. Joy beamed at them.
 
She hugged her dad first. “Good morning, Papa.”
“Morning, dear. How was your night?” he asked, patting her back.
 
Then she moved to her mom for a similar greeting. All three settled at the table. Their butler emerged, bowing respectfully, and began serving food. Seven different dishes lined the table. Clearly, this was a home of affluence — almost to the point of excess.
 
Despite all that, none of them really ate. Joy packed a few chocolates and snacks, picked up her bag, and they all walked to the compound. The staff greeted them with respect.
 
The driver arrived to take her to school, but her mother waved him off. “Peter, I’ll drop her myself. You go pick her after school,” she said in Nasara language.
 
They kissed her goodbye with warm hugs. Her dad whispered for her to be careful, and she nodded sweetly.
 
Off to School
 
The drive to school was short, about 15 minutes. Joy insisted her mom drop her at the gate, not inside. “So I won’t be embarrassed,” she had once said.
 
She waved as the car drove off, then slung her bag over her back. After waiting a few minutes by the gate, she darted off suddenly, heading toward the back of the school compound.
 
Just as she reached a corner, a voice called out sharply, “JOY JAMES!” She didn’t even turn. She knew who it was — David. She rolled her eyes, threw him a glare, and bolted. “Joy!! Joy!!” he kept calling. But she didn’t stop. He sighed, slung his own bag over his shoulder, and walked into the school.
 
Al-Ameen’s Morning
 
The early call to prayer (Assalatu) pierced through the quiet of the morning, pulling Al-Ameen out of restless sleep. Even when in pain, he never missed waking up at dawn.
 
Though his pain had lessened, it still lingered. Shivering from cold and pain, he crawled out of his room barefooted. The compound was small: one big room, a shared parlor, and a tiny kitchen. He carefully made his way to the toilet and performed ablution.
 
He wanted to join the prayer at the nearby mosque but his body said no. He stayed back, prayed at home, then collapsed onto his mattress. He normally recited the Qur’an after prayer, but today, his fatigue took over — yesterday had drained every bit of strength he had.