Kaddara Ce Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A young girl was walking along the roadside. In her right hand, she held a white paint bucket. The way her long rubber Ankara gown clung to her body would make you realize that it was during the cold season.
Slowly, she dragged her left leg, which from appearance had never been healthy. With just a glance, you could tell she was suffering from sickle cell disease—because of the yellowish tint in her eyes, her slightly swollen belly like that of a pregnant woman, and the general condition of her body, all pointing to sickle cell.
Worry was clearly written across her face, showing the kind of suffering she was going through. And her worry was caused by someone who had taken kunu worth two hundred naira from her, drank it, and left without paying.
But that wasn’t even what troubled her the most. She was afraid of what would happen when she got home to her stepmother, Auwwa. The kunu belonged to Auwwa; she prepared it and gave it to her to sell and bring back the money. And she always warned her never to give it on credit, even if it would go bad.
With a heavy body, she stopped at the entrance of their poor home. She lifted her head and looked at the house, feeling the cold wind piercing deep into her weak bones. Her left leg had been hurting her since morning. Cold weather was the time when her sickle cell pain usually worsened.
She swallowed hard as she imagined the punishment waiting for her inside. Even if she swore, she wouldn’t escape it—she knew she would taste the bitterness of punishment today. Auwwa would not spare her.
With submission and resignation to fate, she entered the house, greeting as she did. She stopped in the middle of the compound when she saw Auwwa sitting there, fanning the firewood stove. She looked at the fire and told herself that it would surely be used on her skin.
Because Auwwa was very cruel. She punished her only with fire.
Her heart skipped when Auwwa noticed her. Auwwa threw her a deadly glare and said:
“Did the kunu finish today?”
Fearfully, she nodded and dropped the bucket.
“Give me the money so I can count it,” Auwwa said harshly.
She slowly moved closer, already sensing the pain that awaited her. She squatted down, reached into her bag, and brought out the money she made, handing it over while tears filled her eyes.
Auwwa took the money and began counting it. The girl remained squatting, waiting for her judgment.
Angrily, Auwwa said: “Where is the remaining two hundred?”
The girl, now crying, looked up and shook her head.
“Salisu Osi took kunu worth two hundred and drank it. When he was leaving, I asked him for the money… he said… he said he would pay tomorrow because he didn’t have change…”
Before she could finish speaking, a heavy slap landed on her cheek. She burst into tears, holding her face.
With narrowed eyes, Auwwa said: “Maimuna, how many times have I warned you not to give my goods on credit? That’s why I always measure the kunu before giving it to you. Yet you betrayed me. You will pay for it!”
With that, Auwwa picked burning firewood from the stove, grabbed Maimuna’s hand, and pressed it onto her palm.
Maimuna screamed in pain, crying and begging, saying she would never do it again. But Auwwa didn’t release her until the skin on her palm was badly burned.
“Try giving my goods on credit again tomorrow, and see what happens! Now go and sit down and pound the soup for me.”
In pain, Maimuna nodded, feeling the burned skin on her hand throbbing. Auwwa stood up and went into her room.
Meanwhile, Maimuna dragged herself to a chair and sat down, crying—the kind of crying that had become her companion since childhood. In her life, she never went more than a week without crying.
Parents are meant to be the shelter and support of their vulnerable children. But she never got to see her parents alive. Her mother died while giving birth to her. Her father, a trailer driver, was in Lagos at the time of her birth. When he received the news of both the birth and the loss at the same time, he immediately set off to return home.