Kamar Da Wasa Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Kamar Da Wasa Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel
As usual, the soft, commanding voice of Bilkisu Lukman Aliyu ended her radio program “Sakon Na Masoya” with emotion. Fahad, sitting at his sewing machine, gently removed his earpiece as the song “Sulken So” played in the background. His heart sank—he would have to wait another week to hear her live again. Thankfully, he had recorded it.
Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Husna approaching until she lightly tapped his head with a pair of scissors. Startled, he opened his eyes to see her smiling brightly.
Uninvited, Yet Familiar
Without waiting for permission, Husna made herself comfortable on a plastic chair in front of him, seemingly unbothered by the stares of Fahad’s coworkers. If anyone was used to her presence, it was them.
But Fahad? He didn’t even look at her. Instead, he stared into the distance, thinking deeply.
"Prince... where’s my dress?" one of his customers asked. Snapping out of it, he handed it over.
Husna, sensing something was wrong, asked gently, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said without looking at her. She extended a neatly folded fabric.
“Please sew my uniform.”
He took it wordlessly and dropped it beside his machine. Then she handed him food in a neat flask.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
Coldness and Closeness
As silence settled between them, Husna picked up his scissors and playfully touched his hair.
“Should I cut it for you?”
He pushed her hand away. “Stop the nonsense,” he said coldly.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
When he stood up to leave, she followed him with hopeful eyes. But instead, he moved to a corner and lay down quietly. Disappointed, Husna turned and left.
Gossip, Prayer, and Peace
Even after she left, Fahad could hear the murmurs and teasing from his coworkers. He ignored them. When it was time for Asr prayer, he performed ablution and headed to the mosque, where he met his friend Salim.
Later, he hailed a keke napep and headed home.
Love Between Mothers
Back home, he found his mother washing his clothes. She smiled warmly and explained she was helping him because she had nothing else pressing.
“I’m grateful, Ayiyah. May Allah keep you for me.”
As he chatted with her, his stepmother, Mamu, joined them. Though she teased him for not knowing how to wash, it was in good spirits.
His mothers—Ayiyah and Mamu—had a rare bond. Despite being co-wives, they loved and supported each other, something Fahad had grown up admiring.
A Mother’s Comfort
Inside the house, Ayiyah had laid out a rich meal: rice and beans, soup, salad, and cold zobo in a jug. Fahad ate heartily, savoring each bite.
After eating, he went to his room. It was quiet, shared only with his elder brother, Abba, who was away at university. Fahad undressed, kept only his shorts, and lay on the floor mat.
Just as he closed his eyes, his phone buzzed. A message.
Husna Again
It was from Husna. Of course.
"Hi Fahad, how are you? Did you enjoy the food?"
He smiled, set the phone to silent, and ignored the message. She was always checking on him, always around. He couldn’t understand her obsession, especially since she hated seeing him with other women—even though tailoring women’s clothes was his job.
Still smiling, he lay back down, drifting into a peaceful nap.
Noorul Kalb – A Star in Her Own Right
Elsewhere, a beautiful girl with soft dimples and bright eyes giggled as she ended a phone call.
“Yes, half-soul. I’ll just go home and call you again.”
She was in a luxurious office, spinning gently in her chair. Her best friend, Khulsum, entered, teasing her for taking so long.
“You’ve been flirting all this while,” she joked.
They laughed and gathered their things to leave. As they walked out, Khulsum asked about plans for the upcoming wedding.
Drama Behind the Smiles
“I’m not the bride. Don’t look at me like that,” Noorul said.
“But you’re the big sister—tradition demands you do something!”
Noorul’s expression shifted. “Right now, I’m only worried about one thing—our grandma. Ever since Mama’s wedding, she’s been on my neck. And now Meenah and Hindu’s wedding? I’m tempted to leave the house till it’s all over.”
True Love on Hold
Khulsum turned serious. “Why not just marry Hamood already? You’ve been in love for years.”
Noorul sighed. “He wants to. But he says until he returns from China, gets a job, and sponsors the wedding himself, he won’t involve his uncle. That man raised him since he was 7—and he wants to relieve him of that burden.”
Khulsum nodded in understanding. “Well, may Allah bring him home safely. I’m tired of waiting for this wedding!”
Big Plans, Small Steps
As Maghrib approached, the two friends agreed to shop the next day for wedding attire. They planned to avoid wearing the chosen ‘anko’ (uniform) since it belonged to the bride and her close friends.
“Tomorrow will be a busy one,” Noorul sighed. “I still have some tailoring deliveries and need to buy kitchenware for the girls.”
“Allah ya kaimu,” Khulsum said with a smile as they boarded a keke napep, heading home in the fading golden light.