Kishiyar Uwa Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Child’s Burden
 
She walked along the road, her steps hurried and troubled. Anyone watching from afar might mistake her for a restless soul or even a mad child. Yet, she was only a young girl of about ten or eleven. I watched as she stopped at the gate of a house, hesitating for several minutes. With trembling hands, she finally pushed the door open and whispered a greeting before stepping inside.
 
Carefully, she made her way to the kitchen, placed down what she had bought, and turned to leave. Suddenly, she collided with a woman. The impact was so strong she held her forehead in pain. But when I saw her face clearly, I couldn’t help but whisper, MashaAllah. She was astonishingly beautiful.
 
The woman she bumped into, however, pulled her harshly outside.
“So, you just decided to return now? I sent you long ago!”
 
The girl tried to explain, but before a word escaped her lips, a resounding slap silenced her. Tears welled up as she stammered, “Inna, wallahi, I didn’t waste time. There was a long line, and the man wouldn’t attend to me until another customer helped. That’s why I delayed.”
 
“Shut up, useless girl! Do you think anyone asked for your excuse?” the woman barked.
 
Just then, another girl about her age emerged from a room, yawning lazily. “Inna, where’s my food? I’m starving.”
 
The woman turned to her lovingly, calling her “the darling of her father and mother,” then told her to fetch food while mocking the first girl for being worthless.
 
Moments later, a man entered, pushing a bicycle on his shoulder. Clearly, he was returning from the farm. “Asabe, I could hear your voice from outside. What’s the matter this time?”
 
“It’s this girl!” she snapped. “I sent her earlier, and only now she comes back!”
 
The man’s gaze softened as he turned to the child. “Fatima, why so late? Don’t you know I return from the farm hungry?”
 
She lowered her head and replied, “Baba, there was a queue. I tried to hurry.”
 
“Next time, don’t delay. Go and eat before continuing with work,” he instructed.
 
But the woman, Asabe, protested angrily. “So I should pamper her now? I wasn’t the one who bore her!”
 
The man frowned. “Enough, Asabe. She cannot be starved.”
 
Fatima quietly excused herself and went to eat, though her heart was heavy.
 
Fatima’s Endless Tasks
 
Despite her age, Fatima carried the burden of all the household chores. Cooking, washing, sweeping—she did them swiftly without complaint. Meanwhile, her stepsister, Abu, lounged idly.
 
Once, after serving her stepmother, Fatima was sent again on another errand. On her way, she met her classmate, Rahane.
 
“Fatima! We’ve missed you at school. Mallam Ahmad has been asking why you no longer attend,” Rahane said.
 
Fatima sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to come. Inna keeps sending me on errands. I’ll try to come soon, in sha Allah.”
 
They parted ways, and Fatima continued on her errand. Near a house, she encountered Ado, a young man popular among village girls. Unlike others, Fatima despised his arrogance.
 
“Fatima!” he called, flashing a smile.
 
She tried to ignore him. “I’m busy, Ado. I’m on an errand.”
 
“Busy for me? You know all the girls in the village would give anything for my attention. But I’ve chosen you.”
 
“I don’t care,” she retorted firmly and rushed away.
 
At the house she delivered her errand, greeted the woman politely, and quickly returned home, only to be loaded again with items for hawking. Her life was a cycle of errands, housework, and exhaustion.
 
The Market, the Dandali, and Ado’s Obsession
 
By evening, after Maghrib prayer, Fatima prepared her tray of groundnuts for hawking. She met Rahane at the village square (dandali), where young men and women gathered.
 
“Ah, Fatima, you finally came,” Rahane teased.
 
“Yes, but we must sell quickly. The weather looks like rain,” Fatima replied.
 
Together, they sold their wares, laughed, and shared brief moments of joy before heading home. Rahane went in first, leaving Fatima to approach her house.
 
But as always, Ado appeared. He stepped in front of her, blocking her way. “Fatima, why do you keep avoiding me? Do you think I don’t deserve your attention?”
 
She rolled her eyes. “Please, Ado, I need to go home. Inna is waiting.”
 
“You can lie to her and stay a little. You know I love you.”
 
That word love disgusted her. To Fatima, it sounded like mockery. “Leave me alone!” she shouted, biting his hand when he tried to hold hers. Then she dashed inside, slamming the door.
 
From outside, Ado muttered darkly, “If you won’t come willingly, I’ll make sure you will.” His obsession was turning dangerous.
 
School, Dreams, and Silent Tears
 
The next morning, despite her fatigue, Fatima prepared for school. After finishing her chores, she greeted her father and left. Entering her classroom, she greeted politely before sitting. Soon, their English teacher arrived, delivering a lively lesson that lifted her spirit momentarily.
 
Though she performed well, Fatima’s mind often wandered. She thought of her unknown mother—the woman her father never spoke about. Why had she abandoned her? Why had Baba kept the truth from her? These questions weighed heavily on her young heart.
 
After school, she returned home to find her stepmother and stepsister gone. She cleaned the house quickly, making sure everything shone. By Maghrib, they had returned, demanding food without care for prayers. Fatima served them silently, enduring their insults.
 
Later that night, she went hawking again with Rahane. They sold well, joked, and sang children’s songs until it was time to go home. But once again, Ado was waiting at her gate.
 
“Fatima, you will listen to me one day,” he said with a sinister smile.
 
Terrified, she slammed the door and retreated into her tiny, tattered room—one her stepmother refused to let her repair. She lay on a thin mat, tears soaking her pillow. Thoughts of her mother haunted her. Would she ever find her? Would life always be this harsh?
 
As sleep overcame her, she prayed silently: Ya Allah, deliver me from this life of sorrow.