Kowa Ya Ga Zabuwa Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

She was crouched in front of the firewood stove, blowing on it with her mouth. Her eyes and nose were bright red and streaming with tears from the thick smoke engulfing the space, caused by the wet firewood. Using her hands—blackened from fanning the flames—she grabbed her headscarf, made of that old shiny fabric, and wiped away her tears before standing up slowly, adjusting her wrapper. Though clean due to her meticulous neatness, the wrapper was faded to a pale white.

Her heavy pregnancy was plainly visible. She walked slowly over to their drainage channel, crouched down, picked up a kettle, and thoroughly blew her nose. She washed her hands, which were stained black from the firewood, before washing her nose and face. She then used a tiny piece of leftover soap she had salvaged from the dishwashing area to thoroughly scrub her hands before washing her face once more.

A little girl standing beside her, who bore a striking resemblance to her and could not have been more than six years old, asked, "Mama, is the fire refusing to catch?"

She let out a heavy sigh, gently adjusting her headscarf, and said, "Aisha, what can I do? It refuses to catch despite all the fanning; look at what's happened to my hands."

The little girl stepped closer, picked up a woven fan, and began fanning the fire, saying, "Mama, should I go back to the woodcutter and see if he can give us some wood shavings and splinters to put in? I'm hungry, and look at brother Manu who is sick—he hasn't eaten anything since morning."

She closed her eyes—eyes so beautiful that seeing her in such dire living conditions filled me with astonishment (though one should never marvel at the power of the Almighty). In a soft voice that revealed her quiet, gentle nature, she said, "Aisha, won't he get tired of us? We are always bothering him for wood shavings even though we don't buy from him."

The little girl scrunched up her face as tears began to spill down her cheeks.

Stepping closer, the woman sat down on a low wooden stool nearby, took the fan from her, and said, "Don't cry. Let me continue fanning it so the water boils and I can make some porridge for you to drink. Be patient."

Even though she herself lacked any real strength—having had nothing to eat since yesterday afternoon when she drank their usual cornmeal and tamarind porridge, consuming only water until now as it approached eleven in the morning—the baby in her womb kept kicking continuously. She persevered with fanning the fire until she finally managed to bring the water to a boil. Aisha had already mixed the cornmeal with tamarind water earlier, so due to a lack of utensils, she simply poured the mixture into the boiling water, stirring it until it was fully cooked.