Kulsum Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

The Journey to Abuja and First Impressions
 
Since the day Kulsumu was born, she had never experienced a journey filled with such comfort, luxury, and elegance. The cool breeze from the car’s air conditioner swept across her body, blending with the sweet fragrance of the car freshener. It was a scent so refreshing that it filled her lungs with delight, making her feel as though she was in a world she had never known.
 
She recalled her only other experience of travel—when she went to Gombe with her sister-in-law, Hajiya Rakiya. Even then, the condition of the car engine and the environment could not compare to what she was enjoying now. This vehicle was not just a car; it was a modern, powerful machine, built with prestige and comfort in mind.
 
The journey was long. They did not reach Abuja, the Federal Capital Territory where Hajiya Nasara lived, until late in the evening. The driver did not waste time; he drove straight to the elite neighborhood known as Brains & Hammers Estate.
 
By then, Kulsumu was visibly exhausted, leaning against the car door. More than five hours in the car had drained her strength. Apart from a short stop at a filling station, they had not rested anywhere. She gazed with amazement at the wonders of the great city, Abuja—the tall, glittering buildings that seemed to touch the sky, the endless stream of vehicles of all shapes and brands, the flyovers rising above and dipping below, engineering marvels she had never laid eyes on before. Her heart beat faster with each new sight. She widened her eyes, opened her mouth, even her nostrils, determined not to miss a single detail.
 
When the driver finally stopped the car at the gate of Hajiya Nasara’s house, Kulsumu doubted her own eyes. Were these truly houses? Did human beings live here? Even in Hausa movies that she and her friend Batulu used to watch, she had never seen such majestic homes. And Hajiya Nasara’s residence, a stylish penthouse, stood proudly among them. It was not too large, yet its design and elegance surpassed her imagination.
 
The gate opened, and a young housemaid hurried forward. She was from the Igala tribe, beautiful and lively. She quickly collected their bags, bowing slightly to welcome Hajiya Nasara in her employer’s language, then turned to Kulsumu and said in English, “Welcome Ma.”
 
Kulsumu responded with a timid smile, realizing the maid was only extending greetings. Hajiya then addressed her in polished English:
“Serah, take her bag to the room next to Nasma’s. Make sure she eats, bathes, and rests. The room is clean, I assume?”
 
“Yes Ma,” Serah replied with respect. “I just finished tidying it.”
 
Kulsumu stood rooted, overwhelmed by awe. She had grown up believing that the height of wealth in her hometown was the palace of Sarkin Gaya. Now she was staring at a level of life so high it felt unreal. Had Goggo not explained to her before about Nasara and her family, she would have thought she had been kidnapped into another world.
 
Serah noticed Kulsumu’s hesitation and gently took her by the hand.
“Let’s go to your room. You should bathe before I bring food, okay?”
 
Kulsumu’s heart jumped. Did she just call me a boy? she thought. I’m a girl, not a man! She muttered to herself in annoyance, but Serah only smiled politely.
 
The Luxurious Room and First Test of Pride
 
The room Serah led her to was breathtaking. A soft bed covered in a plush duvet filled half the space, a wardrobe stood by the wall, and a makeup mirror with a small stool gleamed invitingly. White curtains draped gracefully from ceiling to floor, while sparkling tiles shone beneath her feet.
 
But Kulsumu’s true shock came when Serah pointed to the bathroom attached to the room. She stepped in and froze. The taps, the bathtub, the showerhead—all were foreign to her eyes. She had no idea how to operate them. Instead of bathing, she kept wandering around the bathroom, poking at things, shaking her head in disbelief.
 
Minutes turned into long silence. Serah, waiting outside with food, grew worried. She knocked lightly.
 
“Are you okay? Why are you quiet?”
 
Kulsumu almost sighed in relief. She quickly replied, embarrassed, “Please come and show me how to use this… I tried to turn on the tap, but the water fell from above like rain.”
 
Serah blinked in surprise. “What? You still haven’t bathed?”
 
Kulsumu shot her a sharp look, whispering through the side of her mouth, “I told you—I don’t know how! Just show me.”
 
Realization dawned on Serah. She smiled inwardly, understanding that Hajiya must have brought in a village girl. Outwardly, however, she remained patient. She walked Kulsumu through every detail: how to switch between the tap and the shower, how to flush the toilet, how to use the bathtub. Then she left her to it, placing food on the table.
 
Finally, Kulsumu lowered herself into the warm bath. The heat of the water spread through her skin, loosening her stiff muscles. She closed her eyes, thinking deeply about the new world she had stepped into. This life is so different from mine. Oh Allah, grant me strength to remain faithful and not lose my soul in this comfort.
 
That night, after her bath and meal, she prayed Isha and sat quietly, reflecting. It was then Hajiya Nasara entered her room.
 
Hajiya Nasara’s Story and the New Family Bond
 
Hajiya Nasara sat on the edge of the bed, her expression gentle.
“I hope you prayed, Kulsum? I also hope you are comfortable?”
 
“Yes, Hajiya,” Kulsumu answered softly, adjusting her veil. “I prayed, and I am fine.”
 
“Good,” Hajiya nodded. “Now, listen. I want to tell you something important.”
 
She began her story, her voice calm but steady.
“My name is Nasara. My husband, Alhaji Muhammad Bello, is from Kano. My late mother, Yakumbo Sa’a, was your Goggo’s sister. That makes us family. I was married off at fifteen. By seventeen, I had my first child. By twenty, I had my second, Sakinah. Years later came Nasma. But after her birth, I suffered fibroid complications. Doctors had to remove my womb. I could no longer have children.”
 
She paused, her eyes soft with emotion. “My husband worked for NNPC, first in Kano, then in London. We lived there for many years, where I gave birth to Sakinah and Nasma. My children are everything to me. They are not just children—they are my companions, my advisers, my strength. Many of my relatives are gone. Only your Goggo remained for me. That is why I brought you here, Kulsumu. From today, you are my daughter. I want you to study, to build your life. Marriage is not your burden now. Leave men aside. Your duty is to learn and grow.”
 
Tears welled up in Kulsumu’s eyes. In a trembling voice, she whispered, “Ameen.” She waited, expecting Hajiya to mention her secret illness, the shameful problem she had carried for so long. But Hajiya said nothing.
 
Unable to hold back, Kulsumu spoke, “Hajiya, I have a condition. Didn’t Goggo tell you?”
 
Hajiya smiled knowingly. “She told me. Don’t worry. Insha Allah, you will be healed. My daughter, Sakinah, is a doctor—a gynecologist. When she returns from abroad in two weeks, she will examine you. With God’s will, this burden will end.”
 
Kulsumu whispered, “Ameen,” again, her heart trembling. A wave of longing for her late mother, whom she had never known, washed over her. She prayed silently for her mother’s soul, as she always did in every prayer.
 
Secrets, Laughter, and the Weight of Shame
 
Later that night, while admiring the soft bed with its pink and blue sheets, Kulsumu’s thoughts turned bitter. How can I, a young girl, suffer such a humiliating problem—bedwetting? The shame pierced her heart.
 
She tiptoed to Hajiya’s room, where she found her speaking on the phone, smiling at the voice of her son Taufeeq. When the call ended, Kulsumu shyly asked about the bedding.
 
Hajiya looked at her intently. Then, with surprising frankness, she said, “Listen, this is your bed, your room. If you feel the urge, release yourself. Don’t harm your health. If the bed becomes dirty, you can clean it tomorrow—or leave it. I’ll see your level of neatness. This is not a curse, Kulsum. It is just a phase. Don’t carry shame heavier than it is.”
 
Kulsumu covered her face, laughing nervously. “Hajiya! Even Goggo’s house is always spotless. I am very clean.”
 
“Oho! We shall see,” Hajiya teased, shaking her head. “Kulsumu, the bedwetter!”
 
The words struck, but in such a playful way that Kulsumu could not help bursting into laughter. For the first time in her life, her burden felt lighter. Yet, deep down, she knew—this illness remained her greatest trial. Would she ever find love, marriage, or dignity with it?
 
She whispered a prayer into the silence: Ya Allah, grant me healing. Let me not live as an object of pity.
 
And so, in that grand house, beneath the glittering ceilings of Abuja’s Brains & Hammers Estate, a village girl began her new life—filled
 with laughter, secrets, and the heavy shadow of a condition she desperately hoped to overcome.