Kura A Rumbu Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Frustrating Ride and a Silent Companion
 
“I’ll drop here if we reach Paradise,” I said sarcastically, pointing to where I wanted the tricycle driver to stop. After he parked, I got down without sparing a glance at Hansa’u, who deliberately looked away. “If only God made me a leper, I’d be furious. You refuse to help, but others will still support me,” I muttered, handing the driver ₦500.
 
I ignored his question about who was paying—just me or both of us—and walked into the store. I had already written my shopping list, so I quickly picked up what I needed. In about fifteen minutes, I was done despite the queue.
 
Unexpected Encounters and Tension
 
Another tricycle dropped me off at Anty Labiba’s house in Nasarawa. As I approached, I spotted Munir and his friend Yahuza outside. My mood soured—I already knew what would come next. Munir saw me and smiled.
 
“So it’s you I’ve been waiting for,” he said as he picked up my shopping bags.
 
I ignored him and walked inside. Anty Labiba, busy washing tomatoes, looked up and greeted us. Munir responded and added, “Maybe I stayed behind just to see her,” pointing to me.
 
She scoffed, “Honestly, Munir, you’re heartless. So many women are chasing you, and you’re still wasting time on Halima? If I were you, I’d forget she exists.”
 
He tried to defend himself, but she cut him off, accusing me of making the mistake of not realizing Munir’s value. After he left, she started again, accusing me of snubbing her nephew. She had never accepted that I didn’t like her husband’s younger brother.
 
In the Kitchen with Anty Labiba
 
While I unpacked groceries, Anty Labiba reminded me, “Didn’t I tell you to stop cooking for that good-for-nothing man? You’ll suffer for him, and he won’t even thank you.”
 
Before I could respond, Uncle Sale entered, questioning her tone. She didn’t reply and walked off into the kitchen. I greeted him, and he kindly returned it before following her. I used the moment to go fetch my phone to ask Bilal what type of stew he wanted.
 
He didn’t answer his calls, so I decided on jollof rice with chicken and coleslaw since I had already bought everything. I waited until Anty Labiba finished her cooking before I started mine, careful to avoid any more drama.
 
Judgment and Jealousy
 
Even as I worked, she kept insulting me from time to time, calling me a “pitiful girl” cooking for a “lazy man.” I sighed inwardly. Where was it written that a man must be wealthy or perfect before you cooked for him?
 
After the call to prayer for Asr, I finished the food. I plated it nicely in new bowls, lit incense, and set everything up quietly so she wouldn’t notice. Later, she walked into the room asking, “Where’s the chicken?” suspiciously.
 
“It was only one piece,” I said. She rolled her eyes. “Even a bone, I’ll eat it. Give me the key to the parlor.”
 
I left the room quickly, not wanting her to see the carefully arranged food and start a new argument. I brought her some onion and pepper garnished chicken instead, which triggered another round of insults. Fortunately, Uncle Sale came to my rescue again, fresh from the mosque.
 
Love Arrives on a Motorcycle
 
By 5 p.m., Bilal called to say he had arrived. I freshened up, sprayed perfume, and informed Anty Labiba, who cursed both of us before retreating to her room. Bilal sat on his new Lifan motorcycle, dressed in a beautiful brown outfit that complemented his dark skin. His new haircut and beard made him even more irresistible.
 
I walked over, smiling, and greeted him softly, “Welcome, my prince.” He smiled warmly and replied, “You know what? I looked down and suddenly saw a bright light. When I looked up, I saw it was you. Halims, your face keeps glowing. I need dark glasses or you’ll blind me.”
 
I laughed. His words always melted me. “Stop joking,” I said shyly. “I’m serious. Your eyes alone can light up a room,” he added.
 
Blushing, I changed the topic. “Let’s go inside, you’re not feeling well. Don’t strain yourself standing.”
 
“Oh, now I’m just making noise, right?” he joked, faking offense. I quickly turned, alarmed. “No! I just didn’t want you standing too long. Your voice is the only sound I crave besides Qur’an recitation.”
 
He smiled, clearly pleased.
 
A Home Meant for Us
 
We entered, and he admired the house. “Did Anty Labiba renovate?” I handed him a cold cup of Exotic and explained the new building beside theirs, which Uncle Sale had bought.
 
He sipped and said, “So, the country’s broke but Uncle Sale can still renovate? These oil and gas people really hold the wealth.”
 
I stayed quiet, knowing what would come next. Sure enough, he said, “Look at me struggling to complete a single room. These people already have a palace.”
 
I just nodded. Then I served him his food—rich jollof with sautéed carrots and onions, spicy chicken, and creamy coleslaw.
 
Food and Flattery
 
He settled on the carpet and said, “Since you said you’d cook, I haven’t eaten anything all day.”
 
I smiled and said, “You should’ve eaten something small, at least.”
 
“I thought you’d bring it in the morning. When you didn’t call by 10 a.m., I just had tea.”
 
As he took the first bite, he closed his eyes in satisfaction. “Halims, I swear there’s no woman in this world that can match your cooking. Even the houris in paradise couldn’t beat this.”
 
I blushed again. I gave him chilled zobo from the fridge. He insisted I join him, but I preferred watching him eat.
 
The way he ate should’ve annoyed me—stuffing his mouth, chewing loudly—but I found it charming. I loved him too deeply to be bothered.
 
Lingering Thoughts and a Pending Future
 
After he’d eaten enough for four people, we talked. His sweet words only deepened my feelings and my longing to become his wife. I wanted to remind him of what Abba said—that he should send his family over to set a wedding date. It's been three months with no progress.
 
Six months had passed since he got the job, yet no salary. They were captured into the IPPIS system three weeks ago in Abuja, hoping to receive their pay this month—but nothing yet.
 
That’s why I’ve been patient. We had hoped the job would help with his house construction and our wedding expenses. Still, even if we set a date years from now, it’s better than drifting endlessly. We received his bride price while in ND2, and now HND is almost over. Time waits for no one.