Kuskure Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

“Didn’t you hear me? I’ve been calling you for a while and you kept quiet. Or have you started becoming disrespectful?”
“No, wallahi, Aunty, I didn’t hear you. I was just about to come out. Please forgive me. Here I am.”
It was a woman and her maid, living together in the same house, almost like a child and the mistress of the house.
“Alright, I understand. Finish arranging whatever is left in the house. When Noor and the others return from school, bathe them so they can freshen up, then get them ready for Islamiyya. Make sure you cook their favorite food for them, do you understand?” Nawal said, giving instructions to her maid.
“Maybe I won’t be back early, because we may stay back for a group discussion with my friends, so there shouldn’t be any problem, okay?” she added for emphasis.
“Alright, Aunty, in sha Allah. Noor said they want rice dambu with moringa and salad dressing, but there’s no moringa...”
Before she could finish, Nawal cut her off. “Yes, I know. I’ll tell Bala the driver to go to Hindu’s house and pluck some for me from the tree in her garden.”
“So when he brings it, prepare it properly. Make sure you wash it with salt and cook it well for them. Give them everything they need, enough of it too, okay?”
“Alright, Aunty, no problem, in sha Allah. Safe journey, and welcome back in advance,” she said respectfully.
Nawal replied lazily, “Ameen. May I go and return safely.”
As soon as Nawal left, Indo threw herself into the housework. She cleaned here until it sparkled, polished there until it shone, and made everything in the house very neat and clean, because there was always work to do and she disliked being idle.
Meanwhile, Nawal was in the lecture hall attending class. They held their handouts and phones, and all their attention was fixed on the lecturer teaching them.
Indo finished everything, prepared the dambu and all the accompaniments, then arranged everything neatly on the dining table. She also set aside whatever the head of the house might need, since he usually came home for lunch. Sometimes he left before his wife, and sometimes she left before him.
The master of the house was the first to come in. He entered with dignity and presence and offered his greetings. Indo answered and welcomed him, the kind of welcome that should normally come from the wife of the house. He asked, “Is lunch ready?” She nodded in response.
He went straight to the dining area. He looked at the food that had been served and simply shook his head. He knew it was Noor’s favorite. He dished out some for himself, but before taking the first bite, he paused for a moment, as though he were thinking about his wife or his children. I can’t really tell, though, because you cannot always know what is going on in someone’s mind, especially a man like Noor’s father.
Then after a while, a faint smile appeared on his face. He said, “Bismillah,” and began to eat.
He had only taken about four mouthfuls when Noor and Haneef came running in the moment they saw their father.
Noor ran straight to him, and Haneef did the same. He had already opened his arms, waiting to feel the warmth of his children in his broad chest. As he held them, he closed his eyes and kissed them, and they kissed him back too, because of the strong bond he shared with them.
He said, “My little lights, you’re back?”
They replied, “Yes, Dad, we’re back.”
He smiled and said, “That’s good, my children. Go and take your bath, then come so we can have lunch together, alright?”
Haneef pouted and asked, “Where is Mom, Dad?”
As for Noor, she said, “Honestly, I want to eat first before I bathe. I’m hungry, Dad, wallahi,” she said, pouting like a pampered little child raised on milk and Bournvita.