Kwana Sittin Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Winter Morning in Birmingham
It was around six o’clock in the morning in the Auckland Road area of Smethwick, West Midlands, in the city of Birmingham, England. It was the peak of winter; snow was steadily falling on rooftops, roads, and everywhere else. On the hills, the snow lay thick and spotless, the kind of scenery tourists love to photograph, even filmmakers from the Indian subcontinent admire such views.
The house was a small, single-storey building with an upper floor, similar to the others along Auckland Road. All the houses on the street were uniform in size and design. In front was a small paved area serving as a parking space, followed by the entrance door. Once inside, a staircase led upstairs to two bedrooms. Beneath the stairs was a moderately sized living room furnished with soft leather sofas, a television set, and a room heater. There was also a small inner room with an attached toilet.
The kitchen door lay to the southeast of the living room. From the kitchen, another door opened into a well-kept garden carpeted with green grass. Through the wide kitchen window, one could see the entire garden clearly. The kitchen itself was spotless—everything neatly arranged and in daily use. It contained a tall fridge, a freezer, a gas cooker with fitted cabinets, a microwave, a blender, a washing machine, and a water dispenser that supplied both hot and cold water. Cooking ingredients—salt, seasoning cubes, cooking oil, spices both foreign and traditional—were neatly arranged in the pantry. The sink had dual taps for hot and cold water. A four-seater dining table stood neatly in one corner, completing the tidy and comfortable space.
Upstairs were the two bedrooms and a bathroom, alongside a small terrace where the owner often stood to observe the neighborhood, passing cars, and pedestrians through a large window draped with white curtains. The terrace was furnished with a long relaxation sofa and a small glass table, usually filled with fruits in a basket. The owner was fond of fruits and consumed them regularly, day and night, which explained his energetic build—neither overweight nor thin, but well-proportioned and healthy.
A Life of Faith, Purpose, and Loss
One bedroom was his, the other had belonged to his wife. Since her passing, he had converted it into a study and exercise room—a combination of a home gym and computer workspace. He observed his dawn prayers from as early as three o’clock in the morning, engaging in long supplications and voluntary prayers. Not a single day passed without him praying for his late wife, his father, and his beloved mother of his child, asking Allah to grant them mercy and forgiveness.
After prayers, he connected to the internet and continued working on his academic project, which would qualify him for the FWACP—Fellow of the West African College of Physicians—in Psychiatry. This was his greatest ambition. Beyond that, his only desire was to serve humanity with the knowledge he had acquired through years of dedication, and to pray for long life and good health for his mother, Nanna, who cared deeply for him and for his son, Suhail—the light of his eyes and half of his soul—whom he wished to grow up with good character and faith like his late wife, Suhaila.
Allah had granted him almost everything one could wish for: health, comfort, rare and valuable knowledge, and professional recognition. Marriage was no longer part of his plans; after losing Suhaila, he had resolved never to marry again. In Birmingham, he was among the most respected psychiatrists, a full-time NHS doctor working with Tavistock and Portman, and a part-time consultant at the renowned private Spire–Little Aston Hospital.
His greatest pride was being a Muslim, a true Hausa-Fulani man, blessed with a compassionate and prayerful mother, and a love that had no equal—his late wife Suhaila. Her memory lived on in his heart, and he awaited death patiently, hoping to reunite with her in a place where separation no longer existed. Yet Allah had not left him empty-handed; He gave him solace in Suhail, their son, whose face carried Suhaila’s dimples and smile. Whenever Suhail laughed, her features appeared again, bringing peace to his heart.
Fatherhood, Duty, and the Day Ahead
By five o’clock in the morning, daylight had already broken through the white curtains. He shut down his computer, stretched, and spent twenty minutes exercising despite the biting cold. Afterward, he brushed his teeth and took a hot shower, steam rising as the scented liquid soap foamed richly. Wrapping himself in towels, he could hear Suhail crying downstairs and Nanna soothing him with lullabies. Smiling to himself, he murmured, “Nanna, Suhail’s bride.”
He dressed quickly, applied a light spray of perfume, wore his white doctor’s coat over his suit, packed his belongings, and descended the stairs calmly. In the kitchen, Nanna was frying bean cakes while carrying Suhail on her back. The moment Suhail saw his father, he wriggled excitedly, stretching out his hands. Laughing, the man said, “Suhail, Nanna’s groom!”
Nanna jokingly complained that she had divorced Suhail because he wouldn’t let her sleep and rejected the pap she prepared for him. Laughing, he took the child into his arms, promising to buy cereal for him from ASDA later. Suhail, now in his favorite arms, laughed happily as his father kissed and cuddled him.
Nanna served breakfast—bean cakes and groundnut pap without sugar—and watched them with affectionate eyes. Seeing that he was distracted by Suhail and would be late, she gently took the child away, urging him to hurry. As he sipped the pap, he silently prayed for Nanna’s long life and good health.
Despite having a 2 p.m. appointment to examine a young girl brought from Nigeria—a case referred to him by Dr. Trotter—his mind kept returning to Suhail’s cereal. Noticing it was noon, he decided he had enough time to go out, buy the cereal, and take it home. Picking only his car keys and phone, he locked his office, handed the keys to his secretary, and stepped out, determined to care for his son before attending to the rest of the world.