Mafari Hargitsin Rayuwa Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A tall, slender woman with an incredibly pale complexion—almost as if she were on the verge of having albinism, given how much her fairness resembled theirs—was sitting at the entrance of a rickety shed. It was clearly a kitchen, judging by how that area was darker than anywhere else in the house. From her thinness, it was obvious she was emaciated from sheer hardship and poverty. In her arms, she held a baby boy whose head was completely shaven. She pulled out her withered, thin breast and tried to force it into the child's mouth. He would take it, suck once or twice, release it, and resume letting out sharp cries that clearly showed hunger was tormenting him.
A tall, dark man emerged from behind their two slumped rooms, holding a large plastic water bottle. The neck and upper part of the bottle had been cut off, and water was slightly leaking from a hole near the bottom that had been plugged with a black plastic bag.
He bent down and washed his dark feet, which were wearing a pair of tattered slippers, using the little remaining water. He looked up toward where the children were sitting and spent a few moments watching them. He analyzed how the oldest girl was feeding her younger siblings, for by now, she was using her hand to scoop the tuwo that was submerged in the excessive watery soup that had risen well above the food. She would scoop it out, blow on it with her breath, break off a piece into the hand of the second girl, and put the rest into the mouth of the youngest. Immediately after, she would quickly plunge her hand back into the bowl as if she didn't feel the heat of the food at all.
"Yakaka, nyidin biri bun? Duwan bii lanyen wande kausuzuin (Yakaka, aren't you going to eat the food? Hurry up and eat so we can leave before the sun gets hot)," the man said to his oldest daughter, whom he called by the name Yakaka, in their native Kanuri language.
She answered him with a "Yes," just as she quickly stood up and walked behind the woman whose fair complexion resembled hers. She picked up a blackened, severely dented metal tray and headed toward their cracked clay water pot, which was buried in the ground with only its broken rim visible on the outside—making it look almost like a hole. She bent down low, scooped some water from deep inside, and rinsed the tray.