Mahabeer Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Quiet Life of Wealth and an Unseen Sorrow
In the city of Kaduna, within the G.R.A. of Yan Majalissu, lies a neighborhood inhabited by wealthy and influential people—politicians and men of great means. The area is always calm and peaceful, unlike other neighborhoods where noise is constant.
The house of Alhaji Mu’azzam Saraki stood out the most on the street. Though other houses were beautifully designed and impressive, his own surpassed them all in elegance and structure. Upon entering the compound, one would be struck by its vastness. One side was fully occupied by parked cars—so many that it was difficult to count them at a glance.
On another side were gym machines, followed by a lush garden filled with every kind of fruit imaginable. Nearby was a swimming pool containing small fish swimming gracefully in clear water. There was also another swimming pool meant strictly for bathing, large and filled with sparkling blue water. White steps led in and out of the pool, and beside it were chairs, a small bed, and a table for resting after a swim. A beautifully designed hut surrounded the resting area, making the entire space extremely attractive. The atmosphere there was cool and refreshing, with no harsh sunlight.
Inside the house, the sitting room was equally magnificent. The mansion had more than seven fully furnished rooms, each one offering complete comfort and luxury.
Slowly descending the staircase was a woman whose appearance alone revealed that she was a woman of status. She was fair-skinned, elegant, and clearly not less than thirty-seven years old—her beauty undeniable. This was Hajiya Umaimah. She held a long file in her hands and walked toward her husband, Alhaji Mu’azzam Saraki, who was seated in his office, quietly reviewing some documents.
She sat beside him, her eyes already red and filled with tears. Without warning, she burst into a deep, heartbreaking cry. Mu’azzam immediately pushed aside his work and focused entirely on her. He held her hands, pressed them gently to his face, and remained silent. After glancing through the file she brought, his heart sank deeply at the disturbing medical details it contained.
Pain, Patience, and Words of Consolation
Through tears, Umaimah cried,
“Nure, doesn’t this mean I’ll never give birth in my lifetime? The doctors said my womb cannot carry a pregnancy. Nure, what is happening to us? Allah blessed us with wealth but denied us children. It has been seventeen years of marriage, yet I have failed to give you even one child. Oh Allah!”
She broke down again in uncontrollable sobs that shook her entire body. Mu’azzam held her tightly, rubbing her back in comfort, though the pain in his heart was deeper than what he showed outwardly.
What could they do except submit to Allah’s will? If Allah had not granted them children, then patience was their only option. Perhaps having a child was not what was best for them at the moment. Instead, Allah had blessed them with wealth through which they constantly helped others.
After some time, he noticed her sobbing had reduced to heavy breathing. About eleven minutes later, she finally fell asleep from exhaustion. Mu’azzam gently adjusted her position, kissed her forehead, and quietly left for his mother’s section of the house—Annah.
Annah was an elderly, fair-skinned woman, deeply religious and dignified. He found her seated on a carpet, dressed in a white hijab, engaged in supplications, indicating she had completed her voluntary prayers. He checked his wristwatch—it was eleven minutes to eleven.
Unable to sit on a chair due to the heaviness in his heart, he sat on a grass carpet in her living room. His thoughts were filled only with deep sympathy for Umaimah and the pain of childlessness.
Suddenly, Annah sat beside him, gently removing his hand from his chin. Still holding her prayer beads, she said calmly,
“Good morning, my son. Did you wake up well?”
“All praise be to Allah,” he replied softly.
She gently reminded him that resting his chin that way was not good. He smiled faintly and handed her the medical file.
“Annah, this is the result from the foreign doctor in Egypt that Umaimah visited.”
She put on her medical glasses and carefully read the file, rereading it for about five minutes. With a heavy heart, she looked at Mu’azzam and said,
“My son… be patient. Everything that has a beginning has an end. Allah alone knows His wisdom. Perhaps this is entirely for your good.”
She comforted him with words about the immense rewards Allah grants to those who endure trials with patience. Gradually, his heart felt lighter.
She then said,
“Go to the office now, may Allah assist you. I’ll go and console Umaimah as well. Whatever patience cannot solve, force certainly won’t. Let us leave everything to Allah—He will surely bring a solution.”
“Thank you so much, Annah. Truly, you are a wonderful mother.”
A Life of Generosity and a Story of Origin
Mu’azzam Saraki prepared and left with his driver, his heart considerably lighter. That night, they all sat on their usual carpet in the living room to eat dinner. Annah never used the dining table, so they always ate on the floor whenever she was around.
After the meal, Annah comforted Umaimah just as she had comforted Mu’azzam earlier. She told her gently that the doctor’s report was not Allah Himself—it was only Allah who decided such matters. Umaimah’s heart softened, and she repeatedly whispered Astaghfirullah, feeling she might have unknowingly complained against Allah’s decree.
Before going to bed, they all performed voluntary prayers and asked Allah for relief and guidance.
Mu’azzam Saraki was a top government official whose monthly salary alone exceeded five million naira. Beyond that, he owned massive businesses involving gold, diamonds, and cars, which he supplied to traders. He owned over fifteen houses across Nigeria. There was hardly anywhere in the country where the name Alhaji Mu’azzam Saraki was unknown.
He regularly supported orphanages, Islamic schools, and almajiri children. Often, he personally visited poor neighborhoods to assist those affected by floods and hardship. Whenever he visited, joy filled the hearts of the poor, knowing he would empower them with resources sufficient for years of farming or business.
Prayers for him were constantly offered across different communities.
Originally from Katsina, Mu’azzam lost his father at a young age and was raised by his mother, Hajia Hajara—whom he lovingly called Annah. She had given birth before him, but all her children passed away except Mu’azzam, by Allah’s will.
He grew up surrounded by loving relatives. His maternal uncle sponsored his education and later married him to his daughter, Umaimah—whom Mu’azzam genuinely loved, and she loved him in return.
He began his government career, built a beautiful house, and lived there for about twelve years before being transferred to Kaduna five years ago. Throughout all those years, Allah blessed them with increasing wealth—but no children.
They often visited Katsina to bring Annah to stay with them. Despite their efforts to convince her to live permanently with them, she preferred Katsina, only visiting during holidays.
At the time of this story, Annah had been staying with them for eleven days.
That is the story—just as it is.