Mahaifin Mu Ne Sila Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Najwa’s Struggles
 
At the Market
 
Late in the afternoon, Najwa balanced a large black rubber bowl on her head and carried a white bucket filled with ground corn. Her worn hijab barely covered her knees, and the oversized atamfa gown swept the ground as she walked in her torn slippers, toes tied with nylon. She slipped into a dark alley and entered a shabby house, dropping the corn with a sigh.
 
She was not beautiful in the conventional sense, but her features had a strange attraction—eyebrows neatly shaped, long eyelashes almost covering her eyes, and bright white pupils. She fetched water from the well, lit the firewood, and began preparing awara (bean cake). When she finished grinding the corn, she started cooking, still silent until her mother shouted at her.
 
Najwa, trembling, admitted she had delayed. Her mother cursed her harshly, sending her back to work with insults. Used to this treatment, Najwa obeyed, tears filling her eyes.
 
A Daughter Unloved
 
After cooking, Najwa begged her mother for permission to leave, but the woman sneered:
“Am I your mother or your servant? One day, I’ll drive you out!”
 
Najwa wept silently as she packed her few belongings. In her heart, she asked herself: Why does my mother hate me? She loves Nabila and Fahad, but only despises me. What have I done?
 
Later, she sold bean cakes at the roadside. There, a drunkard named Tukuru harassed her. “I love you, Najwa. If by tomorrow you don’t accept me, I’ll hurt you!” She shivered, whispering prayers for protection.
 
Cruel Sisters and a Cold Mother
 
On her way home, Najwa met her sister Nabila flirting with a man. When Najwa refused to greet him, Nabila insulted her. At home, their mother ordered Najwa to carry heavy loads while Nabila mocked her:
“That’s your only usefulness—slave work!”
 
Najwa’s tears fell again, but she obeyed silently. Their mother always favored Nabila, listening to her complaints and ignoring Najwa’s pain.
 
Endless Toil and Humiliation
 
When a storm came, Najwa still had to sell bean cakes late into the night. At the market, her friends teased her about Tukuru’s proposal. “If it were me, I’d say yes and get some money!” Najwa shook her head firmly:
“I will never love him, not even for wealth.”
 
At home, she was greeted not with kindness, but more insults. Her mother sniffed at her clothes, calling her filthy. When Najwa offered her daily earnings, the woman snatched the money and sent her away without food.
 
Hungry, Najwa opened her food container under the rain and found leftovers that had already been eaten by others. She cried but forced herself to eat, whispering, “Oh Allah, grant me relief.”
 
Night of Tears
 
Najwa’s room was a small, leaking mud space. That night, rain flooded in, soaking her belongings. She struggled to save them, then sat shivering in the cold until she collapsed into restless sleep.
 
At dawn, she woke with fever but still prepared breakfast for the family. When she greeted her mother politely, she received only harsh words:
“Did you expect your father to fetch the corn for you?”
 
When she tried to explain she was tired from the rain, her mother raised her hand, forcing Najwa to run quickly to fetch supplies.
 
Betrayal at Home
 
Najwa returned exhausted, carrying heavy loads. While serving customers, Nabila barged in arrogantly to take bean cakes without waiting in line. Najwa begged her to wait so she could serve children rushing to school, but Nabila mocked her and left. Later, Nabila lied to their mother, claiming Najwa had insulted her.
 
Furious, their mother stormed into the market, slapping Najwa so hard her ears rang. Tears streamed down Najwa’s face as she pleaded, “Forgive me, Umma!” But her mother only raised her hand again until Fahad intervened, begging for mercy.
 
A Brother’s Kindness
 
Fahad, unlike the others, showed Najwa compassion. After the quarrel, he whispered,
“Be patient, Aunty Najwa. Remember Father’s last words—endure for the sake of peace. Don’t lose hope.”
 
Najwa smiled weakly, touched by his kindness. Sensing her fever, Fahad pressed some money into her palm. “Buy medicine. Umma may not give you anything.” Najwa thanked him deeply, grateful for at least one loving soul in the house.
 
A Lonely Prayer
 
Later, Najwa sat outside in the cold, her head burning with fever. She reflected bitterly:
“I’m seventeen. At my age, I should be cared for, not treated like a slave. I’m not ignorant, I’m not unworthy—why does my mother despise me? Oh Allah, grant me patience. Protect me from this suffering.”
 
She whispered her prayers, tears soaking her cheeks as she watched the dawn light spread across the sky.
 
The Beating Heart of Endurance
 
Despite her weakness, Najwa continued her chores. Her fever worsened, but she struggled on, preparing bean cakes, carrying water, and serving customers. Each insult from her mother and sister cut her like a blade, but she buried her pain in silence.
 
Her only relief was prayer. Alone in her leaking room, she cried to Allah for mercy, for a day when she would no longer be treated as worthless.
 
Conclusion
 
Najwa’s life was one of neglect, rejection, and silent endurance. Hated by her mother, mocked by her sister, and pursued by a drunkard, she bore her burdens quietly. Only Fahad’s kindness reminded her that she was human, deserving of love.
 
At just seventeen, she carried the weight of sorrow heavier than her daily loads of corn and bean cakes. But in her whispered prayers and patient endurance lay a strength no cruelty could erase.