Matar Taj Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Acknowledgment and Warning
 
Special thanks to my Arewa Book readers—thank you for sticking around. (Halima ArewaBook 😅 I’m sorry for saving your contact as Halima ArewaBook, but this lady right here is a great person.)
To my Siyam, Aisha, Susu, my Nanasko, my Ruks, and Aysha, and all my VVIPs—thank you for supporting me and for your words of encouragement.
Mummy Ammi na ❤️❤️❤️, I have not forgotten you.
 
I hope you all enjoy this masterpiece. Inside this book, you will find pure, undefiled love mixed with betrayal and wickedness.
The suspense and plot twists are top-notch. 😍😍
 
Warning!!
I do not permit anyone to change even a single word in this book without my permission.
This book is not free—if you want it, pay and I will send it to you.
And lastly, I will not be giving out many free pages.
 
Enjoy!!!!!
 
A large bus filled with passengers entered the airport premises in Abuja.
The driver hit the brakes suddenly, making the passengers shout “Salati!”
 
“Driver, please drive carefully! You’re carrying human beings, not animals. This reckless driving is useless!” one of the women complained.
 
The driver turned angrily, foam forming at the corners of his mouth.
“Madam, please have patience. This is how I drive. If not for my speed, you would have missed your flight!”
 
The woman kept quiet, realizing the driver was not the respectful type. He turned away and focused on the person who was blocking his way.
 
A young lady sitting at the far end lifted her head from between her knees after the sudden brake made her hit her head against the metal of the chair in front. She wore a green hijab like the other girls in the bus and had a face mask on.
 
Her real facial features were hidden, but her eyes—red and shiny like hazel clouds—were striking.
The woman beside her watched her silently, surprised at how the girl had been crying softly ever since they entered the bus. Only God knew what was happening in her heart—her tears flowed endlessly, her emotions numb, her life heavy like stone.
 
Thoughts tormented her:
Does she have a defect? Is she a child someone picked up?
She asked herself these questions over and over, confused since she didn’t even understand what was happening to her life—neither now nor in past years.
 
The driver finished parking and opened the bus doors. The men came down first, followed by the women—about fifteen of them, all in green hijabs with baby-carrying bags on their backs, looking like they were arranged in a line for inspection. Their faces were blank, many looking like they were brought from villages. Only a few older women and five men were among them.
 
One of the men began to speak:
“Alright, masha Allah. I’ll give you your passports now. Like I told you, this passport is your ticket everywhere. If you lose it, cry to yourself—not this agency. Your flight will land in Jeddah. And anyone who tries to run away—if you’re caught, don’t expect the agency to carry your consequences. Everything is documented.”
 
He distributed the passports and called their names one by one.
 
“Sabeeha Dalhatu. Who is Sabeeha Dalhatu?”
 
Silence. He hissed and prepared to move on when she raised her trembling hand.
“M–me,” she said weakly.
 
“Madam, I’ve been calling your name. We’re in a hurry!” he barked.
 
She lowered her head and walked to collect her passport. Her shaking hands were soaked in sweat.
 
“Looks like they brought this one from a deep village,” he muttered. “Move slowly so you don’t cause trouble for yourself.”
 
His words pierced her chest like a blade.
Her life felt worthless.
Her own mother—the woman who raised her alone—had sold her off. She didn’t even know why her mother handed her to these people. She only remembered waking up before dawn to prepare breakfast to be taken to the hospital, where her grandmother was admitted. She hadn’t stepped outside the house for three months because of her mother’s rules.
Now tears filled her eyes as she whispered, Innalillahi…
 
Journey to Jeddah
 
The man led them into the airport. One after another, they completed their check-in and entered the waiting room. Sabeeha stayed close to the group, ensuring they didn’t notice how lost she was.
 
The same woman from the bus sat beside her. She went to buy meat pie and water, attracting the attention of the other girls—clearly she was familiar with airport life. It wasn’t her first time; she frequently traveled to Saudi as a housemaid.
 
Her face carried tribal marks—two on her nose—and she had four “Makkah teeth” fixed, giving her the appearance of a typical Saudi housemaid.
 
She sat beside Sabeeha, who curled up nervously. The girl wasn’t used to interacting with people; she grew up isolated from everyone except her mother, grandmother, and uncle.
 
The woman ate calmly, then looked at the girl. For some reason, she felt pity for her—she too was taken for housework at that same young age, from her village in Gezawa, Kano.
 
She stretched her meat pie toward Sabeeha.
“Take it,” she said kindly.
 
Sabeeha took it with shaking hands. “Th-thank you,” she whispered.
 
The woman smiled.
“Your name is Sabeeha, right? You’re also going for housemaid work?”
 
Sabeeha nodded.
 
“This agency brought you?” she asked again.
 
“Yes…”
 
“Remove fear from your heart,” the woman advised gently. “Fear will destroy you. These people (Saudis) don’t trust easily—especially when they see you’re African.”
 
“Thank you,” Sabeeha whispered, feeling slightly relieved.
 
She ate not because she enjoyed the food but because hunger was tearing her stomach—her mother had woken her early without feeding her.
 
Their flight was called.
They boarded a small plane—one of those cheap, narrow flights. The woman helped her find a seat. Sabeeha’s stomach twisted painfully. She now knew she was being taken to another world—one where she knew no one and had no idea what awaited her.
 
Saudi Arabia – Tahlia Street
 
Tahlia District, located in Jeddah, is one of Saudi Arabia’s wealthiest neighborhoods—home to royalty, top officials, and the extremely rich. It is known as the “heart of Jeddah,” with its luxurious lifestyle and high-class residents.
 
Every occupant is either wealthy or powerful, and most properties are passed down through generations as valuable assets.
 
The district is like a complete city on its own, with everything—from high-end shopping malls to top companies, luxury hotels, and exclusive restaurants competing in elegance.
 
TAHEEL Groups
 
Taheel Groups is one of the major companies in Tahlia District. Founded years ago, it is now run by the heirs of the founder, Taheel Abdullah Tajuddeen.
The Taheel family owns 75% of the company.
 
They supply products to malls across Tahlia District and other Saudi cities like Riyadh and Dammam. They collaborate with luxury brands such as Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, Ralph Lauren, Giorgio Armani, and more—buying products directly with tags and reselling them in their malls.
 
They also own TG Banks, one of the top 5 banking services in the country.