Me Kamar Sarki Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Rainy Season in the Village
 
The rainy season had fully set in. Everywhere was lush with greenery. In a small, crowded village, men, women, and children busied themselves in farmlands under cloudy skies. Among them was a frail, tired-looking man bent over his millet field with a sharp sickle, sweat pouring down his face. Despite the obvious pain in his back, he worked on with three young girls helping him.
 
He glanced at the pathway, clearly expecting someone. Turning to one of the girls — Aishatu — he asked, “Where’s your mother? Hasn’t she come yet? I hope her fever isn’t back again.”
 
Aisha, visibly exhausted and soaked in sweat, replied softly, “I didn’t see her when I left the house. Maybe Asma’u did.” But Asma’u shook her head too. The man sighed deeply, rubbing his sore back, and whispered, “God help us. I’m worried about her sickness… and we’re out of money. No one even lends to the poor anymore.”
 
Meanwhile, walking from a distance was a stunning young woman named Amatullah, around 22 years old, with a water container on her head. She walked gracefully, ignoring the world around her. From behind, her friend Fatima called out to her repeatedly. When Amatu finally stopped, Fatima teased her about the bright smile on her face, guessing something had brought her joy. Amatu smiled but said she’d reveal it later.
 
The Mysterious Dream
 
As they neared Amatu’s father's farmland, Fatima, still curious, pressed her friend, “Please tell me what’s making you so happy.”
 
Amatu sighed, then quietly revealed, “I had a dream… a strange one. Every night now, I dream of the same beautiful place — filled with exotic flowers, trees, and a peaceful stream. In the dream, I wear a white flowing gown, gold jewelry, and fine sandals. Slaves and servants stand around me. Then I walk up behind a tall man at the water’s edge, cover his eyes playfully, and he smiles. He turns, lifts me into his arms, and places me gently on a royal carpet surrounded by elegant food and drinks. He holds me tightly and whispers sweet words, telling me I’m his only love. He caresses my beauty spot as I try to speak — and then I wake up.”
 
Fatima was stunned. “Subhanallah! This sounds like a royal dream. Maybe your destiny is tied to a prince. Or... you’ll marry someone very special!”
 
Amatu laughed but brushed it off. “I doubt it. I’ve never even seen a place like that. It felt too real, though.”
 
They reached the farmland. Her father, relieved, welcomed her. “Thank God you're here. I thought your fever returned.” She handed over food sent by her mother, and her younger siblings rushed to eat. Quietly, she watched them with teary eyes, deeply moved by their poverty but stronger in her resolve.
 
As she tried to join them in the work, her father stopped her gently. “No, my daughter. Go home and rest. You’re still recovering.”
 
Tension in the Household
 
Returning home with Fatima, Amatu promised to tell her more later. As they entered the family compound — home to multiple wives — chaos awaited. One wife, A’i, noticed Amatu alone and questioned her about the other girls. Upon learning they were still at the farm, A’i exploded in rage, accusing her husband of favoritism for sending only her daughter to deliver food.
 
She stormed inside, grabbing her veil, determined to drag her daughter back. In the process, she flung the household water bucket into the dirt, prompting Saude, another wife, to confront her.
 
A fierce argument erupted between A’i and Saude, quickly turning physical. Binta, the calmest of the wives, ran to break them apart, but the fight was already a full brawl. Their daughters watched in shame and silence.
 
Eventually, Malam Habu, the family head, intervened in anger. “Why must every day start with fights in my house?! You’re turning this home into a war zone!”
 
A’i, unrepentant, retorted disrespectfully, mocking his authority and accusing him of neglect and poverty. “What are you even giving us? You’re all mouth and no meat! You think you're greater than your own house? Nonsense!”
 
The words pierced Malam Habu deeply. He stood still, ashamed.
 
Amatu, having overheard it all, rushed to her room in tears. She hated hearing anyone insult her father, especially A’i, who was always full of contempt. Meanwhile, Jamila — another daughter — tried to calm things down, only to receive a harsh beating from A’i.
 
Binta, helpless and heartbroken, tried to shield Jamila, urging her to go fetch water and clean herself. Jamila obeyed silently, still sobbing.
 
Later, Binta brought food to Malam Habu in his room. He lay on a worn-out mattress, staring at nothing. Binta tried to console him, suggesting he start a small business with her help. But he shook his head and revealed the pain in his heart:
 
“I wasn’t always like this, Binta. I once had wealth, land, and thriving businesses. But suddenly, I lost everything. All my riches vanished overnight — not just mine but even others’ money I was managing. I had to sell everything, pay debts, and watch my family slip into poverty. Since then, life hasn't smiled at me again.”
 
In this small village filled with hardship, dreams still bloom. Amatu’s mysterious visions, her father’s unspoken pain, and the tensions among co-wives reflect a reality many live — yet through it all, hope lingers.
 
Who is the man in Amatu’s dream? Will her future bring answers — or more questions?
 
Only time will tell.