Me Ya Jamin New Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Cold Morning Behind the House
Squatting behind the house was a young maiden, about sixteen to seventeen years old—dark-skinned, of average height, with a hidden beauty. She was washing schoolchildren’s clothes, shivering from the cold as signs of the harmattan weather blew fiercely. She had no choice but to endure it, since she could not even afford warm clothing. A small boy, no older than seven, came out through a door—clearly the door that led into the main house.
Focused on her washing, she did not notice his approach until he splashed cold water on her. She jumped up quickly and stared at him, tears filling her eyes as she said, “Farook, is it you who poured water on me in this cold?”
He twisted his mouth and replied, “It’s just water poured on a poor almajiri. Mommy said you should come and prepare our breakfast, and if you refuse she’ll beat you.”
Calmly, she stopped what she was doing, lifted the clothes clinging to her body, and went toward the parlour door. She entered with greetings. The parlour was empty except for Muwaddat and Jannat. She looked at them—none of them had even washed their faces. She moved closer and carried Irfan, who stretched out his hand to her. Smiling at him, she said, “My little one, you haven’t even had your pampers changed. Let me bathe you all and then feed you—Isiya will take you to school, okay?” She asked gently.
Muwaddat pushed her lips forward and said, “No, Aunty Anam, just give us food first—we woke up hungry.”
Harsh Words and Silent Endurance
The owners of the house came down, and she quickly composed herself, kneeling respectfully. “Good morning, sir. Good morning, Hajiya.” Without looking at her, the man walked past into the parlour. Hajiya Salma glared at her and snapped, “So you’re busy with your foolish laziness, letting the children suffer? You didn’t even change Jannat’s pampers because you’re shameless. Just leave them until you’re satisfied, you hear me…”
The last words struck her deeply. She lowered her head. That still did not satisfy Hajiya Salma, who knocked her lightly on the head. Anam shut her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks. By now, she should have been used to the insults in this house, since she had lived there almost all her life. She came with her mother at the age of five. Though they were not originally from this house, her mother worked for Aliyu’s parents—the owners of the house. When Aliyu married, his wife insisted on having a house help, and that was how Anam ended up there. It had been eight years now. She witnessed the birth of Umar, Farooq, Muwaddat, and Jannat, yet she never enjoyed any kindness—from the master of the house, his wife, or even the children. Only Salma occasionally treated her kindly, when her mood allowed.
She picked up the children and took them to their room, bathed them, dressed them in uniform, prepared breakfast, and fed them. Farooq misbehaved along with Muwaddat, and she dared not stop them. When their mother returned, they would mix lies with truth, and Salma would sit and curse Anam’s dead father—whom she never knew—and her mother, who spent her life in servitude just to protect her. If that was not enough, she would beat her mercilessly. That was why Anam handled everything in the house with extreme caution.
By Allah’s help, they finished. She carried Jannat, came out, handed the children’s lunch boxes to Isiya, and they entered the car. She wrapped Jannat warmly, returned to finish washing, hung the clothes, and began cleaning the house. She avoided Aliyu’s room alone—he had strictly warned her never to enter it. Even when Salma wanted her to help clean it, Aliyu had once humiliated Salma badly, forcing her to clean it herself whenever she returned from work.
Journey, New Tasks, and Familiar Faces
After finishing the parlour, she went to her room, tidied it, laid Jannat down, bathed, and wore a simple atamfa cloth. Salma forbade her from wearing fine clothes; she was always to be seen in worn garments and a hijab. She never understood the reason for this rule.
At about two o’clock, she entered the kitchen and realized she had forgotten to ask what the household wanted to eat. She called Hajiya Salma. After cutting the call once, Salma finally answered angrily, “Anam, what kind of fool are you? I’m at work and you’re disturbing me!”
Politely, Anam replied, “Sorry, Hajiya. I forgot to ask what you want cooked.”
Salma snapped, “Don’t ask me—ask Farooq! Just cook whatever your father eats!” She hung up.
Anam stood trembling, phone in hand, hurt by the insult. Slowly, she went to the kitchen, thinking. She remembered Aliyu liked rice tuwo with groundnut soup. She quickly asked the driver to buy the ingredients, prepared the tuwo, cooked the meat well with spices, made chicken pepper soup as well, and arranged everything neatly in the dining room, adding melted butter.
She returned to her room and was about to rest when she heard the car. She came out holding Jannat’s hand, her hijab loosely draped. By chance, her eyes met Aliyu’s; she quickly looked away and greeted them respectfully. He replied curtly and said, “Hajiya said you should go there tomorrow—Umaimah has a birthday, there’s work to do.”
She sighed in relief—at least she would escape Salma’s wrath for two days. She packed her small box and, when they finished bathing and eating, she bowed and said she was ready to go. Salma told her she would stay three days. Aliyu, who had been stealing glances at her, said, “Wait for me outside.”
After over thirty minutes, he came out, face hardened. He entered the car and told her to sit in front, saying the driver was not her father. Her heart broke at the insult, but she complied. They drove to Danladi in Sidi, Aliyu’s family house. When they arrived, she got down, and he watched her with an uneasy feeling, noticing how she moved. He shut his eyes briefly, surprised at how the girl had grown and filled out, then snapped himself out of it and went inside.
In the parlour, Anam was with her mother, looking at pictures on a phone. Her mother greeted Aliyu respectfully; he responded arrogantly and went upstairs. Anam clicked her tongue, muttering about his pride, but her mother cautioned her sharply, reminding her that Aliyu was the reason she lived there and attended secondary school.
Umaimah soon appeared with a friend and ordered Anam to arrange her wardrobe. She obeyed politely. Afterward, they were still seated in the parlour, now joined by Granny, who smiled warmly at Anam and teased her affectionately, calling her “hard-working girl.” Anam laughed, showing her neat white teeth and dimples, offering to massage Granny. Alhaji Ma’aru joked that perhaps Granny should find a wife for Aliyu, but Granny protested loudly, saying Anam herself was already too much trouble with her growing beauty.
The room filled with laughter as Anam stood quietly, used to being the center of both affection and silent endurance.