Meke Faruwa Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

Prince Modibbo’s Luxurious Life
 
He was lying inside the large bathtub within the spacious bathroom, though it hardly looked like a bathroom because of its size and beauty. The bathtub was so wide that from it one could easily see the TV fixed on the wall, and not far away was a neat and well-arranged toilet seat.
 
Inside the warm, scented, soapy water was Modibbo, changing the TV channel until he landed on CNN. Suddenly, he heard the sound of the bathroom door handle turning. “Who could that be?” he asked himself, yet he continued watching TV. Remembering that anyone eager to see him must wait at least half an hour, he leaned back until the water soaked him, then unplugged the stopper, letting the water drain.
 
He switched on another shower, rinsed himself thoroughly, then took a smaller towel to clean his hair. After slipping on soft slippers, he sat on a chair still inside the bathroom, rubbed his body with sweet-scented lotion and perfume, then styled his hair carefully.
 
Truly, Modibbo was spending on himself beyond imagination. Rising proudly, he walked majestically toward his bedroom to dress. He glanced at the door leading to the living room and remembered that someone was waiting for him. He sighed deeply, then entered his bedroom, muttering, “Whoever it is will have to wait. Now is my study time.”
 
He dressed in blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, picked up documents and phones from the drawer, slid them into his pocket, wore simple flat shoes, and left.
 
In the living room sat Vicky, waiting for him. Though he loved her dearly, he pretended not to notice her and walked toward the exit. She quickly stood up, rushing to him.
 
“Darling Prince D.P!” she called.
 
But he kept walking. Running after him, she touched his shoulder and spoke in English.
 
He looked at her as if unwilling to speak, then said, “But you quickly rushed into anger. I thought you had forgotten who I am—that’s why you frown at me. I don’t have time to pacify women, no matter how much I love them. Understand this: I, Prince Modibbo, do not chase women—women chase me. Continue sulking just because you saw me with another lady.”
 
He walked on, repeating: “Now is study time, not time for chit-chat.”
 
Vicky stood there heartbroken, tears rolling down her face. She wondered when she would ever stop crying because of him—the boy she loved so deeply, the boy adored by women, the boy who prided himself above them, a handsome and charming young man. She collapsed in tears.
 
This was none other than Prince Al-Amin, son of King Ismail, grandson of Abdullahi, ruler of the Bauchi kingdom. At just twenty-two years old, studying in Malaysia, he was widely known as Prince Modibbo.
 
 
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Life in Zaria
 
In Zaria, there stood a large traditional clay house with nearly twelve rooms. It was a family compound where almost everyone was related—except for Fatima, a woman from Bauchi who had married into the family.
 
Fatima sat cooking tuwo dawa (guinea corn meal) when Bilkisu entered, greeting her. She wore a beautiful Java fabric with a school bag slung over her shoulder, clearly returning from school. Bilkisu was stunning—fit for a magazine cover. At twenty-two, she could easily win a beauty contest.
 
Approaching her mother Fatima, she greeted warmly: “Mama, welcome home.”
 
Her fair-skinned mother replied kindly: “Thank you, Maigado (the heir)—that’s your title.”
 
“Yes, Mama. I came home early today because we went to visit a sick friend,” Bilkisu explained.
 
“May God heal her,” Fatima prayed.
 
“Amin,” Bilkisu replied, before cleaning her mother’s room and then sweeping the compound until it shone, despite being unsurfaced earth.
 
Soon, Asma’u (nicknamed Auta) returned from Islamiyya school, greeting everyone. When she mistakenly called Bilkisu Aunty Maigado, Bilkisu scolded her: “Don’t ever call me that again! Just say Bilkisu. If you repeat it, I’ll break your mouth.” Their mother intervened gently: “She will learn. Let it go.”
 
Later, Fatima instructed Asma’u to fetch plates for distributing the tuwo among the different households in the compound. The plates were old, rusty, and mismatched, but she continued serving. Bilkisu, after finishing chores, fetched water from the well.
 
By the well, four children played in the dirt. Among them was Safiya, a little girl with half-plaited, half-loose hair and a dirty face. Bilkisu scolded them: “Move away, you filthy kids!”
 
Bala, the eldest boy, retorted: “And what’s your business if we sit here?”
 
Enraged, Bilkisu hit him just as their father, Malam Mamman, arrived. He shouted: “Don’t you dare beat him! You think because your mother cannot give birth to sons, you can harm mine? Stop it or I’ll show you.”
 
Humiliated, Bilkisu shed tears, wondering why her father’s relatives always mistreated her. Returning home with the water, she apologized to her mother, who comforted her: “Be patient, my daughter. One day it will be a story.”
 
Bilkisu’s Silent Struggles
 
At night, Bilkisu lay restless on her bed. Beside her, Asma’u slept soundly. Bilkisu, however, drowned in deep thoughts. She often asked herself: “Why is my life like this? I am beautiful, intelligent—both in Islamic and Western education. I have good manners and self-control. Yet why don’t men notice me? Why do I have no suitor? Why doesn’t anyone declare love for me?”
 
Tears streamed down her face, as always. She whispered aloud: “What is happening to me? Who will answer my questions? Or has Allah not destined marriage for me?”
 
Lifting her hands in prayer, she cried: “Oh Allah, You are my Creator, You know my condition better than I do. Choose the best for me.”
 
She lay down again, lost in thoughts about her identity and destiny.
 
Fatima’s Painful Marriage
 
Their family home in Ojo was known as Gidan Marina, a large compound inherited from their forefathers who specialized in cloth dyeing. Their grandfather, Malam Salisu, was a respected man with four wives and thirty-seven children. After his death, disputes and quarrels plagued the household.
 
Fatima’s father, Muhammadu, fell in love with her during a wedding in Bauchi. Despite opposition from his family—who wanted him to marry his cousin Ladiyo—he pursued and eventually married Fatima.
 
At first, their life was manageable. But after two years without children, pressure mounted. Muhammadu gradually stopped providing basic needs. Eventually, he married Ladiyo, who soon became pregnant.
 
From then, Fatima’s suffering deepened. Ladiyo despised her dyeing trade, mocking her constantly. Worse, Muhammadu banned her from cooking kuli (bean cakes) because Ladiyo claimed the smell made her nauseous.
 
Fatima pleaded: “But you know this is my only source of livelihood!”
 
Her husband flared up: “So you feed yourself? Then change your trade. Enough of this nonsense!”
 
Determined, Fatima continued working despite insults from Ladiyo. Soon, her husband joined in the abuse, even attempting to beat her.
 
Tired of the humiliation, Fatima decided to leave. Packing her things, she returned to Bauchi. Her mother received her with love and concern. That evening, after prayers, Fatima narrated everything. Her mother promised to wait for her father, Malam, to return so they could discuss her future.
 
Her family valued her deeply—she was their only daughter among two sons, Aminu and Abubakar, who were successful traders in Bauchi.