Mijin Malama Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Season of Cold and Illness
A deep calm hung over the city as a result of the cold weather that had set in, beginning from the month of August and lasting into the current month of November. The sky was adorned with mist, and strong winds blew relentlessly, intensifying the biting cold. This year’s harmattan felt different from that of any other year. Most times in such a season, major cold-related illnesses tend to rise—such as catarrh, asthma, sickle cell crises, eye infections, pneumonia, dry skin, swelling, road accidents, and many others.
On the Road to the Hospital
Right at the First Bank bypass, their car came to a halt on the road due to a combination of traffic congestion and thick fog. The journey between Lodge Road and Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital was just nine minutes (4.8 km). Slowly, she raised her head, which had been bowed since she entered the car. Her pale eyes, fixed behind white photochromic glasses, drifted calmly over the road. She struggled to breathe, as her chest felt tight.
“Jeederh!”
Latifa, who was seated in the driver’s seat with one hand holding the steering wheel, called her name. She knew she had heard her clearly, so there was no need for a response. Latifa continued, “We live by our own destiny, and Allah loves us that way. You should not worry about that.”
Only then did Majeederh slightly turn her body, curling inward defensively. She felt as though she alone was experiencing the cold, even though Latifa had rolled up the car windows and switched off the air conditioner. She opened her mouth from within her veil to speak, then fell silent before finally saying:
“Worry?”
“Yes, just like that,” Latifa replied. “Don’t deceive yourself—you are worried. No matter how deep you hide it inside you. I’ve known you for thirty-five years; I know everything about you. After all, I am your friend.”
A Painful Confession and Shocking Discovery
Malama Majeederh only listened without truly understanding. Only her body was present in the car; her thoughts and calmness had completely drifted away from her. It was Abbu’s words that echoed loudly in her ears. Latifa did not relent, determined to bring her relief at any cost.
“Come and marry my husband, Majeederh. We will live in peace. I’m tired of seeing you like this, unmarried. I can’t endure your situation anymore—when people talk about you, I feel the pain in my heart.”
Swiftly, Majeederh turned to look at Latifa, silently measuring the depth of her foolishness. She cornered Latifa with the car, then slipped out toward the hospital pavement, heading straight into Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital.
“Yes, Malama Majeederh Abdul’aziz Khan,” Latifa said as she continued driving, “Sweetheart has agreed to marry you. Our bond will grow even stronger. I will never see you as a rival—please, please, Jeederh, accept.”
“You and your husband need to see a psychiatrist,” Malama Majeederh replied softly, her voice cold and calm. Latifa only laughed and shook her head, resolving in her heart to force Jeederh into marrying her husband. She parked at the designated parking area and stepped out first, holding the car key and her phone. When she noticed that Majeederh had not come out, she walked around the car to see what was happening.
Majeederh reached out and opened the car door, slowly stretching one leg outside. That was when Latifa noticed how Majeederh’s pale foot had swollen, shining unnaturally. Her entire appearance changed—the extent of the swelling was shocking. With great difficulty, she struggled to get out of the car, silently calling on the name of ALLAH from the depths of her heart.
“Like someone with diabetes? This swelling is too much, Majeederh. Has Mami seen it? Has Abbu seen it?”
Out of all the questions Latifa asked, Majeederh answered none. She did not even look in her direction—she simply headed toward the ward she had come for.