Rigar Aro Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The cool evening breeze drifted through the house. It was a modest home whose walls had begun to deteriorate with age, though it was still well maintained—the kind of struggling lower-middle-class home where the occupants worked hard to preserve their dignity.
 
From one side of the courtyard came the clucking of chickens inside a wire-mesh coop. They moved restlessly about, waiting to be fed.
 
Jaddi reclined on an old chair covered with worn cushions. Her eyes were closed because of the pain coursing through her body. Her condition suggested that her blood sugar had risen, and she was breathing rapidly.
 
Nurayyah emerged from one of the rooms. She was a graceful and dignified girl despite being only sixteen years old. She wore a long Ankara dress that fitted her perfectly and had draped a large hijab over herself. Even amid poverty, Nurayyah carried herself with remarkable composure.
 
“Jaddi, let us go. Time is running out,” Nurayyah said, gently taking her grandmother’s hand.
 
Slowly, they made their way to the main road, where Nurayyah stopped a tricycle.
 
“Malam, please take us to Barau Dikko Specialist Hospital,” she said calmly.
 
They negotiated the fare, climbed in and headed towards the hospital.
 
The tricycle stopped directly in front of the entrance to the emergency and General Outpatient Department of Barau Dikko Specialist Hospital. The noise of the crowd, the cries of babies and the smell of medicines and hospital chemicals greeted them even before they entered.
 
Nurayyah paid the driver, then took Jaddi by the hand. Her grandmother could barely support half of her own body weight; the pain tearing through her bones had drained away the rest of her strength.
 
The moment they entered, Nurayyah’s heart sank.
 
The place was packed with people sitting on long metal benches. Some were even seated on the floor because there was no space left. The queue at the medical-records desk stretched like a snake, with everyone clutching their papers and repeatedly checking the time.
 
Nurayyah led Jaddi towards a quiet corner, found an old chair and helped her sit down.
 
“Jaddi, let me go and get a hospital card for us. Please try to endure it a little longer, all right?” Nurayyah said, her voice trembling.
 
Jaddi could not speak. She only nodded. Her eyes were dull and heavy, while her complexion had changed from its natural colour to an ashen grey because of her high blood sugar and the pain consuming her body.
 
Nurayyah joined the queue for the hospital card. After obtaining it, she returned and waited for their turn. It was there that she witnessed something even more painful than physical illness—injustice.
 
People were crying from hunger and sickness. Some elderly patients looked as though they might collapse at any moment, yet nobody paid attention to them. Everyone was concerned only with their own problems.
 
Her eyes fell upon a helpless man who had been brought in a wheelchair. His leg was wrapped in bandages, but blood had already soaked through them and stained his body. He was told to wait until those who had arrived before him had been attended to because the queue was extremely long.