Saƙar Makafi Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

Grief and Loneliness
She burst into soft, trembling sobs and sank down where she stood, her voice shaking as she spoke.
“What separates a child from its mother except death? How can you say they won’t come for me wherever I am?” She lowered her head onto the chair again and said in a quivering voice, “Yah Amin, death has separated me from you, and now your brother will separate me from Zaid.”
Feeling short of breath, she stood up with a trembling body, took some water, and drank. She looked toward the door, then returned to the bedroom.
She checked the time on her phone in surprise—it was 1:30 a.m. Slowly she stepped into the living room. It was silent except for the TV playing. She quietly went to the living-room door and opened it. Peeking outside, she saw nothing but bright light that looked almost like daylight, so she quickly shut the door again without locking it.
She lay down, covering herself completely, breathing heavily from the sobs she had been holding back.
In the morning, she stood in the middle of the living room in surprise and picked up Yah Amin’s phone from the center table. It was 9:00 a.m. She turned around slightly and saw his suitcase beside a one-seater chair, all his belongings still inside. After giving Zaid his medicine and adjusting his wrap, she handed him to Zaitoon and led them toward the dining area for breakfast.
Family Preparations in Kano
In Kano, preparations for Salim and Salma’s wedding were already in full swing. Guests from nearby had begun arriving, and those from far away were on their way. At Ummi’s house, Amina and her children had already arrived, saying she would return home after the wedding the following Monday.
“So you’ll leave your husband alone just because of your brother’s wedding?” Ummi asked, watching her closely.
“Ummi, Hafiz’s father traveled to Sudan yesterday and will be away for ten days, so I told him I would come. He agreed and said it was fine for me to attend the celebration and apologize to Abba that he won’t be able to attend the ceremony,” she replied.
Goggo Dada said warmly, “We’re happy you came. You’ll ease our longing for Zaid and his parents.”
Amina smiled. “They’ll be back soon too. Salim keeps saying Mahmoud shouldn’t miss his wedding.”
Ummi added, “We spoke with Fariyda earlier. She said Zaid is much better now. They might return before the wedding ends.”
Sulaiman and Salim entered with Dr. Fadil behind them.
“Ummi, do you recognize him?” Salim asked.
“Of course,” she said with a smile.
Dr. Fadil sat beside her and said, “How can a mother forget her child?”
Goggo Dada quickly asked, “Fadil, where is Mahmoud’s Fadil?”
He frowned slightly and said jokingly, “I’m still waiting for her—that’s why I’m not married yet. Mahmoud already got his bride, so stop calling me Mahmoud’s Fadil. Just call me Fadil.”
They all laughed and turned to Amina, who began reminiscing about their childhood together.
Worry and Uncertainty
Elsewhere, she sat silently, staring at the chair where he usually sat or lay down. He had left the previous day and still hadn’t returned, even though it was already 10 p.m. She looked at his suitcase, confused about what it meant. Sitting on the three-seater sofa, she closed her eyes, remembering the way he had looked at her before leaving. She imagined tears falling from his eyes.
“Does he cry too?” she whispered. “Why didn’t he treat me the way he usually does? He didn’t shout at me or glare at me.” She sighed softly. “Did he realize the weight of separating a mother from her children? Or did Yah Amin remind him of something?” Tears filled her eyes.
Suddenly she turned, thinking someone had entered, but no one was there—only his lingering perfume in the room. Slowly she stood up and went to the bed. Zaid, lying beside her, opened his eyes and moved closer.
“Appiy, Appiy,” he murmured.
She hugged him tightly, the way she remembered Mahmoud hugging them until they fell asleep.
Zaid lifted his head sleepily. “Appiy… Ammiy.”
She gently stroked his head until he drifted back to sleep, then quietly returned to the living room and locked the door, fear creeping into her heart.
The next day she spoke on the phone with Aunty Saddiqa about family gatherings and upcoming weddings. Everyone asked when she would return, but she didn’t know. Zaitoon tugged at her hand, crying for her father.
“When I see him… it’s been two days since I last saw him,” she said quietly before ending the call to give Zaid his medicine.
She watched the children as they called for their father again and again. Sitting beside them, she tried to stay calm, though fear and uncertainty filled her heart. Days passed since his departure, and as night fell again, she sat on her prayer mat, her children clinging to her and calling for him, while she looked on with eyes full of worry and dread.