Sanyi Da Zafi Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

Entering the Royal Chamber
 
He quietly greeted and entered a grand hall they called Shakallo—a private place only special people were allowed into. The hall looked like a museum because of its unique architecture. It was wide and spacious, decorated with golden ornaments. A huge carpet covered the entire hall, with large stuffed pillows scattered across it, all designed with royal patterns.
 
Five people sat inside—four men and one elderly woman. The elderly woman was Mai Babban Daki, the senior woman of the palace. She was clearly advanced in age—she must be around 76. Her eyes were red from crying. She wore an Alkaybba, holding a tissue and a string of prayer beads.
 
The others present were Waziri, Wambai, Makama, and Sarkin Dawaki. Soon after, two elderly men who resembled Mai Babban Daki entered and sat down. His heart dropped at the importance of these people; after the king, they were the most powerful in the palace.
 
He walked to the center of the room and sat down, then looked at Mai Babban Daki and asked,
"Grandmother, were you the one who sent for me?"
She shook her head, slowly wiped her tears with the tissue, and said,
"Your father’s closest companions asked for you to be called, as the firstborn son of King Kabeer."
 
He raised his head and looked at the others. They stared back silently.
"Okay," he replied.
 
Makama, the oldest among them, asked,
"Have all your brothers arrived? By four o’clock, we will perform the King’s final rites."
 
Calmly he answered,
"Prince Halilu and Ibrahima are already here. Munir just called to say their plane has landed in Abuja. Umaru’s flight has just taken off from Lagos. But…"
 
He paused.
All of them asked at once,
"What about Prince Riyad?"
 
He exhaled and said quietly,
"I called him several times, I could not reach him."
 
Mai Babban Daki exclaimed sorrowfully,
"I have never seen a carefree child like Riyad. Today he’s in Egypt, tomorrow Cyprus, then Oman, next Zanzibar, next China or Iceland. Oh, I am tired! Try his France number. If you don’t have it, go to Fulani and collect it."
 
In a soft voice, Dan Buri (Kabeer’s son) replied,
"Grandmother, you yourself know he has never spent a complete month in one place. Even his mother, Fulani, doesn’t know where he went today. I asked her—she too calls him and he refuses to pick. I don’t know why Riyad prefers roaming around the world rather than staying in his own country where he was born and raised…"
 
Wambai lifted his hand and cut him short.
"Enough."
He exhaled.
"We cannot delay the King’s burial because of him. Wherever he is in this world, he will see the news of his father’s death. We will meet him eventually. For now, stand up and go."
 
He rose slowly and left, sighing in frustration as soon as he stepped outside.
 
One of the elders inside the hall angrily said,
"Grandmother, I’ve said it many times: His Majesty should have disciplined Riyad. Among all the King’s children, none is as wayward as him. He refuses to stay and learn our customs. Now what will people say when he alone is absent?"
 
Everyone stared at him until a man beside him, Usmanu, responded,
"No, brother. Riyad is calm. His businesses take him around the world. His Majesty approved it because the boy has passion for business. We all know Riyad is kind and well-behaved."
 
The elder snapped,
"I wasn’t talking to you, Usmanu!"
His name was Hambali.
 
As both men prepared to argue, Mai Babban Daki shouted,
"Quiet! Hambali, Usmanu… do you realize your brother has died? And this is what you choose to fight about?!"
Silence filled the room.
 
His Mother’s Hidden Ambition
 
He went straight to his mother’s flat—she was the King’s first wife. The building was massive, like entering a different district entirely. It was obvious the royal family was wealthy. Even the palace women complaining didn’t stop him from continuing toward her quarters.
 
She sat among her attendants, crying heavily. When she saw him, she signaled him to follow her upstairs. She stood—about 48 years old—adjusted her wrapper, and followed him. He entered her room quickly; she also came in and locked the door.
 
Lowering her voice like she hadn’t been crying a moment ago, she asked,
"What happened? What did they tell you?"
 
He gave a small smile.
"They still haven’t found Riyad, Mama. And I’m happy about that."
 
She clenched her fist and flung it in the air.
*"Good! Alhamdulillah! Riyad is my only problem, Dan Buri. Among all the King’s sons, none matches you—in money, in education, in connections. You come from a great lineage—my lineage! And you’re the most recognized in the palace. Riyad is the only one who threatens your position because he has a PhD. Apart from that, what does he have? No wife, people even gossip that he’s unwell because he refuses to marry.
 
Anyone in this palace will tell you they want YOU to be king. You are the firstborn. You behave like a king already, strong and bold. Once they bury the King, I myself will go to Mai Babban Daki. Apart from Riyad, only your uncle Hambali stands between you and the throne—but I will handle them."*
 
She continued fiercely,
*"Go outside. Let people see you. Hug your brothers as they arrive; show them love. Let them see you’re in charge of everything. This will increase your popularity.
 
Whatever is happening, keep informing me—even if it’s from outside. His Majesty is gone, buried under the earth. But before he reaches the Hereafter, I will begin moving things. You are my first son, and you are the heir."*
 
He laughed softly.
"Mama, you have lived well in this life."
 
She quickly touched his face.
"Stop smiling. Wear the face of someone deeply grieving. Don’t show happiness as if you’re the only one who benefited from the King’s death."
 
He nodded and pretended to be sad. She almost cried with joy. He walked out of the room.
 
The Burial and Rising Rumors
 
He returned outside where thousands had gathered. His brothers—Halilu, Ibrahim, and Shu’ibu—were all present with their families. Munir was the last to arrive. When he reached them, he asked,
"Dan Buri, did you reach Riyad?"
 
He shook his head solemnly.
"No. Now that you’re all here, we can pray for father. We cannot delay because of him—even if he’s on the way. We cannot let father spend the night unburied."
 
Munir didn’t argue. He stepped aside, brought out his phone, and tried calling Riyad again. Yesterday they had spoken around 1 a.m., but now Riyad’s number wasn’t connecting. As he lowered the phone, something struck him. He opened his email and sent Riyad a message, then returned inside.
 
They made ablution, prayed for His Majesty, and buried him in the royal grounds.
 
People whispered everywhere that all the King’s sons were present at the funeral—except Prince Riyad. Dan Buri felt his heart glowing with satisfaction as the rumors spread.
 
Later, Munir and the others entered the women’s main hall, where all the King’s wives sat, veiled in black hijabs, eyes red from crying. They first greeted Fulani—Riyad’s mother—then moved to the second wife, then the third, then the fourth. They sat briefly, offered prayers, and left to join the men in welcoming top politicians and dignitaries from all over the world.