Turken Gida Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The Engineer’s Morning Routine
 
Engineer Yusuf Muhammad Inuwa emerged from the mosque located a bit ahead of his house, at almost six o’clock in the morning. As usual, he paused to recite his adhkar and personal supplications, after which he would briefly greet people. Although the neighborhood was filled with well-to-do individuals, it also housed respectable elders and responsible men. They often met only at the mosque, especially during the dawn prayer, because some could only be seen at that time before heading to work. People like Engineer Yusuf, who had many engagements, rarely spent a full day at home. Even weekends found him outdoors because he was not a government worker—he was a private contractor who built his career from youth.
 
Estimating his age, Engineer Yusuf looked like someone not more than 42, and not less. He walked calmly from the mosque to his house—which was close—wearing a fine black jalabiya that shone as though newly washed, with a black patterned cap and a rosary (tasbaha) in his hand. He was tall, well-built, and dignified. At first glance one could easily tell he was Fulani because of his fair complexion and distinctive hair, even though he was not someone who kept long hair. His face was broad rather than long, yet strikingly handsome, with a sharp nose and the commanding presence of a mature man.
 
Entering the Home
 
He headed toward a modest but classy house in the Lodge Road area. The house sat directly by the roadside in a well-tiled neighborhood. Its design was modern and stylish. From the outside one could easily tell the house was relatively new: the black gate still shone, and the greenish exterior paint looked freshly done. At the door, he reached into his jalabiya pocket, took out a key, opened the gate, entered, and closed it behind him.
 
The compound was small—barely enough for two cars. A black Toyota C-HR was parked there, surrounded by beautiful, sweet-smelling flowers. The door leading into the house was locked; he used another key to open it and stepped inside.
 
The first living room he entered was quiet—no noise from the furniture except for a large, fixed TV stand and a center rug. It was spacious, with a dining area for five on the right. The room glowed with golden-yellow décor, including the curtains. He removed his shoes and walked barefoot across the long carpet to another door facing him. The house was silent, and the lights were off; he used his phone’s flashlight, ignoring the wall switch since he wouldn’t be staying long.
 
The next door he pushed open was already unlocked. He entered a smaller sitting room with three medium-sized chairs, a small TV stand, center rug, and a double-door fridge. A water dispenser stood at the side. The décor here was brown, matching the curtains. After switching on the light, everything became visible and calm.
 
From the center of the room was a closed door; to the side, a corridor leading to more rooms. He approached one of the doors on the eastern side, knocked once, and greeted because he could hear soft voices reciting adhkar from inside.
 
He opened the door and stepped into a room, closing it gently behind him. A smile instantly formed on his face when he saw his two beautiful daughters seated on a small center rug in the middle of the room. Both were girls—the older around 13 years old wearing a long black hijab and holding an adhkar booklet, and the younger about five, dressed similarly with her own small booklet. The younger one almost tried to stand out of excitement, but he raised his hand lightly and said:
 
“Finish your adhkar, baby.”
 
The older girl looked up and smiled; he smiled back and watched them for a moment as their soft voices filled the room, sounding as though they had memorized everything perfectly. Checking his phone, he saw it was past six. He nodded before saying:
 
“Jidda, don’t forget today is Monday. When you finish your adhkar, take your bath and get ready.”
 
Jidda nodded. He turned and exited, gently closing the door. The room was small, with a bathroom inside, two small beds with two-door wardrobes beside them, and a drawer where they kept their Islamic and school books.
 
He walked through the corridor and opened another door, entering a small area with several rooms. He opened the door to his right with a calm greeting, even though he knew the person inside was likely sleeping. Giving the salam was obligatory regardless. He closed the door behind him.
 
The light was already on—he must have left it that way before leaving for the dawn prayer.
 
Seeing Sadiya Asleep
 
The way Sadiya was sleeping nearly made him laugh. He walked quietly to the bed, his feet sinking into the small decorative rug beside it. She wore soft sleepwear—top and trousers—with her hair uncovered and messy, showing she probably removed her scarf before sleeping. Her hair clearly required regular maintenance.
 
Her sleeping posture was the amusing part: one leg hung off the bed, the other stretched to the side; her head was off the pillow; one arm pointed west and the other east. She lay sprawled in a completely disorganized manner, yet peacefully.