Tuzuru Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The Soldier’s Return
 
Slowly he descended the staircase, his hand gripping the khaki beret that matched the sharp uniform of a soldier. His face was rigid, like an old pot of porridge hardened by time. Tall and fair, built with the strength of a seasoned warrior, his neatly trimmed black beard framed his long face. His broad chest stretched the fabric of his uniform as though his muscles would rip through the shirt.
 
He knelt before his mother, head bowed. His younger siblings lined up, greeting him, but he ignored them. Raising his head slightly, he looked at his mother with eyes as sharp and blue as a cat’s. His voice broke softly, “Please.”
 
She turned away at first, then laid her hand gently on his hair, which though sparse, shone from constant grooming. “Allah will protect you wherever you are,” she whispered. He rose with a sigh, set his beret on his head, and straightened it.
 
His siblings froze in place, breathing shallow from fear. He nodded slightly to acknowledge their greetings, then strode outside.
 
Faruk rushed to meet him, saluted, and opened the car door. As soon as he entered, the gate man swung the iron barrier aside. Faruk drove out slowly, then pressed the accelerator until the car roared down the road.
 
They arrived at the barracks where soldiers stood rigidly, their boots clicking, their bodies stiff as if frozen by his presence. With pride, he stepped out, each footfall striking the ground with authority. His walk carried the weight of a warrior.
 
Faruk opened the door to his office, and a fragrance struck his senses, one he did not expect. His sharp eyes caught sight of a fresh rose in the middle of his desk. When did this get here? he thought. Sitting down, he tried to focus on documents, but his mind returned to his mother’s coldness. The thought unsettled him.
 
Faruk entered with coffee. “What’s wrong?” he asked, setting the cup on the table.
 
Waleed looked up, frowned, and drank in silence. Faruk teased, “Ah, today even Mami’s son looks troubled. Who upset you?”
 
Waleed sighed, “First you. Then Mami.”
 
Faruk leaned back. “Let me guess, about marriage? She’s worried, you know. All your mates are married. You’re becoming a tuzuru—an old bachelor.”
 
“Aure? Marriage?” Waleed frowned. “I won’t be ordered around by some little girl. I won’t tolerate disrespect.”
 
Faruk laughed. “Who could ever disrespect Mon Général? Even we, your men, tremble before you. No woman dares!”
 
Waleed smirked. “Today, you sound like a friend, not just a subordinate.”
 
“Exactly. But sometimes, even I fear you.”
 
They shared a rare moment of laughter before Waleed returned to work, rejecting requests for frivolous leave. Soon, Faruk returned with news: “Mami made dambun shinkafa. Shall I bring some?”
 
“No, we’ll go home. Let me taste it fresh,” Waleed replied, finally smiling.
 
The Village Encounter
 
Meanwhile, under the scorching sun, Nabeela dragged her feet along the dusty road. Her lips, dry and cracked, betrayed hunger and thirst. Chubby yet striking, her full figure swayed with each step, the pride of Fulani beauty.
 
She pushed open the gate and entered, greeting, “Assalamu alaikum.”
 
Her mother, busy at home, replied warmly. “Nabeela, did you walk again?”
 
“Yes, Momy. If I don’t, how else will I lose weight? Look at me—I’m like a Hajiya already,” she said playfully.
 
Her brother, Nabeel, laughed while washing his motorbike. “Good. Better that way. I won’t risk my tyres carrying you around.”
 
Angry, she stomped her feet. “I’ll ride your bike, whether you like it or not!”
 
He smirked. “With that size? No, you need a husband with a car.”
 
Momy cut in gently, “Don’t poison her mind. She needs a good man with good manners, not just money.”
 
Later, after eating and watching a soldier drama on TV, Nabeel teased her again. “I saw your soldier. Faruk called me yesterday—I even saw Mon Général himself.”
 
“What?!” she gasped, her eyes wide.
 
Nabeel burst into laughter. Furious, she lunged at him, but he slapped her in anger. Crying, she ran out, only to stumble. A pair of strong arms caught her.
 
Her head rested against a broad chest—the uniform unmistakable. Terrified, she clung tighter, sobbing, “Ya Faruk, save me! He’ll beat me!”
 
But it wasn’t Faruk. It was Waleed.
 
An Unexpected Bond
 
The soldier froze. Innalillahi wa’inna ilayhi raji’un, he whispered to himself, shocked at the trembling girl pressed against him.
 
Faruk quickly pulled her away. “Are you mad? This is the General!”
 
Nabeela’s tears stopped instantly, fear flooding her eyes. Waleed said nothing, simply walked inside, his authority filling the room.
 
He noticed blood dripping on the floor—Nabeel had injured his head. Without hesitation, Waleed tied a cloth around the wound. His voice then cut sharply, “Nabeela!”
 
She shrank behind Faruk. “Clean the blood. Then come here.”
 
Shaking, she obeyed, wiping the floor. Approaching him, she found him seated calmly, eating dambun shinkafa as if nothing had happened.
 
Her mother scolded gently, “Why didn’t you greet him?”
 
Timidly, Nabeela whispered, “Ina wuni.”
 
Without looking at her, Waleed ordered coldly, “Hold your ears. Frog-jump.”
 
Tears streamed as she obeyed, hopping up and down while he continued eating. For more than half an hour, she endured until finally he muttered, “Stop.” She ran to her room crying, her sobs echoing through the house.
 
Waleed felt her tears in his heart, though he did not show it. Rising, he thanked his mother, praised the meal, and left with Faruk.
 
The Pressure of Marriage
 
At home, his sisters gathered around him. Jamila, the eldest, teased, “Ah, our soldier brother is finally home! So you do eat our food after all?”
 
He smiled wearily. “Anty, when did you arrive? You didn’t even call me.”
 
“Mami sent me,” she said seriously. “There’s something we must discuss.”
 
His younger sisters excused themselves, leaving the two alone. Jamila’s tone softened. “It’s about marriage, Waleed. You’re almost forty. It’s time to settle down. Or… is something wrong with you? Are you unwell?”
 
Her words pierced him. He lowered his gaze, embarrassed.
 
Suddenly, the memory of Nabeela clinging to him, her tears soaking his chest, flashed in his mind. The way her presence had unsettled him was something no battlefield ever could. Quickly, he shook the thought away, hiding behind his usual stoic expression.
 
But in the silence of his heart, Waleed knew his life had begun to shift.