Wani Salo Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Storm Approaches
 
Three young women walked briskly along the road as storm clouds gathered. They wore matching atamfa prints, each with a different-colored headscarf. It was clear they had just come from a wedding and were eager to get home before the rain started.
 
The wind was already strong, and Zee, one of the girls, couldn’t walk fast. She wasn’t used to quick strides and looked pitiful as she lagged behind. Raliya, concerned, urged her:
 
> “Zee, please try to move faster. You know if the rain falls, you’ll be the one in trouble.”
 
 
 
Zee kept quiet; she feared the rain more than the others because it made her sick. Fatima, the third friend, defended her.
 
> “Raliya, it’s not her fault. That’s just how she is.”
 
 
 
The girls knew Zee’s pace was slow—ever since childhood, she had never been able to walk fast. Raliya suggested they pray for a tricycle (napep) to pass before the rain came.
 
Just then, luck favored them—a napep appeared. They stopped it without even asking the fare and quickly climbed in. It dropped them off in their neighborhood.
 
Zee’s house was two houses past Fatima’s, while Raliya lived nearby. After quick goodbyes, each headed home. The wind picked up and soon the rain began.
 
Home to Mama’s Concern
 
Zee’s mother was in the kitchen making fura when Zee entered.
 
> “Zainab, what kept you so long? You know the rain isn’t good for you,” Mama said.
 
 
 
Zee explained about the long walk before finding a ride. Mama reminded her that her father would be asking where she had been. Zee smiled, relieved she had made it home before him.
 
Khalid, her brother, was in his room doing homework. Mama told Zee to change clothes, pray, and eat. Zee promised to join them soon, joking about hoping Khalid would still buy her a phone as promised. Mama teased that now she had finished school, she might get her wish.
 
An Unexpected Convoy
 
Later, a convoy of about ten large, expensive vehicles, followed by four trucks loaded with food, clothing, and supplies, moved slowly through the area. People stopped, waved, and smiled in admiration.
 
The convoy turned into a gated compound, where security personnel (clearly bodyguards) stepped out. One luxurious car remained closed for about 15 minutes before a door cracked open—only a foot appeared, then withdrew. The suspense grew until finally, the man emerged.
 
First Glimpse of Emran Yusuf Usman
 
The crowd’s curiosity was satisfied. He was a strikingly handsome young man, no more than 30 years old, with fair skin, sharp features, dark hair, thick eyebrows, and long lashes. His lips were naturally pink, and his appearance seemed almost unreal.
 
This was Emran Yusuf Usman, a wealthy young man with power and dignity.
 
Who Is Emran?
 
Emran was the son of Alhaji Yusuf Usman, a Fulani man from Adamawa blessed with immense wealth. Known for generosity and kindness, Alhaji Yusuf lived in Maitama, Abuja, with his wife, Hajiya Amina—a graceful and respected woman—and their four children: Hajara, Emran, Khaleefah, and Afrah.
 
The family raised their children with discipline and love. Emran, however, was reserved and didn’t often smile, even with his siblings. His only close friend was Kasim. He was intelligent, hardworking, and involved in his father’s business, yet avoided idle chatter.
 
Despite being admired by many women, Emran had no interest in relationships or marriage, claiming he had not found the right woman. His mother often scolded him about it, but he disliked the subject entirely.
 
One day, while working on his laptop, Emran’s phone rang—it was Kasim, calling repeatedly until Emran answered.
 
Kasim teased:
 
> “You’ll never change. I’m praying you meet someone who will break that arrogance and stubbornness.”
 
 
 
He invited Emran to visit an orphanage in Zaria the next day, saying the children were excited about his coming. Emran agreed reluctantly, as he disliked being teased.
 
An Unwanted Call
 
After the call ended, Emran ignored a text, assuming it was from a persistent admirer. Later, a strange number called—he let it ring out, then finally answered.
 
A female voice purred:
 
> “Hello, handsome. Can you hear me?”
 
 
 
He remained silent.
 
> “My name is Fareeda Abdul, daughter of Senator Abdulrahman Jibrin. Please, I just want the chance to talk to you…”
 
 
 
Emran hung up, irritated. He disliked long conversations, especially with strangers, and often blocked such callers.
 
Soon after, his phone rang again—this time the screen read Sweet Mom. He picked up.
 
> “Emran, we’re waiting for you to have dinner. Why are you so quiet?”
 
 
 
> “Ok, Mamy,” he replied simply.
 
 
 
His deep, calm voice carried a charm that many women found irresistible. But Emran, the mysterious young man of wealth and pride, remained unchanged—guarded, private, and uninterested in love… at least for now.