Zafin Wuta Complete Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The House and the Chase
It was a very dilapidated house, a mud structure that had not even benefited from proper cement plastering. The house was extremely small and low, such that from outside one could easily see the movements of the people inside.
I ran out of the cramped space of our house at full speed, with an old man chasing after me, his hand gripping a thick whip like the kind used on horses. I ran with all the strength I had, screaming for help, because the old man was just inches away from catching me, while I struggled desperately to escape. Another man suddenly appeared holding a bag of foodstuff. As I tried to dodge him so I wouldn’t collide with him, I suddenly felt my hand grabbed with brutal force. I let out a loud scream as I felt the first lash land on my body. Before I could even catch my breath, another strike landed on my back, making me cry out again and drop to my knees from the burning pain that shot through me. He rained blows on me without mercy while my hand was still firmly held. I rolled on the ground, begging for forgiveness and calling for help from people around, but no one paid attention to me.
The old man beat me until I could no longer lift my hand because of how badly I was battered, then he left me. The young man who had held my hand did not release me until the beating was over. Afterward, the old man turned away angrily, as though chewing his tongue in rage, and went back into the house without caring that I had no hijab on. I was left wearing only a long, airy gown that clung tightly to my body. My head had no scarf or covering at all—only my dark, tangled hair falling down to the middle of my back. Because of how much I had rolled on the ground, my hair and body were covered in dirt. Filled with emotional pain, I stood up, shaking myself, still crying, while my hand remained in the grip of that young man.
Inside the Family Home
He said nothing to me, just pulled my hand forward. I resisted, but he did not stop until he brought me inside our house. Right there, in front of the same old man who had beaten me, he released my hand and stepped aside to where a fair-skinned young woman was sitting, resting her chin on both hands.
“Good afternoon, Mama. We found you well,” he said.
The young woman was pulled out of her thoughts.
“We are fine, Hashim. I hope the road treated you well?”
“Alhamdulillah, everything is fine. Here,” he said, handing her the bag.
She accepted it with a softened expression and prayed for him.
He responded, then walked over to the old man, greeted him, and brought out some money from his pocket, handing it to him.
“Abba, here is this. It’s not much; it’s just for expenses. And when we return from prayer, if you have time, I would like us to talk.”
“Oh, no problem, Hashim, blessed child. I tell you, in this house there is no one who does not value you. May Allah reward you with Paradise,” he said, slipping the money into his pocket.
Hashim then looked at me and said, “Mubeenah, get up and perform ablution; the prayer time has come.”
Filled with anger, Abba snapped, “Good, Hashim, Allah brought you at the right time. I am tired of this girl’s behavior. I am exhausted with her ways. She has become stubborn and unruly. Every day she drags trouble and chaos into my life. Imagine a single girl disturbing my peace like this, denying me rest. I cannot even lay down rules in my own house because this troublesome girl acts as though I have no authority over her. I am tired, wallahi. She has pushed me to my limit. Either she finds a job to feed herself or she brings a husband so I can marry her off and rest. Allah knows I am tired of caring for this girl.”
Hashim let out a deep sigh and silently recited A‘udhu billah in his heart, pained by the way Abba hurled such words at his own daughter, as though he was not the one who brought her into this world.
They both left the house for the nearby mosque to observe the Asr prayer.
Comfort, Faith, and Ablution
Mama rose from where she was sitting and went to Mubeenah. She lifted her gently by the hand and led her into a small room with a narrow doorway. She sat her down on a worn-out mattress and sat beside her, holding her hand with concern.
“Mubeenah, truly, your father is not being fair to you. What he does to you is not right at all, especially the harsh words he throws at you—words that burn like fire because of their cruelty. I will not hesitate to remind you again to increase your patience beyond what you already have. Everything will pass as though it never happened; hardship and distress do not last forever. After hardship comes ease. Continue to be patient with your destiny; it is a trial from Allah. If you endure, you will one day be proud of it. Surely Allah loves you, for He has tested you with a life full of challenges and complicated situations. Keep praying that Allah chooses what is best for you. By Allah’s will, you are on the path to victory.”
Hot tears streamed down my face as I wondered how long I would continue to face the challenges of life, and when Allah would look upon me and ease my affairs like He does for others. I wanted to be happy like everyone else. I wanted to live like other women my age who enjoy lives filled with joy.
Mama gently rubbed my back to comfort me, her heart overflowing with pity for the life I had found myself in.
We stayed like that for a while until Mama noticed that the prayer time was almost over. She coaxed me gently, and we went out together to observe the prayer on time. With her own hands, she poured water for me from the small container—the only one we had left in the house, as though poverty itself had taken residence with us. Every day I cursed Abba’s greedy and meddlesome nature. Abba was one of those men who associated with thugs; once he spotted someone with influence, he would immediately know how to form a relationship that benefited him.
I entered our tiny bathroom, extremely narrow with barely any space. Water splashed and flowed onto the floor as I relieved myself, then I came out. I performed ablution calmly, thanking Allah for creating me within the light of Islam. As the water of ablution flowed over my limbs, the worries weighing heavily on my heart began to wash away, strengthened by the faith I felt as I prepared to stand before my Creator.