Zaman Dadiro Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Abubakar's House, Evening
The Balance Quarrel
“Ke, give me the balance!”
Zainab exploded with fierce anger at Abubakar.
“What kind of nonsense is this? As soon as I come back, before I even rest, it’s ‘give me balance’! Until night time!”
“Innalillahi, Zainabu, what kind of woman are you? I’m holding my own kek napep, the fuel money you refused me to collect, yet you said when you see a woman’s kek it sells more. And look, I can see money bulging in your hand! Now I’m asking for money to buy food and you’re saying ‘balance’ only at night? This isn’t wickedness?”
“Yaya Habu, stop shouting at me! This money you see is for petrol! As soon as someone comes home, rests, eats, the first thing is asking for money. I won’t give it, full stop!”
She finished speaking while pulling out the bundles of notes tucked inside the front of her polo shirt, stained with black engine oil, and stuffed every last one into her brazier.
“Ah, so that’s where you hide it, knowing I can’t reach there? Wallahi, I’ll hold you down and remove it, just watch!”
He lunged at her in fury. She jumped back, running and swearing:
“I swear, if you touch me, you’ll taste real trouble!”
Who is Zainabu?
Zainabu is originally from the village of Dakace, along the Zaria road. A young woman of about 21 years, still unmarried. Zainab’s father died when she was only two years old. After that, her mother finished mourning and remarried in a nearby village. Zainab was taken along, but her paternal aunt insisted that none of their family children would be left behind to suffer neglect. There was no way the mother could refuse, so she carried her along, always praying and seeking blessings wherever she went.
Zainab’s upbringing was filled with challenges, growing up without the proper guidance of both mother and father together. She attended Qur’anic school until completion, did her primary at LEA Dakace, finished, then proceeded to GSS Dakace for secondary. Zainab was a girl with a strong independent spirit, but she was also a walking disaster. She never went to school without carrying a weapon. In primary, if they seized her item, or when school was dismissed, fights broke out. Most of the boys her age had already married, but Zainab was like someone possessed—whenever a boy approached her, she chased them away.
The last boy who tried to court her was their own teacher who collected her. People said he was a bad boy, always hanging around their family compound, claiming he would take Zainab as wife. One day he came, she returned with a thick stick, beat him mercilessly until he barely escaped. When people asked what happened, she boldly replied in the middle of the compound that he had tried to touch her.
From that day, school became impossible for Zainab. The teacher reported her, and even though she was in SS3 first term, she was suspended. She abandoned school completely and turned to frying potatoes and awara (bean cakes) with plenty of pepper.
One day, a town boy named Ayuba came, bought awara worth 300 naira, and ran off without paying. She washed her feet, went straight to his house, and gave him the beating of his life. Whenever people mentioned Ayuba, she would threaten to spill his blood again. He was left lying down until money was paid for his hospital treatment—not her money, of course.
So whether you paid her or not, you faced her ruthlessness…
The seller became angry. On one side, he feared her, and on the other, he began to tremble with rage, foaming at the mouth.
“Kill him, you hear? You want to spend your life in prison? And where are the elders of this town? Go and find someone to marry you, stop this behaviour… shameless girl!”
(Bear with me lovelies 💖 The Niger boys say when anger reduces, Hausa becomes clearer 😆)
It was during this chaos that Yaya Habu returned to the village where Zainab lived.
Habu is a driver who takes a certain madam from Kaduna to her office every morning. When he finishes, he goes back to his rented house where he keeps his kek napep. In the evening he rides the kek to earn extra change.
There was always mutual respect and affection between Zainab and Habu. So Habu planned to take her to Kaduna, settle her there, get her into school, find her a husband so she could rest from all the troubles—because the town of Dakace had become too hot for Zainab. She fought everyone, her temper was explosive…
This was the beginning of Zainab’s life under Habu’s roof. But later on, she began to show him the bitter side of her character…
Zainab the Kek Rider
She wears trousers and shirt like a man, puts on a face cap, goes to the motor park looking for passengers. Everyone who sees her as a woman wants to board her kek. But Zainab doesn’t carry children on her kek, doesn’t carry women with babies. If she carries you, you pay double the normal fare. From Kano road to inside town, she can look you in the eye and say two thousand. Men just laugh and lose their money. If she overcharges women and they protest, she turns off the kek, tells them to get down, and if they make noise she reduces the price only after they beg.
That’s how it was.
To Be Continued
Advertisement
https://chat.whatsapp.com/Kkd4eh70znQJdiYQdZVaJ0
Do you want to be a special woman in your husband’s eyes?
Do you want to be a source of pride for your husband?
Do you want to master true ownership through love and body care—no native doctor, no scholar?
Do you want to become the kind of woman who satisfies fully? Hmm… join this group to get secrets and ways to attract your husband’s attention without native doctors or scholars.
For advice or more information, call:
090 3484 6526
08035848755
[2/23, 2:44 PM] Chuchu👻: ˙˚ʚ ZAMAN DADIRO ɞ˚˙
Na…
Oum Aphnan
09065990265
It’s a book on money, pay into her bank account
9065990265
Mohammed Hassana
Opay
Regular 500₦
VIP 1000₦
Bismillahir rahmanir rahim
004
This book is Horny🍌. Please if your husband is not around, do not read it. Young ladies who are resting, do not read it either. May Allah marry you all 🥰
At the Club
“Baba… what kind of person are you? Now we’ve started aging—34 years is not funny. We should start a family like this, reduce this nonsense of chasing after people’s daughters.”
Farhaan gave Adnan a sharp look, picked up the bottle of drink in front of him, and began twisting the cap to open it.
“Malam, today are you joining the contest of who eats the most, or are you afraid?”
Adnan smiled.
“Bros, you know I’m a real man. I take care of my wife’s health, I’m not scared of how many women they bring me, as long as I can keep fucking them without getting tired.”
“Take me there?”
“That’s why today I want to test your full capacity, Farhaan. Morning, afternoon, night—eat, eat, eat. Aren’t you tired? Haven’t you ever gone five hours without touching a woman…?”
“Yes, because I’m healthy. So don’t bring up marriage again. I have my money. Whenever I want, I’ll go and get any high-value woman, eat her, pay her, and that’s it. Why should I marry? You know yourself—there are people in this world who live without ever marrying. I’m one of them…”
“But marriage is a mercy, even if it’s useless. Our parents will feel proud when they see grandchildren from us. That’s why I see myself settling down with Farida. I’ll marry her, but first let me enjoy this our bachelor life. We’ll go there, spend the night, eat each other, and get rewarded.”
“Adnan, are you doing something that isn’t doctor-like? If it’s for children, I already have a plan. I spoke with Dr. Murja—you know all her family children are beautiful Arabs, half-caste. So I’ll take my sperm to her. She’ll get me a young girl who’s currently studying in Qatar. They’ll arrange it tomorrow or the day after when she comes to the country. We’ll inject my sperm into her, then she’ll go back to Qatar quietly, carry the pregnancy, and give birth to my son… And you know how much it cost me? Five million dollars.”
Adnan shook his head in pity, then suddenly burst into laughter.
“Farhaan, have you forgotten where you came from? You want her to become your concubine? That child won’t have a legitimate welcome, and who will raise him? Honestly, Western education has damaged you, Farhaan. Just forget your religion.”
“This is my opinion, not yours. And no one in the world will I tell this to except you. Wallahi, if this matter returns home, it’s you.”
He was about to speak when he suddenly smelled a powerful, intoxicating perfume.
It was Najwa with her three friends. They entered the reception of Royal Tropicana dressed in outfits that didn’t look like Muslim girls’ clothing at all. As soon as they came in, the rich men scattered around began following them with their eyes. Whoever had money wanted to get close and see where they would sit, then go and toast them.
Farhaan glanced at them once, turned his face away, and began scrolling on his phone as if his faith had not yet been taken away.
Najwa came straight to him, hugged him tightly, rubbing her big breasts against his chest.
“My love, didn’t you see me?”
“Let’s go to the room.”
That was all he said. He pulled her hand and headed to the room they had booked, leaving Adnan with the other girls trailing behind them.
Zainabu
Today, when Zainab returned from work, she couldn’t bear it. A strong itching attacked her private area. She kept both hands inside her trousers, scratching. Even while working in her room, the thing became hard in front of everyone. When the itch came, she scratched without knowing she was doing it.
Abubakar came home after Isha prayer holding fried yam and eggs he had bought for her. He knocked on her door. She was busy scratching intensely inside her trousers, eyes half-closed in pleasure. She didn’t even notice him.
Habu called her name loudly, combining it with the Islamic greeting.
From above he shouted her name strongly. She got startled, hands still inside her trousers.
“Na shiga uku, Zainabu! Will you drag me into trouble? Our parents entrusted you to me. So the money you’re earning, you’re spending it on chasing men?”
She stared at him in shock, but the itch quickly hid the surprise.
“Ah, I’m not chasing men… I’m chasing women…”
She threw the plate of yam and eggs at his face in anger.
“You dare talk back to me because of your father?!”
She started crying, rubbing her thighs like someone desperate to urinate, then continued scratching.
“So you’ve never seen a man say he wants me?”
“Then where did you get this infection from?”
“Listen to this foolish talk! In this rented compound, we have only one bathroom. How won’t I get it? Even if someone told you our bodies touch, isn’t the door always open? You know how much effort I’ve put into this sickness? Now you stand here saying I’m urinating or what?”
“Standing like a pastor’s daughter?”
She turned her face away, still scratching.
“Who are you talking to, Abu?”
“Tomorrow we’re going to a proper hospital. Let them check us both, because this itch has affected me too. That’s all. But don’t ever say again that I’m chasing men, understood?”
He shook his head, walked past her:
“Take your yam and eggs, or I’ll eat them myself.”
“Shegiya! May God punish you, it’s you who should be eating.”