Zumuntar Kenan Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

A Heavy Morning Filled With Unease
 
By 10:00 in the morning, Ummi and the others were ready to leave with Bashir for the airport. Since dawn, after observing my prayers, my face carried no sign of joy. I simply looked at everyone silently, my heart crowded with grief and an unexplained sadness.
 
I hadn’t even greeted Hajjah that morning, nor had I spoken to anyone. My eyes were fixed on the television screen as if I were actually watching the program—yet my mind was nowhere near my body. Strange, frightening thoughts filled my heart, painting images of mysterious events about to happen to me.
 
Before 10:00 a.m., our house was already overflowing with people. Flutes were being blown, and the groom’s companions formed a line, entering to greet Hajjah and leaving afterward. Relatives and well-wishers filled the place. Our fathers came dressed in dazzling white shadda (Getzner), shining beautifully.
 
They settled in Hajjah’s sitting room, exchanged greetings, and left. I watched their departure through the window from the master bedroom. Thirty minutes after they left, my heart sank heavily! At that exact moment, when the clock struck 11:00 a.m., a marriage took place—one so shocking that it carved its own chapter in the lineage of Abubakar Bamalli Giwa.
 
A melodious but taunting praise-singer recited loudly with vigor:
 
“Alhamdulillahi! Alhamdulillahi!! Alhamdulillahi!!!
The marriage of FA’IZAH AHMAD ABUBAKAR GIWA to FA’IZU MUKHTAR ABUBAKAR GIWA, and that of HADIZA to MUHAMMADU BASHIR, has been concluded with a paid dowry, not borrowed. May Allah make it successful, may He keep sorrow away, may He bless it. Ameen...”
 
Instead of calling out the name of Allah, I screamed at the top of my voice and collapsed unconscious. After that, I knew nothing of what was happening in the world.
 
The Arrival of Pilot Fa’eez
 
The Boeing 708 landed at Malam Aminu Kano Airport around 1:00 p.m. on that Saturday—just two hours after the wedding. It had flown from Ukraine to Nigeria after long hours cutting through fog, stopping briefly in Cyprus for fuel before heading to our blessed homeland.
 
All passengers disembarked before the pilots came out in their white uniforms. He was the last to descend. Fair-skinned, fit, not bulky but broad-chested—clearly the product of gym workouts. He possessed special charms and gifts not every man is granted.
 
His white, sharp eyes sat behind very dark Karen Millen sunglasses. His beard, neatly shaped along his jawline, was pitch-black, unable to hide the signature scar of his lineage. His appearance radiated nobility—the true image of a Bamalli man and a Fulani gentleman. About thirty-four years old, deeply exposed to vast modern knowledge.
 
He had a long, straight nose like a ruler placed perfectly between his eyes. His bright, slightly deep-set eyes were shiny and oily—an inherited trait unique only to him among all the men and women of their lineage. By his calculation, it had been eight years since he left home without ever returning, not even for a short visit.
 
His physique resembled Ahmadu A.B, but in character he mirrored Abubakar Giwa entirely.
 
Understanding Fa’eez was no easy task—his nature belonged to the old-world men of discipline, almost impossible for sociologists or psychologists to study. They would only hypothesize; he could never be a predictable variable.
 
From the moment he stepped off the plane until he entered the pilots’ changing room, Ummi-Khadija’s eyes followed him. She whispered endless praises to Allah for blessing her with a husband who swam at the center of her dreams—dreams she never believed would become reality. She felt moisture on her cheeks—undoubtedly tears of joy.
 
After completing airport formalities, he changed into a pure white shadda (Hilton), wore an off-white cap, and matching leather shoes. Pulling his trolley, he walked toward faces he knew too well—the faces of the Bamalli family. The first he saw was Aliyu Na'ibi.
 
Aliyu rushed toward him and they embraced. Memories flashed before him like a film reel. He looked around the gathering of Bamalli men, women, and children—many familiar, some not. He saw Zanirah, Ummi, Mus’ab, Junior Yahya, Shu’aib, Walida, Abdallah, and a little girl strikingly like Fa’izah (Khausar), among others.
 
But one person was missing—his cousin and once fierce rival, now his wife by Sunnah law.
 
How would she receive this news? With what expression? With what interpretation? With what hands would she welcome him?
 
One thing he knew deeply:
Fa’izah had no enemy in this world greater than him.
 
Yet he had always loved her—even now, his love had doubled. The only deeper love he had was for his parents.
 
But how could he explain this to her? In what language? How would he convince her to accept him as her husband? How could he erase the dark image he created over the years?
 
A close look at Pilot Fa’eez revealed deep worry hidden within his gleaming eyes, despite the smiles he shared with Aliyu and others. He picked up little Fa’izah from Zanirah and placed her on his shoulder. He smiled at Ummi—only a sibling-like smile—with no warmth or joy.
 
In the car heading toward Zaria Road, everyone could tell Pilot Fa’iz was deeply troubled. He hid his face in his palms—only Allah knew what he was thinking.
 
Ummi sat quietly in the owner’s side seat, confused.
What kind of man had Fa’iz become?
What kind of groom showed no affection or even a hint of a smile for his newly wedded bride?
How could someone who left his homeland for six long years return without a trace of joy?
 
Was he happy to be back?
Was he sound in health?
Was he pleased with the marriage?
 
Her mind raced with questions she had no answers to, and she bowed her head and began to cry quietly.
 
No one in the car—Aliyu, Zanirah, or the younger ones—asked her why. Aliyu himself was overwhelmed. His greatest fear was how Fa’izah would react when she learned her groom was Fa’iz.
 
For the first time, he regretted lying to her the previous day. Why hadn’t he told her the truth? Why hide such a matter? If everyone else kept it from her, he shouldn’t have.
 
Ummi, on the other hand, believed the marriage was hers to Fa’iz. But seeing his indifference broke her heart. How would anyone explain to her that it was Bashir who was actually her husband? How would Ummi cope, knowing she hated Bashir’s behavior more than anyone?
 
Why had their parents created such a tangled marriage arrangement?
Their decisions had placed everyone in turmoil.
 
Zanirah too lamented silently:
“If only I hadn’t come here today to witness this chaotic scene…”
 
Just as Aliyu turned the car toward the wide…