Alwashi Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel
Life Inside the Orphanage
It was an orphanage home with a massive iron gate and tall surrounding walls whose height was something to behold. Inside was a spacious compound filled with many buildings, including the staff offices, the dormitories for the orphans, and other facilities they needed.
Everywhere you looked, children sat in groups—some chatting, some playing, while others carried out their daily chores.
In one corner sat two young women, both around twenty-three years old. One of them rested her head on her palm, dressed in a worn-out hijab and an old atampa wrapper. Her friend’s clothes too were equally shabby.
“Hafsat, what’s with that deep thought? Today you look so worried, almost as if you’re ill…” Amina asked, touching her friend gently.
“Amina, I’m fine. I’m only thinking about our future in this home. People hardly care about us, not even the government. They have abandoned us, only remembering us once in a while…” Hafsat replied, her voice breaking with sorrow.
“But Hafsat, this is not new to us. Think of how many years we’ve spent here, yet no one has come to adopt us. Don’t you wish we could also become daughters in a real family like everyone else?” Amina sighed.
“How could we, Amina? Nobody even knows our origins except Allah. So the thought of being adopted as someone’s daughter is impossible…”
“Well, no matter what, Allah is with us,” Amina consoled her.
Just then, one of the orphanage staff called out, “Girls, come over here.” Their conversation was cut short. They stood up and followed her.
The Generous Benefactor
All the children were gathered as a large truck unloaded supplies—bags of foodstuffs, clothes, mattresses, and blankets. Hafsat and Amina stood quietly, watching in awe at the abundance of items being brought down.
In their hearts, they prayed for the unknown benefactor, who for years had been sending them aid. Though they had never seen him or even knew what he looked like, his generosity had been their main lifeline.
When everything was offloaded, the donor’s representative addressed them:
“As you know, this man whom you all call ‘The Supporter of Orphans’ never gets tired of helping you. He always strives to improve your lives and dedicates his wealth to supporting Islam. Remember, he is a young man, not an old one—Allah has simply blessed him with the heart of a leader. So, let us continue to pray that Allah blesses him, his wealth, and his parents.”
“Amin!” the children chorused happily.
Truly, this man was considered the number one benefactor of orphans in the whole town. After distributing the goods, his representative left. The children each carried their share back to their rooms, grateful for yet another day of sustenance provided by someone they had never met.
A Troubled Household
Meanwhile, in another place, a young man walked briskly, dressed in a red long-sleeved T-shirt tucked into black trousers with a red belt. Despite his pace, his arrogant posture remained unchanged. Adjusting the black shades on his face, he glanced at the silver watch on his wrist. His face, as always, carried no smile.
He entered his mother’s sitting room, his face dark with anger. Not seeing anyone there, he proceeded into another luxurious lounge meant for relaxation. Inside, his mother sat elegantly, around forty-five years old, fair-skinned, plump, and adorned with expensive lace and sparkling gold jewelry. Beside her lay his younger sister, Surayya, about twenty-three years old, resting her head on her mother’s lap.
He greeted them faintly, but they were too absorbed in a TV drama to notice until he sat down.
With a cheerful face, his mother finally turned to him.
“Yusleem… you’re back already?”
“Yes, Mami,” he muttered, eyes fixed on his phone.
“I’ve been waiting for you. I want you to help me and Surayya get visas to Cairo. She needs a medical check-up,” his mother said.
He gave no reply, just kept scrolling through his phone. Silence was his usual response to most people, even his mother.
After nearly ten minutes, he finally looked up with his round eyes and spoke:
“Mami… I divorced Khadija this morning.”
His mother gasped in shock, clutching her chest, while Surayya sat up in alarm.
“What! Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un… Yusleem, what kind of man are you? Only three months after your wedding, you already divorced her? Do you think marriage is a game? You’ve married and divorced more than ten women in just five years!” she scolded bitterly.
Surayya, in tears, added: “Brother, why? Even Khadija too?”
His mother continued furiously:
“Marriage is not a joke, Yusleem! Wealth and beauty cannot buy the honor that marriage gives a man. You have turned divorce into a hobby! Even Allah dislikes divorce, yet you treat it as if it were nothing. Every wife I’ve found for you—women of honor, background, and beauty—you’ve let them go. And Khadija… such a patient, virtuous young woman, from a noble family, yet you divorced her within months!”
For a long while, silence filled the room. His mother finally asked, “Why, Yusleem? Give me one reason.”
He ran his hand over his beard, then replied coldly:
“Mami, I’m fine. The truth is, I’ve never truly loved any of these women. You’re the one who chose them for me, not me.”
“What nonsense! You mean because you didn’t pick them yourself, you throw them away like trash? Do you think you’re the only rich or handsome man? Even greater men than you respect marriage. Wake up, Yusleem, before it’s too late!”
After her fiery outburst, Yusleem simply stood up and whispered:
“Sorry, Mami…”
