Babban Yaya Book 1 Hausa Novel Complete
Naufal Umar was jogging through the school grounds, wearing a Jessy shirt paired with long pants, white sneakers, and a white Bluetooth headset. Despite being engrossed in his jog, people still called out to him. He simply waved at them, avoiding any conversation as he disliked noise. Suddenly, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and saw “My Daddy” displayed. Stopping mid-run, he placed his hands on his waist, panting slightly, and answered the call with a breathless “Hello.”
This pause gave me the chance to truly observe him. His skin was strikingly white, radiating an ethereal glow. His well-coordinated outfit enhanced his aura. His sharp, captivating eyes could make any girl’s heart race. He had a way of drawing attention—you couldn’t look at him just once without feeling compelled to glance back. As he spoke into the phone, his dimples appeared, adding to his charm.
“There's a girl's number I sent you, Habiba,” Alhaji Umar said over the line. “Arrange everything. Yaya mentioned you have the number. She’s a friend of mine. Once it’s sorted, let me know when I can come home. Stop talking about marriage for now; I don’t want to hear it again.”
With that, Alhaji Umar abruptly ended the call. Naufal knew exactly why his father hung up. Every time marriage was mentioned, his father found ways to dodge the topic, often asking for more time.
Exhaling deeply, Naufal muttered in a low, thoughtful voice, “This girl—how can I even meet her?” After a brief pause, he followed his instincts and dialed the number his father had sent.
The phone rang three times before she answered. Without much courtesy, her voice rang out, “Hello, who is this?”
Hearing her abrupt tone, Naufal felt a mix of amusement and intrigue. It reminded him of encounters with girls eager to get close to him but hesitant to show it. He broke the silence with a calm, measured response: “My name is Naufal Umar Arabo.”
She paused before replying, “Are you Alhaji Habu’s brother from the village?”
“Yes,” he said plainly.
She continued, “I spoke to my father, and he said he’d send his son to meet me. If he’s okay with me, then the elders can discuss further.”
Naufal frowned slightly, feeling a wave of frustration. He rubbed his face and thought about the situation. Does she even know who I am? Closing his eyes for a moment, he allowed his long, slightly disheveled hair to fall over his face.
“Yes, I am,” he confirmed with a tinge of reluctance.
Her tone shifted slightly, “Well, you don’t sound convincing. You talk like someone who’s unsure. If you’re serious, don’t call me—come and meet me in person. I wasn’t expecting a call anyway.”
Her words both annoyed and amused him. While part of him was irritated, another part admired her confidence. Still, he replied calmly, “I... I don’t have time to visit.”
She quickly retorted, “So, how do you expect us to proceed with marriage if you don’t even have time for me?”
He smiled faintly at her bluntness, but his response was straightforward: “I’m focused on earning money right now. For me, money comes before everything else. I don’t even have time for myself, let alone anyone else.”
“Is that so?” she challenged. “You’re saying money means more to you than anything else, even your relationships?”
“Yes,” he replied firmly. “Not just my life, but the life of anyone who enters it. Money comes first for me.”
Her silence hinted at her disbelief, but Naufal was resolute. For him, priorities were clear—money now, everything else later.
