Farhatul Qalbi Hausa Novel Complete
The sound of Yaya Kamal's cries echoed from the attic even before Waheedah entered the house.
"Oh my God... Oh my God, Umma..." she whispered, her voice trembling with worry.
From the attic, Kurya heard her mother’s voice, pleading gently.
“Be patient, Kamal. By God's will, He will grant you a cure, just as He will for all who seek it at home and in the hospital.”
"Umma's feet... her feet," Kamal sobbed.
"Stop crying, Najeeb. God will provide a cure, if He wills," she assured him.
Waheedah pressed her head against the attic wall, tears streaming down her delicate face. Marka, sitting cross-legged on the floor with one foot resting on the other, took a long, frustrated breath. She gritted her teeth, her voice biting.
“Your marriage is over. Your hair is covered in tangles. Even children who have been sick for months recover before you do. Oh my God. May God destroy your family. Wohoho.”
Marka’s grandmother's harsh words reverberated, and Waheedah heard every syllable from the attic. Silently wiping the tears that streaked down her face and soaked the edge of her hijab, Waheedah composed herself and walked into the house.
"Your hair…" Marka muttered.
Quickly, Marka opened a container, peering inside. “Crunchy pasta and canned tomatoes. She must have prayed today. That Na'Ateeku boy knows luxury. Didn't he promise to send this?”
"He said he’d do anything, even take a curse," someone added.
"Let her ascend to heaven...!!" Marka exclaimed, slapping her broad nose before bursting into a dance, clapping her hands.
Waheedah walked past their room, her hips swaying gracefully, ignoring Marka's antics.
"You’re the only one," Marka called out.
“Yes?”
“Did you finish the food you were eating?”
“I’m done, Marka.”
Marka followed Waheedah with her eyes, observing her long hair, but Waheedah remained silent. She untied her scarf, put on her hijab, and gathered her laundry, mixing it with her school uniforms in a bucket.
With a gentle smile, she made her way to Yaya Kamal’s room. Inside, their mother stood at the corner, gazing around. Waheedah greeted her mother and Kamal warmly, offering silent prayers for their well-being.
Her siblings had been unwell for years, yet they avoided frequenting hospitals. Waheedah sighed, observing the weary faces of her family.
“Are you back so soon, Waheedah?”
“Yes, Umma.”
Her mother hesitated before nodding. “It's because he hasn’t paid for the month, isn’t it?”
Waheedah nodded slightly.
“Where are Zainab and the others? At school?”
"Yes… Marka said she paid their fees," Waheedah replied, curling her fingers.
“Your food is in the kitchen. Go eat. Do you want to take a bath?”
“I'll wash my uniform first. Marka can join me later.”
Waheedah left, heading to the back of the house to fetch water. After washing and drying her clothes, she prepared a simple meal, prayed, and filled the water containers. Returning to Kamal’s room, she urged her mother to eat and pray.
"Go, Umma. Eat something," Waheedah said softly.
Her mother left quietly, saying nothing. Waheedah sat with her siblings, her calm demeanor a source of comfort.
Not long after, Sa’adatu arrived, smiling as she entered. She was one of Malam Nalado’s wives, and the other was Amaria.
"A hyaye wa ta ta ta... A sah’a wa ta ta ta..." Sa’adatu sang, her head tilted in amusement. “What smells so good?”
"It’s kakkaryawa pasta. A rich man’s blessing. Na'Ateeku sent it with canned tomatoes," someone explained.
"We’ll feast tonight," Marka chimed in, stirring a pot at the stove.
Hadiza, Waheedah’s mother, emerged from Kamal’s room and approached Marka politely.
“Marka, can you bring it to me?”
"What are you going to do? Move before I hit you," Marka snapped.
Hadiza retreated, returning to Kamal’s room, her body shivering. The children lay on small mattresses that spoke of their frailty.
Waheedah greeted them with warmth, her presence steady amidst the chaos. Among her siblings, she was the only one who exuded calm.
