Halin Kishi Book 1 Hausa Novel Complete
The party was lively, filled with drinks and dancing. Umaimah didn’t waste time; at half past ten, she checked her phone, calculating that it would take about thirty minutes to get home. She planned to arrive by eleven since she had met someone special that day, and the weather had been scorching. However, by the time she reached, the house was already locked.
She left in Fannah’s husband’s car, as it was heading in the same direction. That night, Umaimah was particularly cautious. She had wrapped herself in an abaya borrowed from Fannah, intending to return home modestly and avoid drawing attention. She hadn't anticipated spending the night out, but plans had taken an unexpected turn.
Excited yet anxious, she was dropped off at the gate of her house. Adjusting the large veil that now covered her more fully, she knocked softly on the small door, aware of the lateness of the hour. As she waited, she suddenly heard footsteps approaching from behind.
In the dim light of the night, her father, Abbane, appeared, carrying a flashlight. The power was out, and he used the torch to navigate. He glanced at her briefly before unlocking the gate and entering the house without a word. Grateful for the darkness, which concealed her from his scrutiny, Umaimah followed silently. She thanked God that the electricity had returned just in time to light the house, sparing her the embarrassment of being seen more clearly.
Once inside, she moved quickly, heading to her room. Her nerves were on edge, but no one confronted her. She removed her clothes, tossed them into the wardrobe, and went straight to the bathroom to make ablution. After praying, she realized no one had followed her. Relieved but cautious, she climbed into bed, her hunger gnawing at her. Sleep eventually claimed her as she hoped the morning would bring peace.
The next day, Saturday, passed quietly, though the tension lingered. No one had confronted her, but her brother's worried glances hinted at unease. Umaimah considered visiting Halima’s house for Daurin Aure but hesitated, fearing the repercussions.
By 11 a.m., she remained in her room, too afraid to step into the courtyard where she might encounter her parents or father. Her hunger worsened, her body trembling from weakness. Her sister Nuratu entered the room, carrying a plate of rice and a cup of kunu. Sitting on the edge of Umaimah’s bed, Nuratu teased her lightly, but Umaimah avoided responding, her gaze fixed on the food.
The aroma of the kunu intensified her hunger, but Nuratu’s expression made Umaimah reluctant to ask for a bite. The house was eerily quiet; her brothers had gone to Tahfiz, leaving her isolated. Desperate, Umaimah finally whispered a plea to her sister.
From the doorway, a younger sibling called out, "Yaya Umaimah, Abba is calling you," before disappearing. Umaimah’s stomach churned with nerves. She had hoped to avoid this moment, but it was inevitable.
Turning to Nuratu, she begged, “Please, Yaya, give me some kunu. I’m so hungry, I don’t think I can walk.” Her voice was faint, her body weak. Nuratu, softening, handed her a bowl of rice and beans.
“You said witches eat this kind of food,” Nuratu teased, holding up the bowl.
“If being a witch means eating this, then I’m a witch,” Umaimah replied with a wry smile, falling onto the food hungrily. She ate quickly, her hands trembling, finishing every last bite before throwing on her long hijab and stepping out.
As she walked toward her father’s sitting room, she recited, La ilaha illa anta subhanaka inni kuntu minaz-zalimin in her heart, seeking strength. Reaching the door, she entered with a deep bow, almost like one would in prayer. Standing at the entrance, she greeted the room without lifting her eyes to meet anyone’s gaze.
