Ma'radams Book 1 Hausa Novel Complete
Around 5 PM on Wednesday, my friends and I were sitting in a Land Cruiser Prado. Two were in the back seat, and two others were in the front as we drove along the main road in Surulere. Humaira, seated next to Mubina, pulled out her iPhone 12 Pro Max from her bag and began taking photos. She patted Mubina's shoulder, signaling her to lean into the frame. Smiling, Mubina briefly posed with a peace sign while keeping her focus on driving.
After a short drive, we arrived at Apapa, where we stopped in front of a gate marked ABDULLAHI ESTATE and honked. A guard peered out as my mother lowered the car window to greet him. Recognizing her, he quickly opened the gate. She drove into the estate, which was vast, with over twenty impressive houses. Among them, however, one stood out—Hajiya Zulaiheart’s house.
Hajiya Zulaiheart's home was distinct because her late husband had been far wealthier than his siblings. Even after his passing, her children maintained the house with constant renovations and modern decorations. The house staff, numbering fifteen, were also unique—dressed uniformly in white with black stripes, they took care of every detail.
No one in the family lifted a finger for household chores; their sole focus was worship and leisure. Visitors were treated like royalty, often feeling as privileged as family members themselves. The house was a blend of European luxury and tradition, complete with tight security. Two guards screened every visitor and their belongings, ensuring absolute safety.
Mubina parked the car in front of Hajiya Zulaiheart’s house, where several relatives and friends quickly gathered around to greet her. Blushing slightly, she explained, “We just stepped out for a bit. We hadn’t seen each other for two days and stopped to pray Maghrib and Isha on the way back.” With warm smiles, everyone exchanged pleasantries before heading inside without needing to go through security checks—it was, after all, their family home.
Inside, Maryam and Nana Hauwa’u welcomed them with joy, embracing one another warmly. “Mami’s on the phone inside,” Maryam informed them, as they settled into plush royal chairs. Shortly after, three housekeepers entered, each carrying a tray. The first held oranges and water, while the others brought snacks, including lamb chops. With practiced grace and respect, the staff served their guests before quietly retreating.
“Where have you been? I thought I saw signs you went out,” one of the relatives asked.
“Yes! We attended the birthday of a close friend from school,” someone replied. “We hadn’t seen each other in days, so I decided to visit.”
Maryam smiled, saying, “We’re just grateful you’re here. I often talk about you!”
Nuzla teased her, “It’s impossible to catch you online! Every time you visit, you’re busy posting on social media.”
Nana Hauwa’u joined in, laughing, “And this is how you ignore me, Maryam!”
Maryam smiled shyly, adding, “You know I’ve got a lot on my plate! But if there’s anything troubling you, you know you can always tell me.”
The conversation flowed easily, despite the rare occasions they met. Each person eventually drifted into their own space, enjoying the comfort and luxury of the house, yet cherishing the moments they shared.
