Shiryayyar Kaddara Book 1 Hausa Novel Complete
The court premises were swarming with activity, packed with journalists, radio and television crew, and social media influencers. Everyone was eager to be the first to report on the unfolding case. Outside the courthouse, people expressed strong emotions, with some openly claiming that they would take matters into their own hands if the court's ruling did not favor them. Tension ran high as security at the gate barred entry to individuals carrying suspicious items, such as petrol cans and tires.
The atmosphere grew even more charged when vehicles from a prominent TV station arrived. Among them were sleek black Range Rovers and a white broadcasting van, which moved swiftly through the crowd as people stepped aside. Security guards opened the gates for them, and the vehicles parked strategically. Journalists dressed in black jackets emblazoned with "PRESS" in bold white letters wasted no time setting up their sophisticated equipment, unmatched by other reporters on-site.
After setting up, a striking young woman stepped out of one of the vehicles. She wore a white pantsuit paired with a black veil and high heels, her presence commanding attention. She moved gracefully toward the cameras, exuding confidence.
With a sweet, melodious voice, she began her report in Hausa:
“Dear viewers, welcome back to Gani Ya Kori Ji, our renowned program where we bring you the trial of Hajiya Asma’u, accused of involvement in the murder of her husband, the state’s Commissioner of Police. As you may recall, the trial was adjourned to today, February 10th, for the final verdict. Stay tuned as we follow this pivotal moment.”
As she finished, her team switched off the cameras. One of them complimented her, saying, “Good job, Balqis. No one would think you’re not Laatifa.” She responded with a slight frown, murmuring a polite “Thanks,” and returned to her car.
Once inside, her phone rang. She picked up, and a familiar voice greeted her.
“Hello, Balqis, how’s work?”
Balqis sighed heavily. “It’s exhausting, and honestly, I don’t see the point of this.”
The caller, her aunt Laatifa, replied, “Oh, Balqis, don’t say that. I saw your broadcast; you did great! You’re not a journalist, but you’re giving it your best.”
Balqis retorted, “You’re the one who got me into this, Aunt Laatifa.”
“I didn’t force you,” Laatifa responded. “But hearing you talk like this makes me feel guilty, as though I pressured you.”
Balqis softened. “No, you didn’t force me. I came because I wanted to. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”
After ending the call, Balqis leaned back, a smile playing on her lips as she looked at her phone's wallpaper. She whispered to herself, “I can’t wait to see you, my hero. I miss you.”
Her moment of bliss was interrupted by loud noises from nearby military vehicles. Irritated, she muttered, “I hate this sound. Aunt Laatifa, you’ll never understand.”
A knock on her car window startled her. She turned to see a man at the door. “What is it?” she asked, annoyed.
“Apologies,” he said. “I thought you might want to step out. Barrister Zulaihat just finished her statement.”
Balqis frowned but remained seated, her thoughts elsewhere as the drama inside the courthouse continued to unfold.
