Wutsiyar Rakumi Book 1 Hausa Novel Complete
The commotion from the children and women buying pasta from Baba Yalwa echoed through the house, but Rashida Ummu remained still. She neither moved nor made a sound. Baba Yalwa carried on with his business uninterrupted, and Rashida paid no mind to the chaos. Only the sight of movement finally drew her attention.
Mariya, her sister, walked in carrying a plastic bag that smelled strongly of pasta. Sitting down beside Ummu, she said, “Umma, please take care of my pasta. My mother bought it last night. I also have ten. I told her to make it smaller.”
With a warm smile, Ummu replied, “I sent you a message, Mariya.”
Mariya laughed as she reached into the pasta bag. The heat made her hands tremble slightly. Ummu teased, “Mariya, go get more. I prefer it hot—better to eat it fresh without bitterness.”
Mariya stood, tugging at Ummu’s hand playfully. “Alright, Umma. Just make sure the goat doesn’t get to it.”
“I won’t let it, God willing,” Ummu assured her.
When Mariya left, Murja came in and sat beside Ummu. “What time did you get here, Umma?” she asked.
Ummu glanced at her. “Why are you here, Murja? Aren’t you selling today?”
“I swear, Umma, I’m not in the mood. These people in the house don’t even care. They’ve forgotten about us orphans. Umma, you and Basiru said you’d stop begging and settle down. You should get married and leave this nonsense behind.”
Ummu stretched her legs, leaning back as if savoring her freedom. “Oh, Murja, stop it. I’ve made peace with it all. Basiru’s parents want him to finish his education, and I want to focus on my studies too. This village needs help, and I want to make a difference. Do you realize no girl here has gone beyond secondary school?”
Murja raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? After Azima, now you’re talking about another girl?”
“Don’t tease me, Murja,” Ummu replied with a grin. “Azima’s been suspended, but there’s still three years left.”
“Three years?” Murja laughed. “By then, I’ll have given birth to two children!” She placed her hands dramatically on her head.
Ummu burst out laughing, but their conversation halted when Mariya returned. They quickly fell silent.
Murja was one of the older women in the household who was nearing marriage, and Ummu valued her company. She found Murja’s compassion genuine, unlike others in the family.
Even when the pasta and eggs were gone, no one called Ummu to join them. Unbothered, she quietly checked the pot for leftovers. She ladled some soup into a bowl and reheated it near the corner where her parents cooked. Without acknowledging anyone, she returned to her spot and ate alone.
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Thursday arrived, the day of the bustling Dilau market. After finishing their chores, Ummu and Azima prepared to shop, their parents having given them a list of items to buy. Ummu sat on the courtyard floor, looking as though she hadn’t freshened up, which immediately drew Murja’s attention.
Coming out of her room, Murja marched over with a frown. “Ummu, what’s wrong with you today?” she scolded.
Ummu chuckled, adjusting the mortar lid in front of her. “What’s gotten you so worked up, Murja?”
“I don’t know!” Murja pouted in mock anger.
Suppressing her laughter, Ummu patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, sister. Basiru stopped me from going to the market earlier, and I thought I should wait.”
“I don’t understand English! Were you insulting me just now?” Murja asked, looking genuinely confused.
Eyes wide, Ummu reassured her, “No, I wasn’t. I said nothing bad, I promise.”
“Oh, fine,” Murja replied, her pout disappearing. “These European slangs confuse me.”
Ummu shook her head and smiled at Murja’s amusing antics. As they stood there, Ummu adjusted Murja’s clothes, and soon Nusaiba came out, huffing impatiently. All three started laughing together.
Azima appeared, arguing with Murja and wasting time, which made the others chuckle. But the squabble delayed them, and they found themselves still standing in the courtyard, much to their parents’ dismay.
