Zubar Hawaye Part 1 Complete Hausa Novels by Billy Galadanci .txt

<p>She moved forward, swallowing the lump in her throat while glancing at how deserted the paths in their village were. It seemed everyone had gone to the farm, and those without farms or tasks to do there had busied themselves with other affairs.</p><p>When she was close to a narrow alley, she glanced at her left hand and decided to take that path. It would get her home faster, even though she disliked using it. Even her mother often warned them to avoid the alley, but today she was determined to get home quickly, as she had left her mother waiting for her return.</p><p>She hadn’t even reached the middle of the alley when she spotted her: Asiya, her sister by blood. They were paternal cousins, sharing the same father and grandfather.</p><p>She continued walking toward them, fixing her gaze on them both.</p><p>Asiya was standing close to Ayuba, one of the notorious young men in the village known for their arrogance and lack of manners. Ayuba was infamous for his disrespect toward others, his reckless behavior, and his entitlement. Despite this, no one in the village dared to challenge him or his friends. His father was one of the wealthiest men in the area, and his mother was the younger sister of the village head. This combination of power and privilege made him feel invincible, acting however he pleased with little consequence.</p><p>Asiya was dressed in her school uniform, the very school that had subjected her to ridicule and harsh comments. The school was seen as a beacon of hope and progress for Asiya and her family. It carried all their dreams of a better future.</p><p>Ayuba stood close to Asiya, almost as though they were about to merge into one. They were talking, but she couldn’t hear their conversation from the distance between them. Her heart burned with anger when she saw Ayuba hold Asiya’s hand firmly. This wasn’t the first time she had seen Asiya in a compromising situation like this, but she had only confided in her mother about such incidents. However, when she realized her mother wasn’t willing to discuss the matter further, she stopped telling her.</p><p>Despite her frustration, she had no power to intervene in Asiya’s affairs. She continued walking until she reached them, separated them with her presence, and walked past without saying a word. Asiya and Ayuba followed her with their eyes until she was almost out of sight.</p><p>“Your sister saw us, Asiya. Do you think she’ll report this at home?” Ayuba asked.</p><p>Asiya shrugged and adjusted her posture before responding.</p><p>“So what if she does? She’s never reported anything before. Besides, this isn’t the first time.”</p><p>Ayuba gave her a look that mixed admiration and cunning. Beneath his smile, he thought to himself, So she’s just as reckless as I suspected. Clearly, I’m not the only one who’s taken advantage of her. I’ll just relax and enjoy my share, as long as money solves her problems. He smiled at her, and she returned his smile.</p><p>With these thoughts clouding her mind, she continued toward their home—a place she hated more with each passing day. The saying, “A father is the pride of a household,” didn’t apply to her. In her case, her mother was the sole source of strength and dignity in their family. She longed for the day their home would bring peace, joy, and pride.</p><p>Even though it was unlikely anyone heard her, she greeted aloud as she entered the compound. No one responded until she reached the wide courtyard typical of village homes. The section on her right, enclosed with a mud wall to separate it from the main courtyard, was where she headed. She could hear the sound of a radio from the left side of the compound, which housed another family’s section, sturdier than theirs, with walls built of burnt clay bricks.</p><p>She greeted again as she approached, and this time two voices responded simultaneously. Under a straw shade in the middle of their compound sat two women on a woven mat: her younger sister, barely fourteen, and their mother, who appeared older than her forty years due to her graying hair and the toll of a hard life.</p><p>As she walked toward them, her attention shifted to the small cooking shelter nearby. It was cold and unused, with the firewood stove untouched and the pots neatly cleaned and upside down. It was clear their father hadn’t returned since he left that morning. She averted her gaze and sat down with them on the mat, her heart growing heavier with resentment and sorrow.</p><p> </p><p> </p>