Hauwa Kulu Book 4 Complete Hausa Novel

By the next day, Sarham was due to arrive—that same next day was Surayyah’s wedding. Until then, Surayyah was staying at Haj. Kulu’s house, only coming home from time to time to greet her parents before returning. She never entered the room where Hauwa stayed; except if they met in the main sitting room, where they would exchange brief greetings—and even then, only if Hauwa greeted her first. Just as Mama had made excuses for Sumayyah concerning Madinah, she did the same for Surayyah regarding Hauwa-Kulu, saying simply that their bloodlines did not blend.

But quietly, whenever they sat together, Surayyah would often lecture Surayya about Hauwa—telling her that Hauwa was a trust placed in their hands, that she had no one else in Kano except them, and that since she was marrying her brother, she must maintain kinship with her. She would even add that one day she might carry her own child on her back.

Mama did not know that deep in Surayyah’s heart, that was not the truth. What Surayyah truly despised was Hauwa’s status and background. To her, Hauwa had simply appeared and become a “liability” to her parents—a girl whose husband did not claim her, yet she was imposed on the family and kept growing in comfort like someone feeding on yeast.

Mama entered Hauwa’s room holding a flask of Swan water and said,

“Hauwa, have you prayed the Asr prayer? Why are you sleeping so deeply in the afternoon like this? Sleeping after Asr doesn’t bring prosperity.”

Mama’s voice woke her from a deep sleep. She stirred and sat up, saying,

“Mama, I was doing my litanies; sleep just overtook me.”

Mama placed the flask in her hands and said,

“Here is pure honey—it’s an effective remedy for hemorrhoids. It’s among the mixtures prepared for Surayyah. Drink it well, three times a day.”

She also brought out a small jar of tsimi. She placed it beside the bed along with a cup and added,

“From today until the next three days, these are what I want to be your drinking water, do you hear me, Hauwa?”

Hauwa nodded, thanking Mama, even though she didn’t really know what it was all for.

Hauwa obeyed Mama’s instructions, drinking everything she gave her with a single-minded heart, without any suspicion. She knew Mama would never give her anything harmful, even though she kept saying it was medicine for hemorrhoids. She also ate the Ghana scrub from time to time, because anything said to improve the skin—Hauwa never joked with it. Though her complexion was not something she flaunted, she took great care of it, preserving her dark complexion carefully. That day was exhausting; she could hardly eat properly because the herbal mixtures Mama kept giving her had filled her stomach.

In the early evening, Dr. Sarham arrived at their house. Apart from the tone of his skin—which did not shine like theirs—you would think he was a North African. The slight weight he had gained further highlighted his height and handsome appearance. His intelligence, maturity, and completeness of character were now clearly visible in his present age—thirty-five, the stage of full manhood. That little weight only enhanced his perfection as a complete household head, robust in body and well-covered in life.

Dr. Sarham Abbas Shanono greeted in his mother’s room, since he found no one in the main living room. He greeted, but no one responded, which was why he headed straight to Mama’s room.

What he saw greatly impressed him: Hauwa was kneeling in front of Mama, revising Qur’anic recitation with her. Mama had long understood that Hauwa did not have deep grounding in Islamic studies, and that she had not completed the full Qur’an, having only attended Qur’anic school at Badala, Kofar Naisa.

It wasn’t today that Mama began giving her extra lessons. She had been revising with her starting from Suratul Baqarah, especially after realizing that Hauwa’s mind worked differently when it came to retaining knowledge. That was how she saw people with eye problems—they were extra-brilliant, quick to memorize and quick to understand. Ever since Sumayya left, Mama had been tutoring her from time to time whenever she was home; it wasn’t something new. The same applied to Western education too—since they both chose the same course (Law), whenever Hauwa found something difficult or had assignments, Mama was the one facilitating and helping her.

Sarham stood at the doorway, staring at Hauwa with a faint smile. Yet he felt dishonest with himself, especially since he didn’t see any “special” preparation made for his visit as Mama usually did whenever he came. Deep down, guilt gnawed at him. The way Hauwa knelt respectfully in front of Mama, memorizing her recitation, made her look like a biological daughter before her own mother.

Hauwa appeared extraordinarily beautiful and mature in his eyes. She had grown soft, smooth, and refined like the daughters of the house—Sumayyah and Surayyah. She had grown remarkably, especially since she was now nineteen. Her skin still carried the freshness of her bathing herbs, and you wouldn’t simply call her “dark” without adding “black beauty.” Her chest had filled out, full like that of teenage girls—healthy, youthful, and well cared for.

Mama returned his greeting with a relaxed face, but Hauwa fell into an unusual silence, as though swallowed by water. She only responded inwardly, fulfilling her religious duty—why did that voice sound like Yaya Doctor’s?

Mama hadn’t told her he was coming, not even as a joke. Although she knew Surayyah’s wedding was the next day, it had been said that her own departure would be the following week, when she would be taken to Ikko (Lagos, where Engineer Aliyu worked). So even if her younger sister’s wedding had arrived—she knew Sarham had not come to Kano because of her, and he would never come because of her.

Sarham moved closer to Mama, folded his legs, and sat before her in a humble camel-style sitting posture, like a courtier kneeling before a king. Mama simply smiled and said,

“You are most welcome, welcome father of Waheedah.”

He then sat on the chair facing Hauwa, smiling at her as he said,

“So you’re studying like this, Maijidda? Masha Allah.”

At first, Hauwa intended to ignore him, but she couldn’t. She greeted him politely, then stood up to give them space, saying,

“Mama, I’ll go and pray.”

Mama replied,

“That’s fine. Tell Mardiyya to come and collect the herbal drink she prepared for you—Maghrib prayer time is near.”

Sarham followed her with his eyes as she left, one hand brushing the wall, marveling at the fullness she had gained in body and the confidence now in her eyes—the kind of fullness that commands respect. Was there anyone who cared for daughters the way his mother did?