Matar Taj Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A large bus carrying passengers drove into the airport premises in the city of Abuja.

The driver slammed on the brakes hard, causing the people inside the bus to shout in alarm.

“Come on, driver, please take it easy! You’re carrying human lives, not animals. This reckless driving is useless,” one of the women sitting inside spoke up.

Irritated, the driver turned around, his mouth tightened in anger as he began to speak.

“Madam, please forgive me. This is how I drive. If I didn’t hurry, you people would have missed your flight.”

The woman fell silent because it was obvious the driver would not show any respect.

As he kept responding harshly, he turned toward the man sitting beside him.

In the typical aggressive manner of bus-park touts, the man began to insult the driver before turning to look for a parking space.

“Oh my God,” a young lady seated at the far end of the bus lifted her head, which had been buried between her knees because of the sudden brake. The impact had caused her to hit her head against the metal back of the seat in front of her.

She was dressed in a green hijab like everyone else in the bus, except for the face mask covering her face.

I couldn’t fully make out the structure of her face because of the mask, except for her eyes. They were wide open, very red, and extremely captivating. The pupils of her eyes shone with a cloudy glow—the kind of eyes called hazel.

She had full eyebrows, the kind that suggested she could be very stubborn.

The woman sitting beside her kept staring at her, surprised at how she had been quietly crying ever since they entered the bus.

Only God knew what was in the girl’s heart, judging by how she kept sobbing softly as though her soul might leave her body.

Her heart felt as heavy as stone. Life had become dull to her. Her emotions no longer responded to anything because of the pain she felt inside.

Whenever she remembered certain things, tears flowed endlessly from her eyes. At the moment, all she felt was pity for herself. The strength of her faith alone helped her swallow the sorrow that clung tightly to the walls of her heart.

The questions she had been asking herself since yesterday were too many, and there was no one to answer them. The one that troubled her most was whether she had some kind of defect. Or was she an adopted child? She asked herself these questions countless times. But not knowing what her offense was left her confused about the things happening in her life now and in the past, ever since she began to understand the world around her.

The driver parked and got down, opening the bus doors.

One after another, the men got down first, followed by the women. Each of them wore a green hijab like a uniform and carried backpacks. They came out in a line as though they would never finish—there were about fifteen of them.

They formed a line, their eyes wide. The young women were the majority, about ten of them. From the look of some, you could tell they had been brought from rural villages. There were also a few older women—no more than three—and about five men.

As they stood in line, one of the men began to speak:

“Alright, masha Allah. I will give you your passports now. As I’ve told you many times, this passport is your ticket everywhere. If you lose it, you’ll have only yourselves to blame, not this agency. Your flight will land in Jeddah. Anyone who runs away from here—if she’s caught, she shouldn’t expect the agency to take responsibility for the consequences of her actions. Everything is documented.”

After finishing, he brought out their passports and tickets, calling their names one by one and handing them over.

“Sabeeha Dalhatu! Who is Sabeeha Dalhatu?”

When there was silence, he clicked his tongue impatiently and was about to move on when the girl raised her hand. Her voice was shaking as she said,

“I… I am.”

He looked her up and down, and it was obvious she was frightened.

“Madam, I’ve been calling your name and you kept quiet. Don’t you know we’re in a hurry?”

She quickly lowered her head, her eyes darting around in fear. She stepped forward and took her passport. He noticed her trembling hands, soaked with sweat. Seeing that, he said,

“Where did they even pick this one from—some village? Anyway, be careful and don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Hearing what he said made her insides twist painfully, and his words caused her heart to sink. At that moment, she became even more certain that her life had no value anymore.

Here she was—her own mother, the woman who gave birth to her and who meant everything in her world, had sold her. She had no idea why her mother connected her with these people. She had simply woken up at dawn to prepare breakfast for them. Her uncle was supposed to take it to the hospital because everyone was there attending to her grandmother, who had been admitted. She was the only one left at home, and she hadn’t stepped outside the house for three months because of a reason her mother never told her.

“Inna lillahi…” she murmured, tears filling her eyes.

The man led them into the airport, and they followed behind him. They were checked one by one before entering the waiting room, as their flight was about to depart.

The girl followed the group she had traveled with. She kept her head down so no one would notice her until they sat in the lower-economy waiting room.

Beside her sat the same woman she had been seated next to on the bus.

The woman stood up, bought a meat pie and water, and returned. Everyone around kept watching her, especially the young girls. It was obvious she knew the environment well and moved about comfortably.

After all, this was not her first time traveling.