BAKAR INUWA Complete Hausa Novel Document by BAKAR INUWA

Description/Story:

BAKAR INUWA Complete Document Written By Bilyn Abdul

Description

He walked as though a strong gust of wind might whisk him away, moving swiftly but making small noises along the way. Observers might have thought him a bit mad. He stumbled once, then again, but thankfully, he managed to catch himself against the wall of his aging house rather than tumbling to the ground. For a moment, his heart pounded in his throat. Seeking to quell his frustration, he kicked at the rusty roof, worn from years of neglect.

Starting from the door at the first entrance, marked by signs indicating the location of the restroom, he traversed the length of the wall to the room at the far end.

Baba Nafi, performing ablution at Maghrib, glanced up, composed and serene, before lowering her gaze, mindful of the gaze of one of the girls' mothers, who watched from nearby.

"Every illegitimate person in this house, come out!" he exclaimed, pounding the walls near the makeshift kitchen.

In a fit of frustration and anger, he threw open the curtains of the central room, accusing the teacher, "You, soft-hearted teacher, at this blessed hour, while others are preparing to break their fast, you indulge in seeking trouble and riches, disrupting the peace of your own family!"

His eyes widened with sadness as he gathered his emotions. Pointing a warning finger, he declared, "I may share my breath when I speak, but you despise me. By Allah, if I don't bring down upon you all that I have brought, you will not dare utter my name, DAVID, son of a singer!"

She bit her lip and let the curtain fall, but her defiance remained. As she entered the room, she retorted, "You bear no authority over me. You deny me my rights, even in this holy month. If you retrieve your money, it is for your benefit, not Larai's."

Undeterred, he continued to call out, urging everyone to face him. Silence enveloped the house, as if all within had suddenly ceased to exist. A cry of anguish welled up within him, escaping his lips.

"Yes, I am done with that bastard under the bridge, the one who fancies himself master of this house. And yet, you stand idly by, allowing the illegitimate to run amok!"

"Please, have patience, ma'am, we are praying, and I also know…" began Larai, stepping outside to straighten her disheveled clothes.

Her interruption halted Baba Nafi, who spoke calmly, unwilling to escalate the situation. "So, what's bothering Amimatukinsan? Must we plan our meals during prayers now?"

"Allah, Queen Larai, that's what she said, nothing more," Baba Nafi replied, maintaining her composure.

Turning away, Larai pushed her disco hat above her brow. Baba Nafi merely smiled and shook her head, her gaze following Larai's departure.

Though everything appeared intact, tensions simmered beneath the surface, particularly in the last room on Baba Nafi's list. But he remained silent. Minutes later, the room's curtains parted, revealing a tall woman, likely in her mid-thirties. With a commanding presence, she surveyed the room and its occupants, pausing her gum-chewing as though fasting had not dulled her appetite.

"Is Lafiya struggling to announce the call to prayer or quench our thirst? How is it that now there's a difference, son? You distance yourself from us, despite our patience with your finances. But now, you interfere with our home, our children's welfare, and our livelihood. *BLACK SHADOW…*"

"Tomorrow! Now I'm the black shadow?" he retorted.

"I'm no less lost in the desert, even under the *SUN AND HEAD*," she shot back.

Larai chuckled, then turned to Asabe. "You're my confidante; if we press and probe, she won't stand a chance."

Black Asabe averted her gaze, and Malam Dauda felt a twinge of sorrow. Running a hand through his nearly-grown beard, he noted Asabe's discomfort. The barracks marriage had not been easy. His expression darkened as he retrieved the pan handle from the kitchen sink.

"This is a human problem indeed. I want to know who among us went to Jabiru, the shopkeeper, and requested a bottle of lemon alongside the food his wife was preparing."

Nafi and Larai exchanged glances, but neither spoke, knowing full well who was likely responsible. And that opportunity had slipped away when she was just a bride, her hair…

Author Handles

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