WATA UWA 1 COMPLETE HAUSA NOVEL

Sokoto State Gobirawa neighborhood… Around 5:48 pm, a young woman, about 22 years old, stood by a doorway with a bench. She was dressed in a well-fitting red patterned blouse and skirt, with a light scarf over her head. At first glance, one might judge that she lacked manners or proper upbringing. Tall and fair-skinned, she wasn't particularly plump, and one might call her pretty, though not strikingly beautiful. Still, she had an allure that any healthy man would find captivating. Bleaching cream had enhanced her complexion, making her appear even more attractive.
Standing beside her was a young man, likely around 33 years old, looking down as if lost in thought, so I couldn't see his face. The girl, named Jidda, spoke sweetly, "Honestly, my Abdul, it's essential that I get matching clothes for Maryam's wedding, since I'm her best friend. The wedding is in 3 weeks, and I still haven’t bought the outfit. If you can't afford it, don't worry; I’ll find someone else to buy it for me. How many men have I ignored because of you?" she said, pouting but refusing to look directly at him, knowing that if she did, his piercing eyes would make it hard for her to be so bold.
He looked up, fixing her with his large, bright eyes—truly, God blessed him with beauty, charm, and dignity. His face had a certain foreign elegance, with a tall, proud nose and a well-groomed beard that enhanced his distinguished appearance. He had an impressive physique, with hair all over his toned arms. His voice, low and sweet, could make you wish he’d keep speaking. Any woman without a partner would want him as a husband.
"I'm so sorry, Jidda; I only have 15,000 Naira from a recent sewing job. I also have to pay 5,000 for sewing materials," he said gently, looking at her face and waiting for her response. Jidda, about to speak, noticed another girl approaching in a pink Islamic school uniform, face mask in place. The girl greeted them, "Good evening." Abdul answered her politely, “Good evening, Bilkisu.” Jidda didn’t reply, only pursing her lips.
After Bilkisu left, Jidda pouted and said, "I need 10,000—8,000 for the fabric and 2,000 for the headscarf.” Abdul looked at her, astonished. She seemed to lack any compassion when it came to her wants. "Okay, I’ll go now since you don’t have my time." Without saying a word, he pulled out money from his dark-blue jeans and handed her 5,000, which she took without thanks.
"I'm heading home; it’s almost Maghrib prayer," he said in his calm voice. She lifted her head, feeling like hugging him, and said in a playful voice, “My Abdul, there’s still time…”
He leaned against the wall, affected by her mannerisms, which were making him restless. He didn’t often come to her neighborhood for this reason. Trying to maintain his composure, he said, “Jidda, when will I visit your parents to make our engagement official?” She frowned, and their eyes met. She quickly looked away, muttering, “How can we marry without a steady job or a place of your own?”
Surprised, he replied after a pause, "Isn’t sewing work? And as for the house, let’s get married first, and you’ll see." Jidda, showing her impatience, said, “Sewing isn’t a real job; you have a degree, so go find real employment.” Abdul sighed, disappointed by her lack of appreciation for his efforts.
“Jidda, if you’re not serious about marrying me, tell me clearly,” he said in a firm tone. “Eight months I’ve been asking you this, and you keep avoiding it. Do you want me to suffer alone with my feelings?”
“What good am I to you, then? At least let me fulfill your romantic needs,” she whispered, trying to coax him.
“Are you out of your mind?” he asked, irritated. “I’ll never commit zina or get close to it. I didn’t expect this from you. I have sisters and female relatives—if I commit zina with someone’s sister, what if someone does the same to mine?”
Jidda shrugged, saying, “You’re broke—money is life’s real pleasure.” With that, she headed inside, murmuring to herself.
As Abdul walked back home, he was troubled by Jidda’s attitude. He reached his house in Alkanchi, a modest but decent home, and quietly greeted the courtyard. Just then, Meenah, his sister, peered out from the kitchen, smiling, “Abdul, I didn’t see you all day!”
"Busy at the shop, little sister," he replied, smiling. She laughed, “Let me get you water for wudu.” Abdul smiled back as she prepared water for him. Abdul’s face showed elegance and composure.
Then came a harsh voice from the house—it was his mother, a stern woman in her fifties, scolding him, “What’s the use of you if you can’t provide? You’re just inviting poverty on this family,” she muttered, full of bitterness, as Abdul lowered his gaze.
His sister, Meenah, felt pity for him and thought, “I wish God grants me a partner as fine as my brother, who’s truly beautiful at heart and in looks.” 
…In a somewhat emotional tone, Meenah said, "Oh, Grandma! Will you even stop him from making ablution, for goodness' sake? Why don't you show Abdul some fairness?"
"Mind your tongue, or else…" Grandma barked angrily as she advanced towards Meenah, who stood there unflinchingly. Abdul got up, with frustration in his heart, forcing a feigned smile, and told Meenah, "Go back to your work." Then, turning to Grandma, he said respectfully, "Grandma, I apologize. I'll go to the mosque to do my ablution there." Grandma scoffed and said, "Why would I care where you do it? And you, Meenah, leave my sight now, or else…"
Tears of sympathy for Abdul filled Meenah’s face. She shook her head and said, "If I wasn't sure you were our mother, I'd say you didn't give birth to Abdul." Slap! Grandma struck Meenah fiercely and scolded her. Abdul merely shook his head, said nothing, and walked out. Grandma continued to rant and rave while Meenah, who had poured water for ablution, quietly cried as she completed her ritual and returned to the kitchen to resume cooking.
After the Maghrib prayer, Abdul entered Grandma’s living room, where she sat watching TV, appearing aware of what he was about to say. He greeted her three times, but she ignored him each time. Sitting respectfully on the carpet with his head bowed, he softly said, "Grandma, may peace be upon this house!" To which she curtly responded, "Don’t bother me. Why are you even sitting here?" Just as he attempted to reply, Meenah entered with a plate of rice, stew, and meat and placed it before Abdul.
"Meenah, if you don’t respect my wishes, I will make you regret it. So tell me, who do you care for more, me or him?" Grandma scolded, furious.