HAMSHAƘIYA UWA COMPLETE HAUSA NOVEL 3

"I didn’t add anything; I just felt him pull me close. I started pleading, ‘Please hurry up; I don’t want Umma to leave.’ He replied, ‘Relax, baby, she’s not going anywhere.’ I insisted, ‘I don’t want her to think I’ve been up to something inappropriate. Please, just hurry…’ but he silenced my protests with a kiss, forcing me to keep quiet.
After collecting himself, he took a shower and got dressed. I insisted he pray because he missed the congregational prayer at the mosque. My only goal was for him to leave quickly. Before he finished, I took his bag and slung it over my shoulder. He said, ‘So, I’m leaving without perfume today?’ I replied, ‘Yes, you’re leaving just like this because, after all, it’s me you wear perfume for, right?’ He laughed and said, ‘Fair enough, but at least spray a little for me.’ I grabbed one I could reach and sprayed him lightly, then said, ‘Let’s go.’
In the living room, Hajiya was praying at her spot. I looked around, saying, ‘Where’s Umma? Where did she go?’ Turning to him, I said tearfully, ‘You see? She’s gone! I kept telling you to hurry, but you wouldn’t listen, and now she’s left without even coming to my room.’ He motioned behind me with his lips. When I turned, I saw Umma emerging from Hajiya’s room, saying, ‘Baby, what are you crying about now, like a little child?’ Smiling through my tears, I said, ‘I thought you had left.’ She replied, ‘And that’s why you’re crying? Such theatrics!’ Shamaki chimed in, ‘Exactly! Just some playful whining.’ Umma laughed, saying, ‘What nonsense! How could I leave when we’re not even traveling together?’
She sat back down, and I offered to get her some food. She replied, ‘Just a little; I’m not too hungry.’ I served her a small portion, along with meat, though I wished I could pile it all on her plate and send it home to Jafar’s family. But I refrained to avoid suspicion or Hajiya’s comments.
When Hajiya finished praying, Shamaki, who had been waiting patiently, approached her, saying, ‘Hajiya, I’m off to the market.’ She blessed him as usual, saying, ‘May Allah bless your efforts, grant you success, and protect you.’ He responded with an ‘Ameen’ and turned to Umma, saying, ‘Please greet Jamila and Abba for me.’ She replied, ‘I will. May Allah guide and protect you.’
Feeling a pang of resentment, I noted that he hadn’t given anything to my mother despite their interaction. Determined, I resolved to ask him for something today, even if he declined.
When we reached the spot where I usually saw him off, I frowned, knitting my brows together. He gently lifted my chin and asked, ‘What’s wrong, Baby?’ I replied, ‘I want to give Umma something, even just a little money, to buy gifts for my younger siblings. But I have nothing to give.’ I said this in a whining tone. He mimicked me, saying, ‘I already gave Hajiya something to hand over to her. Isn’t that enough?’ Playfully hitting him, I said, ‘Thank you.’ He smiled, took his bag, and waved goodbye.
When I returned to Umma, she had barely touched the meat. I asked, ‘Umma, why didn’t you eat the meat?’ She replied, ‘I did, Baby, may Allah bless you.’ Hajiya interjected, ‘I also noticed she didn’t seem to eat it. Are you trying to diet in your own home?’ Umma chuckled, saying, ‘I ate, Alhamdulillah.’ Hajiya teased, ‘If not, we could send the leftovers to the kids rather than the dogs.’ Umma dismissed her humor, saying, ‘There’s no need for that. I’ll head back soon; Abba asked me to be home by two, and it’s already past 1:30.’ Hajiya said, ‘Yet, you haven’t even visited her room. What could you possibly want in a child’s room?’ Umma laughed, saying, ‘Indeed. Besides, the kids always gather around you anyway.’
I silently followed them as they explored my room. Umma offered prayers and good wishes in every corner. They eventually sat on the couch while I knelt before them like someone seeking forgiveness.
Umma started, ‘Hajiya, we understand that patience is needed with the younger generation. When Baby makes mistakes, please correct her and guide her back, even if it requires punishment. May Allah strengthen their marriage.’ Hajiya agreed, adding, ‘Rabi’atu is obedient, but her shortcoming is loving her husband more than me, his mother. Isn’t that true?’ Umma nodded, saying, ‘It’s natural, Hajiya.’
Their conversation shifted to talks of spirituality and expectations, and I silently endured, wondering about their true intentions. Later, when Shamaki’s return from the market was mentioned, I decided to refocus my energy on keeping my composure and leaning on Allah for strength.
As night fell, I prepared for an evening filled with prayer and reflection, hoping for clarity in navigating my complex household dynamics." 
After finishing the call, I thought about the task ahead and prayed for God’s guidance. I resolved to prioritize those at the front of the line, give them money, and pair it with food.
I called the second person and asked similar questions as I did with the first. They said, "Don’t you recognize who you’re speaking with?" I replied, "I’m Shamaki’s wife." Then he responded, "Auto, your father is Hajiya’s younger brother." I replied, "Father, the items will be distributed on Sunday." He asked, "Daughter, should we come to collect it?" I asked, "Father, how is it usually done? Do they deliver it to you, or do you go and collect it?" He said, "In previous years, the driver would deliver it before it was handed over to Shamaki’s women. Back then, we weren’t even informed we’d be receiving anything; it would just be delivered. Later, we were told to come and collect it."
Excitedly, I asked, "Father, what were you given back then?" He replied, "Previously, we received ₦100,000, a bag of rice, sugar, and millet." I responded, "Father, this time, there’s no need for you to come; the items will be delivered as you’ve listed." He said, "May Allah bless you." I said, "Ameen." He added, "One of our younger brothers in the village no longer receives anything, even though Hajiya used to include him." I assured him, "He will receive his share; let him come on Sunday, or should it also be delivered to the village?" He replied, "No, he comes to the house." I agreed.
It turned out my calculations were correct. I eventually traced the contact of the person in the village through their son’s number. Then I called Juma, and when she picked up, she asked, "Who is this?" I disguised my voice and said, "It’s Baba Juma." She responded, "Yes," and I hung up, having confirmed her identity. All these people are close relatives of Alhaji Baita and Hajiya Zeena, along with household workers.
After finishing with this set, I moved on to figure out what the others would receive. I decided to follow the same process of getting confirmation directly from them.
I called the twenty-first person. We exchanged greetings; it was a woman. I told her I was calling on behalf of Alhaji Baita’s household. She responded respectfully, addressing me as "Hajiya." I asked, "You know this is about the food distribution, right?" She confirmed. I said, "Tell me honestly what you usually receive, as names will be removed for anyone who provides false information."
She swore by Allah and said, "We used to receive rice, millet, and sugar—one bag for two of us. I also have another relative who is included, and we’re also given pasta." I asked, "Are you related to Hajiya?" She replied, "No, we worked with Hajiya Gwamma, Alhaji Baita’s mother, years ago when we were young. Hajiya Zeena kept her promise to us, and every year, someone comes to collect our contact information. Recently, we’ve only been receiving millet and rice." I asked, "Is this your number?" She said it was her granddaughter’s. I told her to come on Sunday. She replied, "I’ll send my granddaughter, as I’m unable to walk." I asked, "What’s your granddaughter’s name?" She said, "Mairamu. Her husband passed away, leaving her with children." I told her to inform Mairamu to mention Shamaki’s wife when she arrives. The woman then asked, "Are you Shamaki’s wife?" I said, "Yes, I am." She exclaimed, "Amazing! I haven’t seen you since you were a baby." We laughed and said our goodbyes.
I continued making calls until I grew tired and marked where I stopped.
The following day, after completing all my tasks, my husband left, and I resumed preparations. By the next day, I had informed everyone.
On Saturday, after the midday prayer, I was browsing my phone when I noticed I’d been added to a group. Upon checking, I saw the admin was Basira Ashiru, a former classmate. The group was titled "Gandu 2019," a school reunion group. I felt happy because it was an opportunity to reconnect.
A call from the house interrupted my thoughts; it was Hajiya. I answered and greeted her. She replied and said, "Are you listening? The people who will assist you tomorrow are here. Come and instruct them on what to do." I replied, "Okay."
Five strong men had arrived, and their respectful greetings made me feel shy. Hajiya instructed me to assign their tasks immediately so the house wouldn’t be chaotic the next day. She emphasized that no one should receive double allocations. I assured her it would be handled properly.
I took the men to the food supplies and asked them to set aside 80 bags of rice, pairing each with pasta, macaroni, and millet. I also asked for 40 bags of sugar, with 20 set aside for similar packaging. I instructed them to notify Juma when they were done.
Juma asked, "Should I wait here until they finish, or can I go inside?" I told her to go; they would inform her when done. She said, "I’ll stay and oversee things to ensure no discrepancies." One of the men reassured her, saying, "Ma’am, we’ve done this for years. Hajiya wouldn’t have sent us if we weren’t trustworthy." Juma replied, "Okay, but I’ll stay anyway." I left laughing and teased her, "Baba Juma, oh!"
As I entered Hajiya’s sitting room, I overheard her on a call. I quietly stopped to listen. She was saying, "Listen, my dear friend, I’ve made my decision, and everyone in this household must abide by it. If the girl fails the test, I won’t hesitate to dismiss her. No one knows my reasons yet." After a pause, she continued, "You know me well; jealousy has no place here. One day, this girl might cause trouble. I haven’t even told Azima about it. I warned Juma as well. And as for him, he has no choice; he’ll marry her regardless. If this had happened elsewhere, I wouldn’t have allowed it."
She paused again and then added, "Even if she manages to pass this stage, the final test will be impossible to escape. Only I know the reason for this test, and he must divorce her. Over time, he’ll grow tired of her, as he did with the others. That’s my plan."
Another call interrupted, and she said, "I’ll continue this discussion later."