Masarautar Mu 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The sun was about to set, around five o’clock in the evening. It was Sunday, a market day in the village of Tsanyawa, a small district within the city of Kano. At this time, the village market had begun to disperse, and everyone was rushing home to their families as Maghrib approached. Malam Hashimu, one of the elders of Tsanyawa, was a dignified man of about sixty-five years. He left the market on his old, creaky bicycle, which barely moved due to rust. Slowly, he pedaled along the roadside, his bike laden with market goods—vegetables for sale and treats like sugarcane, boiled cassava, and agbalumo (African cherry) packed tightly in a large sack.
From a distance, as he approached his house, he could hear the cries of his daughter, Sa’ade. His heart sank; as usual, her cries pierced through his soul. He quickened his pedaling and soon arrived home, trembling. Hastily, he leaned the bicycle against the wall, ignoring the bag of goods, and rushed inside in such a hurry that his loose gown nearly tripped him. Barely catching himself by holding onto the wall, he entered his home as if thrown inside.
What he feared most met his eyes: his wife, Inna Laure, was beating Sa’ade mercilessly with a thick stick, raining blows on her frail body while the girl cried for help. “Father, save me! Inna wants to kill me!” Sa’ade screamed. Inna Laure threw the stick aside, shouting angrily, “Next time you fail to sell all the gasara (fried millet cakes), I’ll deal with you. If you can’t hawk my goods, let your father marry you off! I can’t keep feeding useless people in this house, you and your worthless father who can’t even provide for his household!”
Malam Hashimu said nothing, but her use of the word “worthless” stung deeply. He picked up Sa’ade and held her hand as they retreated to his room. Sa’ade, still sobbing, shivered as she sat on the edge of an old chair in the corner of the room.
“Stop crying and tell me, have you eaten?” Malam Hashimu asked. Sa’ade shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Father, since the porridge in the morning, I haven’t eaten anything.”
He stood up and went outside to retrieve the sack from his bicycle. Returning, he unpacked a warm bundle of fried bean cakes (awara) and placed them before her. “Eat,” he instructed.
Sa’ade began to eat the awara hurriedly, her small hands trembling. Just as she was midway through her meal, Inna Laure barged into the room and snatched the food away. “So, you refused to eat the millet porridge I cooked and waited for your father to bring you something better? You’ll learn your lesson today. If you won’t eat what I prepare, then you’ll go hungry!” She stormed out of the room, ranting and cursing.
Malam Hashimu sat quietly, lost in thought. He finally said to his daughter, “Sa’ade, be patient, okay? One day, this will all be in the past. Laure will benefit from you someday, whether I’m alive to see it or not. I tell her this every day. I wasn’t made for quarrels and fights; I avoid them because I dislike them. That’s why I tolerate her behavior. Keep showing her respect, no matter what, because she’s the one who raised you to this point, despite her flaws.”
Sa’ade interrupted him with a question she had long kept buried in her heart. “Father, who is my mother? Where is she? You said she’s alive, but why have I never seen her, not even in a photo?”
Malam Hashimu’s face fell, his features crumpling like a damp cloth. He avoided talking about Sa’ade’s mother at all costs. She had left him with a scar that would never heal, a wound etched deep into his soul. He had vowed never to tell Sa’ade where her mother was unless the woman sought her out herself, a possibility he considered highly unlikely.
In a subdued voice, he changed the subject. “Here, take this sugarcane and boiled cassava. Eat and drink water from the pot. I’ll go perform my ablution.”
Despite her curiosity, Sa’ade stayed quiet, watching him leave the room before eating. Afterward, she sneaked out of the house to avoid Laure’s wrath, running to her friend Hanne’s house nearby.
The Next Morning
After the seventh-day prayer for the late Malam Hashimu, Malam Saleh, Hanne’s father, called Sa’ade into the room.
He started with a soft voice, “Sa’ade, my daughter, this world is full of trials, but Allah is always with His servants. Be patient, and know that the burden you bear is not too heavy for you to handle. Your father loved you dearly, and now, his greatest wish was for you to succeed in life.”
Sa’ade nodded, wiping her tears as Malam Saleh continued.
“I will speak to Laure on your behalf. She must treat you well, as your father entrusted you to her. But if she insists on troubling you, know that my home is open for you.”
Sa’ade’s lips trembled, and her voice cracked. “But, Baba Saleh, Inna Laure never loved me, even when Baba was alive. Now that he is gone, she will make life unbearable for me.”
Malam Saleh sighed deeply, his heart heavy. “Sa’ade, you are a strong girl. Your father often spoke about your resilience. Trust in Allah and continue to be obedient, but if the situation worsens, come to me immediately.”
Sa’ade nodded again, her heart heavy with uncertainty.
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The Struggle Continues
True to Sa’ade’s fears, Laure’s behavior worsened. She no longer hid her disdain for the girl and would assign her impossible tasks daily, ensuring she had little time for rest or peace. Sa’ade endured in silence, her father’s words of patience echoing in her mind.
One day, Laure handed Sa’ade a large basin filled with clothes and barked, “Take these to the stream, wash them, and ensure you don’t lose a single piece. You hear me? Or else, you’ll regret being born!”
Sa’ade carried the heavy load, her frail body trembling under the weight. At the stream, other young girls noticed her struggles and offered to help.
“Sa’ade, you shouldn’t be doing this alone,” one of them said.
But Sa’ade shook her head, refusing their help. “It’s my burden to bear,” she replied with a forced smile.
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A Ray of Hope
Days turned into weeks, and Sa’ade continued to endure Laure’s mistreatment. Yet, amidst the challenges, there was a glimmer of hope. Malam Saleh spoke to the village head, who decided to intervene.
The village head summoned Laure to his compound and reprimanded her. “Laure, the girl is not your slave. She deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. If I hear of any more complaints, you will face serious consequences!”
Laure fumed silently but promised to change her ways.
For a brief moment, Sa’ade experienced a bit of relief, but deep down, she knew Laure’s hatred for her would not dissipate so easily. 
st of Faith
Laure’s attitude toward Sa’ade softened for a few days after the village head’s warning. However, it was clear that her compliance was forced. She soon resumed her cruel ways, though she became more cautious about making her mistreatment of Sa’ade public.
One fateful day, Laure gave Sa’ade another impossible task. “Fetch water from the farthest well in the village. Make sure the pots are filled to the brim before the sun sets, or you won’t eat tonight,” she hissed.
Sa’ade sighed but obeyed. As she trudged along the dusty path with the heavy pots, her thoughts were consumed by her late father’s words and the kindness of Malam Saleh.
“Ya Allah, give me the strength to endure this trial,” she whispered under her breath, her feet aching from the journey.
At the well, an elderly woman observed Sa’ade struggling to draw water. She approached and placed a gentle hand on Sa’ade’s shoulder.
“My child, why do you carry such a burden alone?” the woman asked.
“It is my lot, Mama,” Sa’ade replied with a weary smile.
The woman shook her head. “No, child. Allah sees your struggles, and He will send relief. Do not lose hope.”
The woman helped Sa’ade fill her pots and even accompanied her part of the way back. Sa’ade thanked her profusely, her spirits slightly lifted by the stranger’s kindness.
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A Turning Point
Back at the house, Laure’s anger flared when she saw Sa’ade return earlier than expected.
“How dare you come back so soon? Did you skip some of the work I gave you?” she snapped.
Sa’ade explained the help she received, but Laure was uninterested. She accused Sa’ade of being lazy and punished her by withholding food for the night.
As Sa’ade sat alone in the dark, tears streaming down her face, a knock came at the door. It was Malam Saleh. He had heard whispers of Laure’s cruelty and decided it was time to intervene directly.
“Laure,” Malam Saleh began sternly, “I warned you once, and I will not warn you again. If you cannot care for Sa’ade as her father wished, I will take her into my home. Enough is enough.”
Laure’s face flushed with anger, but she could not argue with Malam Saleh’s authority. Reluctantly, she allowed Sa’ade to pack her belongings and leave.
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A New Beginning
Under Malam Saleh’s care, Sa’ade began to heal. She was treated with kindness and respect, and for the first time since her father’s passing, she felt a sense of belonging.
Malam Saleh enrolled her in the village school, where she excelled in her studies. Her determination and resilience became a source of inspiration to others.
Years later, Sa’ade graduated at the top of her class and returned to the village as a teacher, determined to give back to the community that had supported her during her trials.
Laure, seeing Sa’ade’s success, was filled with regret for her actions. She attempted to reconcile with Sa’ade, who, with a heart full of forgiveness, said, “Inna Laure, I hold no grudge against you. Life has taught me that patience and kindness are the greatest strengths.”
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The Legacy of Sa’ade
Sa’ade’s story became a tale of resilience and hope in the village. She went on to build a school for underprivileged children, ensuring that no child would face the hardships she once endured.
Her name became synonymous with courage, and she remained a beacon of light for those who faced adversity.