<div class="flex-shrink-0 flex flex-col relative items-end">
<div>
<div class="pt-0">
<div class="gizmo-bot-avatar flex h-8 w-8 items-center justify-center overflow-hidden rounded-full">
<div class="relative p-1 rounded-sm flex items-center justify-center bg-token-main-surface-primary text-token-text-primary h-8 w-8"> </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="group/conversation-turn relative flex w-full min-w-0 flex-col agent-turn">
<div class="flex-col gap-1 md:gap-3">
<div class="flex max-w-full flex-col flex-grow">
<div class="min-h-8 text-message flex w-full flex-col items-end gap-2 whitespace-normal break-words [.text-message+&]:mt-5" dir="auto" data-message-author-role="assistant" data-message-id="85616d1f-5918-4840-bd73-f3e624be3b34" data-message-model-slug="gpt-4o">
<div class="flex w-full flex-col gap-1 empty:hidden first:pt-[3px]">
<div class="markdown prose w-full break-words dark:prose-invert dark"><hr>
<p>From the very first step, you could feel the distance between you and the main gathering spot, but you could hear the sound of drums echoing through almost every corner of the neighborhood.</p>
<p>When you reached the area, you found a crowd of young men and women, excited about life and enjoying themselves. Some were dancing passionately in the center of a space reserved for those who wished to express themselves freely, while others swayed to the beat on the sidelines. They were all dressed in styles that showed off the freedom and joy in their lives. More than half of them were beautiful Fulani individuals, popularly known as Abzinawa, with a few darker-skinned people among them, some of whom were Nigeriens of various ethnic backgrounds.</p>
<p>A sleek, white Yaris car slowly approached. At first glance, the way it moved made you think it was low on fuel. But that was far from the case.</p>
<p>Inside the car sat a handsome young man with pure Fulani features, choosing to drive with a cool, relaxed style. His face, perfectly groomed, radiated an aura like that of royalty. He was probably no more than twenty-four or twenty-five years old, but the confident charm on his face would make anyone think he held some important title or authority.</p>
<p>Since hearing the drums from afar, his mood had soured. If there was one cultural habit he despised and would change if he could, this was it. He clicked his tongue, not even realizing how many times he had done so. This was the easiest route to his neighborhood, but he knew that getting through this crowd would be tough and unpleasant.</p>
<p>He clicked his tongue again, clenched his lower lip, ran his fingers through his soft, thick Fulani hair, and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. He slowly moved his car to the side to find a parking spot.</p>
<p>He decided to leave the car here, intending to walk back for it after picking up something from his uncle.</p>
<p>After turning off the car and removing the keys, he reached for a black bag, opened the door, and stepped out, his military boots and khaki pants giving away his identity.</p>
<p>Since the moment his car stopped, he had attracted attention from the crowd. Though the car wasn’t his, each time he drove it, it seemed to enhance his presence. However, he didn’t like how it drew so many eyes to him, which is why he only drove it for urgent tasks, like this one from his uncle.</p>
<p>He composed his face and pushed his way through the crowd of mostly men, feeling anger boil up each time he saw a woman among them. What kind of moral decay was this? Did they think they were in France? He wondered why this behavior persisted despite numerous efforts to curb it.</p>
<p>As he passed through the area designated for people to dance, he tried to avert his eyes but couldn’t help noticing a young girl in the middle, dancing with exceptional skill and poise. Every part of her body, from her waist to her still-growing chest, moved effortlessly. Her feet moved back and forth as though controlled by a remote.</p>
<p>A strange sensation gripped him, a sound ringing in his mind like the striking of a silver plate.</p>
<p>"SULTANA!" he called her name in a tone mixed with sheer anger and shock.</p>
<p>She didn’t notice him standing there, nor did she hear him call her name. One of her friends standing nearby, captivated by his appearance, stepped closer and tapped her on the shoulder. After three taps, she turned around, her gaze landing directly into his eyes.</p>
<p>She felt terror ripple through her insides, but showing fear wasn’t her nature. She glanced away, already calculating how to slip away from him.</p>
<p>Sultana predicted his next move correctly; as he took determined strides towards her, she used the opportunity to blend into the crowd and escape. She vanished from his sight.</p>
<p>He hurried out of the crowd, determined to catch up with her. His mind was overwhelmed with questions. WHEN DID SHE BECOME LIKE THIS? HOW DID SHE CHANGE COMPLETELY? ARE HER HABITS TURNING SCARY? These questions kept pushing him, urging him to quicken his pace until he reached the massive gate of their home.</p>
<p>In frustration, he pushed open a smaller door attached to the gate, hitting the wall with a loud "BANG!" A middle-aged Fulani woman standing in the parking area turned to look at him. Even the guard and Hamida, the housekeeper, all stared, knowing well that he was not easily angered. Yet everyone in the house dreaded his wrath when he was enraged.</p>
<p>She was about to say something but held back, clicked her tongue in annoyance, and turned away. She knew who had just stirred him up—she had just passed her with a fury that indicated something was amiss.</p>
<p>"Did you call him, ma’am?" Driver Hamidou asked, lowering his voice, knowing that she was the only one in the house who could say one word to stop him, no matter his fury.</p>
<p>She shot him a glare, her light eyes blazing, and climbed into the car.</p>
<p>"May God calm your heart," Hamidou muttered as he opened the car door for her. She murmured a prayer under her breath.</p>
<p>“May he wear himself out so that we may all rest,” she muttered, clicking her tongue in frustration.<br><br></p>
<p>Sultana let out a wail and a piercing scream, holding Bibi tightly as she approached her. Supporting Sultana, Bibi said,</p>
<p>"Goodness, Maina, what happened between you two that it went this far? I told you, you're not well!" she finished, her eyes on Sultana's reddened face. Deep in her heart, she felt as though she was being torn apart, as the sting of the slap fully settled in her. She could barely remember a slap, let alone how painful it could be, but today, he became the first person to remind her.</p>
<p>"He told you when she left this room and went to a dance hall full of men without your knowledge," he spat, pointing his finger at her. Lowering his hand, he turned and stormed out of the room, seething with anger.</p>
<p>Bibi rubbed Sultana's face, trying to comfort her, but Sultana was inconsolable, crying as though her flesh had been cut.</p>
<p>"My face is throbbing, Bibi. I swear I won't let this go, I won't forgive him," she said, her words piercing Bibi's heart. She looked at Sultana, whose tear-soaked face was soaked long ago.</p>
<p>"Sultana, what's wrong with you?"</p>
<p>"Him, Bibi—the cruel man! Just because I stopped to dance when I heard music, he followed me to slap me? What did I do to him?" Bibi's heart sank. She never imagined there would come a day when such discord would arise between Maina and Sultana. Sultana, who he rarely scolded, let alone punished, and who couldn't eat or sleep without Maina—today, in broad daylight, they seemed on the brink of complete change.</p>
<p>"But Sultana, how many times have I warned you to avoid that place to prevent a day like this, a day when Maina would find out you're going?"</p>
<p>"I swear, he can't control me! Who does he think he is to impose on me? Does he think I'm obedient out of fear?" Bibi's eyes and mouth dropped as she watched Sultana speak so brazenly about Maina—the person everyone in the house feared. Even in private, they dared not discuss him openly, but here she was, speaking with such confidence.</p>
<p>"Are you serious, Sultana? What's going on in your head? Are you digging your own grave?"</p>
<p>"Just leave me alone, since you're on his side," she said, pushing Bibi's hand off her lap and storming into her bathroom, where she locked the door, sat on the toilet seat, and resumed her sobbing as though the sound itself was comforting.</p>
<p>Stunned, Bibi remained seated in silence, barely able to process what had happened.</p>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
eBook Details
File Name: GUDUN K'ADDARA PART 1 Complete Hausa Novel
Category : Adventure Hausa Novels, Love Hausa Novels
Author: Huguma
Group: Hausanovels001
Compiler: Hausanovels001
Phone Number:
File Size: 269.35 KB
Views: 1680
Downloads: 309
Date: Sun 04, 2025
Download eBookRead