Aliyu Gadanga Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The main mosque in that elite neighborhood known as Federal Lowcost was completely filled with vehicles. From the very beginning of the street to its end, cars lined up without a single gap. Traffic was at a total standstill because of the massive congestion. Just by looking at the place, one could clearly tell that someone very important in government was getting married that day. Moreover, it was a weekend—Saturday. What was even more surprising was the presence of Nigerian Army soldiers in uniform, fully armed and standing on guard. On one side were policemen as well, looking as if they had all been mobilized, busy organizing and controlling the parking.

The groom’s convoy began to arrive in luxurious cars: a 2019 Toyota Venza, a Toyota 306, a Toyota 607, and a Benz. Behind them was a military vehicle, with soldiers holding rifles and batons, their fierce looks enough to scare anyone. People had already started clearing the way, as everyone feared accidentally bumping into a soldier and getting struck with a baton—an injury that could leave someone bedridden for days.

Before the vehicles even fully parked, the security detail of the Honorable Commissioner of Gombe State began welcoming people. It was CP Ahmed Sidi Na Iya himself, arriving with his entourage. As soon as they stopped, the policemen accompanying them quickly opened the car doors. It was obvious that this was truly where the wedding was taking place—important dignitaries stepped out in grand style, all dressed in elegant, finely tailored Gezner shaddas that caught the eye, with Zanna Bukar caps on their heads. They didn’t stop to greet people outside; they went straight into the mosque after a path was cleared for them. Journalists followed closely, trying to get comments from the commissioner, but his security team did not allow it. They escorted him firmly into the mosque, where the groom’s guardian, other dignitaries, and even the chief imam were waiting to conduct the marriage ceremony.

Jabir looked at him lying stretched out as if resting in his wife’s room and said,

“Mallam, are you not coming out? The Honorable Commissioner has arrived. You’re about to be joined in marriage—be sure you’re becoming the husband of Ni’imatullahi Ahmed Sidi Na Iya.”

He said this while peeping into the front of the car.

More than ten minutes passed without any response or movement. Haisam adjusted his stance and said,

“Captain, let’s go and leave him. Maybe he doesn’t intend to come into the mosque. Let’s go—we need to honor our friendship and companionship.”

They spoke just as they all stepped out of the car. They were tall, strong men; at first glance, one could tell they were refined, educated, and sophisticated. Exceptionally handsome, the kind that made you look twice, especially considering how well-groomed they were. They wore rich brown fabrics of the finest quality, so well-fitted that one could tell enormous wealth had been spent on them. Their feet were clad in brown leopard-skin leather shoes, while their heads wore Zanna Bukar caps. All of them were dressed impeccably—seeing them from afar was like looking at a bright full-moon night because of how they shone.

Realizing they were serious, they didn’t wait any longer and hurried into the mosque, as only a few minutes remained before the wedding would be conducted. Journalists could only watch them from afar, as soldiers had formed a tight security barrier. And with soldiers, there was no argument—everyone stepped aside.

With calm authority and class, he placed his firm, muscular hand—adorned with a beautiful, shining royal watch—on the car door and opened it. He stepped out with a fair but slightly reddish foot, wearing a fully covered brown leopard-skin leather shoe. His legs were muscular, clearly defined beneath his clothing. I didn’t even notice when the pen in my hand slipped away—his presence, authority, and overwhelming charisma struck me all at once.

Glory be to Allah who created such a perfect being. He was tall and solidly built, with broad shoulders and a wide chest like a pillar. His complexion was very fair with a reddish glow. His nose was long and well-shaped, framed by a neatly trimmed black beard that added to his dignity and commanding presence. His eyes sparkled as if diamonds had been set in them. They were large and well-shaped; when he half-closed them, you might think he was angry. As for his eyelashes—even a blessed woman would envy them. His mouth was slightly small, with beautifully shaped lips that were captivating.

His hair was dark and slightly curly, styled as if carefully groomed. Though he shaved often, faint stubble remained on his face. He wore the same brown fabric as his friends, even sewn in the same style—except that his included a flowing outer robe. His cap was also similar to theirs, yet the way the outfit fit him was entirely different. One look at him told you he was powerful—the muscles beneath his clothing were clearly visible.

Looking at his face, you could sense a certain arrogance mixed with pride and prestige. He carried himself with royal composure; the way he moved made you think he was a king. Everything about him spoke of authority and control. You couldn’t maintain eye contact with him for long—his charisma was overwhelming. No one had ever looked directly into his eyes for up to five minutes, because Allah had granted him such presence that people found it difficult to face him eye to eye.