Amani 1 Complete Hausa Novel

This morning, which happened to be Sunday, dawn broke with a blanket of heavy clouds mixed with a gentle, pleasant breeze at Amani’s family house, located within the GRA residential area of Dikko city, Katsina State. Since it was the peak of the rainy season, you should have seen how the plants within the compound spread out their leaves in lush greenness, releasing the fragrance of flowers and various trees. Before long, after the breeze had blown for a while, a light drizzle began to fall. So only a cool, soothing wind swept through the house, filling everyone in the home with delight—including Amani upstairs. She opened the windows of her room, allowing the breeze to flow all the way into the bathroom where she was bathing.

Just then, the rain began to pour heavily, as if from a tipped calabash. Amani finished her bath, wrapped a towel around her body, then went ahead to close the windows because the room had started getting wet. She sat in front of her dressing mirror, a fine Mexican-made piece, matched with imported polished wooden furniture that made the room look like that of a married woman. As was her usual habit, once she came out of the bathroom she would spend time sitting on a stool doing her makeup—like someone preparing for a beauty contest, judging by how much time she always devoted to perfecting her looks.

Today was no different. Amani spent nearly thirty minutes carefully working on her face with serene makeup. Her lips were coated with Elizabeth Arden wet lip gloss, shining so brightly you’d think you might steal a kiss and run—those truly kissable lips. She dressed in a simple Swiss lace outfit, eggshell-colored with golden sprays on it. All of this was just weekend dressing—she wasn’t going anywhere. In fact, she had always been someone who loved adornment and extravagant feminine elegance, especially on weekends like this when she stayed at home all day. She wasn’t the type who moved from friends’ houses to parties; such outings didn’t satisfy her taste for beauty.

She wore a beautifully tailored modern gown, a long dress fitted at the top and flaring widely at the bottom in an A-shape. One look at the outfit was enough to tell it was custom-made for a pampered girl and that a lot of money had gone into it.

As Amani descended the staircase from the upper floor where her room was, she walked with a peculiar grace—like a chameleon, as if she didn’t want her feet to touch the ground, as though the pointed heels of her shoes caused her no discomfort. She came down with an air of elegance and poise typical of women in their prime—those fortunate enough to attain a life of privilege and abundance, just as they dream of or desire in this world.

From a distance, she resembled a young aristocratic woman because of her skillful dressing and the way she carried herself with grandeur—like a date palm swaying in the winter breeze, as her entire beautiful body moved gracefully, radiating fragrance. Truly, Amani was the final word in class and sophistication, however you chose to describe her. In this manner, she reached the main living room of their house, where she found her father deeply engaged with some important documents, a laptop resting on his lap.

Even before she finished descending the stairs, her father, Honorable Usman, had already noticed her because of the sound of her high-heeled shoes. He raised his eyes to look at her, then lowered them again, continuing to type expertly on the device in front of him. She knew her father was a guru in computers and calculations—he never allowed a single error in his work. Even if you tried to sneak in a mistake because you were his employee, he would detect it and make you confess.

In a tone of playful praise, as though he weren’t her biological father—one might think he was her age mate or playmate—the Alhaji exclaimed loudly, “TA-FISU, MY DAUGHTER!” He laughed joyfully upon seeing her without even looking up, his attention fixed on his calculations so as not to lose focus. Then he said, “Ta-fi-sun Daddy, have you come out?”

The Alhaji said this warmly, having just completed his calculations entirely. Then he lifted his head to look at her and gave her his full attention, after shutting down the laptop completely, wearing a smile filled with love and care, his slightly narrow eyes—somewhat like those of the Chinese—sparkling with affection.