Kurkukun Kaddara Takun Farko Complete Hausa Novel

Slowly, the wall clock ticked away, producing a tick-tick-tick sound. Because the night had stretched on until about 1:30 a.m., the Samsung Galaxy phone placed on the bedside drawer suddenly began to ring loudly. At that moment, he was deep in sleep; almost three times the call came in and stopped. It was on the fourth call that the sound struck his eardrums. Startled, he woke up abruptly, repeatedly mentioning the name of Allah. His body was clad in a singlet and white shorts; he was at least forty years old. His complexion was dark, and with difficulty he managed to open his large eyes on the massive bed before slowly turning his gaze toward the wall clock. He raised his palm and rubbed his face, softly murmuring her name in a low voice,

“Angel!”

Before he could remove his hand from his face, another call came in. Quickly, he stretched his hand toward the drawer and picked up the phone, filled with surprise—who could be calling him at such a time? Was everything alright?

When he looked at the phone screen, the name Aminina appeared. He released a slight sigh of relief and answered the call, pressing the phone to his ear even before greeting. Immediately, his ears caught the sound of gunfire. In shock, he exclaimed,

“Aminina!”

Before he could finish closing his mouth, Aminina’s voice interrupted him urgently. In confusion, he said,

“I’m finished, I’m ruined—this is the end for me.”

In alarm, he stopped him.

“Calm down and explain to me what is happening.”

“They caught me spying on them. Right now, they are chasing my car. I know they will kill me, and they won’t spare you either. I don’t want you to die the humiliating death I’m about to face. Please, I beg you—run with Angel. I don’t want my mistake to destroy you, my friend. The secret information I obtained from them is in my memory card; it’s the only evidence that can expose their secrets…”

He did not finish his sentence when the call suddenly cut off.

In panic, he tried calling him back frantically, completely forgetting that the call had dropped. He dialed the line again, and by sheer luck the call connected. What he never expected was the terrifying sound of screams that filled his ears. He then heard a harsh voice speaking through the phone:

“If you want to know what is happening, look at your phone screen.”

With his body trembling, he raised the phone and looked at the screen as the call switched to a video call.

Out of sheer terror, he jumped down from the bed. His eyes bulged as if they were about to fall out. What frightened him was nothing other than Aminina’s car engulfed in flames. Right before his eyes, they poured petrol on the car. He could see his friend’s fingers through the car window as the fire devoured his flesh. A strange sweat washed over his face. In shock, he kept muttering,

“No… no!”

Completely terrified, they rejected the call.

An intense headache struck him. Weak and helpless, he collapsed to sit beside the bed, his body trembling violently. In the span of barely ten minutes, his entire world had lost all meaning.

While in this state of confusion, his friend’s voice echoed again in his ears:

“Run with Angel. I don’t want my mistake to destroy you.”

Indeed, they would come after him—to kill him just as they had killed his friend. At that moment, nothing mattered to him more than his only child, Angel.

In extreme confusion, he stood up. Without even putting on a robe, he grabbed only his car keys. Out of panic, he headed toward the wardrobe thinking it was the bedroom door, until he banged his head and snapped out of it. He then rushed to the actual door. Hastily, he left his downstairs bedroom and moved into the main living room, then immediately ran upstairs. Trembling, he climbed the staircase, heading nowhere else but Angel’s room. With one forceful push, the door flew open. Everywhere was dark. He turned on the room light, and instantly brightness filled the space. His eyes darted to Angel, wrapped in a soft blanket. Quickly, he rushed inside, climbed onto the bed, and called out to her,

“Angel, Angel my daughter! Azeezaty!”

There was no sign she would wake up. In desperation, he scooped her up and placed her over his shoulder. He rushed out of her bedroom, went downstairs, and headed straight outside to where their cars were parked. He opened one of them—a Range Rover—opened the back seat and laid Angel inside, then moved to the driver’s seat. In haste, he started the engine. At the gate, he stopped the car, jumped out quickly to open it, then returned to the car and sped off at full speed.

No sooner had his car exited than about six dark-colored vehicles appeared on the narrow road leading to his house. They had spotted his car and immediately followed it at an aggressive speed. His fear intensified when he saw the cars chasing him through the rearview mirror, prompting him to accelerate even more. His lips trembled as he recited,

“La ilaha illa anta, subhanaka inni kuntu minaẓ-ẓalimin.”

He himself did not know where he was heading; he was driving blindly. The sobbing cries of Angel brought him back to awareness—she had woken up, likely due to the frantic escape. Her head kept hitting parts of the car, until her nose burst open and blood began to flow.

In confusion, she cried out,

“Daddy… what’s happening? Where are you going in this dark night?”

She was a little girl, no more than eleven years old. Even her words came out with difficulty because of her condition. Tears streamed down his face as he deeply regretted choosing journalism more than anyone could imagine—because it was the very reason he had fallen into this nightmare.

“Angel, I’m really sorry. I’ve ruined your life. Today, your daddy cannot save you. Angel, I can’t bear to lose you. I don’t want my mistake to destroy you.”

He spoke through tears. She placed her small hand over her bleeding nose; blood had stained her entire face. Through sobs, she said again,

“Dad! My nose is bleeding… am I going to die?”

He completely lost control, not knowing where to turn or how to find relief in life. He had no answer to give her—sorry was the only word he could manage to say.