Sanadin Caca Book 1 Complete Hausa Novels By Sadi Sakhna

The Weight of Delay and Silent Suffering

She glanced around and noticed that it was already late evening, so she began packing up her food containers even though she hadn’t finished selling everything. That had always been her habit—she never allowed herself, even for a moment, to stay out late while selling food.

It had been exactly one year since she started hawking. Ever since her younger sister, Shaheedah, got married, the responsibility had fallen on her. Back when it first happened—when she was fully aware and understanding—she had dropped out of school and started hawking. She cried bitterly at the time. But what else could she have done? If she didn’t go out to sell, who would give her food to eat at home?

Her stepmother—who wasn’t particularly kind—was the one responsible for her. She was even grateful that the woman hadn’t completely grown tired of her. Though she didn’t maltreat her openly, she never held her in her heart like her other children.

Hmm… the delay in her marriage troubled her deeply.

In their community, it was usually said that any girl who failed to “compose” herself was the one who remained unmarried. But in her own case, despite being well-behaved and modest, it was as though she had become a charity case in her father’s house—and that was what seemed to prevent her from getting married.

She greeted her fellow hawkers, who were only just beginning to sell their food. All of them were much younger than her. People often said she must have followed them for the sake of leftovers. But she knew that wasn’t true—it was only because of the constant whispering and scheming Inna Lami did against her at home. She was more beautiful than the other girls and had been especially loved by their grandmother, who had passed away the previous year.

She walked home deep in thought, her heart suddenly pounding for no clear reason. In one hand she carried a container of rice, in the other a pot of soup. At her waist hung a basin containing plates and spoons.

As she approached her street, she heard children calling out to her—but it sounded more like mockery. She wasn’t mad, so why were they talking like that? Was it simply because she hadn’t married early?

She turned and looked at them. They weren’t little children—they were old enough to know what they were saying.

“Hey! Here comes Goje’s wife! Nobody agreed to marry her except Goje! And he was paid his gambling debt with her—wooo!”

Her heart dropped heavily—this time even worse than before. Though she didn’t want to believe them, she knew it was something that could actually happen. She knew her father’s ways. There wasn’t a gambling den he wasn’t known in. He had gambled away almost everything, even their parents’ bedroom furniture. They had cried and mourned until they were exhausted—but it was as if she was the one most affected of all.

With a heavy body, as if weighed down by mud, she entered the family compound—a large ancestral house with many rooms. They were nearly thirty cousins alone, not counting her father’s siblings and their households.

In the middle of the house was a moderately sized courtyard where everyone carried out their daily activities with their children.

The moment she stepped in, all eyes turned toward her. One could immediately tell that something serious had happened—or was happening.

Lowering her gaze, she hurried past them toward their room. She noticed that among all the women gathered, only her aunt was absent. Her aunt was the only woman in the house who didn’t involve herself much in family affairs—not because she didn’t care, but because it simply wasn’t her nature. Sumaimah was certain she would be in her room, so she headed there, ignoring the murmurs whispering into her ears. In her current state, she didn’t have the strength to hear what they were saying.

There was no one outside their door. She set down the things in her hands and went straight inside.

She found her mother kneeling, bent over the only mattress left in the room. Even without being told, anyone could tell she was crying out of pain and heartbreak.

With a trembling voice—one that required great courage to utter—Sumaimah greeted from the doorway.

Her mother quickly lifted her head, wiped her tears, and looked at her.

“Oh, you’re back already?”

Sumaimah nodded, then forced out her question.

“Am…mi, is it true that Baba has given me to Goje because of gambling?”

Her mother fell silent, closing her eyes. How could she give her such a burning answer? Yet it was true—she couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t. Even though that was what her heart desperately wished to say.

She nodded faintly and quickly looked away. Even though she wasn’t the one who had done this to her daughter, she felt ashamed to meet her eyes. If she had the power, she would have done anything to stop it. But who was she? If she spoke up, they would only throw it in her face that the girl wasn’t even her biological child—just someone she raised.

Sumaimah also fell silent, lost in her thoughts.

She had guarded herself from every bad habit—no irresponsible man could approach her claiming love. Yet even a good man, if he admired her, would never come forward because of her father’s reputation and the dishonor associated with their household. At that moment, she almost felt it would have been better to accept some foolish suitor than this monster they were planning to tie her life to forever.