Tubali Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel

“Does he really speak Hausa?” Sulaiman asked, visibly shaken.

“Yes, and that’s exactly what surprises me,” Sumayyah replied.

Then she added thoughtfully,

“Although… maybe someone wrote it for him. After all, he said: ‘Ethiopia, Addis Ababa to Nigeria, Kano State. Kano people, I’m coming.’ Maybe someone helped him write it.”

Sulaiman leaned back against his chair and let out a slow breath.

“Sumayyah, honestly this is shocking. Look at the comments people are leaving—and the replies he’s giving them.”

He opened the comment section under the video Riyyam-nsra had posted.

One user, Abis Fulani, had written:

“Eyyeh Riyyam-nsra, welcome to Nigeria. Kano people are wishing you safe arrival.”

Sumayyah stared at Riyyam-nsra’s reply in disbelief.

“Ngd aboki na 🤝” (Thank you, my friend).

Then she scrolled further.

Another user, Ahmad MG, commented with wide-eyed surprise:

“Riyyam-nsra speaking Hausa? Am I dreaming?”

Riyyam-nsra replied playfully:

“No Ahmad, this is reality.”

At that point, the comment section exploded like rainfall. After all, he was Ethiopian—his color, language, food, lifestyle—everything about him was Ethiopian. He had never once mentioned Nigeria on his page. Yet here he was, announcing he was coming to Nigeria, writing and reading in Hausa.

Sumayyah continued scrolling through the early comments he had managed to respond to before they became too many.

“Look at this question someone asked him!” she said.

Sulaiman took the phone and read Imran’s comment aloud:

“Riyyam-nsra, do you even know Nigeria? Have you ever been here before? Or is this your first time coming?”

Riyyam-nsra replied with a smiling emoji:

“I know a lot about Nigeria.”

Imran quickly responded:

“Tell me something about it.”

“Okay, what would you like me to tell you?” he wrote back.

“Can you recite the national anthem? Or the national pledge?”

Riyyam-nsra, lying on his bed with half-closed eyes, replied:

“I’ll give you the answer in a video.”

Immediately, he sat upright and posted a video of himself reciting Nigeria’s national anthem and pledge perfectly.

That video caught massive attention across the Hausa community worldwide—especially Nigerians, and particularly Kano indigenes.

For the first time in his life, Sulaiman decided to comment on TikTok. He typed in English:

“Hey Riyyam-nsra, you know so much about Nigeria. You are a patriot.”

He wanted to test him—to see if perhaps he was secretly Nigerian pretending to be Ethiopian, maybe someone who had studied abroad.

Riyyam-nsra replied with a smile:

“I am a guest of Nigeria who loves Nigeria. But I am Ethiopian. Nigeria is the country of my best friend—we studied together in the US.”

Soon after, people discovered the reason. Nasir Ahmad—his Nigerian friend—appeared on his own page teasing him. That’s how everyone learned how he knew Hausa and why he was coming.

Sulaiman clicked his tongue.

“These children—TikTok has driven our youth crazy. They’re the foundation of society, and now they’re about to drag us into the madness too.”

Sumayyah laughed.

“That’s what Rayyern always tells you. If you don’t stop following social media too much, you’ll lose your own time.”

He scoffed and turned off his data.

“It was Ibrahim who made me start following him anyway—because Rayyern looks like this guy.”

They continued chatting about the resemblance.

The Next Morning — Tuesday

Alhaji Idi Sale Dakata’s House

About six men sat in his living room.

Four of them were powerful businessmen whose wealth could turn coins into millions. The other two were high-ranking government officials with influence from state to federal level.

Alhaji Yawale adjusted his seat and said:

“That boy is causing us damage without us noticing. He’s gradually dismantling the foundation we’ve built over years.”

Alhaji Abdu Tababa spoke bitterly:

“I warned you all long ago. The easiest solution is to remove him completely. Look at how his food markets are expanding. His companies are spreading from Northern Nigeria to the South. Now he has branches across Africa. He sells food cheaply—like rain in the rainy season. Everywhere you go, his stores are full. At affordable prices! How will our companies compete?”

One of them stood up.

“My question is simple—what is the foundation of this boy’s wealth? When was he even born? He’s younger than some of our own children! How did he amass such wealth so quickly? How did he build all this at once? What is the root of his power?”

He turned toward Bala Tambari, the government official responsible for approving factory construction permits.

Bala Tambari exhaled deeply.

“He has an old agreement. All his documents are complete—signed by those before me. Everything is legal. Five years ago, when he started building his major company here in Kano, I tried to find loopholes. Everything was clean. The boy is stubborn—and bold. When he looks at you with those narrow eyes of his, like fried pastry, he’ll give you solid proof you can’t argue against.”

Dr. Lukman added:

“He has blocked me too. In healthcare, he’s destroying private hospitals. His hospital charges are cheap but offers quality care. How can ours survive?”

Alhaji Idi Sale Dakata stood up angrily.

“He’s ruined my rice company completely! Everywhere you turn, he has dominated. That red-eared boy! He moves like a whirlwind—hard to even get a meeting with him.”

Dr. Lukman sighed.

“He’s returning to Nigeria this week. He’s currently in Ethiopia. The Ethiopian president himself honored him—alongside top doctors—for helping passengers at an airport on his way to the US. He’s being recognized as the businessman with the most affordable essential goods. Everywhere he goes—success follows.”

Bala Tambari looked around.

“Fine. When he returns, we must meet him. We’ll try to buy him—offer him a partnership. Show him the kind of profit we make. Maybe he’ll agree to join us. But if he refuses…”

Alhaji Idi Sale Dakata cut in sharply:

“If he refuses, then the game begins. Power and stubbornness alone won’t save him. We’ve eliminated stronger men twenty-two years ago. I didn’t spare even my own—let alone an outsider.”

They ended the meeting with one conclusion: when he returns, they will confront him.

Meanwhile, Inside the House

Jannart stood in the kitchen, wearing a stunning half-gown that slightly revealed her fair legs. The thick fabric clung to her body, highlighting her elegant figure. As a fashionable young woman, Jannart loved style deeply. Her clothing often resembled Arab or Turkish fashion, setting her apart from other Nigerian girls.

She worked quietly and calmly.

Her mother stood beside her.

“Jannart, I think your brother is calling you,” Mom said.

Her heart skipped.

“Yah Junaid!?”

“Yes, it’s him.”

Her heart pounded again, a strange feeling spreading through her chest. She had no choice. Slowly, she wiped her hands and walked toward the living room.