She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
She slapped both hands onto her head, filled with deep regret for going back to sleep earlier. If she hadn’t slept, she would have made significant progress with the work, especially since he had left the house at two o’clock. She quickly retrieved the beef head, which was frozen solid, and rinsed it off since it had already been thoroughly cleaned when it was brought in. Grabbing the pressure cooker, she immediately blended the pepper mix needed for both the soup and the chicken. As she set everything up, she silently pleaded for Allah’s help, fully aware that AK would stop at nothing short of killing her today.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
She slapped both hands onto her head, filled with deep regret for going back to sleep earlier. If she hadn’t slept, she would have made significant progress with the work, especially since he had left the house at two o’clock. She quickly retrieved the beef head, which was frozen solid, and rinsed it off since it had already been thoroughly cleaned when it was brought in. Grabbing the pressure cooker, she immediately blended the pepper mix needed for both the soup and the chicken. As she set everything up, she silently pleaded for Allah’s help, fully aware that AK would stop at nothing short of killing her today.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
Her stomach twisted violently. Before she knew it, she dropped the paper, rushed to the restroom, and began vomiting heavily—throwing up everything she had just stuffed down her throat. She knew that staying so long without food had triggered the nausea, made worse by how recklessly she had eaten. Hastily finishing up, she cleaned the area and headed back to the kitchen, uttering prayers of distress while tearing up out of self-pity.
She slapped both hands onto her head, filled with deep regret for going back to sleep earlier. If she hadn’t slept, she would have made significant progress with the work, especially since he had left the house at two o’clock. She quickly retrieved the beef head, which was frozen solid, and rinsed it off since it had already been thoroughly cleaned when it was brought in. Grabbing the pressure cooker, she immediately blended the pepper mix needed for both the soup and the chicken. As she set everything up, she silently pleaded for Allah’s help, fully aware that AK would stop at nothing short of killing her today.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
Her stomach twisted violently. Before she knew it, she dropped the paper, rushed to the restroom, and began vomiting heavily—throwing up everything she had just stuffed down her throat. She knew that staying so long without food had triggered the nausea, made worse by how recklessly she had eaten. Hastily finishing up, she cleaned the area and headed back to the kitchen, uttering prayers of distress while tearing up out of self-pity.
She slapped both hands onto her head, filled with deep regret for going back to sleep earlier. If she hadn’t slept, she would have made significant progress with the work, especially since he had left the house at two o’clock. She quickly retrieved the beef head, which was frozen solid, and rinsed it off since it had already been thoroughly cleaned when it was brought in. Grabbing the pressure cooker, she immediately blended the pepper mix needed for both the soup and the chicken. As she set everything up, she silently pleaded for Allah’s help, fully aware that AK would stop at nothing short of killing her today.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
Pounded yam with Egusi soup, chicken and beef head pepper soup, fried potatoes with eggs, fresh coconut juice, fruit salad, and rice groundnut porridge (Kunun Gyada) needed at 8:00 PM.
Her stomach twisted violently. Before she knew it, she dropped the paper, rushed to the restroom, and began vomiting heavily—throwing up everything she had just stuffed down her throat. She knew that staying so long without food had triggered the nausea, made worse by how recklessly she had eaten. Hastily finishing up, she cleaned the area and headed back to the kitchen, uttering prayers of distress while tearing up out of self-pity.
She slapped both hands onto her head, filled with deep regret for going back to sleep earlier. If she hadn’t slept, she would have made significant progress with the work, especially since he had left the house at two o’clock. She quickly retrieved the beef head, which was frozen solid, and rinsed it off since it had already been thoroughly cleaned when it was brought in. Grabbing the pressure cooker, she immediately blended the pepper mix needed for both the soup and the chicken. As she set everything up, she silently pleaded for Allah’s help, fully aware that AK would stop at nothing short of killing her today.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
Pounded yam with Egusi soup, chicken and beef head pepper soup, fried potatoes with eggs, fresh coconut juice, fruit salad, and rice groundnut porridge (Kunun Gyada) needed at 8:00 PM.
Her stomach twisted violently. Before she knew it, she dropped the paper, rushed to the restroom, and began vomiting heavily—throwing up everything she had just stuffed down her throat. She knew that staying so long without food had triggered the nausea, made worse by how recklessly she had eaten. Hastily finishing up, she cleaned the area and headed back to the kitchen, uttering prayers of distress while tearing up out of self-pity.
She slapped both hands onto her head, filled with deep regret for going back to sleep earlier. If she hadn’t slept, she would have made significant progress with the work, especially since he had left the house at two o’clock. She quickly retrieved the beef head, which was frozen solid, and rinsed it off since it had already been thoroughly cleaned when it was brought in. Grabbing the pressure cooker, she immediately blended the pepper mix needed for both the soup and the chicken. As she set everything up, she silently pleaded for Allah’s help, fully aware that AK would stop at nothing short of killing her today.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
As if compelled to look, she glanced toward the corner of the kitchen counter and spotted three large plastic bags with a white piece of paper resting on top. Hurrying over, she read the note:
Pounded yam with Egusi soup, chicken and beef head pepper soup, fried potatoes with eggs, fresh coconut juice, fruit salad, and rice groundnut porridge (Kunun Gyada) needed at 8:00 PM.
Her stomach twisted violently. Before she knew it, she dropped the paper, rushed to the restroom, and began vomiting heavily—throwing up everything she had just stuffed down her throat. She knew that staying so long without food had triggered the nausea, made worse by how recklessly she had eaten. Hastily finishing up, she cleaned the area and headed back to the kitchen, uttering prayers of distress while tearing up out of self-pity.
She slapped both hands onto her head, filled with deep regret for going back to sleep earlier. If she hadn’t slept, she would have made significant progress with the work, especially since he had left the house at two o’clock. She quickly retrieved the beef head, which was frozen solid, and rinsed it off since it had already been thoroughly cleaned when it was brought in. Grabbing the pressure cooker, she immediately blended the pepper mix needed for both the soup and the chicken. As she set everything up, she silently pleaded for Allah’s help, fully aware that AK would stop at nothing short of killing her today.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
As if compelled to look, she glanced toward the corner of the kitchen counter and spotted three large plastic bags with a white piece of paper resting on top. Hurrying over, she read the note:
Pounded yam with Egusi soup, chicken and beef head pepper soup, fried potatoes with eggs, fresh coconut juice, fruit salad, and rice groundnut porridge (Kunun Gyada) needed at 8:00 PM.
Her stomach twisted violently. Before she knew it, she dropped the paper, rushed to the restroom, and began vomiting heavily—throwing up everything she had just stuffed down her throat. She knew that staying so long without food had triggered the nausea, made worse by how recklessly she had eaten. Hastily finishing up, she cleaned the area and headed back to the kitchen, uttering prayers of distress while tearing up out of self-pity.
She slapped both hands onto her head, filled with deep regret for going back to sleep earlier. If she hadn’t slept, she would have made significant progress with the work, especially since he had left the house at two o’clock. She quickly retrieved the beef head, which was frozen solid, and rinsed it off since it had already been thoroughly cleaned when it was brought in. Grabbing the pressure cooker, she immediately blended the pepper mix needed for both the soup and the chicken. As she set everything up, she silently pleaded for Allah’s help, fully aware that AK would stop at nothing short of killing her today.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
Opening it up, her eyes caught sight of the leftover bread. She didn’t care that it was cold; she tore open the plastic bag and began shoving it into her mouth frantically, hand to mouth, until she started choking. She rushed toward the tap, even though there was plenty of water inside the fridge. Opening it, she tipped her head back like a crazed person and gulped down the water. Half of it ran down her body as she kept stuffing the bread, soaking her clothes entirely. Only after she began to regain her composure did she reach for a small pot and set water on the stove for tea, as she desperately needed something warm in her stomach.
As if compelled to look, she glanced toward the corner of the kitchen counter and spotted three large plastic bags with a white piece of paper resting on top. Hurrying over, she read the note:
Pounded yam with Egusi soup, chicken and beef head pepper soup, fried potatoes with eggs, fresh coconut juice, fruit salad, and rice groundnut porridge (Kunun Gyada) needed at 8:00 PM.
Her stomach twisted violently. Before she knew it, she dropped the paper, rushed to the restroom, and began vomiting heavily—throwing up everything she had just stuffed down her throat. She knew that staying so long without food had triggered the nausea, made worse by how recklessly she had eaten. Hastily finishing up, she cleaned the area and headed back to the kitchen, uttering prayers of distress while tearing up out of self-pity.
She slapped both hands onto her head, filled with deep regret for going back to sleep earlier. If she hadn’t slept, she would have made significant progress with the work, especially since he had left the house at two o’clock. She quickly retrieved the beef head, which was frozen solid, and rinsed it off since it had already been thoroughly cleaned when it was brought in. Grabbing the pressure cooker, she immediately blended the pepper mix needed for both the soup and the chicken. As she set everything up, she silently pleaded for Allah’s help, fully aware that AK would stop at nothing short of killing her today.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
Ustaziyya Ko Yar Duniya Book One Complete Hausa Novel
Opening it up, her eyes caught sight of the leftover bread. She didn’t care that it was cold; she tore open the plastic bag and began shoving it into her mouth frantically, hand to mouth, until she started choking. She rushed toward the tap, even though there was plenty of water inside the fridge. Opening it, she tipped her head back like a crazed person and gulped down the water. Half of it ran down her body as she kept stuffing the bread, soaking her clothes entirely. Only after she began to regain her composure did she reach for a small pot and set water on the stove for tea, as she desperately needed something warm in her stomach.
As if compelled to look, she glanced toward the corner of the kitchen counter and spotted three large plastic bags with a white piece of paper resting on top. Hurrying over, she read the note:
Pounded yam with Egusi soup, chicken and beef head pepper soup, fried potatoes with eggs, fresh coconut juice, fruit salad, and rice groundnut porridge (Kunun Gyada) needed at 8:00 PM.
Her stomach twisted violently. Before she knew it, she dropped the paper, rushed to the restroom, and began vomiting heavily—throwing up everything she had just stuffed down her throat. She knew that staying so long without food had triggered the nausea, made worse by how recklessly she had eaten. Hastily finishing up, she cleaned the area and headed back to the kitchen, uttering prayers of distress while tearing up out of self-pity.
She slapped both hands onto her head, filled with deep regret for going back to sleep earlier. If she hadn’t slept, she would have made significant progress with the work, especially since he had left the house at two o’clock. She quickly retrieved the beef head, which was frozen solid, and rinsed it off since it had already been thoroughly cleaned when it was brought in. Grabbing the pressure cooker, she immediately blended the pepper mix needed for both the soup and the chicken. As she set everything up, she silently pleaded for Allah’s help, fully aware that AK would stop at nothing short of killing her today.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.
Ustaziyya Ko Yar Duniya Book One Complete Hausa Novel
Opening it up, her eyes caught sight of the leftover bread. She didn’t care that it was cold; she tore open the plastic bag and began shoving it into her mouth frantically, hand to mouth, until she started choking. She rushed toward the tap, even though there was plenty of water inside the fridge. Opening it, she tipped her head back like a crazed person and gulped down the water. Half of it ran down her body as she kept stuffing the bread, soaking her clothes entirely. Only after she began to regain her composure did she reach for a small pot and set water on the stove for tea, as she desperately needed something warm in her stomach.
As if compelled to look, she glanced toward the corner of the kitchen counter and spotted three large plastic bags with a white piece of paper resting on top. Hurrying over, she read the note:
Pounded yam with Egusi soup, chicken and beef head pepper soup, fried potatoes with eggs, fresh coconut juice, fruit salad, and rice groundnut porridge (Kunun Gyada) needed at 8:00 PM.
Her stomach twisted violently. Before she knew it, she dropped the paper, rushed to the restroom, and began vomiting heavily—throwing up everything she had just stuffed down her throat. She knew that staying so long without food had triggered the nausea, made worse by how recklessly she had eaten. Hastily finishing up, she cleaned the area and headed back to the kitchen, uttering prayers of distress while tearing up out of self-pity.
She slapped both hands onto her head, filled with deep regret for going back to sleep earlier. If she hadn’t slept, she would have made significant progress with the work, especially since he had left the house at two o’clock. She quickly retrieved the beef head, which was frozen solid, and rinsed it off since it had already been thoroughly cleaned when it was brought in. Grabbing the pressure cooker, she immediately blended the pepper mix needed for both the soup and the chicken. As she set everything up, she silently pleaded for Allah’s help, fully aware that AK would stop at nothing short of killing her today.
She took off the tea water she had set earlier—it was no longer a priority—and placed the beef head on the gas stove instead. Pulling closer the bags he had brought, she removed two whole chickens. From the looks of it, his friends were coming over to eat. She knew that if it were just for him, he would never eat her cooking unless by some divine intervention. She dressed the chickens, seasoned everything properly, and set them on the stove to cook.
Glancing at the time, she panicked even more upon seeing that it was already past six o’clock. Panic set in as she remembered she still had to make pounded yam, fry potatoes, and prepare the groundnut porridge. Even though they had fried, ground peanut paste prepared in the fridge for moments like this, the workload was still overwhelming. But then again, as he always told her, she was nothing more than his maidservant.
She carried on with her frantic cooking, even hot oil splashing and burning her hand while frying the potatoes due to her trembling body. She paid no mind to the pain, fearing the humiliation he would subject her to in front of his colleagues. Not that it was anything new to them—everyone her husband brought to the house was well aware that she was treated as a nobody. If one could peer inside his mind and trace his thoughts, even the mosquitoes buzzing around the house held more value to him than she did.