About Labarinsu Book 1

Labarinsu Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel opens with a strong emotional
memory. Rabi’a remembers her mother’s last words, words that warned her about the
suffering she would face after returning to her father’s family.

The story introduces Rabi’a Adawiyya as a girl living under the control of her stepmother,
Habiba. Her father is weak and irresponsible, while Habiba controls the house and uses
Rabi’a as a maid and worker. Despite the pain, Rabi’a keeps holding on to patience and
prayer, just as her mother advised her.

The chapter also introduces two different worlds: the poor, dirty neighborhood where
Rabi’a lives in Madalla, and the clean, rich school environment in Abuja where she works.
This contrast gives the story emotional depth and prepares readers for a journey of
hardship, destiny, class difference, and survival.

Labarinsu Book 1 English Translation

“Rabi’a! I know that after I die, you will return to your father’s house. Adawiyya, I am
certain that after you return to live among your relatives, you will suffer. I know you
will face different kinds of hardship in life. I know Habiba does not love me, let alone
my children. I know she will never allow you to rest.

“But hold on to prayer. Hold on to prayer in whatever condition you find yourself. Be
patient, because I know your trials are just beginning. Now, your story will begin.”

The water overflowing from the bucket she had placed under the tap pulled her mind back
from the world of thoughts into which she had fallen.

She raised her head slightly and looked at the sky. The darkness of dawn was still
present. The weather was hot because they were in the last ten days of Ramadan, and only
about four days were left before Eid.

She lowered her head and looked at the bucket, which was already full and overflowing.
She squatted to move it away, but a voice shouted at her.

“What are you doing, Rabi? The bucket has been full and overflowing for a long time, yet
you refused to move it. Is it because of the bad character you inherited from your
mother? Continue standing there. If the sound of this water wakes my children, I swear
I will deal with you.”

Rabi raised her head and looked at the woman standing there. The electric light shining
in the courtyard revealed the woman’s face. It was her father’s wife, Habiba, the woman
whose constant desire was to destroy her life.

Habiba did not stop there. She even sent Rabi into Abuja for domestic work. It had been
five years since Rabi entered that house after her mother’s death. Her father had gone
to her mother’s village and brought her back into his house, a house she could only call
a prison. Not even for one second had she ever enjoyed living there.

The only person she felt comfortable with in the house was Saratu, Habiba’s second
daughter. Sometimes when Habiba shouted at Rabi, Saratu would even speak on her behalf.

From her first year in the house, Rabi began to experience the cruelty of a stepmother,
the same kind she had often heard about in stories. She had heard stories of how some
stepmothers mistreated their husband’s children, but she never imagined that her own life
would one day become like that.

Her challenge began from the day she asked her father to return her to school. He told
her that she had already completed enough education and that he would not stress himself
by sending her back to school.

That day brought her great distress because Allah knew she loved education. It had also
been her mother’s dream for her to study.

After that, she became like a servant and a bag of housework. Habiba’s children would
not even pick up a tiny stick in the house; Rabi was the one who did everything.

Even all that was not enough for Habiba to finish ruining her life. She later began
sending her out for domestic work.

Habiba always claimed that she would not feed Rabi for free, especially since Rabi’s
father had no job and Habiba was the one holding the house together. In a way, that was
true, because their father had no work after being dismissed from his job.

He did nothing except sit around uselessly. His heart had already died. His life was
filled with gambling and chasing irresponsible women. Habiba would insult and control
him like a child she had given birth to, yet he could not cough in front of her because
he knew he was not standing on the truth.

Rabi had no choice. She accepted the domestic work. In every challenge facing her life,
her mother’s last words kept moving around in her mind.

At the time her mother had said those words, Rabi thought the pain of sickness was what
was making her speak like that. She thought her mother was only rambling because of
illness. Those words became her mother’s final words, because she never spoke again until
she returned to her Lord.

Now, Rabi saw that everything her mother told her was happening. At that moment, she was
working as a cleaner in a school in Abuja, sweeping and mopping.

She no longer had any dream. She had no hope and nothing she wanted to achieve. To her,
it felt as if her life had already ended, as if her story had finished and nothing
remained.

She felt it was better to embrace the destiny that had come to her. If Allah had written
that her life would end in serving others, then she would accept it.

The sound of the house door being pushed open made her turn toward the entrance.

Mama entered. She was Habiba’s third daughter. But that was not what surprised Rabi. What
surprised her was that she had not known when Mama left the house.

Rabi knew they had slept in the same room the night before, but by dawn she had not seen
her. Mama going out at night was not strange because she was used to spending nights
outside and following her boyfriends around uselessly.

The name “prostitute,” which Habiba often called Rabi, returned to Rabi’s mind. She
turned away, carried the bucket, poured its water into the storage pot, returned to the
tap, and opened it again while waiting for the bucket to fill.

After Habiba finished shouting earlier, she had gone back into her room.

In that house, Rabi had fully understood the Hausa saying: “Fault is like a hill; you
step on yours and see another person’s own.” She could testify to that. Everything Mama
did was with Habiba’s knowledge, because whenever Mama got money or gifts from her
boyfriends, she brought them to Habiba.

What angered Rabi most was that even in the holy month of Ramadan, Mama had not stopped
what she was used to doing.

Rabi shook her head openly and turned off the tap after the bucket before her became
full.

“Why are you shaking your head?”

Mama asked angrily. Among all Habiba’s children, none had inherited Habiba’s violent
temper like Mama. She had no respect.

Rabi looked at her and shook her head again.

“Nothing.”

Mama stood for a few seconds glaring at Rabi before entering their room.

Rabi shook her head again as she poured the last bucket into the storage pot. Then she
began sweeping the house. She swept the courtyard clean before entering their room to
pick the clothes she would wear after bathing.

When she lifted the curtain, the first thing she met was Mama’s angry glare. Rabi looked
around the room. Saratu was sitting and ironing, Fatima, their youngest sister, was lying
on her mattress, deeply asleep.

Rabi said nothing to anyone. She entered and went toward where she kept her Ghana-must-go
bag.

She opened the zip and her eyes fell on the clothes on top of the bag. They were the
clothes she had brought with her when she entered that house five years earlier. Since
she came, no new clothes had been sewn for her.

Now the clothes had become small for her, not because she had grown fat, but because she
had grown older and bigger.

She no longer wore those clothes. Instead, she wore the clothes of her late elder sister,
Baby, because when Baby died, she had been around Rabi’s present age, even though Baby
had suffered from sickle cell disease.

“Baby.”

The name repeated itself in her heart as she lifted a long dress. It was Baby’s dress.
What made her pause was not only the dress itself, but the memory of how much Baby had
loved it.

In her memory, Rabi heard her own younger voice saying,

“Umma, tell her to give it to me.”

Their mother, who had been seated on a sofa checking some papers, turned and looked at
them, then looked at the dress they were arguing over.

“Adawiyya, what will you do with this dress? It is too big for you.”

Rabi’a pushed out her lips in the spoiled manner of the last-born child.

“Wallahi, Umma, I like the dress.”

Baby pulled the dress away from Rabi’a’s hand and glared at her.

“I will not give it to you.”

Their mother said,

“Adawiyya, my own last-born, leave her. I will buy you a new one, even more beautiful
than hers.”

Rabi folded the dress and returned it to the bag.

Allah knew she did not like remembering her past story, because it was useless in her
eyes. That was another life, a life that had passed, carrying many things away with it,
including her real self.

She felt that the person she was now was not the Rabi’a she once knew. This present Rabi
was a servant working in her father’s house, not the former Rabi’a who had lived in love
and care, her mother’s last-born, her elder sister’s beloved younger sister, and the
most loved grandchild of her grandparents.

She brought out a long dress that Saratu had given her, added Baby’s hijab, and closed
the bag.

“Rabi, please, when will you apply henna for me?”

Saratu asked as she placed down the dress she had finished ironing.

Rabi paused and looked at her.

“How many days are left before Eid?”

Saratu replied,

“Honestly, I am not sure. But yesterday I heard Umma, meaning Habiba, say it is about
four or three days.”

Rabi said,

“Tomorrow, there will be holiday at the school where my children are. I will apply it
for you tomorrow. I also want you to braid my hair.”

She tapped her head slightly. Her hair had four large loose plaits because she did not
properly braid it. The reason was the length and softness of her hair. Even when her
mother was alive, she did not braid it often. Instead, her mother took her and Baby to
hair salons.

But now, her hair had started reducing because of lack of care. The loose braids Saratu
sometimes made for her were the only care her head received.

Saratu nodded and said,

“May Allah bring us to tomorrow.”

As Rabi was about to leave the room, she turned back and asked,

“What design do you want?”

“I want dan-gama.”

Rabi nodded and left the room.

She bathed and returned. Because it was Ramadan, her housework had reduced a little. If
it was not time to break the fast, she would take wheat to be ground for Habiba’s morning
finkaso. If it was a weekend, she herself would fry the finkaso.

Through the money Habiba made from finkaso and the salary Rabi received from her work,
Habiba managed to take care of the house, because she was responsible for almost
everything.

After Rabi entered the room, she only applied body cream, wore the hijab she had brought
out, said goodbye to Saratu, and left.

“You know my problem with you. Habiba, please, if you do not cover me, who will?”

Rabi stopped when she saw her father standing with his head lowered before Habiba, who
had raised her head and was preparing to pour out a sack of insults.

Habiba said,

“Wallahi, Dan Lami, you have no right. Why should I take my money and give you? Besides,
I know you will go and gamble with it.”

Rabi did not wait to hear the rest. She left the house. What Habiba said was true. Their
father did nothing except gamble, and any money he found ended in gambling.

She paused briefly at the entrance of their house and raised her head. From where she
stood, she could see Zuma Rock. Her eyes moved to the huge heap of refuse opposite their
house.

The refuse heap was very large and dirty. Quickly, she looked away because Allah knew
that whenever she looked at it, her heart became disturbed. She hated dirt in her life.

She continued walking through their dirty street, decorated with gutters and filth.

Most people living in their Madalla neighborhood spoke Gwari and Baagi. There were also
Hausa people, Nupe people, and others from different tribes. Among them were Muslims and
Christians.

“Rabi!”

She turned when she heard her name. Seeing the person calling her made her smile fully.
It was Zara, the only person she could raise her hand and call her friend.

“Are you going to work?”

“Of course. You know that already.”

They both laughed slightly.

Rabi looked at the jug in Zara’s hand and asked,

“Did you buy kunu?”

“Yes, wallahi. Let me go before Umma starts saying I stayed too long.”

They said goodbye.

Rabi came out to the main road. Even on the road, she walked a long distance before
reaching Dan Kogi Motor Park, where she usually boarded a vehicle.

She paid the same fare she paid every day, the money Habiba gave her for transport
because the school where she worked was far from their house. The journey usually took
about forty minutes.

They travelled for a long time before reaching Joy Emodi Crescent, where she got down.
From there, she started walking again. She walked for some time before reaching the school
where she worked as a cleaner.

Brickhall School, Kaura District, Abuja.

Slowly, a white Corolla Hybrid car parked inside the school compound. Less than a minute
after it parked, the back door opened.

A young girl came out, wearing a black pleated skirt that stopped slightly below her
knees, a white Oxford shirt, and a maroon suit jacket. The school symbol was fixed on
the right side of the jacket. A tie hung from her neck. She had no scarf on her head,
only her well-groomed hair tied in a ponytail that swung behind her.

She carried a beautiful backpack on her back, and her feet were in black sneakers.

She was not the only one dressed like that. All the students moving around the school
compound wore the same uniform. Only the boys wore trousers, and that was what
distinguished them.

She began walking with the steps of a young girl whose teenage pride had not fully
settled.

“Mishal! You forgot your food.”

Labarinsu Book 1 Novel Details

• Novel Title: Labarinsu Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel
• Category: Complete Hausa Novels
• Language: English Translation
• Main Character: Rabi’a Adawiyya, also called Rabi
• Other Characters: Habiba, Saratu, Mama, Fatima, Baby, Dan Lami, Zara, Mishal
• Main Themes: Stepmother cruelty, poverty, lost dreams, domestic work, patience, prayer, class difference, and survival
• Setting: Madalla, Abuja, and Brickhall School in Kaura District

Continue reading more emotional Hausa family stories from our
Complete Hausa Novels collection and explore more
Hausa novels in English translation.

Why You Should Read Labarinsu Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Labarinsu Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel is perfect for readers who enjoy
emotional Hausa stories about hardship, family betrayal, poverty, patience, and young
women fighting silently through painful situations.

Rabi’a’s story is touching because she once lived a life of love, care, and comfort,
but after her mother’s death, everything changed. Her present life as a cleaner and
house servant contrasts sharply with her memories of the girl she used to be.

Frequently Asked Questions About Labarinsu Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel

What is Labarinsu Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel about?

Labarinsu Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel is about Rabi’a Adawiyya, a young
girl who faces hardship in her father’s house after her mother’s death and works as a
cleaner in Abuja.

Who is Rabi’a Adawiyya in Labarinsu Book 1?

Rabi’a Adawiyya, also called Rabi, is the main character. She is a girl whose life
changes painfully after her mother dies and she is taken to live in her father’s house.

Who is Habiba in the story?

Habiba is Rabi’s stepmother. She controls the house, mistreats Rabi, and sends her out
to work instead of allowing her to continue school.

Why does Rabi stop schooling?

Rabi stops schooling because her father refuses to return her to school, claiming that
she has already studied enough.

Where does Rabi work?

Rabi works as a cleaner at Brickhall School in Kaura District, Abuja.

Is this an English translation of Labarinsu Book 1?

Yes. This post provides an English translation of
Labarinsu Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel while keeping the original title
unchanged for SEO and reader recognition.