MATAR MAKAHO COMPLETE
HAUSA NOVELS DOCUMENT
WRITING BY
RUKKAYA IBRAHIM LAWAL

BOOK DESCRIPTION

• He stood there for over 30 minutes, unable to proceed through the doorway, with an overwhelming sense of fear consuming him. Today, he was about to face a reality he never thought possible—not even in his dreams. Marriage. Him, of all people. He had never imagined such a thing in his life. Being blind, an orphan, and poor, he only had what he could earn through his own efforts. But now, he had been given a wife—a concept he had never thought he could achieve, given his circumstances. He questioned if she would accept him as her husband and if she would be willing to live with him in both abundance and scarcity. These thoughts weighed heavily on his mind.

He mustered the courage, took a deep breath, and muttered a prayer as he moved forward with his cane guiding him towards the door of their modest house. He reached the door, opened it carefully, and, feeling for the lock, secured it. Slowly, he advanced until he felt a small bump, indicating he had reached the step leading to the room’s entrance. He climbed cautiously, feeling the wall as he went along, and his fingers eventually brushed over a window. Following the wall, he found a curtain, soft to the touch and fragrant—something he had never imagined experiencing in his life.

• With a greeting on his lips, he pulled the curtain aside and leaned his cane against the doorframe. Inside, a hesitant voice replied to his greeting, which confirmed to him that she knew he had arrived. He raised his head and glanced in his direction, though she was filled with resentment at the sight of her blind groom. He appeared to be around 28 or 30 years old, with his blindness and struggles as the only visible flaws. Despite his hardships, he was strikingly handsome, tall, and fair-skinned, though his complexion bore the marks of a life of struggle. His soft skin was undeniable, his beard thick, and his large, bright eyes shone despite their inability to see. His lips were perfectly shaped, with a strong nose and a full head of hair that suggested he had Fulani roots, despite the lack of access to the best grooming.

She noted his worn clothes—an old pair of shadda trousers and a short-sleeved top, clearly faded and watermarked. These were the clothes he chose for his wedding day, clearly taken from his only box of belongings. She turned her face away as if unaware of his entrance. He, however, remained humble, feeling the ground beneath him until his foot encountered a plush carpet that assured him of the room’s luxury. Despite his blindness, he could sense the extravagance of the space, thanks to Khadija’s earlier gossip about the bride’s beautiful room and its fine furnishings—better than anything in the neighborhood. This realization deepened his sense of inadequacy as he confirmed she was not from a poor family like him.

• With slow, careful steps, he made his way to the center of the room, where he felt cushions scattered on the carpet. He sat down gently, setting down the bag he had been holding. In a deep, composed voice, he greeted her once more. Still, she did not respond. She didn’t even turn towards him, not wanting to acknowledge his presence. The room was silent except for the whirring of a large fan that was failing to provide any real coolness.

With a trembling voice, he softly said, “Here’s some chicken. Let’s eat, and then we can say our prayers and thank God.” Her sudden outburst shocked him. She shouted angrily, telling him she would not eat any of his cursed chicken, and insisted that he was late for prayers, as dawn had already broken. He didn’t respond verbally, but his face showed the hurt her words had caused him. They sat in silence for over ten minutes, the fan’s noise the only sound in the room.

• He eventually got up and left the room, determined to find water for ablution. He struggled to find the water container because all the items in the entrance had been rearranged. Since everything was new, he couldn’t recognize where anything had been placed. He finally returned to the room, greeted her again, and closed the door behind him, securing the lock. He began feeling his way along, unaware that she was watching him closely. Suddenly, he touched her by mistake, causing both of them to recoil in shock. She snapped at him, asking what he was doing, and he nervously explained that he was trying to find the bed so he could sleep. Arrogantly, she told him that there was no way she would share a bed with him. She pointed out a chair in the corner, telling him to sleep there instead.

Dejectedly, he felt his way around the room until he found the chair. He slowly removed his shirt and settled into the luxurious armchair, a “3-seater,” as they called it. Meanwhile, she undressed down to her bra and skirt, confident that he could not see her. She offered a quick prayer and lay down to sleep. He, however, remained awake, deep in thought. He longed to perform his night prayers but didn’t know where to find water and didn’t want to risk running into someone at the well outside and subjecting himself to more mistreatment. Eventually, sleep claimed him—sweet sleep unlike any he had ever known, thanks to the comfort of the cool breeze from the fan.

At the break of dawn, husband and wife lay sleeping.