TSUTSAR NAMA BOOK COMPLETE 

Writing by Billyn Abdull

BOOK INFORMATION

1. BOOK NAME :- TSUTSAR NAMA BOOK COMPLETE 
2. AUTHOR NAME:- BILLY ABDULL
3. PHONE NUMBER:- NONE
4. SIZE BOOK :- 1MB
5. GROUPS:- ZAFAFA BIYAR
6. FILE:- TXT
7. GRAPHICS:- LITTAFIN YAKI
8. PUBLISHER:- LITTAFIN YAKI
9. DATE:- 29/10/2024

Book Description 

Mr. Saminu came with great news that I received a scholarship to continue my studies. I can’t express the immense joy I felt that day alongside my two siblings. Meanwhile, my father and mother, along with my sister Baby, openly showed their sadness and envy about it. At first, my mom said it was a lie and that I wasn’t going anywhere, and my dad supported her, until Mr. Saminu confirmed that if I was prevented from going, it would be a serious issue. The government could track the matter and punish anyone involved in such deceit. Hearing this made them relent, and I was finally allowed to continue my education at B.U.K., where Baby and her brother Abbas are also studying.

**FIRST STAGE**

I have to call this class the first stage. It marks the beginning of everything, akin to the first page of my intellectual life, considering I’m now seventeen years old. I can say I entered university by chance, as I got the course I’ve always desired. In my first year, I realized the situation Baby was in at school. She had already sidelined her studies to join the school’s elite. They only visited teachers’ offices to waste time, sometimes even being taken out by the teachers in cars; studying was nowhere on their agenda, as they formed their own group. Surprisingly, they topped the academic charts, despite doing very little studying.

• Yaya Abbas was no different. He was more focused on school politics and hanging out with friends who had cars rather than studying. Other than Yaya Musaddiq, I had never really talked to anyone in our household about my studies. By the fifth month, I found myself in a dilemma with Mansoor. Mansoor Khalil Musa, a brilliant young man and a third-year student at B.U.K., always dressed in expensive clothes and drove a flashy car, making it clear he was from a wealthy family. His intelligence and good looks drew many female students’ attention. However, he never looked at any of them or allowed any interaction, earning him the reputation of being arrogant. Other than his two friends, he ignored everyone, even those who were above him academically.

Then one day, fate brought us together in the cafeteria. My friend Joy and I were enjoying our meal when he and his friends walked in. Despite my dislike for him, I couldn’t ignore their presence. His friend suggested we leave so they could sit. Joy, frightened, intended to get up, but I shot her a glare without saying a word. She quietly pleaded, “Please, Sam Gee, let’s go; I don’t want any trouble. You know how those guys are.”

I firmly held her hand, saying, “If you see me getting up, it means I’m done eating, Joy.” I continued my meal. To our surprise, Mansoor said she should stay, and he pulled up a chair next to me. Everyone was astonished; it was unusual for him to engage with anyone. Although he had a reputation for being aloof, his friends had always been disrespectful to others. They sat down after ordering their food, and I didn’t pay them any attention until I finished my meal and removed my face covering. I always came to school in hijab, often covering my face with a niqab or a nurse mask and glasses, so few could recognize me, even in our department.

In fact, people started referring to me as the “Hijab girl,” since that’s how they would identify me. Apart from Joy, who called me “Sam Gee,” we left the cafeteria while others whispered amongst themselves, as students often do. From that day on, it became routine: whenever we went to the cafeteria, Mansoor and his friends would join. Even if we were at another table, they would come and sit with us. I never acknowledged them or showed that I noticed until nearly two weeks later when Mansoor started paying for our meals daily.

At first, it felt fine, but by the third day, I snapped and confronted him about it without anyone realizing I could. Instead of getting upset, he just smiled and left the cafeteria. I felt annoyed but decided I wouldn’t stop going to the cafeteria, especially since he continued to pay for us. Even when we paid for our meals, they never accepted our money, claiming it was already taken care of. This irritated me, and I struggled with what to do. Despite my frustration, I was determined to keep going to the cafeteria.

• As time passed, the small matter grew larger. A camaraderie began to develop between Mansoor, his friends, and me. I even noticed that when they didn’t come to the cafeteria, I felt a sense of emptiness, just as he likely felt when he didn’t see me. Surprisingly, there were no long conversations between us—just greetings and the shared experience of eating together.