Makahone Part 1 Book Compelet

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MAKAHONE BOOK 1 MAMAN IHSAN 

"Nadra's body has settled, Mama."

Quickly, his grandmother—who never shied away from speaking her mind—said,

"You are lying, hypocrite! When did she ever manage to settle? The girl you said you forced yourself upon—she couldn't even walk—is that when you claim she settled?"

He bit his lower lip in frustration at the old woman, and she continued,

"Where do I even start? After you were married to her, you said you didn't want her, that you wouldn't even go to take her to your house where your other wife is. You only went because you were forced to! And when you went, you tormented her—was that also because you didn't want her?"

Noticing her eyes wandering over his body, he knew the only person looking at him with that specific gaze was Farida. So, he raised his head and looked straight at her; their eyes met, but she turned away, glaring at him. He wanted to laugh, but he suppressed it, stood up, and told Mama to give him his food so he could leave.

Immediately, she informed him that guests would come to see the bride tomorrow because they would return to their hometowns the day after.

"May Allah grant us long life," he said without another word.

Rumaisa brought him a basket of food and asked,

"Should I take this to your car?"

He just took it without saying anything, bade them farewell, and looked at Mama. Seeing his look, she realized there was something he wanted to talk about, so she stood up and followed him.

They stopped at the courtyard, and he looked at her with concern, asking,

"Mama, what is the future of this marriage?"

"I don't understand."

"Mama, I don't love this girl, and she doesn't..."

"Why did you agree when her parents offered her hand in marriage?"

"Because I couldn't say no to them; they would have felt bad. And I..."

She raised her hand to stop him before saying,

"Go, it is late. We will talk about it later."

Without waiting for his reply, she turned and went back inside. It was clear her mood was ruined by hearing his talk. With a heavy heart, he walked toward the gate with the basket in his hand.

After placing it in the trunk of the car, he started the engine and left the street.

At nine-forty, he honked at the gate of his house.

The gatigatekeeper opened the gate, and he drove into the parking space. He parked the car in the lot, got out holding a phone box, and opened the back to retrieve the food basket before heading into the house.

He turned the door handle and entered with greetings on his lips.

There was nobody in the downstairs living room. Only the scent of room freshener spray lingered.

He went straight upstairs. There, she was coming out of the kitchen heading toward her room.

The sound of his entrance made her turn and look at him.

Annoyance washed over him at the sight of her wearing that bulky hijab indoors—something she only wore when male guests were around or when she was going out. It meant she had completely disregarded his instructions.

Stopping short of entering her room, she turned and walked toward him, kneeling respectfully to take the basket from his hands while welcoming him home.

She headed to the dining area and placed the basket on top of the dining table.

He sat on one of the chairs in the living room, watching her as she walked back toward him, opening her mouth to speak when she heard his voice:

"Didn't I forbid you to wear a hijab inside this house?"

It was only then she remembered, but under that nightgown she wore, there was hardly any difference between wearing it or being naked.

"Do you not listen when you're told?"

She shook her head sideways to say no.

He stood up after setting down the phone box he had bought for her on the center table.

"Always this: hijab at home, hijab outside, hijab at school, hijab at the market. You can't even figure out where wearing a hijab is actually appropriate, can you?"

Before she could speak, he snatched the hijab right off her head and held it in his hands.

He froze completely upon catching sight of her gorgeous figure wrapped in a flimsy nightgown that was as good as nothing.

He felt as though all strength had been drained from his body; he honestly hadn't expected this. As for her, seeing the way he was staring at her body made her quickly rush into his arms and hug him tightly while his own legs began to tremble.

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He felt as though his strength had left him, a reaction he never anticipated. Meanwhile, seeing the way he looked at her body made her instinctively rush into his embrace, clinging to him tightly while his legs trembled.

He experienced a sensation he had never encountered before. From the soles of his feet to the crown of his head, something was pulling at him.

As for her, she was shedding tears due to an intense shyness she had never felt in her entire life. She felt as though the earth should split open and swallow her whole.

Weeping, she said: "Yaya Fahad, please stop, I don't want this."

With great difficulty, he managed to pull himself together and reply: "What did I do to you? Did I touch you?" He raised both hands in the air to show innocence.

She burst into fresh tears, prompting him to say: "What did I do to make you cry? You're the one who hugged me, so let me go."

Through her tears, she answered: "If I let you go, you'll see my body!"

"Then what do you want me to do?"

"Close your eyes so I can crouch down, pick up my hijab, and put it on."

"Am I blind that I have to close my eyes?"

Then he realized it was better to close his eyes so they could part ways peacefully, because otherwise, anything could happen given how he was feeling.

He closed his eyes, which made her hurry. She let go of him, knelt down, grabbed her hijab, and put it on. Then she fled the room, ran to her bedroom, and locked the door behind her.

He collapsed onto the chair, catching his breath. He held his head in frustration over his inability to control himself around her.

For five full minutes, he sat without making a single movement before finally standing up to enter his bedroom.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, removed his wristwatch, stripped off his outer clothes, and walked into the bathroom feeling lethargic.

Standing inside the bathroom, he looked at his broad chest and muscular arms in the mirror.

He felt annoyed with the tattoo on his body—not for any other reason than the name "Sidra" and the butterfly picture inscribed on it.

He chewed on his lip as if he might break it, staring angrily at the expensive artwork displayed on his fair skin.

He let the shower run over his head for thirty minutes, thinking of nothing except Nadra's stunning body. He had looked down on the girl, thinking she was just a naive child, only to find himself completely losing his grip.

After spending thirty minutes letting the water run over him, he finally bathed and came out. He applied only body spray after drying off.

He put on a pair of white three-quarter shorts without a shirt and lay down like that, but sleep refused to come.

It was not until the middle of the night that sleep finally managed to claim him.

Nadra

As soon as she managed to escape from Fahad's grip, she locked her door and threw herself onto the bed. She wept as if he had actually done something to her, even though he hadn't even touched her.

She curled herself tightly inside a blanket while shedding tears, and soon sleep crept in and took over.

Makaho

Ever since Ma'eesha tucked them in after he drank his medicine, his shivering stopped, but his head still felt like it was splitting in two.

He held his head, reciting every prayer that came to his tongue.

Ma'eesha kept offering words of comfort as if she might shed tears out of pity for him.

It wasn't until two in the morning that a heavy sweat broke out on him.

Up until that time, Ma'eesha hadn't slept out of sheer sympathy. When she saw him sweating, she reached out and touched his forehead, realizing the fever had broken. She sighed in relief, praising God in her heart.

She felt him whisper in her ear: "Thank you, may Allah bless you and reward you with Jannah."

"Ameen, ya Allah," she replied with a happy smile, resting her head on his chest while looking at his handsome face. His unique, captivating eyes were turned upward.

She shifted her position comfortably onto his broad chest, catching a magical scent that caused her heart to flutter.

She bravely buried her face deeper into his chest because the fragrance felt so wonderful to her.

In that position, sleep overtook her right on his chest.

When he was certain her sleep was deep, he gently slid her off his body and rested her head on a pillow.

He stood up, went to wash up, performed ablution, prayed optional night prayers, and then returned to lie down on the reed mat rather than going back to Ma'eesha's mattress.

He fell asleep immediately at around three in the morning.

Nadra

At four in the morning, she woke up, performed ablution, and offered voluntary prayers until dawn, when she observed the two Sunnah raka'ah of Fajr.

When the call to prayer for Subhi was made, she stood up, prayed Subhi, and sat down to perform her morning adhkar and recite the Quran.

She wanted to go out to the living room, but shyness held her back because she didn't want to run into him. Instead, she cleaned the toilet, tidied up her room, and burned incense.

She headed toward the living room praying that he wouldn't be there, but unfortunately, the moment she opened the door, their eyes locked instantly.

She quickly turned around to retreat inside, but she heard his booming voice command:

"Come here."

He said it without a trace of playfulness on his face.

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She quickly turned to retreat inside, but she heard his booming voice command:

"Come here."

He said it without a smile.

With no other choice, she walked back with her measured, graceful steps and stopped in front of him. Kneeling down, she moved her lips and asked with a subdued voice:

"Good morning?"

He ignored her completely as if he hadn't heard a thing, until she was about to give up on getting a reply and he said:

"Did you see a goblin that made you run away?"

She shook her head to say no.

"Why don't you listen when you're told?"

She pouted her lips forward before replying: "I do listen."

"Didn't I tell you to stop sitting around the house wearing that giant [hijab]?"

"I'm just used to it."

"You must stop because I don't like it," he said with an air of authority.

She said nothing, stood up, and stated: "I am going in to clean your room."

He didn't reply, acting as if he hadn't heard her. Without saying anything more, she headed toward his room.

Masha Allah, she said in her heart as she entered and took in the view of the living room. Everything in his space was white—the sofas, center carpet, center table, curtains, tiles, everything was white.

She went into the bedroom; it was similarly stunning. Everything in the room was white—from the paint, curtains, tiles, and carpet to the bed, mirror, bedside drawers, bedsheets, blankets, and closet. Everything was white, and it was obvious he was a very clean person.

She started with the toilet, which was also entirely white. Even though it was already as clean as if it had just been washed, she scrubbed it thoroughly until it smelled fresh, then returned to the bedroom.

She made the bed, swept, mopped, sprayed the room freshener she found, and headed toward the exit.

She tidied his main lounge, sprayed fragrance, and then went out to the grand living room.

He was sitting right where she had left him earlier, except this time he had a laptop on his lap and was typing away.

As she approached to clean the area, he stood up, carrying his laptop, and walked over to his private wing.

She picked up the nylon bag he had brought in earlier, and he turned back to say: "That's the phone I bought for you. Later, I'll take you out to register the SIM card."

Before she could say anything, he shut the door.

She opened the nylon bag, pulled out the phone box, and without even opening it to look at the phone inside, she stood up and continued cleaning the living room.

Once she was completely done upstairs, she went downstairs to clean that living room too, wiping everything until it sparkled, including the downstairs guest toilet. She burned incense downstairs and then went back upstairs to do the same.

Just as she was about to return to her bedroom, she heard the doorbell ring.

She went down and opened the door to find Rumaisa holding a basket.

They exchanged smiles before Rumaisa said: "Good morning, Aunty."

"Please stop calling me Aunty; call me Nadra. You are older than me, so I should be the one calling you Aunty."

Rumaisa smiled and replied: "Even if I am older, you are now above me because you are married to my elder brother, which makes you my senior."

She handed her the basket, saying: "I'm in a rush, see you later."

"Please tell Mama to stop sending me food, we are very grateful, but I'm going to start cooking on my own now."

Rumaisa nodded, saying: "I will tell her, Insha Allah."

They exchanged goodbyes, and Rumaisa left while Nadra took the food inside and placed it on the dining table before heading to her bedroom.

Ma'eesha

She woke up in the middle of the night, blindly feeling across the mattress to find him, but the space was empty. She knew for a fact that she had fallen asleep right beside him.

She turned on her phone's flashlight and spotted him far away on the reed mat where he usually slept, curled up into a ball.

Surprise gripped her because, as far as she knew, despite her hospitality in bringing him onto the comfortable mattress and covering him up, he had refused it, gotten up, and moved to the mat.

She pouted just as the call to prayer sounded.

The adhan also woke him up, and he opened his rolling eyes—eyes that possessed a unique look though they were devoid of sight.

He began trying to stand up, and she quickly hurried over and handed him his walking stick.

"Here is your stick," she said.

He took it, saying: "Thank you, may Allah bless you."

She replied with "Ameen" as she handed him the ablution kettle.

"How is your body feeling?"

"I feel better."

"May Allah grant you complete recovery."

"Ameen, thank you, my wife, the cure for my worries."

After performing ablution, he headed to the mosque while she prayed at home.

By seven o'clock, he returned from the mosque; by then, she had already finished preparing breakfast.

She fried yams and made an egg sauce, along with spiced Lipton tea.

The money she had with her was running low, leaving only a few small change coins.

He could only manage to drink the Lipton tea and didn't touch the yams. This worried her because she knew the tea alone wouldn't sustain him.

"Should I go buy some bread so I can make you tea to go with it?"

"Don't worry, this is enough for me. I just don't feel like eating anything right now."

Sympathetically, she said: "Ayyah, sorry."

He just nodded silently.

"Let me go get your medicine."

Without waiting for his response, she stood up and retrieved the bag of medications to give to him.

She broke open a pure water sachet, poured it into a cup, and handed it to him.

"Take your medicine, then lie down," she urged, popping the pills out for him. He took them.

"I want to take a bath," he said, rubbing his head.

"Okay, let me fetch the water for you."

She got up, prepared the bathwater, and carried it into the bathroom.

While he was sitting down, she returned to say: "I've taken the water into the bathroom."

"Alright, thank you, may Allah bless you."

She said "Ameen" while he began groping around inside his clothes bag.

"What are you looking for?"

"My jellabiya."

"Okay, let me check for you."

Before she could act, his hand brushed against the jellabiya. Because of its smooth texture, it stood out from the rest of the clothes, and his sense of touch immediately identified it.

He picked it up just as she stepped out of the room.

After she left, he stripped off his clothes and put on the jellabiya.

He came out carrying the clothes he had removed, saying: "I want to wash these clothes before taking a bath."

"Why would you do laundry when you're not well?"

"Don't worry, I can do it."

An argument ensued between them: she insisted on washing his clothes for him, while he refused, saying he would do it himself.

"Do you want me to earn rewards?"

"Yes, absolutely, Ma'eesha."

"Well, if you want me to earn rewards, then let me wash your clothes so the reward will be credited to me."

That made him ask: "Why do you always stop me when I try to wash your clothes?"

"Because I am the one most suited to do things for you; you shouldn't be the one doing them."

"And I don't want you to strain yourself, considering the background you come from—you aren't used to these kinds of chores."

She gave a bitter smile and said: "That's true, you're right. I'm definitely not used to it because I used to have maids do everything for me. But that doesn't mean I don't know how. So even if my husband is wealthy and hires maids, you must know that I will never let a maid handle any of your personal chores because I am greedy for the rewards I'll get by treating you well."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, just wait and you'll see."

He smiled before saying: "I will wait for that time. When will that moment come? I'd love to see it."

She looked at him, wiping away a tear that escaped with her finger, and said: "Time moves slowly for those who wait, runs fast for those who are scared, becomes very long for those who complain, becomes short for those who are joyful, but for those who love, time is eternity."

Quietly and without another word, he walked into the bathroom because her words were on the verge of making him cry, as he felt the emotional weight of her statements.

Nadra

She finished getting ready for the trip to register the SIM card he had bought for her. She felt genuinely happy because, at the very least, she would get to hear Umma and Abba's voices.

She stepped out to let him know she was ready, but he wasn't in the living room. She knocked on his bedroom door, but when silence met her, she assumed he was inside his room.

So she stood by his bedroom door and knocked.

He gave her permission to enter, and she pushed the door open with a greeting on her lips.

He was standing in front of the dressing mirror wrapped only in a towel around his waist. Seeing him like that, she quickly spun around and bolted out of the room.

He watched her reflection in the mirror as she fled like someone who had seen a ghost.

He calmly continued drying his body.

As for her, she didn't stop running until she reached her own bedroom.

She nearly tripped over the hem of her long hijab, but by the grace of God, she caught herself and didn't fall.

She was sitting in her room when, a few minutes later, he walked in dressed in a light white yard fabric.

The scent of his cologne drifted through the air.

Seeing him made her quickly jump to her feet, staring at him in apprehension as if she had committed a grave crime just by seeing him in a towel earlier.

"You."

She looked at him, and when she saw him looking back, she quickly cast her eyes downward.

"Tell me, is something wrong with your mind?"

She didn't understand what he meant, so she asked: "Something wrong with my mind?"

"Yes, I mean, are you not fully in your right senses?"

She pouted and looked away.

"When you walked into my room, why did you run out like that?"

"Well, if you knew you weren't wearing clothes, why did you let me see you like that? It wasn't appropriate."

Her response surprised him, so he asked: "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

18 years old, no wonder she acts so childishly. There's quite a gap between her and Sidra—Sidra is twenty-five now. They took a girl who hasn't fully matured mentally and saddled me with her.

He let out an audible hiss, which made her raise her head to look at him. She assumed his annoyance stemmed from her barging into his room, so she apologized: "I'm sorry, I will be careful."

"Careful about what?"

"I won't enter your room like that again when you aren't wearing clothes—though that first time was an accident."

He massaged his head, wondering how on earth to explain right from wrong to her.

"Do you go to Islamiyya?"

"Of course! I even had a walimah celebration when I finished."

"What were you taught about the rights of..."

Summary

The narrative shifts between two contrasting marital dynamics involving Fahad and the two women in his life: Nadra, his young and naive newlywed wife who struggles with cultural norms, personal boundaries, and innocent anxieties around him; and Ma'eesha, his devoted and deeply affectionate wife who cares for him through his ailments while sharing poetic, profound moments of emotional connection. Tensions flare as Fahad wrestles with his inner desires, his frustrations regarding household rules (such as Nadra's constant wearing of the hijab indoors), and his own internal struggles with past attachments. Meanwhile, Nadra navigates her new life under his strict guidance, anticipating a phone and SIM card trip, while Ma'eesha demonstrates unwavering loyalty and emotional maturity in her marriage.

Analytics and Comments

• Character Contrast: The author uses parallel storylines to highlight the stark differences between Nadra (immature, anxious, sheltered, and reluctant) and Ma'eesha (mature, deeply empathetic, poetic, and fiercely devoted).
• Psychological Realism: Fahad's character undergoes internal conflict; despite his outward sternness and frustration with Nadra's youth and behavior, he easily loses composure around her physical presence, highlighting an underlying attraction he refuses to comfortably acknowledge.
• Cultural & Domestic Dynamics: Traditional Hausa household settings—such as extended family politics (Mama and grandmother's commentary), expectations of modesty (hijab debates), and spousal duties—drive the plot forward and establish realistic interpersonal friction.
• Symbolism: The color white dominating Fahad's private wing symbolizes cleanliness, order, and emotional sterility, contrasting sharply with the warmth and emotional depth brought by Ma'eesha and the chaotic innocence of Nadra.

Conclusions

The chapter successfully deepens the emotional and psychological stakes for all primary characters. Fahad is increasingly entangled in marriages he initially resisted, forced to confront his growing attraction to Nadra despite viewing her as a child, while simultaneously relying on Ma'eesha's profound emotional anchor. The narrative builds anticipation toward how Fahad will balance his shifting feelings and resolve the domestic tensions surrounding him.

Keywords

• Fahad
• Nadra
• Ma'eesha
• Rumaisa
• Marriage Dynamics
• Hausa Fiction
• Maman Ihsan
• Makaho Ne
• Domestic Life

Table List

Scene SettingLocationKey Events / Interactions Family CourtyardExtended Family HomeThe grandmother criticizes Fahad's treatment of Nadra; Mama dismisses Fahad's complaints about the marriage. Fahad's House (Upstairs/Downstairs)Fahad & Nadra's ResidenceNadra cleans thoroughly; Fahad reacts strongly to Nadra wearing her hijab indoors and accidentally catches her without proper attire. Ma'eesha's QuartersMakaho's ResidenceMa'eesha nurses Fahad through a fever, insists on doing his laundry for spiritual rewards, and exchanges deep thoughts on love and time. Item / ObjectSignificance / SymbolismContext in Text The HijabSymbol of modesty, habit, and controlNadra wears it constantly indoors; Fahad forcibly removes it, sparking tension and embarrassment. The TattooRegret and past attachmentFahad looks at his reflection in the bathroom and despises the "Sidra" tattoo and butterfly design on his chest. Phone Box / SIM CardIndependence and connectionPurchased by Fahad for Nadra; represents her upcoming link to her parents (Umma and Abba). The Walking Stick & Ablution KettleCaregiving and dependencyUsed by Makaho/Fahad, handed to him attentively by Ma'eesha during his illness. Character RelationshipDynamicKey Emotional Tone Fahad & NadraReluctant husband and naive, sheltered new wifeFrustration, accidental intimacy, youthful shyness, and strict authority. Fahad & Ma'eeshaCompassionate wife and ailing/recovering husbandDeep empathy, emotional warmth, poetry, and mutual devotion. Fahad & Grandmother / MamaFamily authority figures and resistant grandson/sonTense, critical, and probing regarding marital obligations.