Kurkukun Kaddara Hausa Novel 

Story Written by Boss Bature

Slowly, the wall clock kept ticking — tik! tik!! tik!!! — breaking the silence of the night. The time was half past one in the morning. On the bedside drawer, a Samsung Galaxy phone began to ring loudly.

At that time, he was deep in sleep. The call came three times and cut off each time. On the fourth ring, the sound struck his ears. Startled, he woke up, murmuring God’s name.

He was wearing only a white singlet and shorts. He looked around lazily; he was about forty years old, fair-skinned, and handsome. He rubbed his face, glanced at the wall clock, and softly whispered his daughter’s name, “Angel…”

The phone rang again. Quickly, he reached for it, wondering who could be calling at such a late hour. The name Aminina appeared on the screen. He sighed with relief and answered the call. But before he could say a word, the sound of gunfire pierced through the line.

Panicked, he shouted, “Aminina!”

His friend’s trembling voice came through:

“I’m finished… they’ve caught me spying on them. They’re chasing my car right now. I know they’ll kill me — and they won’t spare you either. Please, run away with Angel. Don’t let my mistake destroy you. The evidence that exposes their secret is inside my memory card…”

Before he could finish, the call ended abruptly.

He redialed in panic, forgetting the call had already cut off. When someone finally picked up, what he heard made his blood run cold — screams and chaos. Then a harsh voice said:

“If you want to know what’s happening, look at your phone screen.”

Shaking, he raised his phone. They had switched to a video call.

He gasped — on the screen, his friend’s car was on fire. He watched helplessly as men poured fuel over the vehicle and flames engulfed it. He could see Aminina’s hand pressed against the window as the fire devoured him alive.

He dropped the phone, shouting, “No! No!!”

A severe headache struck him. He fell to the floor trembling, unable to think or breathe. His best friend was dead — burned alive — and now they would come for him. But what terrified him most was the thought of his only daughter, Angel.

In panic, he jumped up, grabbed his car keys, and ran upstairs barefoot. He burst into Angel’s room — she was peacefully asleep, wrapped in her soft blanket. He rushed to her, shaking her gently.

“Angel! Angel! My daughter! Azeezaty!” he cried.

She didn’t move. Desperate, he carried her in his arms, ran downstairs, and placed her gently in the back seat of his Range Rover. He jumped into the driver’s seat, sped toward the gate, opened it, and drove out into the dark night.

Barely a minute later, six black SUVs appeared, chasing after him. He saw their headlights in his rear mirror and pressed the accelerator harder, muttering, “La ilaha illa anta subhanaka inni kuntu minaẓ-ẓalimin.”

He didn’t know where he was driving — he just drove. Angel woke up crying.

“Daddy… what’s happening? Where are we going in this dark night?” she sobbed.

She was just eleven years old. Her voice shook with fear. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He regretted ever becoming a journalist — the job that now endangered their lives.

“Angel, I’m sorry… I ruined your life. Today, Daddy can’t save you. I don’t want my sins to reach you,” he said, crying.

Blood dripped from her nose — she had hit it against the seat during the chase. “Daddy, my nose is bleeding! I’m going to die!”

He was breaking apart inside. He could only whisper, “Sorry, Angel, sorry…”

Gunshots echoed behind them. Bullets struck the back of his car. He swerved sharply into a thick forest, headlights flashing between the trees. He parked and rushed to the back seat, grabbed Angel, and ran barefoot into the woods.

While running, he stepped on a sharp rusted metal rod buried in the ground. It pierced through his foot and came out the other side. He screamed in agony, blood gushing from his wound.

“Daddy, let’s go home,” Angel cried. “There are hyenas and wild animals here… or are we dreaming?”

With trembling lips he replied, “Yes, it’s just a dream, Angel.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

“Then let’s wake up from this dream, Daddy. I’m scared.”

He wanted to break down right there, but he kept moving. Limping, bleeding, he dragged himself toward a deep ravine filled with running water. His mind whispered: Throw her in. Let her die here, not by their hands.

The thought tore him apart — but the sound of approaching cars forced him to act.

Sobbing, he lifted Angel and threw her into the dark river. She screamed as she fell — “Daddy!!!” — and then silence.

He collapsed to his knees, crying uncontrollably. “Ya Allah… forgive me…”

Then he fainted beside the river.

Moments later, the black cars arrived. Armed men in dark clothes surrounded him. They looked cruel and merciless. From one of the cars, elderly men in expensive Hausa attire stepped out — obviously powerful people.

One of them said coldly, “The angel took his soul before us. I didn’t want him to die this easily.”

Another replied, “At least we found him. Let’s finish it — burn him, and erase every trace.”

They laughed wickedly. One ordered a man to bring a gallon of petrol and a lighter. They poured the fuel over his body.

“The punishment for crossing us,” one said. “Let this be a lesson.”

They lit the lighter and threw it. Flames roared, devouring him and the grass around him.

Within moments, everything was burning — and the man was gone, turned to ashes.