Goje Book 1 Hausa Books Compelet Binta Umar Abbale

Description

 GOJE! (Sadauki Omar Return) by Binta Umar Abbale, captured with structural clarity and narrative tone

Tripping over a large, embedded piece of firewood, she suffered a nasty fall, her head violently striking the sharp point of the wood. Instantly, blood began to spurt. She clutched the wound with her hand, opening her mouth wide to let out a piercing shriek! The sound jolted the wild animals of the forest, and instantly, they began making frantic noises, with some already emerging from their burrows.
The sudden uproar forced the hunting party to freeze in their tracks; not a single one among them made a single movement. With his eyes alone, he gestured to them to blend into the shadows and remain completely still so as not to draw the attention of the wild beasts emerging. They complied immediately, and the forest fell into a tense silence, broken only by the eerie cries of the wild animals.
A violent wave of dizziness and vertigo swept over her before her body went completely limp, and she collapsed onto the grass, blood thoroughly soaking her face and the front of her shirt.
With absolute bravery, he stabilized the bow and arrow in his hands, turning his head repeatedly to scan his surroundings, anticipating exactly where a wild beast might spring from. Stepping backward one pace at a time, he reached the spot where she lay unconscious. Just as he lunged to lift her up, he heard the sharp, menacing hiss of something slicing past—zurrrrrrr! With lightning reflexes, he executed a powerful leap, drew the razor-sharp dagger strapped to his back, and severed its head! The length of the snake was terrifyingly massive.
Clicking on the flashlight in his hand, he illuminated her face to inspect her. He found himself deeply surprised at how he had even turned back to help her—of all people, him, **GOJE!*—especially after this tiny girl had dared to try to slap his face earlier.
Hissing in frustration, he shook his head, a gesture that seemed to have become second nature to him. He snatched the piece of cloth tied around her waist, tore it in half, and used it to bind her head. Pressing down tightly until the bleeding completely stopped, he lifted her entire weight and strapped her securely onto his back, using the remaining cloth to bind her to him. His measured, powerful stride did not change in the slightest as he stepped bravely over the forest debris; knowing she was unconscious, his sole objective was to locate a water source to save her life.
He called out to his boys, who emerged from their hiding spots. Many of them had successfully hunted down the smaller animals that had scrambled out earlier. He ordered them to go and roll up the massive snake he had decapitated. The moment he finished issuing the command, he forged ahead without looking back until he finally reached a riverbank.
Laying her down gently upon the fine sand, he dipped his hand into the river, gathering water and splashing it thoroughly over her entire body.
It wasn't until her body was completely drenched with water that Allah granted her the strength to draw a deep, gasping breath. Her eyelashes began to flutter as she tried to force her eyes open, but they felt incredibly heavy, compounded by a blinding headache. She placed her hand over her head, her lips twitching weakly. Seeing this, he stood up and walked away from the spot.
For a long time, her vision remained heavily blurred before things finally snapped into focus. As the morning light began to break across the horizon, she spotted him standing in the distance, though she could only see his back. Writhing in intense bodily soreness and the agonizing pain of her raw, severe burns, she forced herself up into a sitting position. Examining the state of her entire body, hot tears spilled over. She bit her lip, exhaling a sharp, furious breath! To think that she, a Princess through and through, was reduced to lying abandoned and humiliated by a riverbank, while some filthy, primitive bushman stared at her exposed body—the thought cut her deeply to the soul.
From where he stood, he could clearly hear the sound of her muffled sobbing. He turned around, fixing his bloodshot eyes entirely upon her.
She stared right back at him, mentally calculating the exact punishment she would unleash upon him the very moment he dared to step closer to her.
Paying her no mind, he headed straight for the river's edge, knelt down, and began performing his ablutions.
Hearing approaching footsteps and the barking of dogs, she whipped around in a panic. It was his boys, returning with their hounds and the game they had hunted.
Locating a clear clearing, they dumped their gear—since they always traveled fully provisioned wherever they went. They spread out a massive mat before striking a fire, then headed down to the riverbank to perform their ablutions, just as they had seen their leader do.
He stood before them as the Imam to lead the congregational prayer while she remained seated, watching them intently. Once they concluded, he raised his hands toward the sky in supplication while they chorused the Ameen. She was thoroughly mystified watching him recite intense, powerful supplications and litanies—some of which she couldn't even comprehend since they were entirely in Arabic. She was stunned to witness this from him; in her mind, a hardened thug and terrorist of his caliber shouldn't possess an ounce of religious knowledge.
Composed and deliberate, he turned around and assumed a regal satrap posture! He leaned back, bending one leg beneath him while keeping the other raised, resting his hand casually over it.
Instead of a traditional handshake as taught by the Prophet, his boys simply struck their hands against his as a sign of respect and greeting. Some of them began blowing their hunting whistles in their signature style, chanting in unison: "All hail, Goje! Chaaaa!! Master of hunters! The fortunate one, who commands both blade and beast! Sovereign of the wilderness! Umarul-Faruku, we offer our humblest greetings."
He nodded his head slowly as a powerful surge of adrenaline rushed through him. Drawing deep breaths, he exhaled a thick cloud of vapor, reached for his shisha pipe, placed it to his lips, and began blowing thick plumes of smoke into the air.
Seeing this, the boys excused themselves and scattered across the clearing. Some began the task of roasting the wild game they had caught, while others ventured deeper into the surrounding woods to forage for more food.
She remained seated exactly where she was, utterly tormented by the raw itching and burning of her skin. The sun had risen high, beating down harshly on the clearing. She desperately wanted to get up and move to a shaded spot, but shame and absolute frustration held her bound. The only saving grace she noticed was that they completely ignored her existence; anyone who happened to walk past her didn't even spare her a proper glance.
She shifted her legs, attempting to stand up. Instantly, the severe burn split open, oozing clear fluid and blood. The agonizing, stinging heat forced her to quickly straighten her leg, and in a tragic stroke of bad luck, her foot came down directly upon a scorpion! The arachnid stung her instantly. Letting out a sharp shriek, her entire body began to tremble violently. She crawled away frantically from the spot, her eyes glued to the scorpion as it tried to scurry toward a hole by the riverbank... Suddenly, his foot came down, crushing it entirely! When he lifted his foot, she saw the creature smashed completely flat into the dirt.
She stared up at his massive shadow towering over her like a canopy. She was arched awkwardly on all fours like a woman in labor, her backside fully exposed, with only her underwear offering any form of coverage.
Despite her terror of remaining in that position, she had no choice but to sit back down, her body still shaking violently as cold sweat poured continuously from her skin.
He knelt down close to her, so close that she could feel the warm exhaust of his breath. She glared at him. Before he could even anticipate it, he felt the heavy impact of her spit land squarely across his face. He calmly reached up, wiped the saliva away with his hand, and continued to fix his intense, piercing eyes upon her.
With lightning speed, she scooped up a handful of dirt from the ground to hurl into his face, but he deftly ducked his head, causing the dirt to scatter all over his body. He brushed the dirt off his clothes, fixed her with a stern, completely expressionless face, and demanded: "What is your name? And which town do you come from?"
Weeping from a profound, unnamable agony, she snapped back: "You dare ask me that? You went to my town and snatched me right in front of my parents, and now, out of sheer arrogance, you stand there asking me who I am?"
He shook his head, replying calmly: "I want to help you, but I know nothing about your circumstances—"
"You are a liar!" she screamed, cutting him off with immense force, her chest heaving. She watched his face intently, ready to land a violent slap the moment he uttered another word.
He stared at her for a long time, thoroughly bewildered by her defiance. Ever since his childhood up into his adult years, no one among his peers or the townspeople had ever dared to call him a liar to his face except this little girl. Fortunately for her, he possessed a deep-seated empathy for women; otherwise, she would have learned a lethal lesson at his hands today.
His eyes drifted down to her thighs, taking in the horrific sight of her raw burns, which were weeping fluid and blood as the injury began to fester. Before she could even process what was happening, she felt his hand come down—fittt!* He ruthlessly peeled away the dead, burned skin! Her body convulsed in agony as she clutched his hand, invoking the wrath of Allah upon him.
Ignoring her pleas, he pinned both of her hands together using just one of his powerful grips, moved to the other thigh, and mercilessly ripped the remaining dead skin away! Unable to take the pain, her body went limp, and she collapsed to the ground, shivering uncontrollably.
Stepping over her, he walked away and retrieved a small plastic container filled with coarse salt. He knelt back down, working to pop open the lid.
She shook her head frantically, attempting to scramble into a sitting position, but he ruthlessly pinned her back down. Without an ounce of pity, he heavily dusted the raw, open burns with the salt, then stood up and walked away, leaving her to her fate.
Her entire body went completely rigid like a corpse. She began to weep internally, a silent, agonizing cry as the sheer intensity of the torture dried the very tears in her eyes. From where he stood, he could see her splayed out completely in the clearing, no longer possessing the strength to cover herself. Opening a gear bag, he pulled out a thick sheet of fabric and marched back toward her. Unable to utter a single syllable, she watched helplessly as he hoisted her entire weight, placed her onto the fabric, wrapped her body securely, and carried her over to the far side of the clearing where the large mat was spread out, laying her down gently.
He then walked away, leaving her to close her eyes as she let out deep, agonizing groans of pure exhaustion...

Translation: Free Page 9 & 10

For a long time, he tried desperately to master his physical state, but the sensation proved entirely overwhelming. He always felt completely helpless and foolish whenever this specific aura took control of his body—all his wits and sharp instincts would vanish completely. His body tensed up in one spot as a profound chill ran through him, causing his skin to prickle with goosebumps. Reluctantly, he shifted his gaze toward her and saw her washing her face with the water he had set aside for her.
He extended a traditional chewing stick (asuwaki) toward her. She stared at the stick with a look of utter contempt before reaching out in a deeply disrespectful manner to snatch it from his hand. Even though the chewing stick was brand new, she took care to wash it thoroughly before placing it in her mouth. He averted his eyes, shaking his head; he could clearly see that the girl found him completely repulsive, likely assuming he had already used the stick himself.
Pulling a burlap sack toward him, he fished out three exceptionally large, ripe mangoes. He washed them meticulously, drew a small pocketknife from his gear, and handed her both the mangoes and the knife.
Her hands shook as she accepted them, her mouth instantly watering from the sheer, agonizing hunger that had been tormenting her.
Before utilizing the knife, she made sure to douse it with water; even though she had watched him pull it straight from his own bag, she absolutely refused to trust the cleanliness of anything associated with him.
Fortunately for him, the heavy, thick material of his hunting attire masked his physical state, preventing his arousal from being exposed. In reality, he had been fully erect for over an hour and a half, and despite using every mental trick in his playbook to suppress it, the erection refused to subside. While he experienced this state occasionally, today's episode was by far the most intense.
Gathering pieces of firewood, he struck a flame and sat close to it, trying to use the heat of the fire to distract his body and dispel the intense sensation racking his system.
She, who was sitting nearby—neither fully clothed nor completely bare—forced herself up with immense difficulty, limping slowly until she reached the spot where he sat by the fire.
As she made a move to sit down, he instantly raised his hand to stop her. Without casting a single glance her way, he barked: "Go back and sit exactly where you were. Do you require something?"
She glared at him, curling her lips in a sneer before snapping: "I see you enjoying the warmth of the fire all by yourself, so I came over because I need it too." As she spoke, she made a deliberate move to sit right beside him.
His gaze traveled slowly from her head down to her toes. She settled into a spot, holding her hands over the crackling flames. The specific way she positioned herself instantly plunged him into a state of sheer psychological chaos. In her innocence and naivety, she hadn't suspected a thing, firmly believing that if he had intended to violate her, he would have done so from the very beginning—she was completely oblivious to the battle he was fighting.
He tried repeatedly to look away, but temptation kept painting her physical form in an irresistibly alluring light. Ultimately, he failed to keep his eyes off her, quietly stealing glances at the most captivating areas of her body, though he took absolute care to ensure she didn't catch on to the state he was in.
They remained in that heavy silence for a long time, neither uttering a word, until the distinct sound of whistles signaled the approach of his boys returning from the hunt.
She caught him staring intently at the exposed curve of her leg. She quickly adjusted her posture to cover herself, flashing him a fierce glare.
He let out a deep breath, his expression instantly hardening back into a cold, commanding mask. In a no-nonsense tone, he ordered: "Get up and leave this spot right now."
The absolute gravity in his voice left no room for argument, forcing her to stand up. He quickly averted his eyes as she let out a sharp hiss of frustration and marched away.
The sheer defiance of her attitude left him deeply astonished. He shook his head, lost in deep reflection as he contemplated exactly what step he would have to take next regarding her.
Suddenly, the entire clearing erupted into a chaotic din of drums and celebratory whistles as the hunting party made their grand return...

Key Vocabulary & Contextual Nuances for Your Reference:

• Goje / Umar / Umarul-Faruku: The titular male lead, characterized as a legendary, fiercely traditional Hausa hunter (Uban Mafarauta) and practitioner of traditional invulnerability arts (Mai maganin wuka da kaho—one immune to knives and animal horns).
• Gimbiya Zinat: The female lead, a highly privileged, Westernized (boko) royal princess characterized by extreme pride (izzah) and a complete lack of traditional or religious exposure.
• Kwarjini / Izzah: The text heavily balances Goje's heavy masculine aura (kwarjini) against Zinat's fierce aristocratic pride (izzah).
• Traditional Motifs: The use of asuwaki (chewing stick), layu (amulets/talismans), and kirari (traditional Hausa praise-shouting) grounds the narrative in authentic northern Nigerian folklore.