Kanwar Maza Book 1 Complete

Description

English Translation

The school compound was extremely large, featuring grand classrooms and tall, beautifully tiled multi-story buildings. Every classroom was equipped with air conditioning, and everywhere was spotless without a speck of dust or dirt. A single glance at the students moving about and the school itself made it clear that everyone attending this institution came from wealthy, privileged backgrounds, or was connected to powerful people.

The female students wore tight-fitting blue skirts, while the boys wore trousers, white inner long-sleeved shirts, matching outer shirts of the skirt's color, and a small white hijab for Muslim girls. Wearing the small hijab was optional, not compulsory; many of the female students wore skirts that reached right at their knees, while some wore them slightly above the knee. Most of them wore extremely tight uniforms, and a large number of female students removed their outer shirts, leaving only their inner shirts as they walked around.

Many of these dressed-up figures were teenage girls blossoming into puberty, born with silver spoons, possessing extremely attractive and head-turning looks. Similarly, even among the younger primary school students, some did not even wear headscarves. You would think it was a foreign school due to the structural design and the students inside.

The students bustled around as it was break time—some eating, some playing, and others chatting. The blaring sound of a siren echoed through the entire school, signaling that break time was over and it was time to return to class to continue lessons.

The students began trooping back to their classrooms to resume learning. The whole school went quiet as everyone headed back inside, with some classes already commencing lectures.

A group of about ten male and female students emerged into the courtyard, all dressed in uniforms, chatting cheerfully as they made their way toward a veranda to return to their class.

A teacher shouted at them in English, "Hey, from where are you?"

One bold girl among them looked at the teacher with an arrogant attitude and replied, "We went out for breakfast."

"Who gives you the permission to go out? Don't you know that you supposed to be in your classes by now?" the teacher asked angrily.

One handsome young man among them frowned deeply, looked at the teacher, and said, "No need to seek permission from anyone, we have the right to go wherever we want at any time to have our break. We are semi-finalists, and the teachers have to wait for us to come back because our parents pay for it. Hope I made myself clear?"

Furious, the teacher yelled, "Are you stupid? Is this the way you supposed to talk to me? A useless semi-finalist! What have you achieved academically that you're telling me you are a semi-finalist?"

The young man shrugged dismissively and said, "It seems that you are new here. Anyway, this is our policy, you have to go and know more about it."

The rest of the students burst into cheers, saying, "Well done, The Lion Prince! He came in hot with arrogance, but we will put all that heat in its place!"

They walked away, leaving the teacher standing with his mouth wide open, staring after them. To himself, he thought, "If these kids are really like this, they have absolutely no manners." He turned and headed toward the Director's office.

Meanwhile, the students headed to their class, continuing to praise the young man. He looked at them and said in a soft voice that revealed his genuine feelings, "You guys go to class, I'm going to stay and see the coolness of my eyes."

One of his crew members tapped his shoulder and said, "Such a smooth operator! You're really bent on this girl."

He smiled without saying anything, and they walked off to their class while he headed in a different direction.

He walked up to the window of a certain classroom and stood outside. There was no teacher inside; the students were doing whatever pleased them—some chatting, others singing and dancing. Then he spotted her sitting alone in a corner, deeply focused on writing, completely absorbed in her task.

He let out a loud whistle that caught the attention of many students, causing them to turn around. She quickly turned as well to see who whistled, and spotted him standing by the window looking at her.

He gestured with his hand for her to come. She smiled, stood up, and headed toward the exit with her graceful, composed, and heart-captivating walk.

He stared fixedly at her, feeling as though every step she took was a sensual sway of her body. She walked out to where he was standing and said, "Good morning."

After thoroughly looking her up and down, he smiled, stroked his shiny, greased hair, and said, "Morning, my love. You didn't come to our class today, everything is fine, right?"

She smiled, revealing her white teeth, lowered her head slightly, and said, "I'm fine, I was just doing classwork, that's why."

He smiled and asked, "Have you eaten?"

She nodded to indicate yes.

He shifted his stance slightly and said, "You're lying. I feel it in my bones that you haven't eaten anything. I brought food for you; go eat it, and then give me your classwork notebook, I'll go to class and do it for you."

Coquettishly, she asked, "What if I was asked to explain how I did it?"

He replied, "You should tell them that I am the one who did it. I don't like arguments. Take this takeaway pack, go get me the notebook, and I will go to our class so you can rest."

Knowing his personality, if she continued arguing, his temper might flare up. Therefore, she went back into their classroom, retrieved the notebook containing her classwork, and brought it back to where she had left him standing. She handed it to him, and he handed her the takeaway nylon bag. Accepting it shyly, she said, "Thank you very much."

"What's with the 'Thank you'? It is my responsibility to take care of you, baby. When I'm done, I'll bring it back to you. Go back to class, I'll be watching you so nothing touches you."

She smiled and turned away. He watched her back until she sat down at her desk, watching through the window before turning around to return to his own classroom.

"Sir, these kids have absolutely no manners! Didn't you see how they spoke to me earlier? Aren't they supposed to only take their break within the school premises? They leave and return whenever they please, and when I call them out on it while people are watching, they attempt to insult me."

The Director adjusted his glasses and said, "I have heard everything you've said, Corper Nazir. But what you don't know is that these SS2 students—we have to handle them with care so we part on good terms. Even the students above them in SS3 don't give us the kind of headaches these ones do. Most of the students in this school are children of the elite. However, the SS2 kids, in particular, have parents who are very influential and powerful. Touching these students is a threat to this school, which is why we handle them with kid gloves. We have children of ministers and commissioners among them."

"But Sir, they don't just need to be taught academics; they need discipline too! These kids could disgrace you one day in front of the wrong people. A school isn't just a place to learn books; they are teenagers expected to be future leaders, they need to be raised with manners."

"Nazir, these kids are a goldmine to me and my school—from children of top military officers to politicians, and every competition we enter with them, we win. Plus, their parents disburse funds generously; why would I let anyone upset them? Besides, moral training is supposed to be done in their homes; their parents know how they train their kids. But touching these students is big trouble. Just look the other way and exercise patience, because not every parent is willing to let their child be disciplined."

Corper Nazir stared at the Director in utter shock. Without saying another word, he stood up and left, as he had a Jss2 class to attend.

Meanwhile, the young man had returned to his classroom and sat down intently, working on the classwork he had collected.

"Prince, what on earth are you doing?" asked one of the classmates.

He raised his eyes, glanced at him, and said, "Farhan's classwork, I'm doing it."

"But why are you doing it for her? I thought that girl is also quite smart in their class?"

"Yeah, I know, Alamin. I brought food for her; if I don't collect and do this for her, she won't concentrate and eat."

Al-Amin, nicknamed Amin, said, "Honestly, you're over-coddling that girl, Prince."

"Absolutely not. Farhan is my wife-to-be, insha Allah."

Amin burst into laughter and said, "How? When will you finish school, go to university, and marry her? Do you expect her to sit around waiting for you? Just enjoy your life with her; prettier ones haven't even been born yet! You'll find a hotter one later and marry her."

Prince shook his head and said, "I have a plan for our future, so I'm not doing the kind of calculations you're doing. Farhan, and only Farhan."

Amin said, "Fair enough, my guy. May God bring that time safely, but this one looks a bit too young. Go for a woman who looks like a real woman!"

Prince replied, "Amin, look at Farhan closely. She's going to grow into a stunning woman in the future. I love her just like this—her size and everything is just the way I want it."

"May God keep you both together."

"Ameen, ya Allah."

He bent down and finished doing the classwork for her. Because it was quite lengthy, as soon as he finished, he stood up and went over to Farhan's class. True to form, she was sitting alone in a corner. The other students in her class didn't really interact with her because she wasn't from a wealthy family like them; she was attending on a scholarship she had won through a competition. Since they viewed her as unexposed compared to themselves, they didn't involve her in their social circles, and she didn't intrude either. She kept to herself, focusing entirely on her studies—until Prince entered her life.

Despite all the noise in the classroom, the moment Prince stepped inside, it went dead silent because the juniors feared him. He didn't tolerate disrespect at all.

He walked up to her seat, sat down beside her, and said, "Baby, here it is, I'm done," placing the notebook down.

She reached out, took it, and checked through it. Looking up with a smile, she said, "Thank you so much, Prince."

Instead of answering her verbally, he winked at her.

She lowered her head, filled with shyness.

He said, "Why did you lower your head like that? I hope there's no problem?"

She nodded to indicate no.

He said, "Well, even if there was a problem, you wouldn't be able to say it. Talking seems hard for you, Farhan. I know maybe a teacher is about to enter your class now, so I'll go back to ours. But know this: I will come specifically to chat with you. I love hearing your voice because it brings me peace."

She felt like the earth should split open and swallow her from embarrassment. He kept his eyes locked on her, and she felt completely overwhelmed by his presence.

Corper Nazir walked into the classroom, and the students stood up to greet him—except Prince, who remained seated. Nazir glared at him, wondering what brought this insolent Jss2 boy into their class.

Prince stood up, looked at Farhan, and said, "See you after school." From there, he turned and walked out.

Corper Nazir called out, "You, Farhan! What is your connection with this ill-mannered boy?"

Farhan felt as though Nazir had stabbed her. Her Sadik was called ill-mannered?

She remained silent and said nothing.

"I am talking to you, Malama!" he shouted.

She lowered her head again, her body trembling, but she couldn't utter a single word.

From a corner, a student piped up, "Sir, he's her boyfriend."

"Boyfriend, like how?"

"In this entire school, everyone knows she's Prince's girlfriend," the student said.

Furious, Nazir yelled, "Are you out of your mind? You're in Jss2 and you already know about boyfriends? Is that what your parents sent you here to do? And you're dating this arrogant, ill-mannered brat? You'll see what kind of boyfriend you have when I sit down with your father and tell him! Come out here and kneel down, stupid girl! You're going to ruin your life—you're in Jss2 and you're already keeping a boyfriend!"

All eyes turned to Farhan. Trembling as if she might collapse, she walked out to the front of the class and knelt down.

Nazir thoroughly insulted and degraded her right in front of her classmates. Farhan felt the deep sting of Malam Nazir's humiliation, and tears immediately began to stream down her face, crying uncontrollably like a little child.

"Will you shut your mouth, you stupid girl! Looking all innocent, yet you're following that foolish boy."

Meanwhile, back in their classroom, Sadik found his male classmates huddled together watching something on a phone, while the girls had also gathered in their own group, whispering and giggling.

He walked over and peeked at what Amin and the others were watching. His heart hammered heavily, and letting out a loud hiss, he stepped back.

Amin looked up at him and grinned, "Big boy, what's wrong? Come join us and watch!"

Visibly disturbed, Sadik shook his head and said, "I can't watch this trash you guys are viewing."

Nasir looked at him and said, "Look at this baby! Acting like you're not a man. This isn't trash, Alhaji, just come and enjoy."

Sadik shook his head and said, "I can't. May God guide you people. You're going to go blind early, crowding around a phone watching adult films. Idiots! You'll have explanations to give when God exposes your secrets."

Amin scoffed, "Please, mister, move along! Since you won't watch, then that's that."

Sadik took a chair, sat down, and pulled out his phone to play a game.

Senior SS2 prefects walked into the class wearing colored ties, the boys wearing caps signifying their prefect status. One bold girl among them spoke in fluent, near-native English: "Whoever knows they spoke vernacular should come out and pay their 500 naira fine before I start calling names."

The students ignored them completely, refusing to even look up or respond.

She stood straight and began calling out the names of those who spoke Hausa. Sadik heard his name called, but he kept his feet resting on the bench, continuing to play his game.

No one else's name was on the list except Sadik's. Whenever there was any rule in the school, he was always the first to break it.

One of the prefects said, "Sadik, you're being spoken to."

"I'm not paying," he replied.

"You are still speaking vernacular, you know you must pay," said the girl who called the names.

"I swear I won't give a dime! We won't speak English! Is it my mother's or father's language? What do I have to do with white people that I must speak their tongue? Coming up with a rule that whoever speaks Hausa must pay! We won't speak English, and I won't pay, because your father isn't the one paying my school fees!"

She banged on the desk, pointed at Sadik, and snapped, "Don't insult me, Sadik!"

"If I insult you, what will you do? Go tell whatever father you want to tell! In this school, I will speak whatever language I choose. We won't speak English! To hell with English, English muddled up with the Queen of England! Nonsense rubbish, we won't speak English!"

Sadik was eager to spark serious chaos; had he been given the chance, he might have hit the girl.

Just then, a female student rushed into the class shouting, "Prince! Farhan has been made to kneel down in the sun outside! She committed an offense against that corper, and they also claimed she spoke vernacular and told her to pay the vernacular fine, but she said she didn't have money."

Letting out a fierce curse, Sadik exclaimed, "What?! Farhan?"

Without wasting a second, he stormed out. At that exact moment, a teacher who had been informed that there was a clash involving Prince in his classroom came rushing down to handle the situation. They collided in the hallway. The teacher tried to speak to him, but Sadik ignored him entirely, shoved the teacher aside, and hurriedly made his way to Farhan's class.

Poor Farhan was kneeling outside their classroom in the scorching sun, shedding tears.

Sadik felt like placing his hands on his head and screaming. He hurried over to where she was and demanded, "Who subjected you to this?"

She couldn't speak, continuing to cry. Without a second thought, he pulled her toward the Director's office.

Fuming with anger, Sadik burst in. The Director looked at him and asked, "Prince Sadik, what's wrong? Why is she crying?"

"Sir, you need to step in between us and this new corper! Why would he give her this kind of punishment? And that stupid Tina humiliated her over 500 naira! Is she not a human being?"

The Director looked at Farhan, who was still weeping with red-rimmed eyes. He knew Sadik had no official business with Farhan, but he wanted to avoid upsetting the boy. Prince was rebellious, stubborn, and unruly—the kind of kid whose mother could suspend a teacher over him. He was treated like gold at home and practically untouchable.

So the Director placated him: "It's okay, my boy. I will take appropriate action. Calm down, Farhan, stop crying, you hear?"

Farhan said nothing, continuing to sob. Sadik stormed out, and she followed behind him. He walked her right up to the entrance of the restroom and told her to go inside and wash her face. He waited until she came back out, then looked at her and said, "Anyone who ever subjects you to punishment in this school again, or treats you wrongly, come and tell me immediately, okay?"

She nodded.

He asked, "Does anywhere on your body hurt?"

In her heart-melting voice, she answered, "My head hurts, and my feet."

"Alright, let's go to our class so you can rest and I can give you paracetamol."

Without hesitation, she followed him, as she couldn't imagine defying Prince Sadik's orders—even playfully, she doubted she ever could.

Indeed, his nickname "Prince" suited him perfectly. Though he was a young adult under sixteen or seventeen years old, he was full of self-importance, intoxicated by his parents' wealth and the vigor of his budding puberty.

They went to their classroom, and he handed her paracetamol. She took it, drank water, and rested her head on the desk, closing her eyes.

Before long, the siren blared, signaling closing time.

Farhan got up, and Sadik walked over to Farhan's classroom to fetch her school bag. They came out to the school courtyard where a fleet of luxury cars was gathered to pick up the privileged children.

Farhan said, "Give me my bag, I'll go take a tricycle (Napep) home."

"No, our family car is right here. Let's go, we'll drop you off at home since you're not feeling well."

Looking slightly frightened, she protested, "I'll get scolded at home if I'm seen in your car."

"Don't worry, no one will do anything to you."

He made her get into the car and climbed in after her. She directed the driver to her neighborhood. As they drove, Sadik continuously checked on her, offering words of comfort interspersed with occasional huffs of lingering anger.

When they arrived at the entrance of Farhan's street, she looked at Sadik and said, "Thank you so much, Prince."

"Call me by a lover's name, come on, my Farhan," he said, leaning his face down directly toward hers.

She covered her face with shyness.

He teased, "If you don't say it, we're going to sit in this car forever," staring at her intently like a mature suitor.

"Then what should I say?" she murmured shyly.

He remained silent, his eyes lingering on her, before whispering softly, "Just say whatever, my wife."

"Thank you, my love," she whispered shyly, acting like someone committing a crime, as this was the first time she had ever uttered such heavy words to anyone.

He closed his eyes blissfully and said, "I love you, my Farhan. Go inside now so you don't get scolded; if you get scolded, I won't feel happy."

She smiled, opened the door, and stepped out. Just as the driver was about to pull away, Sadik commanded, "Wait, let me make sure she goes inside safely."

The driver stopped, marveling at the audacity, boldness, and sheer brazenness of this young boy. He hadn't even finished secondary school yet, but he had successfully captivated a young girl into loving him, and she had fallen for it instead of focusing on her books—though, admittedly, it was purely the blind foolishness of youth driving them both.

Sadik watched Farhan's retreating figure until she disappeared from view, even with her large hijab draped over her uniform. Only then did he say, "Let's go home."

The driver drove off toward his mansion.

Upon arrival at the massive estate, the driver drove straight in and parked. Sadik opened the door, stepped out, and headed straight into the house. Because preparations for their older sibling's wedding were underway, people were bustling in and out of the house.

He saw people in the living room but bypassed them, heading straight up the stairs without greeting anyone.

His mother's older sister spotted him and called out, "Sadik! You see people here and you just walk past without greeting anyone?"

"I'll greet you guys later when the crowd thins out. You've completely filled our house."

Without waiting for a reply, he kept moving and entered his mother's room. He found her retrieving clothes from her wardrobe and said, "Sweetheart, you're back? How was school?"

Whining affectionately, he said, "I am so much tired, and look, people have just come and filled our house with noise."

"Sorry! You know your older brother's wedding preparations are ongoing, people have to come. But do you want to go lie down and rest in your BQ room?"

He shook his head and said, "No, I'll take a bath in Daddy's room and sleep there. Have my food brought there."

She stroked his shiny hair and said, "Consider it done, my auta."

He added, "Mother, please send up my jallabiya when you come downstairs."

She nodded, they shared a smile, and she left the room.

He entered the bathroom, showered, and walked out clad only in shorts. Standing in front of the mirror, admiring his reflection, Farhan suddenly popped into his mind. Slowly, he closed his eyes, his mind weaving and unraveling numerous thoughts.

The bedroom door opened with a greeting. He responded without turning around, having spotted the person entering through the mirror reflection.

"Big boy Sadik! So you're back and kept it a secret? You don't even check up on people."

He smiled and said, "I didn't know you were in the house! I just came back and found the living room packed; there wasn't even a path for me to walk to my room, so I just came up here."

She walked up to him, placed the tray of food down, draped his ash-colored jallabiya over his shoulder, and said, "Here you are. Mother said I should bring it to you, king of anti-socials!"

He smiled, attempting to slip into his jallabiya. She stared at him intently and remarked, "Semi-finalist! Next year by now, insha Allah, you'll be graduating and heading off to Dubai too."

"Who told you I'm doing SS3? I'm finishing school this year."

She asked, "Why are you finishing this year? Are you going to jump classes?"

He turned around...

Summary

This excerpt from Wuta a Masaƙa shifts focus to the wealthy, elite secondary school environment where Prince (Sadik)—an arrogant, hyper-privileged, and rebellious SS2 student—rules the social hierarchy. Despite his youth, his parents' immense wealth and influence shield him from consequences, making him a terror to teachers and a campus icon.

Sadik is infatuated with Farhan, a quiet, scholarship student from an underprivileged background who keeps to herself. Throughout the school day, Sadik brazenly flouts school rules, openly clashes with the staff (including Corper Nazir), and aggressively demands preferential treatment for Farhan, even doing her classwork for her. When a strict teacher and student prefects humiliate Farhan for speaking vernacular and force her to kneel in the sun, Sadik rushes to her rescue, fiercely confronting the administration.

After school, Sadik drops Farhan off at her neighborhood in his family's luxury car, securing a shy declaration of love from her before returning to his bustling family mansion, which is currently swarming with wedding preparations for an older sibling. The chapter highlights the stark contrast between Farhan's humble, vulnerable reality and Sadik's lavish, unchecked, and intensely protective adolescent infatuation.

Description

• Literary Genre: Contemporary Northern Nigerian Hausa Fiction / Young Adult Romance / Elite School Drama.
• Setting: A high-end, ultra-modern private secondary school catering to the children of the political and military elite, contrasted with a bustling, wealthy family estate in Kano.
• Tone: Glamorous, arrogant, protective, adolescent-romantic, and rebellious.
• Atmosphere: High-energy, class-conscious, and driven by teenage infatuation, wealth privilege, and institutional corruption.

Analytics

Character Dynamics & Psychology

• Prince (Sadik): The classic "bad boy with a golden spoon." Highly protective of Farhan yet intensely arrogant, entitled, and defiant toward authority. His actions reflect the unchecked ego of a wealthy teenager who knows his family's status shields him from punishment.
• Farhan: The vulnerable, marginalized scholarship student. Caught between her strict academic environment and the overwhelming, intense romantic pursuit of the school's most notorious rebel, she is both intimidated and deeply drawn to him.
• Corper Nazir & The School Administration: Represent the institutional struggle between maintaining discipline and bowing to elite pressure. While Nazir wants to enforce rules and discipline, the Director pragmatically chooses appeasement to protect the school's funding and political safety.

Key Themes

• Class Divide & Privilege: The glaring disparity between the wealthy, untouchable students (like Sadik) and scholarship students (like Farhan) who must tread carefully.
• The Arrogance of Youth: The intoxicating mix of puberty, wealth, and unchecked freedom leading teenagers to believe they are above rules and societal norms.
• Toxic Protection vs. Romantic Heroism: Sadik acts as Farhan's fierce protector against school bullies and harsh teachers, though his methods border on aggressive intimidation and boundary-pushing.

Structured Comparative Table