Gurbin Ido Complete Hausa Novel

Faffada is a vast and richly endowed forest as far as the eye can see. It is filled with lush green vegetation and plants of many different kinds—tall and short—thick grasses and other plants which God, in His wisdom, has allowed to exist there. Some of them are unknown to humans, while others serve as medicine and protection for the human body.

The deep green spread of the land, the variety of plants, and their abundance alone clearly show that this is the season of frequent rainfall—the rainy season. Even though it is an open area overflowing with bounty and blessings, blessings that make it very difficult to find the place dry or parched, this is the very reason Fulani people settled there. They pitched their huts and established a large cattle camp in the area, because it perfectly suited their needs and the needs of their livestock—needs which, for them, are greater than their own.

It is evening, just moments before sunset. This is the time when every herder is making efforts to guide their animals home and secure them, as night approaches. From different parts of the forest, various herds of cattle—sometimes mixed with sheep and goats—move toward what they themselves call their settlement. Each herd is accompanied by its caretakers, usually two, three, four, or up to five people when they are many. Most of them are men; the women among them are few.

Gradually, those animals pass toward their designated areas, as though they have all gone through… when suddenly, another separate herd slowly emerges.

They are beautiful cattle, sheep, rams, and goats—numerous and eye-catching. What makes them so striking is nothing but their well-fed condition and the cleanliness of the herd. Almost every animal among them is white, except for a few with brown streaks. Yet that is not the most astonishing thing. What truly draws attention is the beautiful young woman standing slightly to the left and center of the animals, guiding them. At first glance, one might think she is not alone in this task, but if you look closely, you will realize she is doing it all by herself, holding just a single staff.

She is exceptionally beautiful—natural, even among the Fulani. The kind of beauty you would assume belongs to someone of mixed heritage. Maimunatu possesses a unique charm that makes any first-time observer linger, unable to stop watching her. However… despite all this beauty, there is not a single person accompanying her on the journey home. Nearly everyone has already driven their animals ahead and left her behind. Not even one of those who went ahead turns back to check on her or look at her condition, let alone offer to help her reach home early.

It seems this does not trouble her much. Although she is suffering, it has become part of her, and she has grown accustomed to the situation. She is dressed in black clothing instead of the white attire commonly worn by most Fulani. You can see how closely her clothes cling to her—more than is usual among the Fulani. Even her dress fits so tightly that, were it not for the black inner cloth she wears underneath, nothing would stop one from noticing the fullness of her chest, which has begun to mature. Over it, she loosely drapes a black veil across her chest. Though it is not thick, nor welcoming to whatever she wears beneath, it is neither long nor wide, not even reaching her waist. In the past, when it was larger and thicker, she used it freely, but until yesterday she has been unable to part with it, because of the deep history that veil holds in her life and existence.

The wrapper around her body is also tied very tightly. On her head, she wears a kaba hat—the type commonly used by the Fulani, called malafare—either due to the intense heat of the sun or the anticipation of rainfall. This allows the long tail of her old braided hair to show clearly. The braid known in Hausa as doka, and among the Fulani as biɗeji (meaning “a raised ridge from the center”), sits atop her head. The braid falls down both sides of her face and her back, enhancing her beautiful face and revealing her true Fulani heritage.

Her ears carry no earrings—not because she cannot afford them, but because she does not use them and is not accustomed to them. Her wrists, however, are filled with bangles and stones in deep green and red colors—the kind of ornaments commonly associated with the Fulani. Both her left and right arms are covered with them in abundance. Some of them are even too big for her, yet they are things she cannot part with; she feels them as essential as her own breathing.

From her waist hangs a tightly wrapped water gourd, the only item she allows herself to carry to the grazing fields. On her feet are closed rubber sandals—the type no Fulani woman lacks, considering the nature of moving through forests and thorns. They are the only white item on her body. Despite their age, they are spotless, clearly well cared for.

With great endurance and determination, she swings her staff, steering the animals back onto the path. Even though her breathing barely reaches her stomach due to the intense hunger gnawing at her insides as if it might tear them apart, she handles the staff with extreme care, making sure not to strike any of the animals. This is almost her habit—she never beats them. Yet they obey every command she gives and follow her willingly. This has created an astonishing bond between her and the animals. At times, when she speaks to them, one would think she is speaking to people—her own relatives.