The sun had almost gone down, and still, no game caught. It wasn’t a very good day for hunting, Hayah thought. He had been lying in wait all day long, hoping to kill something, but luck had not been on his side.

“Those annoying Bororos!” He thought angrily. “They must have driven the animals away.”

He had noticed their temporary settlements the previous day and instantly knew they were going to be trouble. It was the beginning of the dry season, and the open savannah grassland of Adamawa region was a well-known haven for cattle grazing. The Bororo nomads usually came there once in every two or three years to graze, in the area and each time they did, they upset the natural balance and order of the wildlife in the area.

The dry season was not only favorable for pasturing in that part of the savannah, it was also, a very good time for game hunting-a sport, which he loved dearly. Hayah was a soldier in his early forties, still very fit, with the relentless enthusiasm of an adolescent. During the brief periods of calm in the conflict between the Fulanis and the indigenous Musgum people, he liked to venture inland into the lush grassland for solitude and game hunting. It gave him the peace and quiet he needed; to rest, reflect and recuperate.

As he moved stealthily through the grass, he heard a sound. Mistaking it for a wild animal, he crouched anf advanced cautiously. But as he areaneared the source of the noice, he saw a cow, and then another. He parted the tall grass, he was hiding behind and saw more cows grazing peacefully in an open area. Annoyed, he thought about confronting the cattle Rearer and giving him a piece of his mind. But, just as he was about to step foward, he noticed a figure-not among the cows, but under a tree, away from the animals.

It was that of a typical Bororo girl.

She was tall and slim, with the light but brownish complexion common to the Fulbe. Her face was turned away from him, watching the cows. A wrapper, tied very low around her waist, was held together in place by alot of beads-Jigida. Her blouse was tiny - barely covering her upper torso - decorated with colorful beads and small pieces of clothes sewn onto it. Her hair was braided in cornrows of different sizes, adorned with beads of different colors.

When she turned her face towards him, he held his breath. She had the most beautiful face he had ever seen. It was oval in shape, with large expressive eyes and a cute, pointed nose. Her lips were tattooed black, and her eyes were lined with dark kohl. Three white dots adorned each of her cheeks, and large round earrings dangled from her ears. He estimated her age to be around fourteen or fifteen.


She was so beautiful that, for a moment, he doubted she was human-peharps a jinn.

Suddenly, an uneasy but familiar calm settled over the place.

With the keen eye of an expert hunter, he quickly scanned through the long, dry savanna grass that was swaying slowly in the wind. And then-there it was Almost invisible, blending seamlessly into the brown grass a lion was making its way towards the herd, moving slowly and stealthily  unnoticed.

The shepherd girl was oblivious to the danger. She was so engrossed with her watch that, that from a distance, her face radiated a calm and peaceful demeanor. He almost felt sorry for her-she was about to be terrified beyond her wildest imagination.


Silently, but swiftly, he drew his bow and arrow aiming straight at the beast. To his horror, he realised the lion wasn’t heading towards the cattle-it was going straight for the girl.

“A man-eater!” He thought, his pulse quickening.

Without hesitation, he dipped his arrow in poison, nocked it and took aim.  “How could this be?" He wondered. There are hardly any people living in this area- except for the Bororo, who must have arrived just days ago.”

But there was no time to dwell on it. He had to act fast or else the girl would be dead.


Suddenly from its crouched position, the lion sprang towards her-just as he lossed his arrow.

Chaos eruoted. The cows scattered in all directions. The girl spun around and let out a shrill, terrified scream. Everything happened in a blur.

And then-it was over.

The beast lay dead at her feet.

He emerged from the tall grass and ran towards her. She was frozen stiff with fear.

“Are you alright?” He asked, gasping for air. But she didn’t answer. She stood frozen, paralyzed by fear, her eyes fixated on the carcass.

“It’s alright. It’s dead now.” He said.

She lifted her eyes to meet his, terror still etched accross her face. Then it dawned on him-she couldn’t understand him. He had been speaking in Hausa. Realising this, he switched to Fulfulde and asked again if she was alright, his voice gentle as he tried to calm her.

She must have suddenly come back to her senses because she immediately untied the veil around her waist and covered her head, turning her back shyly, away from him.

“It’s ok.” He said again.

The Bororo were known for their coyness, especially their women, and he didn’t want to upset her. “You shouldn’t be out here alone with the cows to graze, you know! These parts are swarming with wild animals. Perhaps you should have come in a group-or better yet, let the men do it.”

She still said nothing.

So he continued. “This is a man-eater, which makes it even more dangerous to be out here alone. I haven’t seen one in a long time, you know.”

He went on talking for about two minutes without a single response from her. Just as he was about to stop, he caught a glimpse of her stealing a glance at him from the corner of his eye-before suddenly bolting away.

“Great!” He exclaimed. “She ran off and left her cows. Well, she'll have to come back for them.”

With that, he sat down under the tree to wait.



Later that day, a young Bororo girl, dressed in a typical Fulani outfit, walked down a narrow path, a stylishly decorated calabash filled with milk, balanced firmly on her head. She moved gracefully, her steps light and sure, never upsetting the calabash’s balance or its content.

“Hey pullo, waddu kosam!”

A familiar girl’s voice rang out, calling to her. She turned towards the sound, searching for its source.

“Fantah! What are you doing here?” she asked, walking towards her and carefully placing the calabash on the ground. “Where did you leave the cows? It is your turn to watch over them.”

“Oh, they are fine," Fantah replied, nonchalantly.

“You abandoned them again? Baba will be angry.”

“Don’t worry about them.” Fantah opened the calabash, scooped out some milk and started drinking. “Wow, you didn’t make any sales today!”

“Fantah! Stop drinking the milk. Dada will know.” She snatched the ladle from her and quickly covered the calabash with woven raffia. “Where did you leave the cows? What if something happens to them?”


“Common, Diddi, you know those cows are smarter than most of the boys in this village… Believe me, they are!”

Common narrowed her eyes, studying her.
“What’s wrong, Fantah?” she could tell her sister was hiding something.

“I met a man.”

“You did?” Diddi gasped, her eyes widening, as they got up and started walking home.

“Yes. Oh, he was so wonderful.”

“I thought you said all boys were stupid?”

“Oh, yes. But he is not a boy. He is a man.” Fantah's voice softened, her eyes dreamy.

“Oh, wow!” Diddi said, surprised.

And just like that, Fantah began telling her about the handsome stranger who had saved her life.
 

[End of Chapter One]