BIBA (The fulani girl)

Chapter ten

For Malikha Em-square ❤💙💚💛💜💟💟💟

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I belong to the Bulankejo clan of the fulani tribe. My people are nomadic herdsmen that move about the country (mainly the middle belt and down south) with their cattle in search of pasture. Their migration pattern is basically dependent on rainfall.

During the dry season, they move south to parts of Kwara state, or as far as Ondo, this is where they set their wet camp. When the rain falls in the north, which last between April to October, they move back to their dry Camp in a small village called firo in bauchi state.

It was a life of simplicity and contentment. One lived with the sole dream of owning a large herd of cattle. It was as big as any dream could get...there was nothing beyond that.

My father started out small, he left with the few cattle allocated to him by his father with a shy bride in tow and settled in the outskirt of Otokiti, then a sparsely populated town not far from lokoja.

I am the fourth of nine children hence the name Bappate. Our people have the tradition of not calling the first five sons of a family by their birth name rather they address them according to their birth position. The first born is called Badikko, followed by Bayero, then Bademmo, Bappate, and Basebo. In the case of females, the first is Yadikko, then Yadado, yademmo, yapendo and yatakko. Being the fourth and last of my father's sons, I was called Bappate.

I was around the age of six or seven when my older brother Badikko died from snake bite. The next day, an emaciated looking man arrived in our compound and went to sit where the elders did. The remaining three sons (me inclusive) were summoned, we formed a crescent around him while he brought out a stout, foul smelling root from his cowhide bag. My father used a small knife to cut the root into tiny pieces which he handed to each of us and we were made to chew. In a stern voice, the man cautioned us against doing some things which include blowing our food before eating, and eating burnt food. We were made to understand that we are now immune to snake poisoning. Wether I adhered to these instructions or not, I have absolutely no idea.

That was about the same time when I met the love of my life. At that age I didn't know such deep love could exist. I was consumed by the sheer beauty and elegance of my newfound love...the bicycle.

The first time I saw the school master in his crisp short khaki trouser and white shirt glide pass me, I was deeply enthralled with the magical way in which it moved that I didn't dare move a muscle for quite a while.

After the shock waned off, I ran after it until I was out of breath, unfortunately I couldn't catch up with them neither did I know where exactly they were headed. Beaten and out of breath, I went back home and spent the rest of the day musing over the 'magic horse' as I had named it.

From then onwards, I will roam around the road in which I first spotted the bicycle in hopes that I run into it again. I became so restless that I found no joy in playing with my friends. It continued for a while until my father complained that I was spending too much time idling away. I was given the task of looking after six goats with the help of one of our herding dogs whom we called Bobo.

One lucky day, I moved a little farther from my homestead towards the town near the double block elavated colonial style school building. There I saw it, it was resting majestically on a tree near the window overlooking one of the classrooms.

With the task of looking after the goats long forgotten, I crouched and stealthily made my way closer to the it. Between its brown leather saddle, to its black rubber pedal, a relationship was born; one that will change my life forever.