Garkuwa 1 Complete Hausa Novel

In a beautiful Fulani settlement filled with worldly blessings, Allah had bestowed special favors upon the camp of Arɗo Babayo. They were herders—true Fulani from Cameroon.

One Friday afternoon around the time of the late afternoon prayer, the herdsmen were returning home from all directions. Cattle, sheep, camels, goats, and other livestock were coming back, each heading toward its owner’s herd, for even animals know their masters. Arɗo Babayo’s herd was one of the greatest, unmatched across the whole of Africa. He had no fewer than forty herders working for him.

The sky was beginning to dim with the cool signs of the rainy season. Everywhere was lush green with abundant vegetation, and a flowing river surrounded Babayo’s settlement like a natural ornament.

Some elders were seated beneath a ceɗiya tree at the entrance to Arɗo Babayo’s house. In their midst sat a fair-skinned elderly man of strong presence, surrounded by other notable men. On his right sat another dignified man, full of grace and signs of good character, faith, and authority. From all indications, they were discussing matters concerning their lives.

Suddenly, Arɗo Babayo lifted his head and looked toward his right. He saw four energetic young boys chasing after a large Boleru bird. The oldest, about fifteen, led the chase; behind him was another about thirteen, then one about eleven, and the youngest, around nine years old. They were running as fast as they could, pursuing the bird. It could not fly, so it ran on its two legs. From its appearance, it seemed to be heavily pregnant with a large, old belly. It was running for its life.

Arɗo Babayo was about to speak when he turned and noticed a beautiful little girl of about eight years old sitting on the lap of the man beside him. She suddenly jumped up with urgency and shouted in the Fulani language,

“(Acce mo) Leave her alone!”

Then she turned to the man she had been sitting with, trembling with fear and deep compassion, and cried,

“(Appa, tell them to stop chasing her, they will hurt her!) Appa, tell them to stop following her, they’ll injure her!”

Arɗo Babayo smiled and said,

“Gainako, leave it—you can catch it gently.”

But the boy called Gainako quickly replied,

“Baffa Giɗaɗo told us to catch it so he can slaughter it.”

At once, they all turned toward the girl when she let out a loud cry:

“You want to slaughter her? Appa, you hear them—they want to kill her! Please tell them not to slaughter her. She’s crying, and they’ve hurt her hand. It’s bleeding!”

They looked at the girl in confusion. She spoke as though the bird had hands and was bleeding. But where was the bird, and where were hands?

The man she called Appa pulled her closer and said gently,

“Parvina, since when does a bird have hands?”

She quickly stood and raised her voice,

“It’s not a bird, Appa—wallahi it’s a human being! She’s right there, pregnant, crying and holding her stomach!”

They all stared at the Boleru bird in astonishment. To them, it was clearly just a bird struggling to run, visibly heavy with eggs or pregnancy. Anyone who saw it could tell it was an old, pregnant bird.

Giɗaɗo, the youngest boy of about nine, started crying and said,

“Oh no! Gainako, hurry and catch it before it escapes!”

Hearing this, the little girl Parvina ran after them, crying loudly from the depths of her heart. To her, it was not a bird she saw. In reality and in her inner vision, Allah showed her a human being—a beautiful woman, fully formed, with a large pregnant belly as if she were about to give birth any day.

She kept running and shouting,

“Please leave her! You’ll hurt her! Appa, come quickly, let’s save her—they’ll kill her!”

She screamed with all her strength, waving her hands in panic, just as Gainako and the others caught up with the Boleru bird, pinned its wings down, and seized it.

Her scream was so loud that all the elders stood up at once and ran toward the scene. Her cry filled the entire settlement; no one could say they hadn’t heard it. Even the surrounding hills and the river seemed to echo her voice:

“Waaayooo! Appaaa! They’ll kill her! They’ve broken her hand!”

They arrived in alarm. Seeing how distressed she was, her father quickly held her, but she struggled in his grip, trying to break free. Meanwhile, Arɗo Babayo shouted angrily at Gainako:

“Hey! You! Gainako—release that bird! Let it go!”