BAFULLATANAN RUGA 1

About this Novel

The wind picked up as the rain poured down, darkening the sky already laden with dust and storms. Reacting swiftly, Mairo stood up, gripping a stick in her hand, and began speaking in the Fulani language to those around her. The way the people started gravitating towards her as if understanding her words forced us to stop and take notice. Undoubtedly, she was a true Fulani, and if I told you she spoke any other language, you wouldn't believe it. Her appearance perfectly reflected her heritage; her wild-looking hair, thick and coiled, coiled so tightly that it seemed like a monumental task. Sanyeta, the Fulani dress draped over her, attested to her roots. Her long, flowing hair barely touched her feet, and she stood of average height. She gestured for the elephants to speed their way through the forest, pushing forward to reach their home before the downpour. However, the water caught up to them, soaking them to the bone. Despite her small frame, she continued leading the way, swatting at the branches that obstructed their path. It was a long walk before they finally reached their dwelling in the west, drenched to the skin.