Daren Goma Sha Hudu Book complete Arewareads hausa document - Bintu Seer

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Daren Goma Sha Hud'u (The Fourteenth Night) by Bintuu Seer

It was a massive cruise ship, one of those gigantic ocean liners, making its way across the Atlantic Ocean in the dead of the fourteenth night. Our world was bathed in the glow of a bright full moon that illuminated the ocean waters. If a watcher strained their vision to the east, west, south, and north, they would see nothing except the endless Red Sea—or rather, the vast ocean—making the entire world look like nothing but water due to its sheer scale. The ship had departed from our continent of Africa heading toward the Saharan nations...

Inside this ship, everyone was engrossed in their own affairs, as if they weren't floating in the middle of the ocean. Most of the passengers on this ship were Arabs and Europeans who came to our black-skinned nations to round up people and take them back to their countries to turn them into slaves. Even now, that was precisely the case; almost every black person you saw on this ship was a captured slave seized from our lands in Africa.

I caught sight of a group of young maidens huddled together. You could tell right away that they all came from different regions simply by the varying styles of traditional attire they wore. I spotted some Fulani girls dressed in their traditional woven saqi cloths; there were five of them, and none of them lagged behind in natural beauty. However, my eyes were particularly drawn to one of them who sat huddled in a corner, burying her face between her knees.

I managed to catch a glimpse of her lovely face—she was a Fulani girl. At that exact moment, a white man standing near them reached out, grabbed her chin, forced her head up, and blew cigarette smoke directly into her face. Indeed, glory be to the Lord who sculpted such a breathtaking creation! She had large, milk-white eyes as pure as dairy, a tiny mouth with naturally pink lips that looked as though she wore red lipstick, and a perfectly chiseled nose. Her head was uncovered, which allowed me to see the length of her hair. Her hair was parted into two sections, braided into neat strands that cascaded all the way down to her buttocks. The hair shone with a jet-black luster, the authentic mark of true Fulani heritage. By Allah, God had truly poured out an absolute masterpiece of fair, radiant beauty right there. It was pure, unadulterated beauty straight from the Lord of Majesty, without a single flaw.

Her body was trembling, her teeth were chattering, and she curled herself even tighter inside a cardboard box lying nearby, as all the captives were forced to sit on the bare floor of the ship. The oldest woman among them moved closer to her, touched her body, and said, "Bimbii, you have a fever. Your body is burning up." She spoke to her in the Fulani language (Fulfulde). Bimbii remained silent, not saying a word.

The white man in charge of them walked over, looked at them, and placed his hand on Bimbii's forehead. Finding it burning hot, he muttered, "No," and shot them a furious glare. What he hated most was acquiring a sick slave among his captives, as he viewed it as a potential loss before he could reach the slave market. Besides, not everyone was willing to buy a slave with compromised health. He clutched his head, walked back to his seat, and resumed blowing smoke from his cigarette.

An Arab man standing nearby, who was also transporting his own batch of slaves, looked at the white man and asked in British English, "Is this one unwell?"

The white man raised his head, looked at the Arab, and replied, "Yeah."

The Arab walked over, looked at them, smiled, and said to the white man, "If you want, let's make an exchange. You give me a healthy slave and take her."

Without hesitation, the white man stood up, laughed, and told the Arab, "Show me your slaves so I can choose for myself."

The Arab smiled and pointed toward his contingent of slaves, almost all of whom were strapping, muscular young men, though most belonged to various tribes. The white man scanned them until his eyes landed on a powerfully built, muscular black man who looked full of strength. Tapping him, the white man said, "Let's trade for this one."

The Arab instructed one of his slave handlers to untie that man and hand him over to the white man, while he himself dragged Bimbii by the scruff of her neck and pushed her into his own group of captives. She wept, and her fellow captives cried as well, forced to part ways as she was integrated into the Arab's contingent of slaves.

In his contingent, there were only five women, and each spoke a different language, none of them able to understand the others; the rest were all men. Ever since she joined this group, Bimbii had become like a deaf person, unable to communicate with anyone because of the language barrier. The fever in her body began to intensify, and she shivered violently with cold. With nothing to cover herself with, she simply curled up into a tight ball.

A young Igbo guy, fair-skinned and handsome, stepped closer to her and removed his winter jacket, placing it over her shoulders to keep her warm. Feeling the warmth, Bimbii raised her head, looked at him briefly, and then tucked her head back down onto her knees. He signaled to one of the guards to bring a calabash of drinking water. When it was handed to her, she touched it and quickly drew back, moving away from him. In their pastoral culture (ruga), it was considered a grave sin for a man to touch a woman directly, which was why she pulled away so quickly. He handed the calabash of water to her again; she reached out, took it, drank, and then handed it back, whispering in Fulfulde, "Thank you."

Days passed, blurring through many nights, but they remained adrift on the ocean surface, having left dry land behind long ago. Among all these slaves, not a single one knew the country they were heading toward; all they knew was that they had been captured from their homelands and thrown into a ship as prisoners of war and slaves.

Ever since Bimbii came down with a fever, that young Igbo man had been looking after her, feeling deep pity for Bimbii because she was genuinely very young. The cold bit fiercely into every part of their bodies, leaving them to huddle together with nothing to cover themselves with. As for the young man, he was left wearing only a light shirt because he had stripped off his thick jacket to cover Bimbii.

Suddenly, their ship began to rock violently, pitching back and forth as if it were about to capsize. Panic gripped everyone on board. The young man grabbed Bimbii's hand tightly as she completely lost her composure. By the grace of Allah, the ship righted itself and returned to normal. Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.

Slowly, Bimbii pulled her hand away. Looking at him, she noticed that he too was shivering from the cold, yet he had chosen to sacrifice his jacket to cover her. Reaching out, she removed the jacket from herself and draped it back over him. He looked at her, attempting to remove the jacket, but she quickly stopped him with her hand, saying in Fulfulde, "I'm not cold, just wear it."

He didn't understand the words she spoke, but he grasped her intent. Smiling, he said, "Thank you."

She raised her head quickly to stare at him, wondering if her ears were playing tricks on her, because it sounded almost like he had spoken Hausa. She herself spoke a little Hausa from going out to the local market to hawk fresh cow milk (nono).

"Do you speak Hausa?" she asked.

He smiled for a second time and replied, "Yeah, but I'm an Igbo man from Abia."

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Obinnah," he replied, before asking, "What's your name?"

"Bimbii," she answered.

He repeated her name softly and asked, "Where are you from?"

"Our ruga is located south of Lamirde village in Gombe town," she said.

He nodded to show he understood. Neither of them spoke fluent Hausa—both of their dialects were heavily accented—yet they managed to converse. Bimbii was not a talkative person, but she found herself opening up to him.

In the dead of the fourteenth night, their ship finally arrived at its destination port—the port of Brandford in Amsterdam. As they disembarked, they stared about them like wide-eyed villagers. And indeed, they had every right to look like rustics, for across the entire continent of Africa, there was nothing comparable to this port. The European workers bustling around treated them like dirt due to rampant racism. None of them could name the country they were in, but the skin color of the locals made it clear they were deep inside European territory.

Falmata, one of Bimbii's kinswomen who had been separated from her back on the ship, snuck away from her group and slipped into Bimbii's contingent. Seizing Bimbii's hand in tears, she whispered, "Bimbii, we are going to be separated forever. Look, they are about to load us onto another ship, and we don't know where they're taking us. This is simply our destiny; they've torn us away from our families and thrown us into the wide world. Bimbii, take care of yourself, humble yourself, and do whatever they tell you to do because they have no mercy—they can kill a person."

They wept bitterly, clinging tightly to one another until the European leader in charge of their group noticed that one of the women was missing. Without wasting a second, he yanked Falmata away, dealt her a twin set of slaps across the face, and dragged her back to her group. The Europeans rounded them up, tied them together with ropes, and forced them onto another ship. As they marched, they kept looking back at their sister.

Bimbii cried uncontrollably, watching them until they vanished into the ship. Obinnah, standing nearby, tried to comfort her. While she was still mourning the separation from her kinsfolk, one of the guards approached and signaled for her to follow him. Not knowing what he intended to do, and offering no resistance, she stood up and followed him. Obinnah quickly stood to accompany her, but the guard barked a harsh command that forced him to stay put, while Bimbii followed the man toward an old, abandoned ship docked at the edge of the port.

The guard pointed to the ship's entrance and told her to go inside. She entered, and he followed right behind her. The moment she stepped inside, her heart sank and nearly stopped; she realized the ship was completely abandoned—there was no one inside except piles of discarded junk. Her panic reached its peak when she saw him start unbuckling his trousers.

Immediately, her entire body began to tremble like a reed in the wind, and she backed away in sheer terror. He smiled as he finished stripping off his clothes and looked at her. Seeing her standing with her eyes tightly shut and her body shivering uncontrollably, she dropped to her knees, raised both hands imploringly, and pleaded with him in Fulfulde, "For the sake of God and His Prophet, leave me alone! Do not violate me, I am not an infidel!"

She wept as she begged him, her face soaked in tears. But the pagan brute had no idea what she was saying because he didn't understand her language. He was also a black man, resembling the people of Kenya—pitch black like charcoal, an authentic African man.

He stepped closer as she retreated until she hit the back bulkhead of the ship, pursuing her with a malicious smile. Just as he reached out to grab her, the door of the ship was kicked open.

It was the very same Arab man who had acquired her from the white man earlier. Furious, he strode in and began shouting in English: "Are you an idiot? Do you want to ruin me? You know why I took her? Because you can tell she's a pure maiden, and the price for virgins at the market is completely different! And here you are, acting like a reckless fool and trying to cause me a loss. All these Africans are a bunch of animals; slavery is the only thing fit for you people!"

The Arab ranted on and on while the man hurriedly pulled his trousers back on. Bimbii stood off to the side, drawing ragged breaths of relief. The Arab grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and dragged her back to his group of slaves.

The moment Obinnah saw her return, he asked if they had harmed her. She shook her head to indicate they hadn't done anything to her. They remained huddled by the water's edge, treated less than human, battered by the biting cold wind until dawn broke. Then another ship arrived. As it discharged its passengers, it began loading new ones, and they were forced at whip-point onto this new vessel.

After two days of travel, they entered Arab territory. Their ship finally docked in KUWAIT at the Abdullah bin Faisal International port.

The moment they disembarked, massive vehicles swept in to transport them directly to the slave market. Just as livestock—sheep or horses—are traded in markets, so too were human beings traded here. Huge iron cages held the slaves, and they were crammed into them accordingly. The prices of the slaves varied in tiers; some cost far more than others. Wealthy individuals, royalty, and rulers bought slaves in bulk to take to their estates for various forms of servitude. However, royalty generally preferred Arab-looking slaves rather than black people. Industrialists and farm owners bought black people to work for them, but even those looking for domestic house-help overwhelmingly preferred Arabs, holding an intense prejudice and disgust for black people, especially Africans.

Bimbii was placed in a cage shared with other young women, all of whom were Arabs. Even they stared at her in utter astonishment, whispering about whether women as breathtakingly beautiful as Bimbii actually existed in black-skinned nations. They noticed her hair was longer than theirs, and she outshone them all in beauty and a fully mature feminine physique, save for their lighter skin tone.

People milled about, purchasing the slaves that caught their fancy. Every slave prayed silently to be bought, hoping against hope to fall into the hands of kind masters who would treat them humanely.

An Arab woman of noble bearing, whose appearance immediately signaled wealth, walked by to inspect the slaves. The Arab merchant quickly intercepted her and brought her to the cage holding Bimbii and the others, inviting her to pick whichever caught her eye. She scrutinized them one by one, inspecting them as if she were buying a goat.

Her eyes suddenly locked onto Bimbii. Pointing at her, she asked, "Is this one black?"

"Yes, but she is in perfect health, you won't have any trouble with her," the merchant replied.

The woman looked at Bimbii again and instructed the merchant to bring her out. Without wasting time, he unlocked the cage and pulled Bimbii out. The transaction was completed swiftly; the woman paid, received the certificate of ownership for Bimbii, and led her to her car. The merchant escorted them, opened the trunk of the car, and Bimbii was ordered inside. Once she was locked in the trunk, the woman climbed into the backseat, her driver started the car, and they drove off.

Bimbii crouched inside the car trunk like a frightened lamb all the way until they arrived at the estate. The trunk was opened, and she climbed out. The property was a lovely, well-landscaped modern bungalow surrounded by flowers everywhere—typical of Arabs who loved luxury and comfort.

The woman gave Bimbii a tour of her duties, which included watering and tending to the outdoor flowers. Her chores were strictly exterior; they had nothing to do with the bedrooms, kitchen, or parlor, because when it came to food preparation or sleeping quarters, they refused to let outsiders touch them due to their deep aversion to black people. All indoor household chores were handled by Arab maidservants.

A small room was assigned to Bimbii. Every morning, long before dawn broke, Bimbii would rise and execute all the tasks assigned to her by the woman. She didn't know the woman's name, but she heard the estate staff refer to her as Ennah. Ennah was extremely strict and had zero tolerance for laziness or negligence regarding work. She had two sons, both grown men, but neither lived with her; they lived in their own separate homes and only visited on weekends to greet her, staying until nightfall before returning. Ennah adored her sons, Zayeed and Maheer. Maheer was the younger one, around twenty-three years old, while Zayeed was twenty-six.

It was the weekend. Since early morning, Bimbii had finished her chores. Ever since Bimbii's arrival, the estate's neglected garden had blossomed, producing vibrant, colorful flowers. She would meticulously trim them, arrange them, and weed out the unwanted growth at their bases that hindered their progress. Ennah constantly watched Bimbii tending to the flowers through her bedroom window, secretly impressed by her workmanship. As she worked, Bimbii would softly hum songs in Fulfulde.

Since arriving at the estate, Bimbii had never once stepped foot inside the main bungalow of the masters. One Saturday, Maheer arrived at the estate. He stopped in his tracks, watching Bimbii work on the flowers, a scowl etched across his face. He had never expected Ennah to bring a black woman into their home.

He strode over to where Bimbii was working, reached out, snatched away the head-covering shielding her hair, and yanked her long braids. Terrified, she raised her tear-filled eyes to look at him and stammered in Fulfulde, "Sir, what's wrong? What have I done to you?"

Instead of an answer, he lashed out and slapped her so hard the mark of his palm blazed across her cheek. Enraged, he shouted in Arabic, demanding to know who on earth had brought a black woman into their house.

Hearing the commotion, Ennah hurried out of the bungalow, rushed over, grabbed Maheer, and pulled him inside. Left outside, tears welled up in Bimbii's eyes as she pondered the indignity of it all: wasn't a black person also a human being created by God? In her own African homeland, considering her light complexion, people would have called her fair, yet here, a single glance was enough for them to dismiss her simply because she wasn't an Arab, despite her immaculate, God-given beauty.

The next morning, Ennah called Bimbii and announced that she was being sent to live at her son's house to serve him. Bimbii’s heart plummeted. She fell silent because she had no choice in a foreign land where she possessed no one and nothing save Allah.

That evening, Maheer arrived and took her away to his residence. Upon arrival, she discovered he lived entirely alone in an apartment located on Najib Ushakhair Street—a neat, lovely flat.

Looking at her with utter disdain, he pointed to a shaded veranda enclosure and said, "I'm doing you a favor. You'll sleep out here. When you wake up, you'll trim the flowers, sweep this entire compound, and feed the fish." He pointed to a small ornamental fish pond.

That was the entirety of the work he outlined; under no circumstances was she ever allowed to step inside his flat. With that, he walked inside, leaving her standing outside with the strict warning that her duties commenced immediately.

Clad in a faded, oversized maxi gown with a tattered scarf wrapped around her head, she knelt down and began pulling out the dead weeds at the base of the flowers, gathering them in a pile. She worked with energy and diligence, refusing to give in to lethargy because she had resolved that she simply wanted to survive, even though she knew returning home or ever seeing her family again was a pipe dream. She had been torn far away from her homeland, resigned to living out her days in the bitter chains of bondage...

Summary

The narrative opens in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean aboard a slave ship transporting captured Africans to foreign lands. Among the captives is Bimbii, a remarkably beautiful young Fulani girl whose striking looks draw unwanted attention. After being traded to an Arab trader, she eventually arrives in Kuwait, where she is sold at a slave market to an affluent Arab woman named Ennah. Assigned to outdoor gardening duties on Ennah's estate, Bimbii labors diligently and silently. However, when Ennah's hostile younger son, Maheer, takes her to his own home to serve as his personal outdoor servant, Bimbii's life descends into a nightmare of xenophobic abuse, harsh labor, and cruel mistreatment involving guard dogs and physical violence.

Description

This excerpt from the Hausa fiction serial Daren Goma Sha Hud'u by Bintuu Seer explores themes of human trafficking, cultural displacement, racial prejudice in the Middle East, and the resilience of a young Fulani pastoralist thrust into modern-day chattel slavery. The prose vividly contrasts Bimbii's natural purity and traditional upbringing with the brutal, dehumanizing realities of transnational exploitation.

Analytics

Character Dynamics: Bimbii represents innocence, cultural dignity, and endurance in the face of insurmountable trauma. Her interactions with characters like Obinnah (who shows rare empathy across a language barrier) highlight human solidarity, whereas figures like Maheer embody systemic cruelty, xenophobia, and racial supremacy.
Thematic Elements:
- Modern Chattel Slavery: The dehumanization of African captives reduced to commercial commodities traded in foreign markets.
- Racial and Cultural Prejudice: The stark colorism and xenophobia displayed by Arab masters toward black Africans ("baqar fata").
- Resilience: Bimbii's quiet determination to survive despite total isolation from her family and homeland.

Comments

The author constructs a harrowing, emotionally charged narrative that sheds light on historical and contemporary anxieties surrounding human trafficking. The inclusion of commercial notices (littafin kud'i) throughout the text reflects the serialized publishing format common in contemporary commercial Hausa literature.

Conclusions

Displacement and systemic cruelty test the limits of human endurance, yet dignity often persists in the quietest acts of survival. While Bimbii's physical freedom has been brutally stripped away, her inner resolve remains unbroken as she navigates a hostile world far removed from her Fulani roots.