In a beautiful Fulani settlement blessed with abundant natural resources, Allah had granted ArÉ—o Babayo’s camp unique blessings. The herdsmen were true Fulanis of Cameroon.
One Friday afternoon after the Ê¿Asr prayer, herders were returning home. Cattle, sheep, camels, and goats were everywhere, each animal heading to its rightful herd, for even animals knew their master. Among all, ArÉ—o Babayo’s herd stood out as one of the greatest in Africa. He had forty herders working under him.
The town was dimming as signs of the rainy season’s coolness spread everywhere. Vegetation was lush, and streams surrounded Babayo’s camp.
Some elders sat beneath a large cedar tree near ArÉ—o Babayo’s house. In their midst sat a noble old man with dignity and strength, surrounded by other respected men. To his right was another great man of faith and honor, and together they were engaged in discussions concerning their lives.
Suddenly, ArÉ—o Babayo lifted his gaze toward the right, where he noticed four young boys chasing a large Boleru bird. The eldest among them looked about 15, followed by a 13-year-old, then an 11-year-old, and finally the youngest, not more than 9. They were running with all their strength, pursuing the bird that could not fly but only ran. Clearly, the Boleru was heavily pregnant, struggling to save its life.
Just as Babayo opened his mouth to speak, his eyes fell upon a beautiful girl, about 8 years old, sitting on the lap of the man at his right. She suddenly jumped up and shouted in Fulfulde:
“Acce mo! Leave it alone!”
Then, turning to the man she sat upon, she said with fear and compassion:
“Appa, tell them to stop chasing it, they’ll hurt it!”
Babayo smiled and said:
“Gainako, leave it. Catch it gently instead.”
But Gainako quickly replied:
“Baffa, GiÉ—aÉ—o said we should catch it for him so he can slaughter it.”
The little girl screamed in terror:
“Appa, they’ll slaughter it! Tell them not to! Look, it’s crying, and they’ve wounded its hand—it’s bleeding!”
The men were stunned. She said the bird’s “hand” was bleeding, but how could a bird have hands?
The man she called Appa drew her close and asked:
“Parvina, does a bird have hands?”
She quickly stood, raising her voice:
“It’s not a bird, Appa! Wallahi, it’s a human! Can’t you see? She’s pregnant and crying, protecting her belly!”
Shocked, they all stared at the Boleru. To them, it was still a bird running with a swollen belly.
Parvina’s Vision
The youngest boy, GiÉ—aÉ—o (9 years old), burst into tears:
“Gainako, catch it for me! Don’t let it escape!”
Hearing this, Parvina began running after them, crying with all her heart. Unlike everyone else, she did not see a bird but a beautiful pregnant woman, near childbirth.
She screamed:
“Please leave her! You’ll hurt her! Appa, come save her—they’ll kill her!”
Her cries echoed through the entire settlement, even the mountains and river answered back:
“Wayyoooo Appaaaaa! They’ll kill her! They broke her hand!”
The elders rose in alarm and rushed to the scene. Appa quickly grabbed Parvina, but she struggled to break free. Babayo thundered at Gainako:
“Release that bird immediately!”
Gainako obeyed. The creature fell to the ground. At that moment, Parvina dashed forward. In her eyes, she saw a woman falling heavily, her pregnant belly striking the ground, causing her to enter labor.
She knelt, took the woman’s hand—though to others, she only clutched the wing of the bird. Crying, she stroked its head:
“Sorry, they hurt you! Tell them you’re not a bird, tell them you’re human like them!”
She saw the woman weeping in silence, her hand broken. She turned to Appa in urgency:
“Let’s take her to the bone-setters. They broke her hand!”
Everyone was bewildered. GiÉ—aÉ—o, still sobbing, protested:
“But it’s my bird! I raised it. We ate together. Now you say we can’t slaughter it?”
Parvina wept harder, hugging the figure she saw:
“She’s human, not a bird! I won’t let anyone harm her as long as I live!”
The call for Maghrib prayer interrupted. One elder, Yayari, told the boys:
“Go wash for prayer. Leave the bird. Tomorrow, you’ll be given another animal for slaughter.”
But GiÉ—aÉ—o cried:
“No! I don’t want a ram or anything else. I only want my bird!”
Babayo shouted:
“Enough, GiÉ—aÉ—o! Leave it. You’re still a child!”
Still, everyone’s eyes were fixed on Parvina, who insisted:
“She’s not a bird, she’s a human. Look—her hands, her legs, her eyes, her hair! Can’t you see the tears?”
Fear began to creep into the elders’ hearts. Was this truly a bird, or had God revealed something hidden to this child?
Appa, trembling, whispered in Fulfulde:
“Parvina, it’s only a bird, not a human. Why do you say otherwise?”
But she cried louder, shaking, hugging what she saw as a woman, not a bird.
As they entered the compound, GiÉ—aÉ—o confronted her, shoving her back and hissing:
“Wicked girl! I’ll slaughter my bird, I swear!”
Parvina shielded the creature, rushing inside. There, she met Seyoji, who was telling their mother about the bird.
GiÉ—aÉ—o’s mother reassured Parvina:
“Don’t worry. No one will slaughter it. From today, it’s yours.”
Parvina pleaded:
“Inna, please stop them. By Allah, it’s not a bird—it’s human!”
Her mother gently answered:
“Don’t worry, Parvina. From today it’s yours. Go make ablution and pray.”
And so the mystery of Parvina’s vision grew deeper. To everyone else, the creature remained a Boleru bird. But to her, it was a weeping pregnant woman, broken and vulnerable, crying for her life.
Description
Yahounde: The Capital of Cameroon
In a beautiful Fulani settlement blessed with abundant natural resources, Allah had granted ArÉ—o Babayo’s camp unique blessings. The herdsmen were true Fulanis of Cameroon.
One Friday afternoon after the Ê¿Asr prayer, herders were returning home. Cattle, sheep, camels, and goats were everywhere, each animal heading to its rightful herd, for even animals knew their master. Among all, ArÉ—o Babayo’s herd stood out as one of the greatest in Africa. He had forty herders working under him.
The town was dimming as signs of the rainy season’s coolness spread everywhere. Vegetation was lush, and streams surrounded Babayo’s camp.
Some elders sat beneath a large cedar tree near ArÉ—o Babayo’s house. In their midst sat a noble old man with dignity and strength, surrounded by other respected men. To his right was another great man of faith and honor, and together they were engaged in discussions concerning their lives.
Suddenly, ArÉ—o Babayo lifted his gaze toward the right, where he noticed four young boys chasing a large Boleru bird. The eldest among them looked about 15, followed by a 13-year-old, then an 11-year-old, and finally the youngest, not more than 9. They were running with all their strength, pursuing the bird that could not fly but only ran. Clearly, the Boleru was heavily pregnant, struggling to save its life.
Just as Babayo opened his mouth to speak, his eyes fell upon a beautiful girl, about 8 years old, sitting on the lap of the man at his right. She suddenly jumped up and shouted in Fulfulde:
“Acce mo! Leave it alone!”
Then, turning to the man she sat upon, she said with fear and compassion:
“Appa, tell them to stop chasing it, they’ll hurt it!”
Babayo smiled and said:
“Gainako, leave it. Catch it gently instead.”
But Gainako quickly replied:
“Baffa, GiÉ—aÉ—o said we should catch it for him so he can slaughter it.”
The little girl screamed in terror:
“Appa, they’ll slaughter it! Tell them not to! Look, it’s crying, and they’ve wounded its hand—it’s bleeding!”
The men were stunned. She said the bird’s “hand” was bleeding, but how could a bird have hands?
The man she called Appa drew her close and asked:
“Parvina, does a bird have hands?”
She quickly stood, raising her voice:
“It’s not a bird, Appa! Wallahi, it’s a human! Can’t you see? She’s pregnant and crying, protecting her belly!”
Shocked, they all stared at the Boleru. To them, it was still a bird running with a swollen belly.
Parvina’s Vision
The youngest boy, GiÉ—aÉ—o (9 years old), burst into tears:
“Gainako, catch it for me! Don’t let it escape!”
Hearing this, Parvina began running after them, crying with all her heart. Unlike everyone else, she did not see a bird but a beautiful pregnant woman, near childbirth.
She screamed:
“Please leave her! You’ll hurt her! Appa, come save her—they’ll kill her!”
Her cries echoed through the entire settlement, even the mountains and river answered back:
“Wayyoooo Appaaaaa! They’ll kill her! They broke her hand!”
The elders rose in alarm and rushed to the scene. Appa quickly grabbed Parvina, but she struggled to break free. Babayo thundered at Gainako:
“Release that bird immediately!”
Gainako obeyed. The creature fell to the ground. At that moment, Parvina dashed forward. In her eyes, she saw a woman falling heavily, her pregnant belly striking the ground, causing her to enter labor.
She knelt, took the woman’s hand—though to others, she only clutched the wing of the bird. Crying, she stroked its head:
“Sorry, they hurt you! Tell them you’re not a bird, tell them you’re human like them!”
She saw the woman weeping in silence, her hand broken. She turned to Appa in urgency:
“Let’s take her to the bone-setters. They broke her hand!”
Everyone was bewildered. GiÉ—aÉ—o, still sobbing, protested:
“But it’s my bird! I raised it. We ate together. Now you say we can’t slaughter it?”
Parvina wept harder, hugging the figure she saw:
“She’s human, not a bird! I won’t let anyone harm her as long as I live!”
The call for Maghrib prayer interrupted. One elder, Yayari, told the boys:
“Go wash for prayer. Leave the bird. Tomorrow, you’ll be given another animal for slaughter.”
But GiÉ—aÉ—o cried:
“No! I don’t want a ram or anything else. I only want my bird!”
Babayo shouted:
“Enough, GiÉ—aÉ—o! Leave it. You’re still a child!”
Still, everyone’s eyes were fixed on Parvina, who insisted:
“She’s not a bird, she’s a human. Look—her hands, her legs, her eyes, her hair! Can’t you see the tears?”
Fear began to creep into the elders’ hearts. Was this truly a bird, or had God revealed something hidden to this child?
Appa, trembling, whispered in Fulfulde:
“Parvina, it’s only a bird, not a human. Why do you say otherwise?”
But she cried louder, shaking, hugging what she saw as a woman, not a bird.
As they entered the compound, GiÉ—aÉ—o confronted her, shoving her back and hissing:
“Wicked girl! I’ll slaughter my bird, I swear!”
Parvina shielded the creature, rushing inside. There, she met Seyoji, who was telling their mother about the bird.
GiÉ—aÉ—o’s mother reassured Parvina:
“Don’t worry. No one will slaughter it. From today, it’s yours.”
Parvina pleaded:
“Inna, please stop them. By Allah, it’s not a bird—it’s human!”
Her mother gently answered:
“Don’t worry, Parvina. From today it’s yours. Go make ablution and pray.”
And so the mystery of Parvina’s vision grew deeper. To everyone else, the creature remained a Boleru bird. But to her, it was a weeping pregnant woman, broken and vulnerable, crying for her life.