“Tuluka tuluka babbar doya!” three children around fifteen years old shouted as they ran with speed, their voices rising in laughter and mockery. Among them, I spotted a girl of the same age, but unlike them she was plump, her body round and smooth like dates, her skin glowing, and her figure average in height.
She ran after them furiously, shouting, “I swear today I’ll beat you all! Who is this Tuluka you’re calling me? Didn’t yaya Hamma tell you to stop calling me that? I won’t accept it!”
The children kept mocking, saying, “If you’re brave enough, chase us and stop us then, Tuluka!” With anger boiling in her chest, she chased them until they ran beyond their village. Reaching the main road, they crossed quickly, but in her rage, she dashed forward without looking.
Suddenly, screeech! A car slammed its brakes. Shocked, she stumbled backward as the car pulled aside. To her fear, out came her elder brother Hamma, who had been sitting in the passenger seat. He frowned deeply, scolding her:
“Bessha, don’t you see the road? What if you had died because of your foolishness and carelessness?”
Terrified, she stammered with teary eyes, “Yaya, forgive me. It’s Atine and her friends, they keep calling me Tuluka.”
But Hamma waved it off. “That’s a lie! Stop this nonsense and go home. Tell Mama I’ll come later.”
With pouted lips, still murmuring, she muttered, “One day I’ll catch Atine, she’ll regret it.” Then she ran back to the village in tears.
Consolation with Goggo
Instead of going home, Bessha went straight to Goggo’s house. Without greeting, she threw herself on her grandmother’s lap, crying.
Goggo asked gently, “What’s wrong, child?”
Between sobs, she said, “It’s Atine and her friends, Goggo. They keep calling me Tuluka.”
Wiping her tears, Goggo comforted her: “Enough, hush. Don’t cry. I’ll go to their house myself and warn them.”
Bessha sniffled and smiled through tears. She loved being with Goggo more than home. “Goggo, I prefer staying here with you. I don’t want anyone else. Whoever comes to live with you, I won’t accept. If it’s me alone, you’ll give me all the good things.”
Goggo laughed and teased her. “Alright, if anyone comes, I’ll drive him away.”
Happy, Bessha hugged her tight. She even started sweeping and cleaning the compound just to please her grandmother, and Goggo rewarded her with fifty naira. Pouting but smiling, Bessha said, “See why I love you? You give me money for sweets!”
Trouble at Home
When she finally returned home, she crept in quietly. Mama had just finished her prayers and turned to her with a stern face.
“Where have you been?”
Bessha stammered, “At… at Goggo’s.”
Mama frowned harder. “That’s a lie. Since morning, your father sent someone to call you and you were nowhere. Tell me the truth!”
Trembling, she confessed about chasing Atine. Mama’s anger rose. “Instead of helping with housework, you spend your time fighting over silly nicknames? Bessha, you’re grown now but your mind is still childish!”
As Mama scolded, Hamma entered. “I almost saw her killed today, Mama. She ran across the road without looking!”
Mama, furious, slapped her. “I’m tired of you, Bessha. I’ll take you to the barracks for soldiers to discipline you!”
The mention of soldiers terrified her. In tears, she begged, “Please Mama, don’t take me there! I promise I’ll change. I’ll do all the housework, I won’t run around again!”
Her brother pleaded for her too, and finally Mama relented, hugging her while Bessha clung with joy, relieved to escape the dreaded barracks.
Bessha, Goggo, and Basir
Bessha was the last child of Malam Husaini and Karima, a family known for dignity and respect. She was a strikingly beautiful black girl with sparkling eyes, dimples, and long, soft hair like that of foreigners. But because of her plumpness, her peers mocked her with the nickname Tuluka Tuluka.
Her closeness with Goggo grew stronger daily. Goggo, a seventy-five-year-old woman, loved her deeply. But Goggo had another favorite—her only grandson Basir, a handsome soldier stationed in Abuja. Basir, though strict and reserved, returned home on leave.
When Bessha saw him at Goggo’s house, she became jealous, shouting, “This is my Goggo’s house, not yours! Even if you bring me ice cream, I won’t let you have her!”
Basir was shocked at her boldness. “Do you have no manners? Talking to me like this?”
But instead of stopping, Bessha argued more, until suddenly—slap! Basir struck her. She saw stars and ran behind Goggo crying.
Even Hamma later came and scolded her for disrespecting Basir. Humiliated, Bessha swore never to return to Goggo’s house. Yet deep inside, Goggo, Bessha, and even Basir felt a strange connection pulling them back together—one that would shape the days to come.
Description
The Mockery of “Tuluka Tuluka”
“Tuluka tuluka babbar doya!” three children around fifteen years old shouted as they ran with speed, their voices rising in laughter and mockery. Among them, I spotted a girl of the same age, but unlike them she was plump, her body round and smooth like dates, her skin glowing, and her figure average in height.
She ran after them furiously, shouting, “I swear today I’ll beat you all! Who is this Tuluka you’re calling me? Didn’t yaya Hamma tell you to stop calling me that? I won’t accept it!”
The children kept mocking, saying, “If you’re brave enough, chase us and stop us then, Tuluka!” With anger boiling in her chest, she chased them until they ran beyond their village. Reaching the main road, they crossed quickly, but in her rage, she dashed forward without looking.
Suddenly, screeech! A car slammed its brakes. Shocked, she stumbled backward as the car pulled aside. To her fear, out came her elder brother Hamma, who had been sitting in the passenger seat. He frowned deeply, scolding her:
“Bessha, don’t you see the road? What if you had died because of your foolishness and carelessness?”
Terrified, she stammered with teary eyes, “Yaya, forgive me. It’s Atine and her friends, they keep calling me Tuluka.”
But Hamma waved it off. “That’s a lie! Stop this nonsense and go home. Tell Mama I’ll come later.”
With pouted lips, still murmuring, she muttered, “One day I’ll catch Atine, she’ll regret it.” Then she ran back to the village in tears.
Consolation with Goggo
Instead of going home, Bessha went straight to Goggo’s house. Without greeting, she threw herself on her grandmother’s lap, crying.
Goggo asked gently, “What’s wrong, child?”
Between sobs, she said, “It’s Atine and her friends, Goggo. They keep calling me Tuluka.”
Wiping her tears, Goggo comforted her: “Enough, hush. Don’t cry. I’ll go to their house myself and warn them.”
Bessha sniffled and smiled through tears. She loved being with Goggo more than home. “Goggo, I prefer staying here with you. I don’t want anyone else. Whoever comes to live with you, I won’t accept. If it’s me alone, you’ll give me all the good things.”
Goggo laughed and teased her. “Alright, if anyone comes, I’ll drive him away.”
Happy, Bessha hugged her tight. She even started sweeping and cleaning the compound just to please her grandmother, and Goggo rewarded her with fifty naira. Pouting but smiling, Bessha said, “See why I love you? You give me money for sweets!”
Trouble at Home
When she finally returned home, she crept in quietly. Mama had just finished her prayers and turned to her with a stern face.
“Where have you been?”
Bessha stammered, “At… at Goggo’s.”
Mama frowned harder. “That’s a lie. Since morning, your father sent someone to call you and you were nowhere. Tell me the truth!”
Trembling, she confessed about chasing Atine. Mama’s anger rose. “Instead of helping with housework, you spend your time fighting over silly nicknames? Bessha, you’re grown now but your mind is still childish!”
As Mama scolded, Hamma entered. “I almost saw her killed today, Mama. She ran across the road without looking!”
Mama, furious, slapped her. “I’m tired of you, Bessha. I’ll take you to the barracks for soldiers to discipline you!”
The mention of soldiers terrified her. In tears, she begged, “Please Mama, don’t take me there! I promise I’ll change. I’ll do all the housework, I won’t run around again!”
Her brother pleaded for her too, and finally Mama relented, hugging her while Bessha clung with joy, relieved to escape the dreaded barracks.
Bessha, Goggo, and Basir
Bessha was the last child of Malam Husaini and Karima, a family known for dignity and respect. She was a strikingly beautiful black girl with sparkling eyes, dimples, and long, soft hair like that of foreigners. But because of her plumpness, her peers mocked her with the nickname Tuluka Tuluka.
Her closeness with Goggo grew stronger daily. Goggo, a seventy-five-year-old woman, loved her deeply. But Goggo had another favorite—her only grandson Basir, a handsome soldier stationed in Abuja. Basir, though strict and reserved, returned home on leave.
When Bessha saw him at Goggo’s house, she became jealous, shouting, “This is my Goggo’s house, not yours! Even if you bring me ice cream, I won’t let you have her!”
Basir was shocked at her boldness. “Do you have no manners? Talking to me like this?”
But instead of stopping, Bessha argued more, until suddenly—slap! Basir struck her. She saw stars and ran behind Goggo crying.
Even Hamma later came and scolded her for disrespecting Basir. Humiliated, Bessha swore never to return to Goggo’s house. Yet deep inside, Goggo, Bessha, and even Basir felt a strange connection pulling them back together—one that would shape the days to come.