The Difference Between Hausas and Fulanis

The Hausas and the Fulanis are two distinct ethnic groups found in Northern Nigeria, but they have become closely intertwined in the minds of Nigerians and the rest of the world. Hausa/Fulani is now a single term used to describe the Muslims that live in the North and form one of the three main ethnic groups in the country along with Yorubas and Igbos.

Fulani Girl from Sokoto, Nigeria

It is true that the two tribes are very similar: both share a strong Islamic identity and certain customs including the Hausa language, and both groups have intermarried over centuries to almost become one.

But the Fulanis are sometimes loathe to be grouped together with the Hausas because of pride in their own distinct and distinguished history.

Fulani Father and Child from Kaduna, Nigeria

The fact that it was the Fulanis (also known as Fulbe, Puel or Fula) who brought Islam by force to the pagan/animist Hausa states in Nigeria centuries ago also gives them a sense of religious superiority. Also, the Fulanis throughout history have held leadership roles in the various Hausa communities they settled into, working as judges, teachers, emirs and clerics.

These leadership positions continue today as most Northern presidents and heads of state in Nigeria including Umaru Yar'Adua (President from 2007 - 2010), Sir Abubakara Tafewa Balewa (Nigeria's first Prime Minister), Shehu Shagari (President 1979 - 1983) and Aliko Dangote (Richest Black Man in the World) are of Fulani descent.

The Fulani's traditional nomadic lifestyle of roaming the countryside in search of pasture also distinguishes them from the 'settled' Hausas who live in towns, although most Fulanis are now settled in towns. Fulanis also derive much of their foods like Fura da Nono (Millet cakes and yoghurt) and Main Shanu (savoury butter) from their cattle, unlike the Hausas.

Both Fulanis and Hausa women wear henna dye on their hands and men and women from both tribes in rural areas often have dark facial tattoos, but Fulani men traditionally wear wide-brimmed straw hats with a pointed top, loose kaftan and shorts/trousers and carry sticks when herding; whilst the women's traditional costume is a white midriff-exposing top and matching wrapper with pastel coloured patterns. But like Hausa women, they ordinarily dress modestly in headscarves, covered tops and wrappers made using African print material.

A Fulani herdsman wearing a pointed straw hat, loose kaftan and stick

Fulani woman wearing the traditional white costume

Fulani girl wearing everyday clothing of African print material 

Fulanis also have their own language, Fulfude, which is very different from Hausa. However the Hausa language is commonly spoken by many Fulanis in Nigeria, and for some Hausa has replaced Fulfude as their mother-tongue.

Also, the two tribes have different histories.

The origin of the Fulanis, the largest nomad/pastoralist group in Africa, is obscure, but many link them back to Mauritania due to their similarities in appearance, existence of a Fulfude speaking minority there and the possibility of a North-Western origin of Fulani migration. From the 14th century they spread from Senegal into over 20 countries in Western Africa including Guinea, Gambia and Sudan.

Hausa Woman from Kebbi, Nigeria

The historic Hausa kingdoms, as legend has it, was formed when a Prince from Baghdad named Bayajidda, married a Princess from Borno, Nigeria. His seven sons born of the Princess formed seven 'legitimate' Hausa states in Nigeria today which include Kano, Katsina and Zaria, whilst Bayajidda's seven sons by his concubine formed seven 'illegitimate states,' also known as Banza Bakwai (Hausa word meaning 'Bastard Seven') and included Kebbi, Gwari, Nupe and Illorin.

Hausa Father and Son from Kebbi, Nigeria

The Hausa kingdoms were later defeated by the Fulani Muslims who had arrived into Nigeria and, forming a kinship with the Hausas, settled amongst them. But dissatisfied with the pagan Hausa leaders that ruled them, the educated and radical Fulanis undertook various religious wars or jihads in order to install an Islamic leadership.

One such jihad was led by Usman dan Fodio in 1804 and resulted in the formation of Sokoto Caliphate which became a powerful empire in Northern Nigeria. The Fulanis ruled over this booming economic, military and scholarly kingdom that traded successfully with the rest of the world.

Fulani writer and leader Usman da Fodio (1754 - 1817)

After the fall of the Sokoto Caliphate as a result of British invasion, the Fulanis continued to intermarry and live together with the Hausas. But they often maintained a cultural distinction noted in their stricter adherence to Islam and leadership positions as part of the elite of Northern Nigeria, as well as physical distinctions noted in their lighter skin and slimmer features. This together with an awareness of their history of conquest and rulership often gives rise to feelings of superiority by the Fulanis over the Hausas.

Interview with British Fulani Author Munir Bello

Finding out that the author of The Break Up Recipe, Munir Bello is a British Fulani-Nigerian piqued my curiosity immensely. 

Munir Bello, Author of The Break Up Recipe

Sure, his self-published e-book about relationships is hilarious and received rave reviews from publications like The Voice and Female First, and reviews here and here were also glowing, but what I really wanted to know was: what did his parents think about him stripping naked to promote the book (yes, that's his well-oiled physique below)? 

And was his ex-fiancée - the woman that inspired him to write after she broke up with him - Black, Nigerian, Fulani or none of the above? 

Munir strips totally naked to promote The Break Up Recipe. As you do.

Munir also said that he attended a Gay Pride parade to hand out flyers promoting his book, and is happy to attract a gay audience thanks to his hot bod on display. This 30-year old Fulani man's outlook on life is definitely refreshing, so I asked him a whole load of questions, and bless him, he not only answered all 50 (I was very curious) with great candour and humour, he also gave me an insight into how another Fulani Brit thinks. Thanks Munir!

BIOGRAPHY

Where were you born?
I was born in Lagos, Nigeria in 1983

Where were you raised?
I was raised in Lagos where I went to school until the age of 10 and travelled around Kaduna, Sokoto, Kano and Abuja where I have family. I then moved to England at the age of 10 to school and have permanently lived here since. I used to go back to Nigeria quite regularly during the school holidays, but less frequently now as my immediate family now live in London.

Describe your family.
Like most I am the product of a mother and father. They live in London. My father is a consultant and my mother runs a small business. I have 3 siblings; the oldest is a lawyer,  my younger sister works in sales and my younger brother is a radio presenter.

What is your current occupation?

I am an author. I wrote a book called The Break Up recipe. I am also currently in the process of writing the sequel for the book as well as filming a dating show in London which will be airing in the summer.

What is your family's religion and what is your personal religious belief?

I was born into a Muslim family and I am a part-time Muslim. By that I mean that I do consider myself a Muslim, however I am not fully practising. I fast during Ramadan.

What career did you want to go into when you were younger?

I originally wanted to either be an actor or a journalist. I realised early on that I was not good enough to be an actor so decided to concentrate on something else. As for journalism, it was something that as I got older, I had less of a desire to do.

BEING NIGERIAN
What is your relationship with Sokoto/Zamfara?
My paternal grandmother lives in a small village in the state and so do some of my uncles, aunties and cousins. I very much do consider it my home and generally when I am asked where I am from I tell people that I am a Nigerian from Sokoto (It has been pointed out to me that it is now Zamfara, but when I was growing up it was Sokoto and that has now stuck in my vocabulary)

What is your relationship with Nigeria?
Nigeria is the country that I am from. Although I am a dual passport holder and have lived most of my life in The UK, I consider myself a Nigerian as my earliest memories are from there. I speak Hausa at home to my family which serves as a reminder to my roots.

Do you have any extended family in Nigeria, and if so, are you still close to them? 

I have plenty of extended family in Nigeria as I come from a very large family, and I am close to them. We communicate regularly online.

What is your view on Boko Haram?

My view on Boko Haram is that it is an organisation that has put our country in the news for all the wrong reasons. I am certainly not in any way a sympathiser.

What is your view on the Bring Back Our Girls campaign and it's popularity around the world?

I am glad that the world is sitting up and taking notice by trying to help us eradicate the problem with the violent attacks. I am sad, however, that the name of my country is seen as synonymous with terrorism which unfortunately is one of the first words that come out of people's mouths now [when they thing about Nigeria]. The campaign hopefully sends out a strong message of support to the families of these girls and I hope that in the end it helps bring them home. I also hope that it isn't just a social media fad that will lead to a swift evacuation if it becomes considered as old news.

What is your view of the Nigerian government?

My view on Nigerian politics is extremely limited as I don't keep up to date with the current affairs. From what I know, we have a president who seems powerless in the face of everything and we have a first lady who delivers many excellent sound-bites that bring a huge smile to my face. In fact, my neighbour and I have been watching lots of her Youtube clips recently. Interesting is a word that springs to mind.

Would you ever return to Nigeria to live long-term?

'I don't know' is the honest answer to that question. The reason is because two thirds of my life have been lived in the UK so I am more used to the way things work over here. I wouldn't rule out living in Nigeria for long periods of time over the course of a year in the future, as when I have children I would like them to know where their father comes from.

Would you want your kids to be strongly connected to Nigeria?
I absolutely would because I have so many wonderful memories from when I was living there. As mentioned previously, I'd like them to know where their father comes from as there is a strong likelihood that they would be raised in the UK.

Are you proud to be Nigerian, given often negative perceptions of the country?

I'm very proud to be a Nigerian because there are values within our people that are very commendable, such as a strong work ethic and an entrepreneurial streak that is unrivalled. We also are very good at adapting and some of the hardest working people I have ever known are from Nigeria. The negative perceptions which are well publicised are to do with fraud, corruption and most recently, bomb attacks. The positives greatly outweigh the negatives. We have the biggest GDP in Africa and some amazing scholars.

Munir Bello: Proudly Nigerian, proudly British and proudly Fulani

What do your non-Nigerian friends thing about the country?

Generally speaking a lot of them would like to visit the country mostly due to the great PR the food receives over here. I do tend to introduce them to some of our foods. The weather also means that it is a natural draw for non-Nigerian friends of mine who spend a lot of their time in cold climates. The lifestyle and pace of life over there also makes it appealing to friends of mine who have visited the country.

BEING FULANI 

What does being Fulani mean to you?

I live with the knowledge that being Fulani, I am part of what was the old ruling class and am sometimes unfairly judged as the son of a rich man who knows nothing about a hard life or hard work which couldn't be further from the truth. At the same time however, it is a fact that we are the best looking people in Nigeria and yes I am being biased on my beautiful family members. Our people are traditionally nomads, hence why it was a seamless transition for me to move to another country.

Do you think being Fulani differentiates you from other Nigerians? If so why?
The differentiation has been touched on in the previous question. It is more apparent in the UK than back home because there aren't many of us here. The majority of Nigerians present here tend to be Igbo or Yoruba.

Would you say you were knowledgeable about Fulani customs and traditions? 
I'm ashamed to say that I am not knowledgeable enough to have a debate about Fulani customs. I know small bits from my time over in Nigerian and from what my parents have tried to teach. Fura da nono is one tradition I am fully fluent in.

Are you proud of your Fulani heritage? 

Without a shadow of a doubt, yes I am.

What aspects of Fulani culture do you most identify with?

Being a nomad.

What are your thoughts on Fulani nomads and their lifestyle?

Very admirable. I have a lot of respect for the discipline it takes to be a cattle herder, which is underrated.

What are your thoughts on the spate of Fulani gunmen that allegedly shoot down many villages in the North?

It is not a subject that I am familiar with but my thoughts on any gunman that would shoot down a village of people is that he is a coward.

How do your family honour your Fulani heritage, if at all?

They've instilled in me not to forget where I come from and always make a point of reminding me that I come from a people I should be proud of which I am.

Do you speak Fulfude?

Sadly not.

Do you know/have met Fulanis from across Africa, and how did you get on?

I met a Fulani from Sierra Leone 16 years ago and we are friends to this day.

What do you think about me: a British Fulani Christian?

I think you're normal, there are lots of people who come from a predominantly Muslim community who are Christians. I come from a heavily inter-married family so although my parents are Muslim, my uncles and aunties are a mixture of different religions. Also my grandmother on my mothers side taught me the Bible and the Quran from a very early age.

BEING BRITISH
What do your British friends think about your Fulani heritage?
They don't know anything about the Fulani.

Have you met many Fulani people in England? If not why do you think you haven't? 

I have only met one from Sierra Leone. I think the reason for the scarcity of a Fulani presence here is because Fulanis either stay in Nigeria or go to America and other parts of Europe.

Does being a Fulani man affect or influence any aspect of your life in England?

None whatsoever.

In some of the interviews for your book, you mention going out to drink with friends and writing when drunk, and you also pose naked with a cover of your book. How do you reconcile your 'Western' behaviour with a (presumably) conservative Fulani heritage?

I'm a product of a Nigerian upbringing in the first third of my life and a western upbringing the rest of it, meaning that the two cultures meet somewhere in the middle and compromise. The picture for the marketing cover was originally met with some resistance by my parents but not outright opposition, the rest of my family have never commented negatively on it.

What's more important to you: being British, being Nigerian or being a Fulani man? 
In order would be 1) Nigerian, as it is where I was born, 2) Fulani as it is my heritage and where I'm from (it's not 1 because of my minuscule knowledge) 3) Being British because it is a nationality I inherited but one that I am nevertheless very proud of.

Does your heritage affect your dating choices or choice of who you will marry?

No not at all; my girlfriend is British and it's not a problem for my family. 

What do your family think of your lifestyle?

Good question. I've never really asked them. I think overall they're happy with it as I've never been taken aside by them and told I need to change my ways.

Whenever you return to family in Nigeria, do you feel assimilated or different from them?

I feel assimilated, the only difference would be my accent but i still remember the customs and the correct way to eat the food.

Are you happy you're in England or do you wish you had stayed in Nigeria?

I'm very happy I'm in England. Had I stayed in Nigeria then I wouldn't have gotten to see as much of the world (cheaper to travel form here) as I have or met the many wonderful people that I have met. All the good people I met back home are either now here or if they are back home we are still in touch. Three letters were worth the move over here: KFC!!

What do you think are commonly-held misconceptions people abroad have about Fulani people?That we are a bunch of uneducated in-breds. Not many people realise what the generation before us did which was that they left the country to get first class education and helped pioneer many things back home.

Would you say you play up or play down your Fulaniness? 

Neither really, it's something I'm proud of but as I don't get asked much about it, I rarely get the opportunity to elaborate on it.

Has your name, because it is Muslim, ever posed any issues for you? 

Oh yes!! Most airports I go to will pull me aside for extra questioning due to "computer generated" reasons. It's the last thing that I need after a long flight but I tend to ignore their stupidity rather than get angry about it.

How do you feel about your Islamic background in a country where Islam is often associated with global terrorism?

I don't hide my Islamic background and so far I've never had any problems because of it. I think I have been very lucky in that respect. I get more irritated by other Muslims from other countries who, once they find out my Islamic background, try to test how much I know, almost as if I need their approval. I find it very pathetic. Muslim converts also tend to do this a lot.

Do you feel completely assimilated into English life or do you feel like an outsider sometimes?

I am an outsider because outside of a major city I am considered a minority. I don't feel alienated, but I am aware that I am not considered as the norm in some quarters, but then that is very normal because if a white person rocked up into Lagos they would be seen as an outsider also. It's never hostile on either side however.

HIS BOOK
Describe what The Break Up Recipe is about.

The Break Up Recipe is a romantic comedy from the point of view of a man. it contains some funny observations on life and some expletive language. To sum it up, a guy gets dumped by his fiancee and then looks back on his previous encounters with the opposite sex. He comes back to the modern day and creates new experiences with the opposite sex.

What do your family think about your book?

They like it. They have been incredibly supportive throughout. They did initially harbour reservations over the language and the naked image, but were never hostile about it.

You state that you were inspired to write it after a bad break-up with a fiancée; where was she from/what race was she?

Bloody hell you really have done your research! I was wondering when that question was going to come up haha. She was a white British girl.

Did her race pose any problems for you?
Absolutely none. As pointed out earlier, due to the regular intermarriage within my own family, dating outside my race/religion has never been an issue. Come to think of it, it's very acceptable as it's never even been mentioned or alluded to when I've told my parents about someone I'm dating.

Does your Fulani heritage show up anywhere in The Break Up Recipe?

No there isn't any mention of my Fulani heritage in the book.

Do you think the book would have succeeded had it being published in Nigeria?

Time will tell, there is definitely a huge audience in Nigeria that would appreciate it. however due to limited accessibility (It was originally released as an e-Book) it's too soon to say. Now that it has been released as a paperback, we will see. In fact today was the official release day of the book as a hard copy.

What do you think of other Nigerian novelists like Chimamanda Adichie et al?

She is a wonderful author and a great ambassador for our country. I love her books and think that she paints a wonderful picture of our country through words.

Much of the reviews I read didn't focus on your race/nationality, why do you think that is?

The reason for that would be because they were reviewing the book rather than the author, but in some interviews it is something that is referred to. The book isn't set in Nigeria and it has no race references, hence why no reviews would mention it. My bio however states my nationality and my pictures kind of give away my race, especially my marketing picture.

What would you do if the follow up to The Break Up Recipe gets on the New York Times best-seller list?

What I always do when something good happens to me: I'd say a silent thank you to God first, after that I'd probably go on a holiday and enjoy a well deserved rest.

See? Nice guy, great answers, hot bod. So go get the book on Amazon! And also connect with him on Facebook and Twitter.

The Little Fulani Cowgirl and other Abuja stories

So I'm still living and working in Abuja, and below I've documented four unique experiences with what some might call 'the lowly' amongst us. In so doing I hope not to make the same mistake US singer Brandy did, of only documenting street kids on dirt-roads from her visit last year to Lagos, and calling it 'Beautiful Africa.' 

Although I joined others in condemning her pictures - what about the fancy hotels, boutiques and plush cars she experienced? Why only show the (overused, clichéd) poverty of Africa? - I now understand her. Coming from her world, the naked poverty in Nigeria grabbed her attention and touched her more than the wealth in the country. She's familiar with luxury hotels and tarred roads, so the unfamiliar is what stood out for her.

So in these stories, which all occurred last year, I describe my encounters with people I'm not used to, often watch from afar and who I'm not able to know very well due to our different stations in life.

The Little Fulani Cowgirl

You could just make out the top of her shaggy head amidst the wide, white flanks of the cows gathered around her. Then she comes into view: a little Fulani girl barely seven years old, with dirt-brown curly hair plaited haphazardly, and the tiny stray strands that escaped forming a fuzzy halo around her little head.

Wearing a blue, oversized T-shirt that reached down past her knees, her thin legs ended in a pair of adult slippers encasing tiny feet caked in the brown dust of the earth that she had no doubt been traversing for hours already that afternoon.

She grasped in her little hand a thin but sturdy stick that was twice her height, which she used as an aid to edge her way past the slow-footed cows and around the side of the road. Now and then she also used the stick to whack a fidgety cow to stop it from heading towards the cars that were waiting for the herd to cross, a scene which occurs periodically on this residential road.

Unafraid, accomplished and proud, the little cowgirl wore a look of experienced calm and maintained an assurance that refused to be intimidated by the animals that were bigger than her or the motorists growing impatient around her.

She wasn’t perturbed by the heat of the sun, the dusty road or the long hilly hike ahead of her, and as I looked she shouted out to the herd with a shrill, tiny voice, and the animals immediately heeded their little mistress and trooped faster past the waiting cars.
 

She manoeuvred the animals with grace under fire; they trusted her and she understood them. And as she walked behind the last cow crossing, our eyes met and she looked at me for a fraction of a second with cool, haughty eyes betraying little of the innocence no doubt still within.

Here was a little girl in charge of her family’s wealth and pride, single-handedly dealing with the hostilities of the city and the terrain, armed with only a stick and her fierce resolve. She knows the roads, the routes, the hills and the valleys, she probably also knew each cow by name.

Soon she will give up herding and settle into the sedentary life of a wife and mother, but for now it was just her and her herd against the world, roaming wild and free and fearless.

As the proud little cowgirl walked off into the distance with her troop of 15 or so cows trudging obediently behind her, I marvelled at her control and confidence.

She was born to do this.

The Barefooted Prisoner

A barefooted, small-boned man with scraggly hair, a T-shirt full of holes and a hound-dog expression walked up to us one warm weekday evening as we stood in front of a Tapas Bar near the Gudu bypass.

He came to us hesitantly, as if he was a pigeon and we were holding out bread in our palms. We tried to ignore him at first, but the weight of sorrow in his eyes and his obvious vulnerability made us forego our concern that he was a scam-artist begging for money. Like the well-dressed, middle-aged man who alighted from a Jeep and asked us for N10, 000 to pay for his daughter’s medical bills. It was only after we gave him what we could and he drove off that it dawned on us that we’d been swindled.

But this small man was different. He kept scratching himself slowly all over as he told us, in a barely-audible voice, his story. Big tears dropped from his eyes, which he wiped with his shoulder in a move that was so pitiful it was innocent.

Back in Taraba State, he said, he and a group of friends were walking through a market when there was a commotion: someone had been stabbed in a fight. He helped eight others to carry the victim to the hospital, and whilst there the victim died and despite their protests, the police arrested them for murder. They were thrown into jail and later ferried to Kuje Prison in Abuja to complete their sentence. That was nine years ago. He was just released today and wanted to return to his wife and children in Taraba but didn’t know where to go or where to start.

We stared at him in silence. Was this for real? Was this poor man’s life just taken away from him for an instinctual act of kindness?

He stared at the floor whilst we consulted amongst ourselves, now and then shooting more questions at him to ascertain the veracity of his tale. He didn’t even ask for money, he just told his story and kept quiet, waiting for us to pronounce our judgment on him from on high, just like the judge and the police declared their life-changing judgement on him all those years ago.  

He mentioned that one of the friends had died in prison; they were regularly beaten up and hardly given any food. If ever there was an example of someone whose spirit had been broken, it was him.

We pitied him and gave him some of what we had, and pointed to the direction of cars going towards the park where he can get transportation to Taraba. He took the money with both hands, offered a lengthy thanks with more tears, and walked away slowly; a dejected, confused victim of poverty.

If the rage from the injustice he’s suffered caused him to kill tomorrow, I wouldn’t blame him. The depraved amongst us are made so by others, which is why we are told not to judge, for only God knows the full story. It is a wonder more men don’t turn to violence, when such violence is visited upon them daily.

How Much is an Egg Roll?

There’s an instant pleasure one derives from biting into a warm egg roll, especially when the dark brown pastry surrounding it is both savoury and sweet and crumbles in the mouth. With this yearning in mind, I walked out of the office at lunchtime in search of the eggroll sellers, who carry their cheap but sumptuous wares on their heads to many a labourers’ delight.

It was my lucky day: A teenage girl was passing by with a lidded, translucent plastic bucket on her head. I could just about make out the eggrolls inside. As she walked on, skilfully balancing her load on a head, she didn’t even need to use a hand to hold the bucket in place, such was her hawking experience.

One arm hung playfully by her side as the other held a small plastic carrier bag hooked to her wrist, no doubt containing her takings for the day’s sales so far. She walked with an air of confident abandon: “I don’t need to go to school,” she seemed to be saying. “The sun and the breeze and the open road are my education. I know these streets like the back of my hand.” 

I made short hissing sounds to get her attention, and when she heard, she turned around and walked towards me. As she reached me, she brought down her bucket and opened it. “Good afternoon madam” she said in a sing-song voice. I greeted her and looked inside her pail. There were eggrolls alright, bigger than average and the rough unevenness of the dark-brown dough glistening with grease testified to the fact that the dough will be sufficiently crunchy. But apart from the rounded eggrolls, there were elongated dough of the same colour, moulded into fat, short tubes. 

“What are those?” I asked, pointing at one.

“Fish roll” she replied, her inanimate eyes wondering away and resting on the woman walking by.

They look interesting, I thought. “Give me one eggroll and one fish roll” I said, looking forward to biting into one of the moist flour-casing and tasting bits of fish instead of a hard-boiled egg.

The girl took out one small black carrier bag from the bag hooked unto her wrist, spread it out on her cupped hand and used it to scoop up the delicacies, wrapping the bag up around them.

“How much?” I asked.

“N200”

I looked back at the snacks in the bag. “Remove the fish one” I said. Knowing that the price of eggrolls ranged from N50 to N80 depending on where you bought them, N200 for two – one of which was a flavour unknown to me – was too much. Plus I couldn’t guarantee that these eggrolls will taste good. Looks can be deceiving. And the freshness of the products, now that it was already 2:30pm and there were only a few left in the bucket was uncertain. Wouldn’t all the oil seep down to the last remaining rolls, making them soggy from the extra grease and the accumulated heat-turned-sweat from the sun?

The doubts raised by the extra N120 was immense. Did my clothes or the fatness of my purse fool this girl into thinking it was full or money? Or did the wholesale price of flour and eggs suddenly increase in Abuja so that it translated into an extra N20 charge for an eggroll? 

But I didn’t say anything. I paid with N500, and saw that I collected all her change: eight N50 notes. I wondered where the rest of her money was. But the abundance of N50s proved to me that indeed the rolls did retail at half the price. The young swindler was smart. “Thank you ma” she said, as she heaved the bucket back unto her head.

Those three words turned my displeasure into a shrug. Back at the office, I bit into the roll. It was still fresh and uncluttered by too much grease. My N100 was well spent.

My Maiguard is Getting Married

Our maiguard has one of those faces that is neither old nor young; he could be 18, he could be 38. Small in stature and speaking a dialect of Hausa that baffled us, Aminu is a good, if absent-minded guard.

I remember when he first arrived from Zaria straight to our house; he was hunched and hesitant, with overgrown hair and a furtive, haunted look in his eyes. He used to grunt to alert you to his presence, and he had a permanent scowl on his face. But after a few months with us, he became more self-assured, got regular hair-cuts, wore the clothes we gave him with pride and stood taller. He even replaced his grunts with words; it was like seeing the blossoming of a flower. Soon he started cooking for himself and made friends with the other guards in the estate, and he smiled and laughed more. Even his brand of Hausa became more familiar to us.

Yet he remained our lowly, trust-worthy Maiguard, until he told us his intentions to return to his native Zaria to get married. I was surprised. So Aminu, this young (or old, we still couldn’t ascertain his actual age-range) man who opens and closes our gate, weeds the yard, washes the cars and does other necessary work around the house for which we paid him an agreeable amount, wanted to get married?

He said that the girl had already been chosen for him by his family; she was the sister of a girl he had been dating previously, but that girl had been given out in marriage to another man when Aminu came to Abuja, so his family had accepted her sister for him.

I remember entering his messy Maiguard house to drop something for him, and on the floor was a picture of a light-skinned young woman wrapped in a red veil from head to toe. She was lying down on her side and stared blankly at the camera. So when Aminu said he’d never met his bride-to-be but had been sent her picture, my mind recalled the girl in red.

She was rather pretty, I thought. Will she be pleased with Aminu, a diminutive man/boy with a semi-permanent scowl? He told us her bride-price was N70, 000 and he’d been saving up for months for her. I wondered if N70, 000 was considered the price for a top-drawer maiden in rural Zaria.

Last week, Aminu left to get married, I could sense his excitement as he said farewell to us. But he’ll come back soon, as his family have advised him to return to Abuja after marriage because there are no jobs in their community. But he won’t be bringing his wife with him. So after a few days in Zaria, during which time he would not only meet his bride for the first time, but would have married her, he would bid farewell to his life-partner for a few months until he returned to Zaria again. Aminu will then return to us a married man.

I wondered if, nine months later, Mrs Aminu would have a baby. Would Aminu still stay on in Abuja? Will he take on more wives? Can he look after a family on his modest Maiguard wages?

All these questions cast my Maiguard in a whole new light.

My Hausa Adventure in Ghana

I haven’t published a blog post for a while because I am currently in Accra, Ghana, getting used to being back on African soil, not having to wear coats and boots and dealing in Cedis and Pesewas, instead of Pounds and Pence.

There are more Hausa people in Ghana than I thought. The main languages here are Twi, Ga, Ewe and English, but a sizable minority speak Hausa, so much so that when calling the Airtel mobile network to register my new Ghana SIM-card for my phone, the automated message said “Press 1 for English, Press Two for Twi, Press Three for Hausa.”

The house I stayed in in Ghana

I’ve also met some Hausa people in my two weeks since arriving in Ghana. The first was a roast meat seller-man in Osu, Ghana’s Oxford Street. My friends and I were bargaining for a good price on the spicy delicacy (the NHS nurse in London where I got my ‘African holiday injections’ told me to stay away from street food, but it’s oh so delicious!) the meat-seller looked Hausa so I tried my luck and asked “Ka na jin Hausa?" (Do you understand Hausa?)”

He laughed and nodded. I wondered if he laughed because my sentence composition was a bit off. Anyway, my friends, thrilled that they may get a good price on the meats because I could bargain in the man’s language, encouraged me to haggle with him. So I asked for tasters, softer meats and a good price. “Wuni irin nama ne wanan?" (What kind of meat is this?)” I asked. “Shanu (Cow)” he replied. He then said something along the lines of “It’s tough meat, but here are some soft pieces for you”, but he said it so quickly that I had to ask him to repeat it twice. I’ll give myself 5 out of 10 for that Hausa transaction.

Then we continued walking along Osu until a stall selling beautiful African print dresses caught my eye. The stall-owner was also Hausa and he was sweet as he patiently responded to my Hausa-English-Pidgin hybrid (“A-a, zan baka goma-sha-biyu mana, ko? That’s fair now, haba. Wanan riga ya yi kyau, ama ya yi tsada!") He ended up giving me a good price for a beautiful blue African-print strapless dress.

It felt good: here I was, speaking my Mother-tongue in the Motherland! I brimmed with pride.

The lady that did my hair (Back-length ‘pick and drop’ style for those that know) was also Hausa. She’d started plaiting when she received a call and had a brief Hausa conversation. So I told her that I understood and she told me she was originally from a Hausa-speaking tribe in Burkina Faso but her family had settled in Ghana. She also spoke Twi, Ga and English. I quickly realised that most Ghanaians spoke at least two Ghanaian languages as well as English.

Unlike with the meat-seller, I struggled a little to understand her accent but we still had a short conversation before reverting back to English. I’ll give myself 7 out of 10 for that exchange.

The next Hausa person I met was a Suya-Seller near our house (Suya is another type of meat delicacy seasoned with tasty spices). The man’s ‘office’ consisted of him standing in front of a rudimentary barbecue-cum-work-top with a few red onions, spices in a bag, knives, skewers, the grill and a notebook from which he tore out a page to wrap the suya-meat in for customers. We went up to him and I asked again “Ka na jin Hausa?” This time this man, who was older and stricter than the other meat-seller, responded “A-a, ni Bahaushe ne! (I don’t just speak it, I am a Hausa man.)” Implying that anyone can speak Hausa, but he in fact was an original Hausa man.

This transaction was less fun, as he was less patient with me. I got the impression he saw me as a silly British girl trying to practice Hausa for fun when he was trying to earn a living. The suya meat was delicious though.

Ghana has been fun so far, even though my first experience of the country was a bad one: getting off the plane, we had to walk down stairs and I was lugging my heavy hand-luggage with me, and despite there being around five stewards, security men etc around, they all watched as I hauled the suitcase down the stairs by myself, until with just three steps to go, one of the younger men helped me carry it down. I was not impressed. In the UK the men would surely have helped.

An elder Ghanaian woman who had seen me struggling said I should have asked for help. “But I thought they would offer” I sulked. “There are no gentlemen like that in Africa anymore o!” She said, and laughed.

But since then Ghana has redeemed itself. The people are very friendly and easy-going, the weather is hot but not too harsh and although Accra is not as swanky or architecturally-developed as Abuja, its peaceful, humble nature won me over.

I enjoyed the open-air gardens: sitting sipping Malta or Alvaro soft drinks in the cool night breeze as thumping (often Nigerian) High/Hip Life music blasted from the speakers and one or two tipsy Ghanaians Makosaed in the dark; the beach-front hotels and sandy/rocky beaches (sometimes the sea was just yards from traffic) the markets and the shopping malls, where we saw lights and cameras inside one particular jewellery store as they filmed a scene for a Ghanaian movie, which saw the young actress beaming as she swept her fabulous weave away from her neck to allow her Romeo to fasten an expensive- looking necklace to it.

One of the beaches we visited

I’m also enjoying the one Cedi food stuffs from the street sellers. I've stayed away from the small Pure Water bags and only drink from sealed plastic bottles, but so far I’ve bought chin-chin, roasted pork, meat and fish pies, Kelewele (seasoned plantains with groundnuts) and even sweet green apples from a traffic-hawker who cantered to keep up with our slowly-moving car in rush hour as he shoved the fruits wrapped in cling-film through our car window.

But don’t tell the NHS nurse!

Is a Hausa Film Industry (Kannywood) Necessary?

About 20 years ago, Hausa producers developed a film industry called Kannywood (named after Kano state where many of the movies are filmed) catering to a Hausa-speaking audience, despite the fact that Nigeria already has an established and popular film industry called Nollywood.

 

 Kannywood stars from top to bottom: Maryam Booth, Ali Nuhu, Jamila Umar, Ibrahim Maishunku

Many wonder why Kannywood is necessary. Doesn't Nollywood represent us all? Well, yes and no.

Firstly, the majority of Nollywood's film-makers and film-stars are from Southern Nigeria, so much of its storylines and themes are centred around the unique experiences of Igbos and Yorubas. But there is no common Nigerian culture, only dominant ones.

Secondly Nollywood is mostly Christian and westernised, whilst Northern Nigerians are mostly Muslim and Middle-Easternised. This means that Hausas often cannot identify with much of the motivations, interactions and morality in the films.

Kannywood movies are also more conservative in style, (modest dressing, almost no male and female touching) concentrate on Hausa-Islamic culture (e.g. polygamous marriages, the Qu'ran) and music and dance interludes are used as a storytelling device similar to Bollywood films. However, both industries share similarities in that marriage and familial relationships dominate plot lines and popular conventions like village life, religion, absence of child characters and respect for elders are integral.

Kannywood film with English subtitles: Uwar Miji
Starring Ali Nuhu, Hajara Usman and Zainab Yunusa Odariko
A domineering mother does everything she can to get rid of her son's virtuous wife

Kannywood is an expression of a Hausa-Fulani sub-culture within the Nigerian national culture, in the same way that the African-American TV channel BET exists alongside mainstream channels and the Black British MOBO awards exists despite the Brit Awards.

Criticisms of Kannywood for being tribalist are disingenuous because we are all aware of our cultural differences. 

Nigeria was a region populated by hundreds of tribal groups and leadership systems, where distinct kingdoms like the Benin, Oyo, Nupe and Sokoto empires lived independently from, and sometimes were at war with each other.

Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, Nigeria's first Prime Minister said in 1948:

"Since 1914 the British Government has been trying to make Nigeria into one country, but the Nigerian people themselves are historically different in their backgrounds, in their religious beliefs and customs...Nigerian unity is only a British invention."

Eminent Politician Obafemi Awolowo said in 1947:

"Nigeria is not a nation. It is a mere geographical expression. There are no 'Nigerians' in the same sense as there are 'English', 'Welsh' or 'French'. The word 'Nigerian' is merely a distinctive appellation to distinguish those who live within the boundaries of Nigeria and those who do not."

If Africa hadn't been colonised by Europeans, there probably would be over 2,000 countries in the continent due to the diversity of its peoples and their desire for autonomy; and the area called Nigeria would be made up of at least eight countries. In contrast to Western Europe which has 18 countries speaking around 18 languages, Nigeria alone houses 250 languages. 

Kannywood film with English subtitles: Alawiyya
Starring Aminu Shariff and Maryam Booth
A girl is raped and becomes pregnant and a kind stranger pretends he's her husband to avoid her parents anger

Although Nollywood and Kannywood both cater to Nigerians, Nollywood has a higher profile, generates more revenue and is increasingly collaborating with Hollywood and been viewed by an international audience.

But the two industries were never in competition with each other and I think Kannywood is content with simply entertaining its Northern audiences in ways they can appreciate.

*Quotes taken from 'The State of Africa: A History of Fifty Years of Independence' by Martin Meredith