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BUZU (The Nomad)
YOUNG TALENTED WRITERS ASSOCIATION (YOTA/002)
Bright Pens 3rd Batch (2025)
The story of BUZU is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*
Night is the parasol of the sun; everyone follows its lead to prepare for you.**
A massive black Highlander SUV sped across the asphalt as if the road were built for its driver alone. On either side of the path, there was nothing but Saharan sand and scattered, withered trees. Since it was the fourteenth night of the lunar month, the full moon illuminated everything, with stars decorating the heavens. The road cut through the heart of the Sahara, where the desert sands provided a cool, serene atmosphere.
“How many kilometers are left?”
The driver glanced back at the speaker, whose face was veiled in a turban. “No more than 95 kilometers.”
“In a few minutes?”
“Less than an hour remains.”
“We must arrive exactly at the time we were commanded. I am afraid he might wake up.”
As he spoke, he shone a light on the face of a young man lying against him. the young man was drenched in sweat, caught in a state between sleep and unconsciousness. His heavy perspiration suggested a troubled slumber; his body was motionless except for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he struggled for breath.
The veiled man placed his hand on the youth’s chest. The heart would beat once, then pause for a long interval before beating again. But each thud was violent, echoing as if it wanted to tear through his ribs.
Distressed, he said, “Lauwalli, you must increase the speed. Let him not die on us; his heartbeat is fading.”
Lauwalli nodded and pushed the vehicle faster.
At approximately 6:15 AM on Saturday morning, in a modest but well-built mud house—decorated so finely that its value belied its materials—a young woman lay on a medium-sized mattress. She was deep in sleep, her wrapper barely covering her.
She struggled with all her might to wake up, but she was trapped by **sleep paralysis** (known locally as *dannau*). Some believe a spirit named *Dannau* pins a person down, leaving them unable to move even while their eyes are open and they are conscious of their surroundings.
Suddenly, as if a heavy weight had been lifted, she jerked awake, gasping for air. Her eyes widened as she realized the sun had risen and she had missed the dawn (*Subh*) prayer. As she tried to move, her joints ached as if she had been severely beaten.
She sat in silence, trying to recall the previous night. The last thing she remembered was folding clothes; she didn't recall going to bed. The state of her clothes made her feel uneasy and suspicious. She stood up slowly and headed to the bathroom to clean herself and pray.
Slowly, another pair of eyes opened. They stung from the bright light filling the room—a light that felt foreign and strange. It felt like waking up in a completely different world.
As the stinging subsided, he looked around, trying to discern his location. A tall, dark-complexioned man wearing a red turban entered the tent holding a small cup. Seeing the young man awake, the newcomer dropped the cup and rushed to his side.
He helped the youth sit up. The youth was fair-skinned with a yellowish undertone, a slim nose, and a thin face. A slight mustache met a modest beard. His large eyes were bloodshot, as if blood might spill from them. His long hair fell over his shoulders like a woman’s.
The dark man lowered his veil and asked, “How is your body feeling?”
The youth remained silent, staring.
“Does anything hurt?”
Finally, the youth moved his lips: “Where is this?”
"We have entered Nigeria," the man replied.
"Nigeria?" the youth repeated, trying to remember if he had ever heard the name.
The man asked if he recognized him. The youth shook his head.
“Do you know your name?”
The youth tried to think, but a thunderous roar echoed in his head, forcing him to clutch his temples in pain.
"It’s okay," the man said. “Do you know how to perform ablution and prayer?”
The youth nodded. He correctly identified the units (*raka'at*) for the morning and afternoon prayers.
“You remember prayer, but nothing else?”
"Yes," the youth replied curtly.
The man told him to pray and eat. Later, he tied back the youth's long hair, wrapped a turban around his head, and led him out of the tent. Outside was a wilderness. A camel stood nearby.
"Do you know what this is?" the man asked.
The youth nodded. "Le chameau" (The camel).
"Get on," the man sighed. “Let's go.”
#### **Page 2**
In a different part of the country, a girl named **Nana** walked through a neighborhood where houses were crowded together. Recent torrential rains had washed filth into the streets. Due to poor drainage, water had flooded homes and turned paths into muddy ponds.
Nana’s heart sank when she saw her home. More than half of their boundary wall had collapsed. When she entered, she found the household in despair—the well had collapsed into the latrine pit because they were built too close together.
Her father, **Baba**, met her. “Nana, you're back? You saw what happened. I need whatever money you have from your salary so we can start rebuilding the wall.”
Nana stood stunned. “Baba, my salary is only 7,000 Naira. It’s only the 11th of the month, and I have nothing left. You took 5,000 and left me with only 2,000.”
Baba grew angry, telling her that if she didn't provide, they would have to use the neighbor's toilets or the bushes. A heated argument ensued between Baba and Nana's mother (**Mama/Rabi**) about his inability to manage the house.
Nana retreated to her room, exhausted. Her sisters, **Jamila** and **Sa'adatu**, were complaining about the poverty and the embarrassment of living in a house with no wall and no toilet. Nana ignored them and opened her Qur'an.
Days passed. The family survived on donations from neighbors, which Baba often spent on food rather than repairs. One day at her Islamic school, Nana felt a strange chill. The world felt distant. Her friend **Amira** noticed her staring blankly into space.
"Nana, are you okay?" Amira asked.
Nana couldn't answer. Her heart raced with an intense, inexplicable fear. She felt as if death were approaching. When her teacher, **Malam Auwal**, called her to recite, she fled the school in a daze.
She walked barefoot, not knowing where she was going, her feet bleeding from the rough road. She eventually wandered into a random house and collapsed on a bed in an empty room.
A young man named **Saleh** entered the house and found her sleeping. Lust entered his heart as he looked at her. He approached her, but before he could touch her, the owner of the house (his aunt) returned.
The aunt found Nana and cried out in shock. "Nana! What happened to your feet?" She tried to wake her, but Nana remained unresponsive. "This is my sister," the aunt told Saleh. “She isn't well...”
*The story continues as the mystery of the "Buzu" (the nomad) and Nana's strange illness intertwine.*
