Fulani Flautist: Another West African Experience

Fulani Flautist

(Nomad versus World Bank Agricultural Development Project,

Gombe, Nigeria, September 1978)

At the edge of the forest reserve

We stopped to stretch our legs.

The road gangs had not reached this far.

The jungle cats had yet to come

To claw up trees and undergrowth.

No bulldozers, graders or scrapers,

No pipeline crews; only our Landrover

Had so far disturbed the peace.

   Out of the forest the faint sound of a flute;

A mirage of silver-white cows.

I watched the herd materialise;

The sound of the flute grew louder.

Long-horned cattle, groomed like stallions,

Sleek-skinned, clean and cared-for.

The Fulani flautist emerged from the trees:

Standing before us with a welcoming smile.

He stopped to play, acknowledged our interest,

And them ambled away with his herd.

   I would have followed the Fulani herdsman,

But I could hear less soothing sounds.

The big yellow cats were coming,

Rumbling through the forest reserve.

The ground was beginning to tremble.

And the fragile flute of the nomad

Would soon be crushed beneath caterpillar tracks;

And the cattle would soon have to graze

On whatever might be left

Between the asphalt and acres of maize.