Far away near Agadez in the Republic of Niger is a town called Timiya. It is a place where the nomadic Buzu (Tuareg/Berber) people live. If you see an unfamiliar complexion there, you immediately know a stranger has arrived, and they will soon leave.
In this village, there are no pipe-borne water systems; instead, they rely on traditional wells. Electricity has not reached the area. It is a land of abundant natural blessings and agricultural richness, but cars cannot enter because it is deep within the Sahara Desert. The only way in and out of Timiya is by riding a camel.
There were four young girls walking in a line. Three of them were so fair and breathtakingly gorgeous that they looked good enough to eat, adorned in their traditional Buzu ornaments and wrappers (katanga). A bit apart from them walked another girl, her head bowed low, her body trembling slightly. Only her hands were visible—pitch black—covered in her dark traditional turkudi veil (the distinct dark indigo-dyed cloth worn by the Buzu people).
An elderly man walked in, stooping slightly because of his towering height. He gestured with his hand for the people behind him to come in, as he did not speak proper Hausa. As he raised his head, he spotted her among them. He quickly turned around and saw that the men had already seated themselves.
Furious, he marched straight to their quarters, heading toward the children's mother—his wife. Upon reaching her, he raised his hand and struck the young-looking woman forcefully on the head. Livid, he raged in the Buzu language:
"Didn't I forbid you from sending this black daughter of mine to me? I have married off four older girls, leaving only three, and I specifically excluded this black one from my offspring! I have repeatedly told you that no one in my family is dark-skinned. How on earth did you give birth to a dark-skinned child? I tried everything to get you to tell me the truth about who her father is, and you claimed it was me! And now, out of spite, because people from Elhazawa are looking to marry girls from this language group, you pushed her forward to me?!"
She said nothing in response, simply keeping her head bowed until he finished his rant and stormed off.
As soon as he returned, he grabbed her roughly by the wrist and yanked her hard. As they stepped inside, he shoved her violently, causing her to stumble and collapse near her mother’s traditional sleeping platform, her head remaining bowed. He hurled harsh insults at her before turning back to his guests.
A tear rolled down Sade’s face. She slowly raised her eyes to look at her mother, whose eyes were tightly shut while her heart burned with silent agony. In a frail, trembling voice, she whispered:
"ANNA (Mother)..."
Her mother did not open her eyes, nor did she answer. She stayed that way for a long time before finally sitting up and lifting her veil to gaze at her mother with a strange expression. Truthfully, aside from her eyes, there was nothing bright or fair about this young maiden; she was dark-skinned, and her attire was made of the deep indigo turkudi cloth that stains the skin.
Her mother finally lifted her head and opened her eyes for the first time. With a voice choked with emotion, she spoke in the Buzu language:
"Don't say anything, just have patience..."
Slowly, she turned to go fetch water from Baba Tsoho's house...
Come follow me to my town, TIMIYA, because I am in Niger...
Yours always, YAR MUTAN NIGER - SAJIDA
She walked slowly, keeping to the edges of the path. Whenever she spotted a gang of children, she would hide until they passed by. If they were playing in her way, she was forced to take a detour. Because of the cruelty inflicted upon her by her father and some of her relatives, the villagers also treated her with disdain, looking down on her differently from the rest.
Slowly, she rounded the corner toward Baba Tsoho’s shade.
She walked carefully because she wanted to avoid running into his student-disciples (almajirai), especially Aliyu. Aliyu had once tried to force an unwanted interaction with her, humiliating her and issuing a stern warning that she should never dare show any interest in him, claiming he only came to Timiya to find a fair Buzu bride. Ever since then, the other disciples had continuously mocked her, calling her Aliyu’s "BLACK GIRL."
He was sitting inside his hut. A turban was wrapped around his head, and his muscular yet weathered arms and legs were exposed, clearly marking him as an elderly man. His skin was deeply wrinkled, and the hair on his limbs had turned completely snow-white.
His gaze was fixed in one direction. In his heart, he was consumed by worry: Where did she go today? How come she didn't come for her lessons this morning? She had no friends, no one else to share her burdens. Even her own mother dared not show her too much affection out of intense fear of her husband. He was filled with anxiety over why she hadn't shown up.
Softly, she lifted the leather flap of the hut and greeted him in peace.
A smile broke across his face as he looked at her and returned her greeting.
She approached, tidying up the hut a bit before turning her gaze toward him with deep affection for the old man. Whenever she was with him, she felt a strange sense of peace; she felt no fear toward him, only love. The old man was the only person in the world who smiled at her.
Giving him a small smile, she said: "SOFO" (Old man).
He smiled back, pointing a finger gently at her.
She walked over, knelt down, and greeted him properly: "Ta gode."
He gently stroked the turkudi veil on her head before saying: "Alharasssss..."
She stood up, finished cleaning his hut, grabbed a traditional broom she had crafted herself to sweep every corner, lifted the leather flap, picked up his water pitcher, and stepped outside.
He smiled, watching her go. Deep in his heart, he prayed: May Allah show me your happiness before I return to Him.
She walked calmly with her pitcher. When she arrived at the watering spot—a walled enclosure that was neither a well nor a river, but a communal point where water was drawn for them—she noticed the water was reddish-brown and carried the scent of wet clay. There were cleaner water sources, but if she dared go there, she would return home with neither the water nor the pitcher, because the village girls despised seeing her there.
Once the pitcher was full, she stood up, adjusted the hem of her wrapper properly, and lifted it onto her head.
She returned to find him sitting exactly as she had left him. She placed the pitcher down in its spot, looked at him, and asked in the Buzu language:
"Don't you ever get tired of staring in one direction?"
Without answering, he simply handed her his wooden writing tablet (allo) and gestured for her to sit down.
She quietly sat down as he resumed teaching her lessons. She had progressed significantly, and he had been her teacher for as long as she could remember. Once the lesson concluded, he asked:
"What is your question for today?"
She paused, staring at him. After a long moment, she asked:
"Sofo, did a person with dark skin commit a sin when they were created black?"
He stared at her quickly. He saw her head bowed, nervously twisting her hands. The girl was extremely deep, but sometimes she voiced the haunting thoughts churning inside her as she witnessed terrifying realities in her life.
He raised his hand and said softly:
"Not at all. A dark person and a fair person are entirely equal in the eyes of Allah."
She lifted her large, round white eyes, which were slightly reddened and surrounded by the aged wrinkles of her teacher. She fought back the tears welling up in her eyes with all her might. Without saying another word, refusing to let herself cry, she stood up straight and walked out without uttering a single syllable.
He let out a heavy sigh, condemning the actions of Agali. Agali lacked sense and reason; just because Allah decreed that a girl was born dark among his children, did that make her an object of disgust, abhorrence, and abuse? Did she create herself?
She walked for a long time before finally reaching the house of Iya, the milk seller.
She knelt down to greet her.
Iya returned the greeting and said: "Look, this milk is giving me a hard time. I don't know why whenever you take it out to sell, your proceeds never exceed one hundred and twenty dala... you always bring it back partially churned before I give you your share. Today, please forgive me, I am giving the door-to-door deliveries to others. You see, it is only out of pity for you that I give it to you so you can have a little pocket money."
With her head bowed, she replied: "Please forgive me, Iya. I will redouble my efforts in selling. Just pour a small amount for me—whatever I can manage to sell."
Iya shook her head, stood up, picked up a small calabash, scooped a moderate amount of milk into it, and handed it to her. Truth be told, Iya pitied the girl, but she also had regular, high-paying customers because her cattle were numerous.
She took the calabash and left the house. As she walked, a sudden wave of dizziness overtook her. She hadn't eaten breakfast; she hadn't eaten anything all day, a fact that only just dawned on her. She let out a sigh, found a quiet spot to crouch, tilted her head back, and drifted into deep thought...

Summary

This excerpt introduces Timiya, a remote, desert-locked nomadic Buzu village in the Agadez region of Niger, where life is harsh, traditional, and deeply prejudiced.

• The Outcast Maiden: The story centers around Agaishat (mockingly nicknamed "Bak'a" or "The Black Girl"), a young maiden ostracized by her community and severely abused by her ruthless father, Agali, simply because of her dark complexion. Her mother lives in constant fear, unable to protect her, while her father callously treats his daughters as commodities to be married off for financial gain.
• The Safe Haven: Amidst the cruelty, Agaishat finds solace in two figures: Baba Tsoho, an elderly spiritual teacher and mentor who educates her and validates her human dignity, and Iya, a local milk seller who occasionally offers her work and modest pity despite the village's prevailing prejudice.
• The Contrast of Privilege: The narrative contrasts Agaishat's grueling, marginalized existence with glimpses of modern, affluent urban life in Niamey, introducing characters like Fannata (Iya's relative) and introducing deeper subplots of domestic tension, hidden identities, and societal contrasts.