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Canadian Journal of Rural Medicine
../../../ 1998

Destination Bauchi Province

Coming of age

Sterling Haynes, MD

CJRM 1999;4(3)168


Boomlay, boomlay, b-o-o-m-l-a-y, boom . . . . It's dawn in Bauchi Province, Northern Nigeria. The night drums are slowing and sleepy. The sun is rising and the call to prayers echoes through the savannah country. The worshipping of Allah stops the drums until the morning prayers are over.

Today is the day of the Fulani beatings, boom, boooom. Slowly the drums reverberate, the beat changes rhythm. The speed of the beat increases; the large horned humped-backed cattle paw at the dusty ground.

The boy herdsmen are naked, their skins gleaming in the sun. They use the long spears to herd cattle. Some of the boys are milking the cows; some collect blood from the cows' neck veins with a sharpened quill. There is blood and milk — fine food for the young warriors.

The sun clears the horizon. There is a lull. The bush dogs and the young herdsmen with the spears survey the scene. Boys, standing on one leg, stork-like, watch the cattle.

The sound of the drum is lower, the rhythm changes to a faster beat. The chiefs and the witch doctors appear in their loin skins. Each wears a headdress — half mask, half hat. Spectators in their white robes and red fezes surround the field.

The morning dew has contained the red dust for now. All life awaits the rainy season. Today will be hot and sultry. The drummers appear from the grass hut banging out a rat-ta-tat in unison.

Young male participants are in the wings, waiting to come to centre stage. Young unmarried females appear in their leather skirts, bangles, bracelets and paint. Their hair plaited, they bob in time with the drum beat. Jingle, jingle, boom, boom, jingle-boom.

These Fulani maids, black Arabs, with high cheek bones and aquiline noses, are dancers in high spirits, waiting to spur on their favourites.

Quickly, the lean, shiny, young men emerge from the huts. They wear leather breech cloths, their hair and body anointed with butter. Their faces are painted — vermilion, yellow and blue.

The drums reach a crescendo.

The athletic young men dance and leap and swish their cane whips with their right hand. The s-w-i-s-h of the rod, the b-o-o-m of the drum, the t-h-u-d of the foot. The movements become synchronized. In the left hand each holds a small mirror. The warriors' faces are turned to watch their gleaming adversaries. The mirror shows sardonic expressions. They adopt an arrogant stance. There will be no shrieking or shows of pain.

Boomlay . . . boomlay . . . boomlay . . . boom. More thuds and swishes in time with the tempo.

Facial grimaces are now etched. Each warrior circles his opponent. S-w-i-s-h, s-w-i-s-h. The two strike each other on the back and flank with the cane in time with the frantic drum beat.

Blood spurts from the welts but slowly congeals with grease and dust. The set grin reflected in each mirror never changes unless the warrior falls from exhaustion, blood loss or death.

No display of emotion, pain or discomfort. The grin reflected in the mirror never changes. They have come of age. They have entered manhood. They can endure.

The witch doctors enter to bind their wounds. Each new adult is rewarded with a calabash of milk, their badge of courage imprinted on their backs and flanks for all to see.


Dr. Sterling Haynes was an invited guest at a Coming of Age ceremony of the Fulani tribe in Bauchi Province, Nigeria, in the early 1950s. At the time he was stationed there as a colonial officer. He later returned to Canada and entered medical school.

Correspondence to: Dr. Sterling Haynes, 3135 Shannon Place, Westbank, BC V4T 1L3

© 1999 Sterling Haynes